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peachie-bumblebee · 9 months

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THREESOME HEADCANONS WITH MONTGOMERY GATOR

NSFW MINORS DNI

for my partner whom i love more than anything and who requested more Monty content <3 come get your food babe

CW: JEALOUSY, MARKING, TOYS, FREE USE

SCENERIO- You (reader) and Montgomery Gator are in a relationship when he brings up the topic of a threesome with you. It’s dealers choice- he’ll share you with any of his fellow main stage animatronics.

IF YOU PICK:

FREDDY

Slow turn. Full stop.

“ w h a t . ”

he straight up doesn’t understand. not one bit. he’s also DEFINITELY not jealous (he 100% is) of Freddy. this totally doesn’t bring something out of him.

but seriously though. explain to him why you want Freddy Fazbitch inside of you.

what does Freddy have to bring to the table? he’s not gonna say no- you get to pick whoever, and that’s the deal

but WHY FREDDY?!?!?!?!

don’t count Freddy out though. he’d be taken aback by the request but after much thought and giving his answer, he’s ready to have a dick measuring (figuratively and literally) with Monty and he WILL prove to be competition.

If any returning people are reading this… Competition fic rewrite???

it’s happening in Monty’s room. not Freddy’s. you stay on his turf.

he will constantly try to outperform Freddy. he can’t help himself. he’s gotta prove why he’s the best out of the two of them.

they’re bickering the entire time they’re fucking you, but not in a way that isn’t hot. you’d be sandwiched between them as they say things to each other through gritted teeth, occasionally commenting on how the other should be treating you or touching you or anything.

they’ll only agree on one thing- how good you feel and how fucking hot you are.

Freddy’s NOT cumming inside. Oh no. don’t even think about it. he’d sooner maul him. and when his dick starts vibrating Monty almost goes “FOR FUCKS SAKE” right then and there and flips you over to fuck you into the ground. he doesn’t though. he shows restraint. be proud.

at the end of the day, Monty is gonna prove to Freddy why you’re his and only his. Freddy will leave after aftercare with Monty waving him goodbye with a cocky expression on his face.

but Freddy still knows it’s his claw marks on your hipbones underneath your clothes when you walk by.

CHICA

“Ohhhhkay?”

He wasn’t expecting that. he’s not mad about it but he’s not sure why exactly. out of everyone, he knows the least about Chica. he doesn’t know WHAT to expect.

but you know, at least it’s not Freddy.

when Chica gets the request she pretty much giggles and says “Sure! You’ve got a cute one, i’ve had my eye on them for a while!” which confuses him even more. eye??? on his partner??? wtf???? but now he’s kind of intrigued.

the day of, he’s CERTAINLY not expecting to show up with you to her room and for her to have a chest sitting on the floor. he’s straight up got whiplash when she starts talking about hard and soft limits and negotiations and whether or not you wanna use the sex swing.

she points up and he looks and sure enough- there’s the telltale two hooks bolted into her ceiling for her to string it up. he thinks he’s dreaming.

and THEN she opens the chest which has three unfolding layers and a bottom compartment and he thinks he’s hallucinating. she has 5 different flavors of lube. what the fuck.

the whole time he’s just hugely impressed by her. at one point he straight up starts laughing a little incredulously and goes “Yo Chica- where the fuck didja get all of this shit?” and she just winks at him.

kinda gets nervous when she pulls out the strap?? he starts competing a little bit with her until she looks up at him from under her eyelashes and tells him to cool it.

suddenly Chica is the only person to ever put him in his place besides you.

they both talk about how good you are with your mouth. Chica’s more of the praiser, but Monty’s fully agreeing with some meaner degradation thrown in there. Her degrading is said in the sweetest tone in the world, which gets a different reaction from you than his normally does.

so yes, she teaches him something.

after that, he and Chica are a lot closer than they used to be. they’re not exactly friends, but now they share passing knowing glances and there’s almost a sense of kinship between the two.

and maybe after a while, a note written in pink glitter gel pen that smells like cupcakes shows up on his desk with the question of “Round two?”

and who knows. maybe- just maybe- he feels like he wants to say yes.

ROXANNE

yep. that’s the answer he expected.

he’s cool and calm about this one. he and Roxy are close. they’re the two “new” ones. the original rockers. the ones with attitude. he’s seen the way Roxy’s eyes follow you every once in a while, and he’s not threatened by it.

when he brings it up, they’re both just casually hanging out during a moment of quiet at day. she laughs under her breath, looks at him, smiles, and tells him she’ll be ready whenever.

this is the pair that you’re most likely to get into a fun situation with. If any of y’all remember my fic Animalistic (also open to doing a rewrite) where they borrow Chica’s maze and hunt you down in the dark- it’s that type of shit.

she’ll come to y’all, or y’all will come to her. either way works. this is a meeting between friends.

he’s impressed that she can deliver the amount of intensity that he can. you’re certainly dealing with a lot, and they’re sure to make a comment on how well you handle it.

