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catierambles · 2 years

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Null Ch.2

Pairing: Incubus!Charles Brandon x Anna Williams (OFC)

WC 2280

Warnings: Mentions of sex and sexuality. Minors DNI 18+ ONLY

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @fvckinghenrycavill

The dreams happened almost every night, each just as intense as the first, but there started to be another feeling in them, one she couldn’t place. The dream lover’s hands became needy, holding onto her tightly, his lips searching as they ran over her skin. It never felt…aggressive, though, or rough. Whenever a dream started to take a turn to the uncomfortable, it immediately corrected itself and whatever was happening to make it so never happened again. His kiss was hungry, the movements between her thighs relentless, and she came every single time.

After about two weeks of this, she was really reconsidering the whole “it’s just dreams not the ghost” thing. Don’t mistake her, almost nightly orgasms were nice and all, but could they ease up a bit? Another night, another dream, but this time as he grabbed at her, she forcibly woke herself up like she was able to get out of a nightmare, her mind going “nope, not doing this” and forcing her eyes open. There was a moment of disorientation from going from REM to awake instantly as there always was and she shook her head, blinking quickly.

“How did you--” She sat up, looking over and seeing someone sitting in the wingback chair that had come with the house in the corner of the room. Anna couldn’t see him fully through the darkness, but she knew just from the shape and the accented voice that it was a “he”. He noticed her looking at him and blinked out of being, the chair once again empty. Definitely, definitely haunted by a very horny ghost. Getting up, she walked down the hall to the study and went over to her computer, waking it up, the harsh glow from the monitor searing her retinas momentarily. Getting online, she searched for paranormal investigators or mediums in the area, feeling a bit foolish, but not foolish enough. She found a local team in the town over that included a medium and sent them an email, explaining her situation (but leaving out the sex bits), telling them she’s seen apparitions, heard voices, and felt contact. She also added, for good measure, that she didn’t have any medical history of hallucinations or schizophrenia, nor did any of her family members. Might as well cross that off the list now and save a conversation and possibly a doctor's visit. She added her cell phone number at the bottom of the email before sending it, putting her computer back to sleep. Should she have included everything? Probably, but she also wanted them to take her seriously and not think she was some kind of pervert. She’ll cross that bridge if she comes to it.

There were no dreams of a sexual nature when she finally went back to sleep. In fact, there weren’t any dreams at all, and in a way, she was almost relieved.

She didn’t have work the next day so she was on her computer just messing around when her phone rang and she looked at the screen, seeing the number she recognized from the website last night.

“Hello?” She asked as she answered the call.

“Is this Anna Williams?” It was a kindly woman’s voice and she was glad in a way.

“It is.”

“Hi, Anna, my name is Kimberly Marks. We got your email this morning and wanted to talk to you about it. Based on the timestamp, I’m guessing it’s quite urgent?”

“Yeah, you could um…say that.” Anna said, “I guess it’s kind of been ramping up in intensity since I moved into the house a couple of weeks back. Last night was the first night that I actually saw…it. Actually heard it talk. It didn’t stick around, but…yeah, kinda shocking.”

“I absolutely understand and based on what you described in your email and your provided medical history, thank you by the way, I usually ask that, I have reason to believe you are experiencing a genuine haunting. Of course, there are other environmental factors to take into account, electromagnetism affecting brain waves, possible natural gas exposure, those kinds of things, but my team and I can explore all of that if you would like us to come out.” Kimberly said.

“I would absolutely love that.” Anna said, “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want them to leave, this was their house too once upon a time, I just kinda want them to stay in their own lane and stop bugging me, I guess.”

“Again, understandable, and actually quite understanding of you. Most people who experience spectral activity want them gone as quickly as possible, regardless of the fact that the spirit considers them the trespasser.”

“I don’t mind coexisting, I really don’t. I just…ehhh leave me alone.” Anna said.

“When would be a good time to come out?”

“Um, how’s tonight for you? Based on the website, you guys aren’t too far away. Or is that too soon?” Anna asked and there was a pause.

“No, tonight is perfectly fine. I was going to suggest it myself just based on the fact that you reached out at 2 in the morning.” Kimberly said, “It will take us a bit to get our equipment set up, so how about 6 pm?”

“Works for me.” Anna said, “I’ll email you my address so you can copy/paste it into a GPS app.”

“Thank you, we’ll see you then.” Kimberly said and they said their goodbyes, the call ending. There were still several hours before they were due to arrive, and Anna had a feeling that she was going to be up late that night so she shut down her computer and went into her bedroom, flopping down onto the bed and curling up for a nap. Again, there were no dreams.

The team of five arrived just after six, and Kimberly introduced herself to Anna, letting her know that she was both the founder and the team medium. Anna noticed that they all paused in the entryway of the house, Kimberly especially still as she looked around with wide eyes.

“It’s warm.” She said and Anna made a noise, nodding. “That’s certainly different. I was expecting a coldness or heaviness to the air indicative of a haunting, but this is warm and welcoming.”

“Weird, right?” Anna asked, “Are you…picking anything else up?”

“Let me walk around a bit as the guys get set up and I’ll let you know.” Kimberly said and they decided to use the living room as something of a command center. Night vision wireless webcams were placed in every room as well as microphones to pick anything up the cameras couldn’t. Anna stayed out of their way, sitting in her study as they did what they needed to and coming down again as one of them let her know that they were ready to start. The sun had long since gone down and Anna turned off any non-essential electronic equipment as per instructions. “There is definitely something here.” Kimberly said and Anna looked at her.

“Any feeling as to what?” She asked, noticing that they were being filmed out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s definitely a male presence, I’m getting that right away.” She said, “It’s…intense. There’s almost a…hunger to it, but it doesn’t feel aggressive or malevolent. I’m not getting anger, I’m getting…confusion. This spirit is looking for something, or it needs something, but it’s not getting it and it doesn’t know why.”

“Um, okay?” Anna asked and Kimberly shrugged.

“Let’s start walking around and try to make contact with it, see what else comes to the surface.” Kimberly said and Anna stayed seated in the living room as they started wandering the house, asking questions into the darkness. She could hear them through the laptop they left in the living room, broadcasting back from the microphones, being monitored by a member of the team.

“What are you doing here?” Silence.

“How long have you been here?” Nothing.

“How did you die?” Still nothing, but that question was a bit rude, in her opinion. She wouldn’t have answered it, either.

“Do you know you’re dead?” A quiet sigh came through the speakers, and it sounded annoyed.

“Oh for the love of--”

“That got picked up by a microphone in the living room.” The team member said into the walkie-talkie and she heard them come down the stairs, grouping in the living room again.

“Yes, he is definitely here.” Kimberly said, “I didn’t feel him before, he must have come here when we started walking around.”

“Avoiding you, maybe?” Anna asked.

“No, nothing like that.” Kimberly said with a small scowl. “Can you tell us your name at least?” Nothing.

“What was with the dreams?” Anna asked and there was a pause before a low, rumbling chuckle came over the speakers. It didn’t sound nefarious, it sounded amused. “I mean, thanks, I guess, but really?”

“Dreams?” Kimberly asked, “You didn’t mention dreams in your email.”

“It’s embarrassing.” Anna said.

“What kind of dreams?” Kimberly asked and Anna pulled a face, shifting around the chair somewhat.

“They were…oh, fuck it. They were sex dreams.” Anna said and silence descended on the living room again.

“Sex dreams?” Kimberly asked, “As in you were having sex with…”

“Same dude every time.” Anna said, “Never saw his face because it was always buried elsewhere, but it felt like the same guy.”

“...I see.”

“And this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” Anna said, “It’s embarrassing and humiliating.”

“I think I understand now.” Kimberly said with a slow nod. “It would also explain the hungry feeling I got earlier.”

“Mind filling me in?” Anna asked.

“Anna, what I’m going to say next, I don’t usually say casually, because usually, it’s a cause for great alarm.” She said, “You don’t have a ghost. You have a demon.”

“I’m sorry, say that again?” Anna said, “I’ve seen The Conjuring, isn’t that a really, really bad thing?”

“Like I said, usually it is.” Kimberly said, “But this kind of…entity isn’t malevolent, it’s not going to harm you.”

“Okay.” Anna said, unconvinced.

“Between the dreams and the hunger and the warmth, I believe you have an incubus.” Kimberly said and there was a pregnant pause before Anna snorted, starting to laugh. “What’s…what’s so funny? I mean, no, this entity isn’t going to hurt you, but it’s still a demon.”

“A sex demon!” Anna exclaimed, doubling over in her seat with laughter.

“Anna?” Kimberly asked.

“Hoo boy.” Anna said, sitting up again, still giggling. “So let me get this straight, I have a demon…I dunno, infecting my house.”

“Yes.”

“A demon of lust, desire, sexual acts, and carnality.” Anna said and Kimberly nodded. “I mean, yeah that would explain the dreams, but those first two: lust and desire? I don’t…I don’t feel those.”

“Come again?” Kimberly asked.

“I’m asexual. I don’t feel lust, I don’t feel desire, my hormones don’t work like that. Can I have sex? Yeah. Have I ever had sex? Yeah and I’ve enjoyed it, but that’s all physical. That’s stimulation and nerve endings doing their job. I don’t feel sexual attraction.” Anna said and there was another pause before Kimberly started laughing too. “You see! It’s funny!”

“It would explain why he’s hungry. Incubi feed off of sexual desire, sexual emotion, and sexual energy. You don’t experience those things so you don’t give off that energy when having sex.” Kimberly said, “Well, Mr. Incubus if you’re still here and listening in, and I assume you are, there’s your answer. That’s why you couldn’t feed from her. She doesn’t give off the energy you need.”

“Thanks for the orgasms, though.” Anna said with a thumbs up, “What a champ.”

“Anna,” Kimberly started, “Normally I would tell you to be cautious, but incubi aren’t malevolent beings at heart. They’re more…playful, in a pornographic sort of way. Now that he knows he won’t be getting anything from you and why, he’ll lose interest and move on. They’re not evil, despite what the Church may have you believe. Then again, sex and sexuality itself are evil to the Church as a whole.”

“Truth.” Anna said with a snort. “So he’ll eventually take a hike.”

“Eventually, yes. Probably soon, if I’m being honest, now that he knows.” Kimberly said, “He’ll need to find someone he can actually get what he needs from.”

“Well, okay then.” Anna said, “Mind if I start turning on lights?”

“Not at all, I actually think we’re done here. Now that we know what’s going on and that you’re in no danger.” Kimberly said, “And that it’ll stop when he moves on.”

“Okay, Google.” Anna said, “Turn on living room lights.” The device by the router binged at her and the lights came on at a comfortable brightness. “Well, thanks for coming out and shedding some light on what’s going on.” Anna said as she stood from her seat and Kimberly gave her a small smile, standing as well as the others started to pack up their equipment, retrieving the cameras and microphones from the rooms they had been placed in. Once everything was packed, Anna walked them out, Kimberly reaching out and holding her arm.

“If anything else happens, don’t hesitate to let us know.” She said, “But you should be good.”

“Thanks again.” Anna said and Kimberly gave her arm a gentle squeeze before leaving, and Anna watched as they got into their van and drove away down the hill before closing and locking the door. “Oh, my god. A fucking sex demon.” She was still giggling to herself about that as she headed up the stairs, going into her bedroom.

“I’m sorry.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

#henry cavill #charles brandon #null #my writing

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cagedchoices · 2 years

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Hiiii I'm really sorry to bother you but I noticed on your old blog you used to have a rule that said not to treat your character like Jesse Pinkman. I think I get why its a concern but I'm wondering why it doesn't say that anymore and also I'm curious to know about what you think the differences between Caleb and Jesse are

omg ok first of all bb, you are certainly not bothering me by asking questions. i appreciate being asked thank you 🥰

secondly uh, i removed that disclaimer from my rules bc i felt like i didn't really need it anymore. it does still apply but i really only had it up bc when i was still fairly new to writing caleb i would get a lot of anons making br.ba jokes. so naturally there would be a lot of people pretending to be fuckin walter white in my inbox trying to tell caleb "let's cook" and like "jesse stop screwing around with robots and get back to work" and shit and like. yeah it's a fun little joke. ONCE. 😬

when you're seeing it multiple times a day/week it loses charm real quick. so i decided to be kinda petty about it and be like 'y'all know that caleb is NOT jesse right?' and i did two things. i flat out stopped responding to br.ba anons and i added that warning to my rules. and it seemed like it worked! i stopped getting flooded and my inbox was allowed to know peace again. but like i said, i don't think i really need it anymore because it should just be kind of a given, right? i mean i'm sure this has happened to other people before and will continue to happen bc that's the internet and unfortunately some people have no concept of boundaries and others just struggle with understanding that they might be making someone uncomfortable without intending to.

but like. to think of a popular example which i'm sure has happened before and will surely happen in the future i just think of a mun who writes joel from the last of us and maybe they like using pedro pascal's portrayal and they enjoy using him as an fc. now imagine that rper getting an inbox filled with anon messages treating joel as totally indistinguishable from the mandalorian. telling him he's gotta go find grogu or asking him why he abandoned his son for ellie or something along those lines. there are some GLARING differences between joel miller and din djarin. they're clearly not the same character.

so it might be funny to the person sending the messages and they're probably just having fun like. i'm sure they don't mean anything bad by it. but lemme tell ya, it's not as much fun to the mun on the receiving end. and in my case it sent me into a lil bit of a writer crisis like 'oh fuck is caleb nichols just a carbon copy of jesse pinkman is that how other people i write with see him?? what can i do to make him stand apart and be different without pulling him away from westworld canon too much??'

so anyway that's the rant over with. to answer the second half of this, caleb and jesse are different people. they just are. they do have a lot in common ranging from appearance to basic personality traits to the way they use body language, but they aren't completely the same. they come from different backgrounds which were influenced by various different factors.

jesse is more creative, he's an artist at heart and he has an artist's mindset and that's a kind of freedom to him. he expresses himself mainly through aesthetics. he draws, he wears a colorful wardrobe that really makes him stand out, the first time walter tells him that cooking crystal is chemistry jesse argues back that it is art and he has his signature style and he resents that walt forces him to change it. the reason jesse got involved in the drug trade is predominantly because it's the one place he is allowed and encouraged to express himself freely through art.

caleb on the other hand, is a soldier and he has a soldier's mindset toward most things. he is/was for the most part content with being told what to do next, following orders, sticking to a game plan. he expresses himself mainly through acts of service in canon, particularly to family as we see with his mom in the hospital and when he leaves his wife and daughter behind to go try and put a stop to the war that's coming. he wants to help, he wants to keep everyone safe and the only way he really knows how to do that is to fight.

i'd also say that while jesse and caleb are both highly empathetic and sensitive to the feelings of others, caleb is more stoic about it. i'm not totally sure if that's just how he is naturally or if he's so wracked and troubled by traumatic experiences and was trained to swallow those emotions in the military or otherwise learned to shut down but like. where jesse is always emoting something and never just sitting completely still and blank, caleb seems more comfortable with staying quiet and not always necessarily showing what's on his mind at a given moment.

and there are or course many more things i can say about specific differences but i feel like i've made this post long enough and gone on a scattered tangent so like. i might explore it way more in depth at a later date. ❤️

#anonymous #big data compiles information on everybody — meta.#i guess??

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deep-hearts-core · 2 years

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2011 - semifinal 1

originally posted 6/13/20

Poland The first adjective to spring to mind about this performance is sassy. This song just has a lot of attitude to it! I liked the dance performance and I think Magdalena sang well but there was some stuff that felt off at times, I think it might have been something about the camera work? But yeah overall this did not deserve last place at all. I know this was a really big semifinal but like. Come on. Norway This also did not deserve such a low placing! Stella Mwangi is maybe not the most talented vocalist ever but she sure does perform, and Haba Haba is really a fun and joyful song that always makes me feel energetic and happy. I did keep being distracted by her dress though lol, I'm certain that a different costuming choice would have made all the difference.

Albania I really love the more rock-style stuff that Albania sends. This performance is kind of messy - the song is much better in studio - but you can't deny that Aurela has an amazing voice and the song really holds the titular passion. Armenia I forgot how good this instrumental is? Like ok, the live performance sucked, but the instrumental is surprisingly good. A lot of things irritate me about this performance - the giant boxing glove and later the boxing ring, and also that backup singer who was really not doing a good job - but it's honestly not the worst thing Armenia has ever sent. Emmy herself is actually doing alright, it's just, this live performance was so bad. Turkey I really like the song and the performance is mostly okay, but the contortionist makes me incredibly uncomfortable so I have to pass on this one. Serbia I remember really loving this song when I first heard it, and I still really like it but I think I've lost some of the enthusiasm. Nina has a great voice and the visuals here were really fun, the costumes and the staging and the background were all just good!

Russia Get You as a song is just so incredibly sleazy... but I don't 100% hate it, mostly because Alex is doing a fine job of selling the song to the audience. I'm not a fan of his vocals, or the song, or the lyrics, but that stage energy is really something to be proud of. Switzerland The background here is such an eyesore. It's a nice song, it really doesn't suck and it's passively enjoyable, but Anna's performance here was also kinda lackluster, so. Georgia This performance is really great if you ignore the outfits! I especially like the rap section - this was the performance that convinced me originally to come around to the idea of rap at ESC. It's just good music! I like a lot of the Georgian entries to some degree or another but this is a standout because it's good relative to the songs in its year too. Finland We love good-natured youthful environmentalism on this blog! Da Da Dam is a really sweet song, nice to listen to and very timeless in a way, effectively simple.

Malta One Life is bad without the distinction of being creative about it. Montenegro 2012? Bad, but you sure remembered it for what it was. This song? Not so much. It's generic and absolutely forgettable but also I strongly dislike every second I spent watching and listening to this. San Marino I'm surprised by how good this staging is. San Marino doesn't usually do well with staging, and 2011 had one of those really difficult stages, but somehow it ended up working out. The song is another story though. Senhit's an OK singer but Stand By is just boring. I know she was due to represent San Marino this year - I don't know if they're bringing her back or not but I wonder what she'd be able to do with a good song. Croatia The triple costume change was the most interesting thing about this performance. The rest of it stands firmly in the territory of "okay". Iceland I need to get this out of the way, the seated guitarist in this performance looks like one of my professors and it throws me off every time I watch this performance. Okay... anyway, this song is really just wholesome, it's another of those timeless ones even if it is a bit cliche. Vocals good all around too.

Hungary I really like this as a song, but the stage performance really screwed it over. Kati isn't quite the problem here, her stage vocals are awesome, but her styling and what the backing singers/dancers were doing really just isn't it. Also, this song lowkey sounds like an uptempo version of Sweden's 2014 entry... hey Sanna, did you plagiarize? Portugal I'm uncertain about what the Portuguese are actually advocating for here, but it's a nice song I guess? Lithuania Another one that I strongly dislike. This song is so... saccharine, like it's not objectively that bad but it gets on my nerves. I think I dislike Evelina's stage presence here too. Azerbaijan I don't hate this, I'm even okay with it as a winner. 2011 was a weird year and Running Scared winning wasn't the strangest thing about it. It's actually one of the most modern-sounding songs looking at this contest from today's lens. Greece The sung parts of this song are quite good but the rap just ruins it all. I think this is possibly one of my least favorite raps in ESC, it's just... bad. How the hell did this get first in its semi???

My personal qualifiers Iceland Hungary Azerbaijan Georgia Poland Norway Finland Serbia Turkey Albania Miscellaneous thoughts That drumline interval was really cool! My siblings do drumline so that was fun for me to watch aha

#esc reviews

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bandaidcrybaby · 7 months

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Hi! I don't use this blog!

In fact, it took me 20 minutes to even figure out how to log in! I only remembered it's existance because some bot sent me an ask and it pinged the email I have to use for medical stuff- but i'll give the like. 6 people here, plus anyone who's scrolling through the blog for archival reasons, a quick update on myself and my life, because boy! was i wrong! and being told incorrect information!

So a lot of posts on here are tagged schizophrenia - a diagnosis that several of my doctors very well believed I had. Turns out, if you have been severely and repetitively traumatized for most of your childhood, your brain kinda. puts up walls and is functionally completely disconnected. and when you're a teenager and your brain is supposed to be growing neural connections between itself as it takes on its final leg of the growing journey, if there's Walls in the Way, it results in a degree of weird faux-hallucinations and outrageously unreal beliefs, the latter mostly from you trying to come to a rational conclusion for why you get told weird uncomfortable stories about yourself and are wildly unsure what the fuck they did to you in the hospital to fuck your memory like this. And the answer is nothing, you were in there for 3 days and just cried the whole time, the reason youre missing three weeks is, well. because you have DID. And apparently my therapist had been suspecting this since I was referred to him in the first place, since I was way too lucid and with it to actually be schizophrenic, but my former psych is also his bestie and had told him straight up "oh yeah, I know they were a conflict of interest, but. Its not every day you hear about the kinds of things this kid goes through, find out theyre true, but they only remember some of them at wildly different times, and then get to see DID form before your very eyes." and so on 2/22/22 I was handed my official paperwork because my team was like "i think we need to address some things." and uh. Yeah it came like a wet fish to the face. Turns out Antipsychs were causing half my balance and mood problems AND didnt get rid of the hallucinations because oops, thats not how that kind of 'hallucinating' works! that's the rest of your brain screaming for help! I don't really. publically say much about the kinds of problems my other parts cause for me. its not anyone elses business! you don't need to know! because all of me is Winnie! Regardless of how I choose to spell that or shorten it at any given time! (which is also not a parts thing, thats just a 'my name is hardly as important to me over who i am as a person' thing.) and yeah, I do have to own up to Dumb Shit(tm) the my other parts do regardless of the fact of if I remember doing it or not, because at the end of the day, I, as a singular human being, still did that thing!! I've kinda had to learn what's wrong and right, appropriate and innapropriate, and attone for such. People get very upset with me for referring to my parts as just that-parts. Lots of folk think that I should be calling them "alters", but that simply doesnt fit, for me. It makes the parts of me that are very clearly broken feel more separate, more defined-- which is the exact opposite of what I want. I WANT to be NORMAL. This disease is life ruining. I'm spending most of my adult life being up the shattered pottery that is my childhood- I don't want to be defined as pieces of a broken vase. I am defined as the Vase itself, wether or not you like the kintsugi is a You Problem. this is not your illness; (nor your version of the illness, if you, too, have it, as no two 'vases' break the same.) I personally refuse to not acknowledge the whole vase on any person who does have it. you dont throw away any pieces. that's not how this works. your arent 4 separate people jsut because you dont want to be associated with yourself. you break and mend and break and mend and cry and scream and accept and forgive and hurt and forgive again and become whole. To do anything else rejects your function as exactly what you are- perfectly human, an animal with neatly clipped claws and blunt teeth and marked skin and stands upright on its hind legs, defined only by its ability to create a taxonic system that cleanly defines it and then outwardly reject that very same label.

tumblr has a character limit, part 2 soon.

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loveandscience · 1 year

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childhood trauma stuff, reducing stigma and all that i guess

didn't want to put it in the tags of that last post bc op and such may not want to see that kind of stuff

but dang i did so much stuff online that was unhealthy and risky as a child in middle and high school. Teaching internet safety to kids is so important to me, I wouldn't want them to do the things I did.

But like, at least by 13 I was talking to adult men online and being very sexual with them. Mostly strangers, but one of them was this teacher I'd had at a computer camp that I started talking to online and had a crush on, and like, at 13 I had no understanding of why that was so inappropriate and damaging to me to be acting on that. I even convinced my mom to go to a store to meet up with him in person, while we were "dating."

My risky behaviors didn't just come out of nowhere. I couldn't manage to tell anyone about this next part until I was an adult, not even my therapist as a teenager-- I didn't think anyone would care, and I was too embarrassed, but not talking about it prevented me from getting help and it made me more vulnerable to being abused by others. Secrecy enables predators, and so the more we bring this uncomfortable stuff to light, the more we can protect each other from them.

But throughout pre-school, daily, I was sa'd by another child, and supposedly no one knew. One of the common symptoms from being sa'd is being hypersexual, but I don't think the adults around me knew that or if they did, didn't notice my behavior. I was also discouraged from talking about my body throughout life. Like, even when I was older and had a period for the first time, my mom just gave me the box of pads, asked if i knew how to use them (i lied and said yes because of the shame that'd been instilled) and that was it.

idk like, even with the metoo movement and the inches society is making toward de-stigmatizing victims talking about their own experiences, it's still hard to talk about it, which kinda means i should get more comfortable talking about it in a healthy way in order to reduce that shame.

Having worked through that trauma, I take all reasonable measures to protect my own kid from ever going through that while careful not to instill an anxiety in her about how she goes through life. Educating her so she knows about her own body and that she can talk about whatever, no topic being off-limits. Educating her about online safety as she starts to interact with people she doesn't know online in slightly less restricted environments. I make sure to check out the environments she'll be in-- my pre-school where I was assaulted had chaotic bathrooms, where there were a few stalls and teachers didn't supervise very well. So this boy was able to force me into a stall every day, and teachers either did not notice (like there were only 3 or 4 stalls, idk why) or didn't think it was a problem). Ugh, and my parents would leave me at his house or have him over on weekends, because they thought we were such good friends. So, when looking for schools, it was always an important thing that they had single person bathrooms where only one kid would be allowed in at a time. And I have to know adults well enough to be able to trust them to be alone with her.

It actually wasn't until I was choosing a pre-school for her that I told anyone what had happened to me. The family kept pressuring me to choose the same pre-school they'd sent me to, and I was like No, I am Not sending her there, imagine how guilty I'd feel sending her to the same place if the same thing that happened to me happened to her? No way. It hadn't even seemed that different, when I visited it again around that time.

Tbh, I don't blame the kid who harmed me; what he did was very likely a result of him having been assaulted, and passing that behavior on because he didn't know it was ok. Like, we were 4 or 5, I don't expect that level of understanding for a child that young. I do think the teachers I had were incredibly irresponsible and put that more on them, than anyone.

#cw for discussion about personal experience of csa #personal

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shotorozu · 3 years

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hi bae!!! deku, shoto, denki with an s/o who's like affectionate with all her friends and they get insecure and kinda jealous :( ?? tysm in advance <33

s/o that’s affectionate to friends

character(s) : midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, kaminari denki (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, kinda angsty but there’s reassurance (x reader)

note(s) : another one i kinda held off doing because of it getting buried in the inbox sndjwkd i’m sorry for the delay! i didn’t like how denki’s turned out im so sorry

➽───────────────❥

midoriya izuku

man already knows that you’re very touchy with your friends, that’s just who you are

heck, i think before you guys started dating, you were touchy to him too! (but even more because,, you like him)

so he shouldn’t be shocked when you link onto kirishima’s arm, or when you jump to give mina a back hug

and most especially, when you poke at bakugou’s cheeks— and he just LETS YOU for some reason

he’s glad that you feel comfortable around people, considering that it’s why you’re even touchy in the first place.

but he can’t help but wonder,, is he doing enough to you? i mean, you basically do the same to him, but added the cheek, lip kisses

and the wonderful words you get to shower him in daily.

not only that, but he does tend to flush up when you try to initiate some sort of physical affection. maybe,, he’s supposed to let you be?

let you do all of that, since it makes you happy? i mean,, he supposes that he’s willing to do that.

izuku’s not a restrictive person when it comes to things like that, so he supposes that he’ll just have to ignore the weighted feeling on his shoulders despite not carrying a thing at that very moment

on the other hand, you couldn’t help but notice a change in izuku. not anything too concerning, of course

but he’d turn a blind eye— whenever you’d initiate physical affection to your other friends. he’d go silent, until it was over

eventually, you overhear a rather heartbreaking conversation between the dekusquad, and izuku himself

“deku! if you’re so down about it, then maybe you should tell Y/N about it! i don’t think they mean any harm.” you could hear uraraka console him

“correct. L/N-kun does not look like the type to be unfaithful. and even if they were, that would’ve been unacceptable behavior!”

and through out the discussion on how izuku could confront you, his s/o— he speaks abruptly

“i mean.. if Y/N is happy with being physically affectionate with their friends then,, i can’t stop them.” he says sadly, but it breaks your heart knowing that you’ve caused him to sound like this

“plus, i’m sure they have a reason to be acting that way, right?” you didn’t think how your affectionate attitude would have its effects on him

so, the next time you saw your boyfriend, you had a talk with him

“hey, honey!” he’d greet you with the usual demeanor, as if he didn’t just talk about his feelings “how are you? sorry that i was a little late, i was talking with the others!”

you smile, accepting the reason (since it’s true) “izuku, can you be honest with me?”

and this statement shocks him for a bit, “oh uhm,, yeah i can! did i do something wrong?” he scoots next to you, waiting for your reply

“does me being physically affectionate towards my friends make you,, uncomfortable?” you inquire, as straightforward as you could

he’s silent for a bit, which makes you speak again “you can be honest, it’s okay. you’re not in any trouble, zuku.” you ruffle his hair softly for comfort

then, he finally answers. “uhm,, uncomfortable isn’t the word. it’s not that i don’t trust you but,,”

“yeah?”

“i don’t trust,, me.”

this statement takes you by surprise, “oh, why?”

“i don’t trust myself that i could make you happy,” he continues “with physical affection, i mean. i understand if you weren’t, i just feel like i’m not giving you enough.”

“i understand though!” izuku continues, “whenever you initiate physical affection, i can’t help but get all staggery and nervous,” he rambles

he sounds normal, sure— but he’s not looking at you, his emerald eyes set in a downcast state

you make him face you, gently grabbing a hold of his shoulders “i’m sorry, zuku.” you press a kiss on his temples

“in truth, yes. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my physical affection.” you confess, “i’d see that you’d go red whenever i’d initiate something,” you tease, which gives you the exact reaction you’ve wanted

“but then,, i also didn’t think about how you felt about it. i didn’t consider the possibility of you being uncomfortable with it, so i want to apologize for that.” you lean against him, taking his hand and pressing a kiss on his palm

“if you want, i could stop it. there are other ways i could show affection to my friends anyway!” you suggest, but he shakes his head, smiling

“i appreciate it, but you don’t have to.” he reassures, “if it makes you happy then i’ll be happy.”

“is there anything else?”

“just maybe uhm,,” he trails off for a second, before continuing “give me what you give them, but multiply it by 200!” he suggests, his regular self coming back to you

you laugh, leaning forward to kiss him softly, “i love you, izuku. only you. people may receive my affection, yes— but you’re the only one that deserves all of it.”

and with that, the weight on his shoulders is lifted, and he didn’t actually have anything to worry about.

todoroki shouto

despite shouto being sometimes socially ignorant, he is a very observant person when it comes to the person he likes

so the first thing he noticed was your touchy behavior, specifically towards your friends

sure, he’s had some of that physical affection— but it was like you knew him too well. so, he received it less that the others

it doesn’t mean that todoroki disliked your physical affection. during those few times, he did tend to,, not mind it at all, when he’d usually pull them off

and it doesn’t automatically mean that you didn’t like being around todoroki, it was given that he wasn’t very big on being physical

he didn’t care, again— as long as you were happy, but then there would be this tight feeling in his chest whenever you’d run off to do it to bakugou, hugging him leisurely

or even midoriya, sometimes

so, when you guys finally confess to each other— it doesn’t appear that your physical affection towards your peers came to an end

it remained the same, and while he’s the one that received your delightful words, fully devoted love, and time— he can’t help but frown whenever he sees you latch onto kaminari

or when you sit beside midoriya and count all the freckles on his cheeks— the blush on his face being hard to ignore, in your boyfriend’s eyes.

i don’t think shouto’s a jealous person— protective is one thing, and possessive? maybe that one time, he was. but jealous? maybe not.

well, it’s not like he doesn’t trust you to stay loyal and faithful, that’s a different thing. but it’s more like,, he wants for the affection you’re giving to them

needy, that’s the word

early on, (and maybe even before you got together with shouto) it’s been established that shouto wasn’t a biggest fan of physical affection, besides hand holding, and cheek kisses for now

it makes sense to you, especially hearing about his childhood, and his father’s true colors— that are far from anything heroic.

and you definitely respect what he wants— if he wants space, you’ll comply! and if he wanted more, you’ll also be willing to comply!

that’s why you’ve been keeping things just at that— the last thing you want is making shouto uncomfortable, the concept terrifies you

but,, shouto doesn’t exactly know how to tell you that he wants more, more and more— he wants all of your affection

so, what does he do? he tells you in one exact way— he tells you what’s on his mind

and quite bluntly for that matter

the both of you have been sitting in silence for a bit, no words were exchanged. however, glances were sent towards your way

his stare has a different edge to it, as if he had something in particular he wanted to say— mouth gaping open as if he were to speak, but no words come out

“shou,” you call out to him softly, “it looks like you have something to say,” you smile at him, wanting to know what was in that head of his “you can talk to me.”

a minute flies by, and he’s still silent, and you’re about to drop the topic for good— until he finally speaks up “i don’t know what i’m feeling.”

this quirks your interest, “oh, what,, are you feeling?” what he said worries you, since it kinda sounds like he was about to deliver some bad news

“i’m,, not sure myself.” he stares down at his hands “i feel weird, whenever i see you be.. touchy around the others.”

weird, huh? “what kind of weird? could you try to explain? maybe i could pinpoint what you’re feeling.”

“i feel weird, since i haven’t experienced this before,” he breathes in, before he goes on “i feel like i want more, selfishly more. i thought i would’ve been fine with receiving minimal physical affection,”

he turns to you, heterochromatic eyes staring deep into yours “but i’m not fine with it! i want more, like what you give to the others. so that’s why,, it’s weird.”

and it suddenly dawns onto you on what he’s talking about, he’s talking about you being physically affectionate towards your friends and classmates

and how he doesn’t like it.

you frown, scooting next to him “i’m sorry you feel that way, shou.” you fix a stray piece of hair that has been misplaced, hanging near his brow

“i’m glad that you were being honest, and told me,” you cautiously hold his hand, looking at him to detect any discomfort

there’s none

“yes, i’ve been careful. i don’t wish to make you feel weird— in the bad way, and most especially uncomfortable!” he nods in understanding, he adjusts the hold on your hand, choosing to place his hand on top of yours

“and i didn’t.. think about how you would’ve felt about it. i should’ve asked you about it first.” you look at him with meaning, “‘m sorry.”

his gaze softens, and he leans closer— ever than before “it’s alright, love, no need to apologize,”

“that’s just who you are, if you show gratitude and affection with being physical, then that’s okay. i just,, want more— if that’s okay with you.” you nod, laughing softly

“i’ll give you more, if that’s what you wish. i’ll give you everything you want, whatever makes you happy.” shouto presses a kiss on your temple

“so,, does that mean you’re going to.. stop?” he asks— just because he wanted to know

“oh, if you want to, then i will.”

“you don’t have to but.. maybe tone it down?” he suggests, because although the idea of your physical affection towards your friends coming to a halt, is nice he wouldn’t admit that outloud

he doesn’t want you to stop, if that’s how you show gratitude to your friends. so, toning it down’s the best option

“i will,” you smile, “only high fives, pats on the back, and quick hugs, from now on!”

the statement makes him smile, a genuine one— he’s just glad that his concerns have a resolve now. man was just really touch starved, couldn’t blame him

kaminari denki

it took a while for him to actually start being concerned

i mean— dude’s practically the same as you. have you seen him play with ojirou’s tail? he always finds himself touching someone

whether it’d be him poking bakugou’s spiky head of hair (until he’d scream at him) or him resting his elbows on kirishima— he’s always touching someone

so, he understands if you’re going to be touchy feely with others. he actually finds it quite cute when you show your endearing side to your friends with touch (without crossing boundaries of course)

so, it was okay keyword : was

until you slowly started kissing your friends on the cheek— and it erupted,, something from within

it was so casual, that he had to process what just happened— following it up with a smile, to play it off.

he feels bad for feeling iffy about it, honest! he doesn’t have a reason to distrust you, so this feels all,, wrong for him

the gesture was definitely a gradual process. it wasn’t like you just randomly started to kiss people on the cheek— and it wasn’t like you were depriving him

so this made him think harder than he has ever thought before. maybe you were getting tired of being affectionate to him only, so you moved away from that?

or maybe you were tired of HIS affection?

maybe you were giving people affection, because they deserved it, and he didn’t? if this was the case, denki can’t complain.

denki knows he’s not smart like iida, or serious like bakugou.

but even to denki, all of that is a stretch. he’s just laying out all of the possible reasons— rational or not

and before he realized it, you knew that there was something up

denki; utterly afraid of losing you, switches from super affectionate to being isolated in his room— every single day

this is his way of experimenting with your reactions

even the bakusquad didn’t know what was up so,, yeah. there must be something bothering him.

you’re given a few ideas as to why kaminari might be acting this way, and the exact idea popped into your mind

you made him insecure

and you instantly felt bad— yes, you give all of your friends cheek kisses, and you give them to your boyfriend too!

but you didn’t realize that you would’ve potentially harmed him in the process. so, you sought out to talk to him

“hey babe,” it was just in time, your boyfriend enters through your door, “i was looking everywhere for you, you won’t believe it! i would’ve evaporated if i had to endure bakugou’s screaming one more time!”

“i was looking for you too,” you smile, ushering him to sit on your bed, “listen, i want to talk to you.”

“oh,”

“don’t worry, denki. you’re not in any trouble,” you reassure, “i just want to apologize”

it’s his turn to be confused “what? why?”

“let me ask you one thing, how do you feel about me giving people affection?”

he swallows harshly, but answers truthfully “i like it a lot, babe! i do find it cute.” he smiles, but you’re not fully convinced that his statement made it’s end

“i feel like there’s more i should know.”

“i,, yeah.” he admits, and not very gracefully “it’s— ugh! i’m sorry. i know this is really out of character for me, and i’m sorry that you have to see me feeling like,,”

“you can be honest.” you remind him briefly

“—weird. look, it’s not like your love language is weird to me. i think it’s just me being a needy idiot! and it’s not like i think you’re cheating on me!” he holds his hands up in defense

“but in a way,, i didn’t expect you to do that— you’ve only started doing it recently.”

“so it made you uncomfortable?” you’re preparing for the expected answer, ready for what’s about to be said

“,, if the shoe fits.”

seeing denki in this sort of manner gave you the biggest reality check. yes, you knew that you had something to do with his recent personality change

but you didn’t realize how much it made him question himself.

“i’m sorry, once again” you apologize, “it was wrong of me to assume you were fine with it, i just thought you’d be fine with it since well,,”

“hey, it’s okay,” denki smiles, his mood slightly better “i’m touchy too, i mean,, we both show affection physically! i’m not very surprised that you thought i was fine with it.” he brushes his thumb on your cheekbone

“i mean it, denki. i didn’t realize how much it would’ve affected you. you might not realize it, but i do.”

“it’s fineeee,” he whines playfully when you’re still upset, “Y/N, you’re affectionate, which is a trait i absolutely love. if you’re physically affectionate, that fine.”

“just uhm,,” he trails off, almost awkwardly. “maybe,, don’t bless them with your,, cheek kisses? ugh! omg there was definitely a better way to say that.”

to any other person, that would’ve been awkward— like,, really. but you understood, that’s how much you know about him

“got it, they will be exclusively for you.” you kiss him on the cheek, “thanks for being honest, denki.”

at that moment, denki’s shoulders felt lighter, and he suddenly forgot about why he even felt this way. yes, you still gave people physical affection BUT

denki kaminari still wins 😎 your kisses and ultimate tokens of affection are strictly for him

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Solace (part 2)

SOLACE (part 2)

A part two but kinda works as a stand alone!!

A/n y’all seemed to like the first one so I thought I’d make a part two :)) This was NOT meant to be a series but now I kind of have an idea to make this a mini series where each part is kind of a blurb that connects to the last part and I think I might do that.

Pairing: General Kirigan/the Darkling x Heartrender! reader

Summary: The day after you go visit General Kirigan at night is also the day he decides he can become more honest about his intentions for you. The softness of it all is starting to get to you but you have a good friend to remind you that it’s okay to feel happy.

The sunlight peers into the room shyly. It stirs me awake into a soft bliss. Warmth. When was the last time I woke up feeling so warm? So rested? I squint my eyes open, still calm. But when my vision finally adjusts, I feel like ice all over again. This is not where I’m supposed to be.

Memories of sneaking here in the darkness of night, speaking to Kirigan so freely, and then letting him convince me to stay. He had seemed to want me here then, in the night when loneliness finds easy prey in even the most hardened individuals...but now, in the morning sunlight--he’ll regret it. We made it clear I’d stay only that night--and that night is now gone. Maybe he expects me to be gone before he rises. I know that’s what most men expect after taking company for the night, but we didn’t exactly partake in activities like that. I think what we did is worse.

Relations like that are about desire, falling asleep with someone else borders on intimacy. One misstep and who knows what I’ll invoke? I shift my gaze upwards, careful to not move in hopes of not disturbing the arms he’s draped across my back, holding me to him. Kirigan seems different in sleep, softer. His features are still sharp, but there’s something gentle about seeing him vulnerable. Something about the way his lashes brush against his cheeks and his lips stay parted just slightly. This moment can never repeat itself. It can never happen again, so I’ll have to hold onto this.

Cautiously, I prepare to slip out of his grasp even though it feels like its the only thing tethering me to this world. I touch his first hand, moving it off of me slowly. I wait a second, and when he remains unstirring I move his other hand.

“What are you so eager for, little wolf?” The raspy, tired quality of his voice leaves my stomach fluttering. His words jar me so much I find myself frozen.

He reaches lazily, placing an arm on the center of my back, trying to ease me back into place. “It’s morning now.”

His thumb brushes up and down my back in a way meant to lull me. “I’m the Shadow Summoner, the night lasts as long as I want it to.” He lets out an easy breath, “And I’m prolonging it.”

Ignoring the warmth the implications of his words bring, I decide to focus on how dramatic he is. “Dramatic even so early in the morning.”

Kirigan’s eyes flutter open, the slightest smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Watch yourself, little wolf.” There is no malice in his voice, only something hinting at teasing too humane for me to trust.

I roll my eyes, letting his fingers brush wherever he wants them to--up and down my back, down the arms I am too aware of. The desire to touch him easily, casually, just to prove that I have that privilege. I stretch, pushing down thoughts of rejection as I place a hand on his chest. He pauses, one hand frozen in place on my back. Slowly, he moves his hand away from me. I tense, preparing to retract my hand. He catches my hand before I can pull it away, moving it towards him easily until my hand is against his cheek.

“Y/n.” He’s called me my name so few times, and the restraint in his voice leaves me unnerved. “Will you wear a black kefta today?”

His color. Perhaps he meant the promise of solace more literally than I thought. Anyone who sees me will think I’ve been claimed by him in one way or another. Perhaps I have been. The thought stirs my chest, moving me in a way I can’t distinguish as a positive or negative. I feel myself being ensnared in a lovely trap, but when I look at him, at the honesty burning in his gaze, it’s almost as if he’s asking me to claim him.

“Yes.” Again the word leaves me as if willed by some outside force.

Kirigan’s intensity dwindles slightly. His hand drops from over mine, but I keep mine on his cheek, running my thumb across his skin. “You’ll do good for me today, little wolf.” His words leave no room for argument. I think speaking like that is a talent of his. “You always do so good for me.” The admiration in his words melt something in me, my entire body warmed in a way I don’t understand. Kirigan brushes his knuckles across my cheek again.

I’ve been silent for too long, each second I waste inflating his ego. “You’re suspiciously nice in the mornings.”

“You’re only skeptical because you never let anyone take care of you.” His words are chiding and the implication of them leaves my face warm. “So much promise,” he muses, hand trailing down my jawline, “So much power,” his fingers skim down my neck and across my collarbone. “I wonder what someone like you could do with an amplifier.”

An amplifier. I’ve seen them in use, and knowing what I could do with something that strengthens my already abrasive abilities. I could be a monster so easily. Kirigan must see some of my concern because he’s quick to sit up a little more in order to close the distance between us the way he did last night. He brushes his lips against my collarbone in a way that leaves me distracted by wanting. A wanting for what, I’m not sure. I ease into his touch.

“Today everyone will know what you are.” His voice is gentle against the base of my neck. “And they will know that we are meant to be equals.”

I feel the need to panic rise in my chest, but it’s dulled by the warmth his lips leave against my skin. “I’m only a Heartrender, I can’t be your equal.”

“You are,” he whispers, so assured, “With a heart as good as yours you may even be more.”

His words are too weighted for so early in the morning, but there is always tension with him. Shadows are meant to be weightless but I think they’re like anything else--carry enough of them and eventually you’ll break.

When he straightens I move to follow him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “You’re good, too.” There has to be goodness in him. No one capable of such warmth and gentleness can be made up entirely of wicked things.

“You claimed I was a villain.”

Did my words really impact him so? “My opinion isn’t law.”

Something strange flickers across his features. “It might as well be.”

I swallow back a bundle of nerves. “Sometimes I’m wrong.”

The words crack something vulnerable in me. A part of me thinks he can feel the part of me that’s breaking in hopes of offering him something.

“You really are my solace.” I don’t know how to reciprocate such a gilded sentiment.

I rest my head against his shoulder, taking his hand. “I’m glad to be that.”

He squeezes my hand. “We should go get ready before people start to notice our absence.”

I consider reminding him what he told me last night, but he has a point. There’s a difference between a rumor of me pacing in the night and both of us showing up late at the same time. Still though, a part of me is already grieving this version of Kirigan. Outside of this room his coldness will return. ‘Just for tonight’. We had agreed on that. But when the night ended, and the morning sun colored us both sane again, he had asked me to wear his color.

“I’ll go get dressed,” I stay still.

Kirigan runs his thumb over my knuckles. “I’ll have a black kefta sent to you.”

That has to mean something. Wait--do I want it to mean something? I pull my hand away from his stiffly, standing because I know the longer I’ll wait the worse it will be. “I’ll see you during training.”

“My door will be unlocked after.”

At that, my chest swells. He’s offered me an opening. “Good to know.”

His eyes narrow slightly at my coyness. “Find me after?”

“Only because you’re nicer in here.” He wants me to come back.

The black kefta does not feel like my own. The color is too alluring, too dark and enthralling. It is not meant for someone like me. It feels borrowed, but I’m not entirely uncomfortable. It’s almost like he’s still with me, keeping me from being alone.

When I walk down the halls, I feel the stares of the others sticking to me like tar. They barely tolerated me before--the grisha plucked from the slums after a fateful night in which Kirigan saw the extent of my abilities.

“New clothes, l/n?”

Julian’s words coax an easy smile from me. Always so open, so accepting. Even now he doesn’t pester me about the black kefta. “I barely noticed.”

My lack of real response earns me a playful glare. “Is that the only explanation I get? Moving up the ranks without me?”

I roll my eyes. He’s joking, but he’s drawing more eyes to me. “I’m not leaving you, Julian.” He’s been too good a friend for me to leave. “Nothing’s changed except the color of my clothing.”

“Good.” Julian’s lips twitch upwards, offering me the kind of smile that’s earned him many trysts with many women. “I’d miss you too much.”

And while I doubt that my disappearance would do anything else than up his popularity, I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh I’m sure you’d find a way to find company.”

He half laughs, “What are you implying of my virtue?”

Laughing, I roll my eyes as we continue to walk down the halls. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

Julian reaches for me, touching my forearm. I stall. “In all seriousness, y/n, I really appreciate your friendship.”

Aw. Never did I think I’d have so many people to appreciate here. I think of Kirigan, of the vulnerability in his words and the new facet of him I saw last night that I somehow always knew he had in him. He may be a villain, or just one in the making, but he is more than a dark shadow. I find myself releasing I appreciate Kirigan too. It’s different than the way I care about Julian, more fragile, but it’s still a relationship I’ve created here.

I look down at the space where his hand touches my forearm. “I really appreciate your friendship, too. You’ve gotten me through a lot.”

“You need to give yourself some credit.” He releases my arm, turning to continue to walk forward.

I turn as well, “You should too.”

I look forward, and there, in the near distance is Kirigan. He’s staring at me, eyes lacking everything he had earlier. I offer him a small smile. He does not return it, his drops slowly to the ground. Weird. I guess he’s just turning on his indifference for a day of training. He asked me to wear his color, he asked me to come back.

Does he regret it? Maybe it was a premature request for me to wear his color so publicly. His gaze finds mine again, and with a tilt of his head he gestures for me to follow him.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #general kirigan #genereal kirigan x reader #genereal kirigan imagine #grisha #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #grisha reader #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x you #imagine #x reader #my works

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tingleparker · 4 years

Text

Reap the rewards

Arvin Russell x Fem!Reader

Requested?: Yes! Thank you @Iwant2combust <3 hope it did your request justice.

• Warnings: Religious themes, Being followed? If you have watched the film, preachers a bit of a nonce :)) but nothing full on. Slow paced in the beginning. No spoilers.

• Summary: You were no longer the new comers in town, though you find the new Preacher making you feel uneasy. That is until you notice him following you, so you make a quick plan to get some help from a Russell boy.

• Word count: 1.7k

A/n: lads, Arvin is just phew 🥵 anyways, writings a bit rusty but enjoy! <3

Check out my other works here! or send a request here!

Though only moving into town a week ago, you were no longer the newcomers; a new preacher had come into the small town of Coal Creek. This had sent your mother into a frenzy, stressing out about the dishes needed to be cooked for this reverend for the upcoming sermon. You weren’t into the whole praising God and thanking the lord, kind of thing; you had seen what it had done to your mother. Your father leaving early into your life, your mother praying constantly and heavily but it did her no good. Years of continuous praying for the return of your father or blessings to come down onto your small family were engraved into your mind but it did absolutely nothing but maintain that dark cloud over the pair of you. Your father never returned and with becoming short with money, your mother had planned to move you two slightly down south; selling your current house before buying a cheaper one down in Coal Creek.

The sunny day had come, the sermon was being held in the town's church; families lining up to meet the reverend as well as bring the offering of meals. You stood next to your mother, huffing at the sundress you were forced into by her, as she glared at you before putting on a smile looking forward. As you waited in line, you studied the building as well as the townsfolk. Plates of food slowly racked up onto the front tables as each family brought an offering to the Reverend, his wife alongside him as you snuck a peek over the family in front to see the new folks in town. Shifting your gaze over your shoulder, your eyes find a boy in an off-white button-down, hands in pockets and a similar non-caring expression you had on. A smile begins to form on your lips as he realises your staring, making eye contact before he gives a slight nod. With this your mother harshly grabs your arm pulling you forward as you realise he had been nodding for you to move forward.

“Lovely to meet you Reverend” Your mother politely greets, a nervous smile on her face as she offers her plate.

As the preacher begins to taste the meal your mother had worked hard on, his eyes flickered to you. The look in his eyes along with how he had licked at his fingers made you increasingly uncomfortable, finding your shoes more pleasing than to stare into the man's eyes.

“I’m going off for a walk Ma!” You yell out before walking out the door.

You needed to get out of the house, wanting to explore the town as well as get away from the constant murmurs of your mother praying. Your feet began moving as you walked into town, a calming breeze around you and you felt at peace with your own thoughts at that moment. Walking around the small town, you don't realise the time as the sun began to sink; the sky dusked. Though it wasn't too late where you would be surrounded by the darkness, you knew it would be a good time to start heading back home. Passing back through the town, it had become distinctively quieter than before. Your ears perked up at the constant sound of an engine rumbling nearby, which was unusual as there were only cars which drove past in a swift speed but only ever so often.

Taking a quick look behind you, you spot a slow driving car; a flashy white vehicle. The same expensive-looking vehicle that you had often seen parked near the church, the same car that Preacher Teagardin owns. You whip your head back around to look forward before picking up your pace. Like hell did you trust this man, the same look he gave you during the sermon flashed through your mind as goosebumps formed along your arms. You looked around trying to spot somewhere to duck into and hide out or at least feel safe, the low rumble of the car still following at a leisurely pace behind you. As you notice bright lights through the increasingly darker world, you let out a sigh of relief before hastily making your way over to the store. It wasn't much, a small grocery store but it would do; there would be workers there at least. As you push the glass door open and walk in, you notice a bored-looking employee up at the front counter as well as a single customer in the small isle. You see through the store's windows that the Reverend parked outside the building, peering in; causing you to briskly look away from him hopefully without getting noticed. You took a deep breath as you approached the single customer, dressed in an open white button-up, blue cap adorning his head. There was a grimy feeling you could feel as you knew the Reverend's eyes were on you through the glass. This made you make a rash decision; you hoped this man was better than the Preacher.

As you come to stand beside the man, your hands creep along his waist as your arm comes to wrap around his body.

“Hi there, I’m Y/n. Sorry, this is a bit weird, I just need some help. Only for a couple of minutes, I promise.” You greet and plead as you lean up to the stranger's ear, seeing that the Reverend has come into the store.

“And what kinda’ help do you need?” The man asks, finally tilting his gaze towards you, you realise it was the same Russell boy from the sermon.

“I-I know it might sound stupid.. but I just- I get an off feeling with the new Reverend is all. He’s been behind me all this time, just uneasy is all” Looking down towards the ground as you respond, feeling dumber as you say it out loud.

Hell, this was a Preacher after all. This man was supposed to be a minister sent by the Lord. You didn’t believe all that but growing up with a heavily religious mother you knew some things, and those facts could not be filtered out.

“And what’s in it for me?” The question snapped you back to the reality of being in the store, your mind ticking for ideas.

A smile emerges on your lips as your hands move away from his torso. Only to move facing the boy, hands snaking up behind his neck to clasp together. The movement gaining you a questioning eyebrow raise by him. Though a curious stare, his arms also wind around you; resting on your hips.

“How ‘bout I get you some dinner some time? Just you and I, no creepy Preacher around.” You offer, unconsciously playing the nape of his neck.

“Arvin Russell, at your service ma’am” He teases, though you let out a sigh of relief bringing his body even closer to yours for a grateful hug.

“So what brings you to this store, this lovely evening, Arvin Russell?”

The pair of you stand there intertwined for a few minutes, getting to know each other. He was cute, the way he spoke lovingly of his family and his determined personality he had made you feel at ease; almost forgetting about the older man wandering around the store as well. That is until you see the man dressed in his suit walk past the two of you, making eye contact with him causes you to hide into Arvin's neck.

“How ‘bout I give you a ride home huh?” Feeling the vibrations when he had spoken this question, you were not going back outside to walk home so it was a simple choice.

You give a slight hum of approval before placing a gentle kiss on the skin of his neck. You pull away from him, watching a light blush rise onto Arvin's skin as you smile. Starting to walk away from him and towards the door. Before you could make it out though, you’re tugged back.

Arvin's fingers clasping yours, holding your hand as well as holding the door open for you to walk out. You let out a slight giggle before the two of you walk out the store hand in hand.

Though just before you get to Arvin’s car, he spins you around. Back coming into contact with the side of his red vehicle, a small laugh leaves your lips as you forget about the grimy man in the suit who had followed the pair of you out the store. Without another word, you feel his hands fall onto your cheeks as his lips press against yours. Unconsciously your eyes flutter shut, hands moving around Arvin's neck and lips moving in sync to his. You don't notice the time that passed as the two of you lock lips until you're only slightly parting for air.

“What was that for?” You ask out of breath, forehead still pressed against his.

“Putting on a show darlin’” Arvin responds with a smirk, before you have any time to wonder what he meant when you hear a car ignite its engine.

You peer around Arvin to watch Preacher Teagardin reverse out of the parking lot and drive away into the distance. You let out a relieved laugh as you lean slightly forward to peck those lips that were recently on yours.

“So about that dinner?” The young boy cheekily asks, a smirk on his face.

“Well, we got time now don’t we?” You slyly respond as you take the blue cap off his head and place it on top of your own.

You move out from under Arvin and open the passenger's side door, letting yourself fall into the seat. You smile as you watch the boy stand there for a moment grinning before jogging around the vehicle and entering the driver's side. As the two of you drive down to the town's diner, you couldn’t bear to imagine if you ended up in the Preacher's car instead. Though you looked over to the side, seeing the boy driving, taking in his stunning side profile. The golden light of the sunset bouncing off his skin, as he looked ethereal.

You know Arvin notices your staring though without taking his eyes off the road, he slips one of his hands into yours; intertwining your fingers.

For the first time in a long time, you thank god.

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell imagine #arvin russell imagines #arvin russell x you #tom holland x reader #tdatt fic #tdatt x reader #tdatt #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel x reader

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imatechbummerliketomholland · 3 years

Text

I wish this trip never ends (sstbthw part 2) - h.h

Word count: 3768

Warning: angst, swear, mention of smoking

Pairing : harry holland

Request: no.

N/A: okay, i took me almost a whole month to write this but i'm kinda need to work on school too. Remember, english is not my first language, so be kind if you spot mistakes, i really tried my best. I asked you who the reader was supposed to end up with ... I'll let you figure it out but ... don't hate me for the end ... because after all ... it might not be the end. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Love you all! xx

taglist : @angeliquekalampoka , @harryhollandsgirlfriend (the one and only harry holland's girlfriend to me)

ღღღ

previously - and you can find part 3

Restoring a relationship of trust and regaining the bond that you both had was particularly difficult. You had to learn to find your place in Harrison's life, but also in his relationship with Grace. You were roommates and friends, but it was complicated to plan meetings with Harrison's busy schedule. Between his job search after the cancellation of his Netflix series, his photo shoots, his dates with Grace, those with his family. It was getting harder and harder to find a moment to reunite with the two of you. It was without counting your schedule.

You were supposed to meet at noon for lunch at that restaurant Harrison told you about where he took his mother earlier this year, for Mother's Day. You felt uncomfortable going to such a place. It was very fancy; you had taken a look at the menu and you knew in advance that you would not be able to afford to split the bill. That was sometimes one of the downsides of being friends with Tom and Harrison. They sometimes forgot that their salary was significantly higher than yours. After all, they were still simple, good-natured guys, never saying no to a quick takeout meal or ordering pizza, drinking a beer at the local pub. And sometimes, they offered to go to prestigious places, not paying attention to money, wanting to please their friends or family.

Currently you were in your room. You were throwing countless of clothes across the room, trying to choose what you could wear to this lunch. Harry stopped dead when one of your dresses flew out of your room, right in front of his nose, blocking his way. You had left your door open and your spontaneity got the better of your best friend.

“Easy, Tiger. I had no idea your clothes had the capacity of Dr. Strange's cape.” He joked before coming into your bedroom.

You turned to find Harry leaning against your doorframe, a smirk encrusted on his face. You gave him an unamused frown and his smile widened. This wasn’t funny at all; you were stressed as hell. It’s not like you still had feelings for Harrison and try to impress him – to be honest, you still had feeling for your friend, but not as intense as before, you had drawn a definitive line on the possibility of a romantic relationship with him, which had helped you a lot. – But you didn’t want to be dressed down and looked like a clown.

“Come on Munchkin, it’s just a lunch. At worst, Harrison can still make it looks like he invited you out for charity, sort of “Make a Wish” event” Harry joked, in his significant humor.

“Go to hell, Robert. Don’t you have a pack bag to make, mister “I’m going to Spain to help my superstar brother to hold his tea while he’s filming”?”

“Rude… I’m a film director, now”

Not for that, you thought to yourself, but don't have the balls to tell your best friend. You didn't want to take this joke too far. You smiled at his cute pretending offended face. You pouted mockingly before biting your lip. You loved the dynamics of your relationship so much. Your humor, sarcasm, your outspokenness, that's what brought you together. Harry pulled you lightly from your closet with a comforting wink. He chose Yves Saint Laurent poppy red wool jersey flared pants that Tom gave you on your birthday. You smiled at his choice. You liked these pair of pants because they were sparkling with vitality, the color was flamboyant. Harry then gave you a satin pearl-colored shirt from Zara and you laughed at the drastic brand difference.

“Oh I see. A classy look but no more than £ 1000 that's pretty smart,” you joked.

The choice of your outfit once again proved the reality of hanging out with wealthy people. You were not poor; you could even be grateful for the life you had had. But it would never occur to you to give your friends clothes that were going over the miles and cents. To be honest, you wanted it. You wanted to live up to the gifts your friends sometimes gave you. But the truth seemed quite different: you had cried over the price of a used Rolex you wanted to give Tom for his birthday. Even having saved for 6 months, you could not afford such a gift.

“Shut up, don’t be so dramatic. Wear that necklace Harrison gave you for Christmas. I’m sure you’ll look fine”

“Thank you,Baz…I guess. ”

You kissed his cheek and then invited him out of your room so you could get ready. It didn't take you more than thirty minutes, time to put on the outfit your best friend had chosen and to put on light makeup. When you were finally ready, you walked to Tom's room. He had offered to take you to the restaurant where you were to join Harrison. But when you got to his ajar door, you could hear the soft sound of a slight snoring. You let out a chuckle before ordering an Uber. You knew he had spent almost a full month in Los Angeles and hadn't returned until early last week. You wanted to leave him as much as possible alone so that he could rest before his trip to Spain for the reshoots of his film Uncharted. Tom was a boy who loved being in touch with those close to him, but you also felt his need to recharge his batteries. That's why you preferred to let him sleep.

You went down to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water before leaving. When your Uber arrived, you left a note on the refrigerator to let the boys know you were safely gone. It was little everyday things that made you look normal that you enjoy. A post-it on the fridge, a table organizing household chores had been drawn up. Note to yourself; It was Harrison's turn to take care of the laundry.

☙♡❧

You had really hoped this was just a grotesque nightmare. That it wasn't real. He was going to arrive; he was just stuck into the traffic. Isn't it?

But you were there, waiting for over an hour and a half, without any news from your friend. Some people watched you with pity eyes, the others didn't give you any attention. You internally thank Harry for choosing your outfit. You didn't look like a lost kitten in this prestigious setting. It didn't prevent you from being ashamed right now. The waiter had urged you to order several times but you had told him that you were expecting someone, that he would arrive any minute. The last time, you didn't know if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But it never happened. Harrison never came to your dinner. You were alone, sitting at a table, pathetically waiting for your friend to show up. It didn't look like him. He had never stand you up before. And not to improve this embarrassing moment, the waiter came to you again. This time, with a man in a suit. He was elegant, carried himself proud but diplomatic. They stopped at your table, a tight smile on their faces. No doubt the man in the suit was to be the manager.

"Miss, my employee told me that you seemed to have occupied this table for a while now. I am sorry to tell you that if you do not order a few things, you will have to leave the establishment"

You looked at him with misty eyes. You have never been so ashamed in your life. You just nod your head, not trusting your voice just yet. After taking a deep breath, you finally apologize to them before telling them that you are going to leave. The manager of the restaurant, out of politeness awkwardly apologizing for this uncomfortable situation.

You've finished the Dry Martini that you allowed yourself to, paying for it with whatever pride you have left. You pulled your cellphone out of your purse and decided to call one of the boys. After three rings, he picked up.

"Hey ... can you please pick me up?"

Your voice was shaky, you were so ashamed but it was less distressing than having to walk the Walk of Shame to your house or cry in an uber. You hung up and shared your location. You left the lobby, leaving the restaurant, standing in front of the entrance to the establishment. The air refreshed your cheeks burning with shame. Luckily it wasn't raining today. Which was pretty nice compared to that early summer you had had.

When you saw Harry's car pulled up in front of you, you slid into the passenger seat without a word. The curly redhead gave you a heartwarming smile but you definitely could see a spark of annoyance in his eyes. You sigh, resigned while shrugging your shoulders. It was obvious that your friendship with Harrison was still shaky.

"I'm sorry, love. He's a jerk about it."

Coincidentally, like a mitigating circumstance, your phone vibrated, receiving a notification from Harrison. You were chewing your lip with a sort of anguish and irritation, watching the message the blond had sent you.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. My agent called me for a pretty urgent casting briefing. She's detained me until now. Are you still okay for this dinner?"

You were angry. You were mature enough and had known the boys long enough to understand their obligations. The fact that Harrison had a lastminute meeting with his agent and missed your dinner wasn't a problem. The problem was, he made you wait for over an hour and a half before notifying you. You wanted him to call you to let you know, or a simple text just after he knew for the meeting. You typed a short answer, shorter than this was impossible. "No". You rested your head against the headrest, turning your gaze to your best friend.

"Hey, he's a Netflix star now" you replied to his last words.

Your voice cracked on the last syllables and your eyes filled with tears. You weren't usually that emotional but the anguish and shame really took over you. Harry noticed, unsure of how to instantly respond to your distress. He would have liked to stop on an emergency lane to take you in his arms but he already had 2 penalties to pay, respectively for speeding and prohibited parking ... a third fine would not be really welcome. He simply placed his hand on your thigh, drawing circles on your pants to comfort you. He simply moved his hand to shift gears and instantly rested it on your leg whenever he had the chance. This gesture soothed you, enjoying the touch, grateful to have someone as your best friend to mop up your pain.

☙♡❧

Arriving at the apartment, no sign of Harrison. When you walked in the kitchen, you saw Tom sitting at the counter, scrolling his phone. He looked up at you, not directly noticing your annoyed expression.

"Wow..you're ... gorgeous. I love these pants on you"

You smiled, a little amused by the compliment. Of course he loved the pants, it was a gift from him. But your smile didn’t reach your eyes. With a look on your expression then on the clock, the actor understood that something went wrong. Harry was right behind and still no trace of Harrison. It was suspicious. Tom gave you a worried look.

"Do I have to ask…Never mind, I’m still going to ask. How was lunch with Harrison?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him? Oh wait... right, he didn't show up" you said sarcastically although you could hear the hurt in your voice.

Tom frowned, biting the inside of his lower lip in annoyance. Harrison was his best mate since forever and he knew him so well. It seemed strange from Harrison to not show up. The blond has told him he was happy to see you again and walking through this whole awkward “feeling situation” because he didn’t want to lose you. In a quick movement, he rose from his stool to walk around the counter. The next second, he took you in his comforting arms and you finally let yourself go under the sight of the two Holland brothers.

“It seems like you need a break of all this shit” Tom said while he ran his fingers through your hair.

You let a little laugh escape through your tears. He wasn't wrong. You really needed to get away from this whole situation for a moment. But how? Harry watched the scene unsure of what to do. You were his best friend and it seemed like the solace you found was never in his arms. He had tried in the car, however, as best he could. He walked over to the counter to make you both a cup of tea. It seems that as cliché as it sounds, tea comforts you, as the English person you used to be. As the redhead waited patiently for the water to boil, a flash of genius - according to him - crossed the glare of his eyes.

“Why doen't she come with us to Spain?”

His brother's words seemed to suit Tom, who released his hold on you. You opened your eyes wide, not sure of what you had just heard. Go to Spain, with them? Once again, you knew you were going to argue on this proposition. The idea was not bad, Spain seemed a rather pleasant country. But you had just graduated and had a student job to save as much as possible. However, you could not afford to leave for several days in Spain, at the last minute. Plus, what were you going to do while Tom was filming and Harry was assisting him? He was sure the film's production crew wasn't going to give you a pass because Tom had decided.

“Yeah! That’s it, you’re coming with us”

“Tom, I have a student job. I can’t just…decide to go to Spain.”

“You never take a leave, come on. It’s not negotiable”

You were looking at Harry for help but he just shrugged. After all, he was the one who had initiated the idea of including you on the trip. You were trying to find a valid excuse to stay home. You really didn't want to impose yourself.

“I can’t afford that” you said, trying your best to convince him to quit the idea.

“I don’t care, it’s not even a problem. You coming to Spain with us.”

"Omg, does Z dominate you in bed to make you so bossy in life?"

Harry almost spitted his tea and laughed out loud while Tom gave you shocked eyes with pinky cheeks. You had always been sassy but hanging out with the boys had made you even more sassy than ever. How many times haven't you heard Tuwaine or Harry make fun of Harrison or Tom on the sex subject? Being a girl seemed to make you an untouchable character. The boys had never teased you about your relationships or your sexual partners. And while you've always had feelings for Harrison, you've had your own experiences. Anyway, you had just gone with the flow and Tom's brand-new romantic relationship with his co-star gave you the perfect opportunity.

“That's not the point.” stammered the actor.

Your smile widened, proud of your joke and the way Tom reacted. You heard Harry clear his throat. He had his phone in his hand and his own smile didn't bode well for you.

"The production is okay but it's at Tom's expense."

“You got to be kidding me…”

☙♡❧

You ended up in Spain with two of your best friends. You knew you had limited time before Tom had to fly back to Los Angeles for some Spider-man: No Way Home reshoots. So, you enjoyed as much as possible: accompanying the boys to the golf course - even though you weren't very involved in the sport -, spending time to visit touristic places when they were on set, talking with Rachael and other people from the set. You really enjoyed your trip.

On Wednesday evening you went out to a restaurant with Tom, Harry and two other friends/tom’s colleagues. You couldn't deny that it was fun. You had the opportunity to sunbathe a little while walking through the streets of Madrid. Spain was doing you good and not once did you think about your wobbly friendship with Harrison. You've just left the restaurant when a few fans politely show up to take pictures with Tom. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of how kind Tom had always taken in a few snaps when his fans approached him respectfully - and there weren't too many of them -. You sighed with pleasure before stepping away from the group. You leaned against a wall and took out the packet of cigarettes that Tom had asked you to keep in your clutch bag. Being an occasional smoker, he wouldn't blame you if you took one from him. You tilted your head back to admire the dark starry night when you felt a presence by your side. You narrowed your eyes in mischief as you looked sideways: Harry was there, his nose wrinkled from your cigarette. He didn't like it too much Silence filled your bubble despite the hubbub outside. You were in public and it was not surprising to meet travelers and Madrid residents mingling with the crowd to enjoy this pleasant evening.

"I wish this trip never ends." You finally said, breaking the silence.

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he was just looking at you. You were a little tanned, the Madrid sun had done wonders on you; your loose hair framed your face and the summer dress you had chosen for the restaurant looked great on you: It was a short red floral summer dress with a shingle collar. Light enough to keep you from suffocating but decent to wear on any casual occasion. You were beautiful, stunning. His heart exploded at the sight of you, so much that it hurt a few times.

"I wish I had been there for you more." he finally confessed

You finally turned your head towards him and shrug your shoulders, smiling shyly but sincerely.

“You were working, Baz”

“I meant…not only here in Spain. I’m sorry to have let you down recently”

You give him a confused look. He hadn't been a bad friend but he kept implying it. You just shook your head negatively to brush his words away. Harry had always been important to you. He had been the first to step towards you. It was him who introduced you to the rest of the gang. He had always been concerned about you.

The night you met, you immediately clicked up with him. And to be honest, for a moment, you thought he liked you that night. But he never took that step towards you and you never did either. You dreaded that if you kissed him, he would think you were interested in his notoriety by proxy. So you just acted like any reasonable person would - accept the status he gave you. And the second time he asked you to join him with his brother and his friends, you met Harrison and your heart exploded.

"I'm glad you brought me here"

“I'm happy you accepted to come.”

“I didn't really have the choice, Baz” you joked.

He laughed slightly. You weren't wrong, he and Tom had practically dragged you onto the plane, leaving you no choice to be by their side. But you could only thank them, especially Harry who had the idea. You took another hit on your cigarette before leaning back to check out where Tom was with his fans. He seemed to be talking with the girls and didn't seem overwhelmed. So, you didn't want to interrupt him and were just going to wait for him to finish. Harry played with his hands nervously, looking straight ahead and then at you. He seemed to be repeating this game for several seconds before finally asking the question that was in his mind.

“Have you heard from Harrison?” Harry asked quite casually

“He sent me several texts to apologize and wished me to have a good time in Madrid.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

You swallow hard before looking at him. There was an indecipherable glint in his eyes and you weren't sure what to make of it. You drew another puff from your cigarette, maybe that would save you from entering this conversation. But Harry's presence was all around you and you couldn't really escape. So you've decided to be honest.

“It’s complicated. I suppose so...”

“Mhmm”

“But my friendship with Haz is important, I don't want to lose him because of it.”

“Yeah, you can't imagine how well I understand you” he sighed

“What do you mean? Who’s the lucky girl..or guy ?”

Harry turned to you frankly and you did the same, stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette. You are well aware that the conversation was taking a more serious turn. He moistened his lips and walked over to you. Harry was full of things: he was full-loving, sarcastic, talented, daring, impertinent. But Harry was mostly awkward when it came to love. Not just an attraction, no, love with real feeling. Delicately, hesitantly, he reached out to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers, cautiously. You were frozen, your eyes fixed on him admiring his audacity.

"She's the most beautiful girl I ever seen." he said with a small smile.

Harry walked over to you and your heart was pounding at breakneck speed. Harry had ... feelings for you? You were really confused. Since when had he developed his feelings? Why didn't he tell you about it? Why hadn't he tried anything so far? So, were you right from the start? Was there a tension between you since the beginning of your friendship, since your met? But above all, did you want him to take that step? Instinctively, your body responded. You parted your lips and closed your eyes. You enjoyed the warmth of his hand on your cheek and were waiting for the touch of his lips. But it never happened.

"Hey baz, y/n..we're going back to the hotel" Tom said, taking his eyes off his phone. "I…Mhmm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland fic #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield #tom holland

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solomonish · 3 years

Text

selfless (to a fault?) [nowdateables]

CW: allusions to past toxic relationships.

brothers here!

Diavolo

So. Diavolo might not notice right away. It’s not ignorance! He’s just very busy, and public appearances are important to keep up, so one of the ways he keeps up with you happens to be exactly what you have trouble accepting. Large bouquets sent to the House of Lamentation when you’re there, a word sent out to any of his staff out where you may be to make your life easier however possible (Mammon tries to tag along with you all the time, hoping to hear the magic words: “His highness has graciously waived the fee for all exchange students’ purchases today!”) - and he’s not even there to see the way your smile looks a little more like a grimace, or the way you stare uncomfortably at the little gift.

He seems to love that you are so willing to try and help him out - even if there isn’t much you can do, since he handles a lot of sensitive documents and information. But, considering he’s so lonely, when it comes to reciprocating he sort of follows your lead?

He knows, on a surface level, how to be in a relationship, but considering you’re a human AND he doesn’t have a lot of interpersonal relationships for practice...he sort of follows your lead, and hopes your way of giving love is the same as your way of receiving.

You’ll have to bring it up to him, which is a nerve-wracking experience on its own, eased only by the fact that you know Diavolo has done his best to make sure you KNOW you can bring up any issues you have. He is very good at opening his ears to you and helping you problem solve, and when dealing with the things he cares about (yes, YOU) he is very direct about problem solving.

The moment you stand before him, Diavolo notices the way you fidget with your hands and almost refuse to look at him directly. He immediately stops what he’s doing, putting everything down and turning in his seat. If he’s at his desk, he gestures for you to come to his side and asks you directly - “What’s wrong?”

It seems terrible to directly accuse the prince of wanting to manipulate you, so instead you ask, “What did you want in exchange for those gifts?” And for a moment, he does not know what you are talking about. First of all, WHICH gifts, there’s so many, and secondly did he come across as wanting something in return other than your happiness?

No matter what he was doing before, he will set aside all of the time he needs to at least start to communicate to you that he has no ulterior motives with his gifts to you. If you’d like him to stop with such blatant displays of affection, he will, but it’s more important to him that you know he is only trying to communicate how he feels when he cannot do it directly.

Barbatos

This is a relationship where you might have to bring it up before you even start dating. Either that or he WILL get a hint before then. He’s a butler! Not only is he normally serving other people, he is a master at standing in the back and watching people. He notices the way you awkwardly hold your tea cup after he gives it to you, or decline anything that he offers you when given the chance. It just comes up by nature of who he is.

Before he is interested in pursuing a relationship, he simply brushes it off as the unfamiliarity of having someone wait on you. Perhaps you’re particularly independent, or you just never really are in a situation where someone waits on you like he does. Either way, it isn’t really much of his business.

But...it is very obvious in a relationship. He just...defaults to helping others. Sure, he knows how to separate work and his personal life (though, to be fair, there is not much of a “personal life” there with how much time work takes up, so maybe that needs to be revisited. some day...) but even with that separation he enjoys providing solutions for people and helping out. It brings him joy to help make your life a little easier if he can help, and it’s something he’s good at.

Still, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he definitely doesn’t want to make you think that he’s treating you the way he treats people as a job. If he wanted to, he could most likely peer into different timelines or even into your past, try to figure out what’s bothering you...but he knows better than to creep into places you haven’t explicitly told him you want him. Besides, communication is important, and this seems a prime opportunity to put that to use.

So he asks you one day when you visit him at the castle, after he notices your hesitation to respond to him when he offers to help you with something you were complaining about. “Why does it make you uncomfortable when I offer my assistance to you?”

You freeze for a moment. “Wouldn’t you be able to find that out on your own?” “Would you like me to?” “...no, not really.”

He isn’t one to press you for information, or to ask a thousand times if you know he’d never use any of his attempts to make your life in the Devildom easier against you. Barbatos will listen to what you have to say intently and do his best to mesh to what you think you’re most comfortable with. He does intend to help you accept help as much as he can, but it’ll be so subtle you’ll hardly even notice. With the little amount of time he already gets with you, he’s already practiced in making the most of it - what’s one more little task to the greatest butler in all the realms?

Solomon

See, this is a relationship that doesn’t necessarily depend on the whole “acts of kindness” thing. (Like, it does to the same degree any relationship does, but considering I think you’d both be pretty independent people and the helping each other aspect normally comes from things you’re doing together anyway. If that makes sense.)

Still, he does notice how...surprised you look when he surprises you with a flashy spell he learned, or when he hears you complaining about your course load or Lucifer’s expectations for you. You decline every single offer he gives you to help, and you never look as happy as he hopes you will when he shows you his spells. (Depending on what stage you are at in the relationship, how is he supposed to impress you if you never want him to do things for you !!!)

However, he is accustomed to holding information close to his chest, and he isn’t always the best at asking about people’s emotions. So, even though sometimes you jump at the opportunity to help him collect ingredients for potions or find one book in massive libraries or craft things for enchantments and spells but you REFUSE to let him help you study for a class he could pass without even listening to one of the lectures, he silently suffers and hopes you’ll breach the subject on your own.

Which you do. Kinda. He’s trying to convince you to let him help you with paying back the debts of one of Mammon’s schemes he dragged you into - figuring two bodies on the job will get it done faster and, in turn, he can have more time with you later - but he makes the mistake of rationalizing it with, “Well, since you help me out so much, maybe I could-”

“Don’t! Don’t...say that. We don’t owe each other anything.” You give him a tight smile that’s OBVIOUSLY fake. “I help you because I want to.”

“And I want to help you. Why won’t you let me? What’s up?”

The conversation is...uncomfortable. Solomon isn’t the best at handling vulnerability. But he doesn’t judge you for a second, and he gets the fear that you have in the back of your mind. Especially since people keep telling you not to trust him and that he’s shady...this relationship is pretty dependent on a thorough trust between the two of you. But he doesn’t mind proving himself a little more, so long as you’ll be gracious enough to give him a chance.

Simeon

Simeon is really good at vibing out somebody’s boundaries and comforts. Call it angelic intuition, but he also has a feeling about you that makes a little too much sense when he notices how you shy away from any offers of assistance.

A little thinking, and suddenly the way you stretch yourself thing to help the brothers at any moment makes a lot of sense too. (And, of course, he is pleased to know everyone considers everyone to be family. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t two main causes!)

Angels naturally want to ease the strife of the humans they come across, and even though Simeon knows that it might make you uncomfortable, he finds himself unknowingly putting you in awkward positions with how often he reaches out to make your life easier.

Bringing you homework that you missed, being your escort when the brothers are busy, buying you lunch just because - he’s a bit of a sweetheart and it’s in his blood to do these things, and he only remembers how it hurts you when you uncomfortably shift before taking the only option he’s given you - accept what you don’t want.

He sits you down one day, letting you know it’s bound to be a healing conversation between the two of you. Fortunately, he has a knack for making you feel comfortable and safe, so he has a slightly easier time getting you to pen up to him.

The moment you even hint at him having ulterior motives, you feel stupid. Even when he assures you that it’s alright, saying it out in the open feels...wrong. That doesn’t shake the feeling or ease your fears, but it does make addressing things a bit easier.

Simeon has no problem helping to draft a plan for re-affirming your trust in genuine love and kindness. He also inserts himself directly into the plans - what, you thought he wouldn’t? Simeon will remind you what it feels like to be cared for with no expectation of return. don’t get him wrong though, he’ll take a lil kiss or something if u want...

Luke

You can’t say no to him. Unfortunately, he bakes a LOT and he is all too eager to be your personal guard dog guardian angel.

When you do decide to let him know why you look so uncomfortable when he tries to do something for you (giving him an abridged version, of course) - and he, in all his energy, does not seem to get the hint to STOP ASKING - you can see him literally just chill out. One minute he’s vibrating with pure energy and the next he’s just. Still.

He half wants to get indignant on you, but he knows that’s not a good response. Instead he just sort of stands there, watching you for a minute, until he blurts out with zero grace - “What would I even have to do that for??”

He realizes it’s a terrible response the moment it comes out of his mouth, but you seem to be okay with it if your awkward chuckle is anything to go with. Luke starts pouting just a little bit, more upset with himself that he’s completely failing at handling this situation. “I’m just nice to you because you’re nice and you deserve it. There’s nothing else to it.”

He’s a sweet boy, and he doesn’t wanna lose his favorite taste-tester. He’s got the spirit.

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader

Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let’s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.

Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!

Word count: somehow, 4.4k.

Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.

Rating: T

The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.

Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.

What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.

He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.

Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.

Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.

For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.

Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.

Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.

Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.

It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot). However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.

Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.

“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.

Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.

What the fuck is up with him?

Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.

“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”

Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.

Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.

“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.

“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”

“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.

You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.

“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”

What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?

Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.

When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.

“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head.

“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.

Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”

That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”

“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.

“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.

“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.

You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.

“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.”

“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”

You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you. You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.

Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”

At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair.

“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.

You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.

Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.

“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.

Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.

You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.

“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”

Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.

“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”

You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.

He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.

Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.

It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.

You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him.

With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.

“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.

Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say.

“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”

His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.

“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”

And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.

“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”

I’m in love with you.

Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.

Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.

“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”

You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.

The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?

“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”

You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.

Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”

“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.

And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.

You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.

Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.

What the fuck were you expecting?

Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?

And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.

Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.

Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.

“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.

When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.

Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.

You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.

Suddenly you could understand it.

That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

I’m in love with you.

The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.

PART TWO IS HERE

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfic

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tsumusamu · 4 years

Text

nice receive [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: fluff and (once again, a sad attempt at) humor

word count: 3.8k

summary: eight months into your relationship, atsumu takes you to meet his family. things don't go as planned, but of course, everything ends up alright in the end anyway. alternatively, miya atsumu adores you and his family thinks it's easy to see why.

warnings: uhhh implied sexual content at the end but it is like barely there ok

commission for @ muppetz (it wont let me tag for some reason ugh) thank you so much for commissioning me!

a/n: this ended up being way longer than the word count requested but that’s no one’s fault but my own because i dont know when to shut the FUCK up anyways i hope this one shot is enjoyable lol

content under the cut!

You literally never thought that you would ever end up in this situation.

"C'mon babe, why the long face? Ya nervous or somethin'?"

"No." You purse your lips, huffily averting your gaze from your boyfriend's smirking face.

"Ya don't needa be like that." Atsumu drapes an arm across your shoulder, pecking your forehead as a sort of reassurance. "No one could ever hate this cute face, after all." He accentuates his words by squishing your cheeks, drawing out a yelp of protest from you.

"If you keep talking like this, you're gonna jinx it, you know." Your words come out softer and more hesitant than intended, and you startled even yourself at how utterly anxious you sound.

"Yer gonna be fine. Trust me, I wouldn’t take just any random girl to meet my folks, and they’re well aware of that." Atsumu ruffles your hair.

"I just... I hope they're not..." You pause for a moment, trying to find the right word. "...Disappointed?" You grimace when your boyfriend suddenly throws his head back in such voracious laughter, that you swear you saw a few hysterical tears.

"Are ya jokin'?" he all but wheezes. "Yer the libero for the national volleyball team, for God's sake. If anythin', I'd be the disappointment here."

"'Tsumu — " you start, but he interrupts you by pulling you in for a comforting hug.

"Don't worry yer pretty head anymore, got it?" he murmurs into your ear. "Yer wonderful, and I couldn't be luckier to have ya. My parents are gonna love ya. Honest."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you reach around his back to hug him back. "I hope so."

A year ago, if someone had told you that you would end up having Miya Atsumu introduce you to his family as his girlfriend, you would've laughed until your ass fell off and your stomach ached like no tomorrow.

You had been absolutely overjoyed when you were chosen for the women's national volleyball team, and you were so eager to start playing with your new teammates that you had decided to attend the national team's training camp without hesitation despite your recent knee injury at the time. However, you completely overlooked the fact that you would be working with the men's team as well, which would've been completely fine... if not for Miya Atsumu.

When you first met Atsumu, he was the cocky, annoying little shit of a setter for the Japanese men's national volleyball team, someone who you were stuck training with for the next two weeks.

You still remember the first words he ever spoke to you.

"The hell are ya doin' there, lil libero? If yer not gonna be able to save the easiest ones, then ya might as well sub out."

You also remember the first thought you had about him.

'Prick.'

And the first words you spoke to him.

"Can't you look at this — " You had gestured angrily to the knee brace supporting you. "And take a fucking hint, or what?"

He had sent some unapologetic, biting words right back at you and that marked the beginning of the time you have had the utmost pleasure of knowing Miya Atsumu. The two of you had bickered rather relentlessly (not too unlike literal children, despite the both of you being well into your twenties) throughout the rest of the camp, and by the end, for some unknown reason through some unknown method, he ended up with your number.

He started texting you constantly, and as much as you tried to convince your foolish self that he was just a nuisance, you found yourself responding to his messages like an idiot anyway. Throughout the next few months, you learned that Atsumu was far more than just his overly confident demeanor; he's genuinely kind-hearted, down-to-earth, and actually kinda hilarious. And eventually — neither of you quite knew how — the two of you were staring across a table at each other in a fancy restaurant as if daring the other to blink and lose an unspoken game, on a first date that neither of you thought would go as well as it did.

A little over eight months into your happy and committed relationship, Atsumu suggested that the two of you go to his hometown in Hyogo for a weekend to visit his family. You had immediately agreed with his idea, excited to meet his parents and twin brother in person, but now that he's leading you out of your shared hotel room to go do just that, your stomach's knotting uncomfortably.

Atsumu's been nothing but supportive and comforting ever since you started showing that you're nervous to meet his family. He was always happy to provide a never-ending flow of cheesy words and warm hugs, but you're genuinely afraid of embarrassing yourself. You want to impress his family and not have them see you as undeserving of their son, who you truly care for from the bottom of your heart. Atsumu is your first long-term boyfriend, and you would jump off your roof if you managed to mess anything up during the visit to his folks.

The taxi ride to Atsumu's childhood home doesn't do much to soothe your nerves either, with you fiddling with your fingers the entire way through while Atsumu makes small talk with the driver. As the cab pulls up to the address that your boyfriend had provided earlier, you instinctively clench your fists so hard that you think you might bleed.

A look of alarm crosses Atsumu's face as he notices that you're still just as anxious as you were when you left the hotel earlier. He thought that the ride to his parents' house would give you some time to cool down, but that had clearly not been the case. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he reaches over to grab one of your hands in his, giving you a comforting squeeze.

"Just breathe, darlin'." He runs his thumb over the shallow nail marks embedded in your skin. "If it means anything to ya, my mom's a huge fan of yers. For real. I didn't tell ya this before, but she's especially excited to meet ya. Keeps yappin' to me askin' how I pulled ya." You flush.

"R-Really?" you stammer, wide-eyed.

"Really. Who wouldn't be a fan yers?" Atsumu grins, pecking your nose. "See, ya got nothin' to be worried about. Just chill out and be yerself, 'kay?" You nod, some of the tension releasing from your shoulders as Atsumu leads you out of the cab, hand still clutching yours.

You're feeling a little better now, though your thoughts are still running through your head at the pace of a mile a minute as you watch Atsumu pay the taxi driver and thank him for the ride. Atsumu's mother is my fan? Your ears start to heat up. I hope I can somehow live up to her expectations of me…

“Ma! We’re here!” Atsumu shouts at the top of lungs approximately one second after simultaneously ringing the doorbell and obnoxiously pounding on the door.

“Comin’, comin’, ya brat!” A feminine, yet strong voice hollers in return. You freeze on the spot, your mind going blank once again. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

The door aggressively swings open, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a pink apron and carrying a wooden spatula in her hand. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun away from her face and her eyes, the same chocolate brown as Atsumu’s, are gleaming with annoyance. She briefly glares at Atsumu for his rowdy entrance before her gaze catches onto you, and her entire face lights up with excitement.

“(L/N) (Y/N)! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“M-Mrs. Miya,” you stammer out, trying your best to smile but you’re sure it looked more like a wince. “It’s good to m-meet you t-too.”

"Aw, hey now. What happened to my feisty girl? It's not like ya to be so lame.” Atsumu lays his forearm on your head, effectively using you as an armrest. You jerk away, scowling.

“Shut the hell up, asshat,” you snap without thinking. About half a second later, regret slams into your body like a truck. Oh, shit. I just called my boyfriend an asshat in front of his mother. You were about to run off into the streets in utter embarrassment if not for Mrs. Miya letting out a hearty laugh way too similar to her son’s and linking arms with you.

“No need to look so scared, dear. I don’t bite. And it’s good to see that yer willin’ to put this brat in his place.”

“Ma!” Atsumu whines, pouting petulantly.

“Yer really losin’ out with him though, y’know,” Mrs. Miya whispers to you as she leads you into the house by your arm. “I’ve got another son; Atsumu’s twin. Osamu’s quite well-behaved. If yer just likin’ the looks, he would be the better option.” You can tell she’s joking by the merry twinkle in her eyes, but instead of humoring her you end up shaking your head with a quiet chuckle.

“I think Atsumu’s perfectly good for me.” The two of you pause to watch Atsumu practically sprint into the kitchen, and a few moments later there’s an agitated yell as proof that he was on his way to annoy his brother. You smile. “He makes me really happy, Mrs. Miya. You raised him well.”

“Aren’t ya just the sweetest thing?” Mrs. Miya coos at you, pinching your left cheek. “And so pretty too. I swear ya could probably clobber my brat at volleyball as well. You and yer teammate… ah, Miss Amanai? The two of you always caught my eye while I watched yer matches. Make sure ya let her know.”

You blush a little and thank her, making a mental note to tell Kanoka that. She’d probably find it extremely amusing, especially since she was the one who had given Atsumu your number in the first place (which, as you had found out months later, was because he had practically groveled at her feet multiple times. Dumbass.)

“Come meet my husband, (Y/N).” Mrs. Miya leads you into the living room, where an older, balding man with rimmed glasses is quietly flipping through a book. He gives a start upon hearing your entrance, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

“Ah, hello!” Mr. Miya greets you. “I’ve heard a lot about you! From both Atsumu and the missus.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miya.” You nod once in a respectful manner.

“It’s about time that he settled down with a nice girl. Make sure ya keep him in line though, got it, missy?”

“Of course I w — “ you start, but Mrs. Miya is already dragging you towards the kitchen. You smile apologetically at Mr. Miya, and he just laughs and waves.

“Osamu’s makin’ dinner right now. He is such a hardworkin’ and dedicated boy. Both of them are, really,” she rambles. “But Osamu sure can cook a mean meal. He and his twin always used to fight over who’s the better cook. But I betcha Atsumu hasn’t touched the stove since he left for university years ago.”

You debate telling her that Atsumu had made quite a decent meal for the two of you just last week to celebrate your eight-month anniversary (which you hadn’t even known he remembered), but before you can formulate the right words in your head you’re suddenly shoved in the path of an unfamiliar man. Well, not really unfamiliar. He has the same face as the boyfriend who you see every day, after all.

Miya Osamu is (as expected) the literal carbon copy of Atsumu; same strong eyebrows, same hooded eyes, same angular jawline. The only thing that easily sets them apart is his black, ruffled mess of hair in stark contrast with your boyfriend’s bleached blonde.

Mrs. Miya pulls Atsumu away from the two of you, demanding that he help her with some mundane task, leaving you and Osamu by yourselves in the kitchen.

An easy smile graces his lips as he sticks out his hand. “Hey, I’m Osamu. Honored to finally meet the famous (L/N) (Y/N).” You smile back, gripping his hand firmly and shaking.

“And I’m honored to meet the famous ‘Samu.” At your words, Osamu bursts out laughing.

“Man, I don’t really let a lot of people call me that, y’know? But if yer gonna be part of the family, you could be an exception.”

“F-Family?” You pause, your sudden confidence dissipating as fast as it had come.

“Naw, no pressure. Just sayin’.” Osamu casually continues with his task of shaping onigiri. “I can tell he really likes ya.” You raise your eyebrows in curiosity without entirely meaning to. “I mean, we’re twins, it’s like a sixth sense. And also he never shuts up about ya when we text or call.”

“I hope you’re hearing all good things?” you quip jokingly.

“Oh, for sure. If I didn’t know who you were I’d think that he’s talkin’ about the reincarnation of a goddess with the way he talks.”

“Seriously?” You snort, and Osamu just laughs.

“So I’d like to ask ya the favor of continuin’ to take care of him. Guy’s just a huge ass baby. I can obviously see that yer good for him, though. He wouldn’t have stayed for so long if he wasn’t serious.”

The two of you briefly glance at Atsumu helping his mother set the table. They’re currently debating over whether Atsumu should go back to his natural hair color and “Stop makin’ yer hair look like fuckin’ straw!”

“He is a huge ass baby,” you start seriously, causing Osamu to smirk. “But he’s an honest and good person, so I’m not too bothered. I’ll take care of him, promise.”

“Thanks.” Osamu sighs, glancing rather fondly in his brother’s direction. “He’s an asshole, but at least he’s a redeemable asshole. I’m glad he’s finally got someone around to take care of him. Makes us all feel a little more relieved since he’s away from home.”

You suddenly feel warm inside.

Atsumu had been right; you truly didn’t have anything to be afraid of. The Miyas have been nothing but kind and welcoming so far, and they even seem to already have a positive opinion of you.

“Can ya help me carry these to the table?” Osamu holds out a plate of freshly-made onigiri.

“Ah, sure!” you accept hurriedly, taking the plate from him with careful hands. You take slow, calculated steps towards the dining room; the last thing you want is to accidentally drop any of the food.

Atsumu and his parents are already waiting in the dining room, and they all look up at you expectantly as you approach them with the onigiri plate in hand.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Mrs. Miya chirps. “Helpin’ Osamu out! How sweet of ya — “

She’s cut off as disaster strikes.

You trip on your last step to the table, causing a single onigiri to tumble off the plate and towards the floor. Your mouth drops open wide as you practically slam the plate down on the table and in practical slow-motion, watch the onigiri plummet down, down, down —

Then you dive.

You dive towards the floor, in the same manner as you do when you’re digging for a volleyball.

And you catch the rice ball in one hand, laying flat on your stomach. You have a moment of mental celebration; yes, you caught the onigiri! Then you realize that you look like a fucking idiot as you lay face down with one hand extended and clutching a rice ball like it’s your lifeline.

There’s a few seconds of agonizing silence.

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

There’s no way that you could ever show your face in front of Atsumu’s family or even Atsumu himself now; God you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, and over an onigiri too —

“Nice receive!” Atsumu suddenly bellows, clapping his hands boisterously. “(L/N) does it again!”

His brother, who’s standing a few feet behind you with a platter of chicken skewers, pumps his free fist into the air and joins in with a “Hell yeah!”

Mr. Miya starts laughing the same loud Miya laugh that you’ve heard way too many times today, and his sons soon follow suit. Shame is still flooding your body, but now you’re realizing just how ridiculous the whole situation is and you resist the urge to smile at your own stupidity. As soon as Mrs. Miya recovers from her initial surprise, she comes to help you up, and you can tell that she’s doing her best not to laugh as well.

“Are ya okay, dear?” she briefly inspects you for any sign of injury.

“All good here, Mrs. Miya.” You smile, genuinely and comfortably, as Atsumu comes behind you to wrap his arms around you and peck your cheek, still chuckling with a small note of pride. “All good.”

“See?” Atsumu’s smug as hell as the two of you enter the hotel elevator on your way up to your room. Osamu had dropped you off so there would be no need for another cab. “I told ya that they’d fuckin’ love ya.”

“Why’re you rubbing in something like this?” You scoff, dodging when he tries to pull you into a crushing hug.

“Because I was right.” He smirks. You roll your eyes to heaven.

“Well, you can’t blame me for being nervous! I still can’t believe that none of them got upset at me for diving for a rice ball at the dinner table.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Nah, why the hell would they? It was cool. Yer cool, Miss National Team Libero.” He laughs, reaching for you again and this time you let him bring you close to him. “Besides, like I said before, who could ever resist yer pretty lil face?”

“You’re a hopeless asshole.” You sigh, and Atsumu of course just chuckles, his laughter vibrating against your ear as you press yourself into his chest.

“I’m yer hopeless asshole.” He pecks the top of your head. “C’mon, babe. It’s our floor.”

You hadn’t realized how tired you are until the two of you enter your hotel room and you see the large, inviting bed. You practically jump onto it, burying your face into a pillow. “Goodnight…” you mumble sleepily.

“Ya gotta go shower and brush yer teeth first, idiot.” A pillow smacks you in the side of the head, and you leap up with a cry of surprise. “Damn, don’t be so loud, sweetheart. It’s late, y’know. Don’t wanna get a noise complaint like last night.” You turn bright red at the reminder.

“Shut u-up,” you retort. “I told you that we shouldn’t have tried to do it on the balcony.”

“It was fun, though, y’know! An experience. And ya sounded like you were enjoyin’ it, anyway.” He chucks another pillow at you, and you yelp as it nails you in the face. “Now get yer cute ass over here, we’re gonna shower.”

“You can’t make me.” You stubbornly lay back down and close your eyes, and you had peace for all but ten seconds before Atsumu’s plucking you off the bed and settling you into his arms bridal-style. Your eyes shoot open in shock and you flail desperately. “Put me down!”

“No can do. I’m not sleepin’ next to yer stinky self tonight, darlin’.” Atsumu laughs as you scowl.

“The floor’s always open for you,” you snap.

“Aw, yer no fun.” He steals a kiss from you in the blink of an eye; the only evidence of there being contact at all is a tingling feeling on your lips. You feel your heart melt just a little more.

“Fine. After we shower, we go straight to bed. Got it?”

“ And brush our teeth. Yer mornin’ breath is bad enough.” He lets out quite an unpleasant squawk when you smack him lightly in the shoulder. “Alright, sorry, sorry.”

“Is this just your excuse to see me naked?” you tease him as he sets you down on the bathroom counter before immediately removing his shirt to reveal his muscled torso. He grins wolfishly at you and shrugs.

“And if it is?” Atsumu’s eyes are zeroed in on the small hickey he had left right below your collarbone last night, which is now visible thanks to the way your shirt had rumpled after he had practically manhandled you into the bathroom.

“Well, I won’t complain.” You follow his gaze down to your neck, before glancing back up to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow at him. “If you’re going to make it worth my time.”

About an hour later, the two of you are lying in bed together, effectively tuckered out and finally ready to sleep. Atsumu’s strong arms are wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon as you snuggle your face against his chest. The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat rocks you towards dreamland, and all the worries from the past day are slipping away.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you mumble against his chest. He grunts tiredly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a small silence.

“...Thanks,” you finally say after a beat.

“Huh? For what?” he quips.

“For being patient with me today, even though I was so nervous. And for taking me to meet your family.” You crane your head to look up at him, contentment adorning your features. “I had a good time. I hope they don’t hate the idea of me coming around again sometime.”

Atsumu smiles that familiar smile, the smile filled with affection that others rarely get to see. His eyes are almost half-mooned with joy, his lips are curved up in genuine adoration, and his cheeks are flushed with color. You saw this smile for the first time when he set an incredibly low ball at training camp, earning the awe of everyone in the room, including yourself. Never did you think that you would ever have this expression of pure love aimed at you, nor did you think it would fill you with so much happiness every time you had the blessing of seeing it. He says nothing for a while, suddenly resorting to trailing kisses all over your face. You let him, closing your eyes peacefully as he showers you with his love, ending with one final peck to your nose.

“I'm sure they'd like to have you around again.”

And if Atsumu continues playing his cards right, he thinks there might be a possibility that in the next five or so years, you could truly become part of the family with a glittering ring on your finger.

Only time will tell if that possibility will ever come to fruition, but as you tilt your head up to give him one last kiss on the lips and whisper those three words to him, he knows for sure that he wants to continue building towards that future with you.

“I love you too.” He lets his eyes fall shut as well, before resting his chin atop your head and savoring the warmth of your body against his.

Only time will tell.

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