i think he’d make her watch for a little bit that first time. you’d feel her gaze on you from across the room- two natural predator animals watching you like you’re their next meal. she’ll enjoy the view and the lesson on what you like

they’ll help each other out with pleasing you. if Monty’s inside, Roxy might reach over and put pressure on your lower stomach for him. if Roxanne is putting pressure on your chest with her claws, Monty is behind you running his hands down your ass.

it’s a collaborative effort.

out of all these pairings this is the only one where i can see them doing things to each other. it’s in a very casual way- and no way is Roxanne gonna suck his cock. she especially refuses to get on her knees for him. but he might pinch at her nipple piercings, and she might reach over and give his dick a few strokes.

they might even toss you around a little between them. in the future he might offer you as some stress relief while they hang out. it wouldn’t be a big deal for her to tune her guitar in on the same couch as him while you give him head, or for him to be doing his hair while she fucks your mouth. you’ll get your reward for being good in the end.

it won’t be discussed between the two of them outside of the request and event itself. they’ll perform side by side the same way they always have- and Monty will go to Gator Golf and Roxanne will go racing, and they’ll catch a break in the same unused room every once in a while.

but every so often, he’ll let her know she can stop by.

and you bet your ass she will.

I HOPED YALL ENJOYED THE MONTY CONTENT! as always, reblog with comments, request, and let me know what you thought below <3

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

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Hi wonderful librarians! Thanks for providing this service. I'm hoping to hear a few of your favourite non-AU fics in which the author is delightfully creative with how they have Aziraphale and/or Crowley use their supernatural powers. E.g. guess who by attheborder where they settle a bet by temporarily wiping their memories and trying to figure out who's who. Thanks!

Hello! Here are some fics in which miracles are used in fun, silly, and dramatic ways...

Heavenly Dues by IneffableDoll (G)

Months after Armageddon, Heaven still receives receipts detailing Aziraphale’s daily miracle usage. Michael makes the mistake of checking them one idle day. OR Aziraphale reheats a lot of tea and admires his demon, scandalizing an archangel in the process.

Five's the Charm by EA_Lakambini (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley challenge each other to not perform more than five miracles in a day. (They’re both also competitive, and may or may not be above sabotage.)

Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0 (T)

Only inexperienced angels will become so overwhelmed with emotions that they accidentally perform a miracle. Doing so is laughable. Aziraphale would never! Except that he has... five times now. Each and every time when he was around the demon Crowley. Why on God's green Earth would a demon make an angel feel so strongly that he would perform accidental miracles? CW: discussion of car accidents, a nightmare with the use of holy water on Crowley by Crowley, description of a panic attack. It'll be very clear when it's coming in the story though, so if you want to skip it you can! Mind the tags :)

Barking Up the Wrong Tree by inflappible (G)

Crowley loses a bet with Adam and gets turned into a dachshund for a week as punishment. Aziraphale has to deal with the consequences.

A Curious Case of Miracles on Marlborough Street by akfedeau (M)

After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.

One Miraculous December by journeytogallifrey (T)

Candles. Mistletoe. An entire frozen lake. Festive memories from their past together keep appearing out of nowhere. Crowley's sure he's manifesting them accidentally out of sheer romantic desperation. It's bad enough trying to hide his unrequited love as they grow closer post-Apocaloops - what if Aziraphale sees the objects for what they are, a window into his yearning soul? Unfortunately, the only way to banish the objects seems to be talking about each memory... Meanwhile, Aziraphale is just trying to woo his demon boyfriend with big gestures, ready to prove his devotion. And if Crowley acts awkward about the miracles? Surely that's just his difficulty accepting affection. The solution: shower him with as much of it as possible... Eventually these two will communicate, even if it takes 'til the end of the year. For now there will be cuddling, excuses for closeness, sappy words, flashbacks, nostalgia, bickering, and an obscene variety of holiday foods. Oh, and footnotes. That's right. We're doing those too.

And the one you mentioned...

guess who by attheborder (T)

“Ha!” exclaimed A. “We’re married!” He grabbed C.’s hand and held it up, pointing at the gold band around his ring finger. C. stared at the ring, and then at A., a delighted grin appearing on his face. “Oh— that’s brilliant!”

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #miracles #mod d

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ms-cartoon · 11 months

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HB Western Energy, Rant Review

Okay, imma just go ahead and jump straight into it....

-- Stolas and Stella barking at each other like a couple of high schoolers. Calling each other names n stuff. Even Stella yelling “F*CKISH. IMP. SUCKER!!” Okay... is she mad about the affair or not? I mean, yeah... we kinda learn that she doesn’t care about that and had always hated Stolas (even then, it still doesn’t make sense given how this was written) But she yelled that with such anger in her voice and she keeps calling him things that go along the lines of either banging an imp or being a cheater. She even called a hitman on him while referring to him as a “cheating prick!” All I’m saying is, if she really hated Stolas from the get-go and if she actually doesn’t care about the affair, then make her act like it. I don’t even think she should even care about who he did it with. Even if she was embarrassed about it being with an imp, it’s not that serious. Especially when she already hates him. The writers are just making her unnecessarily petty.

-- Speaking of the bickering, I can’t even take these two seriously anymore with the way they’re fighting. Once again, I feel like I’m looking at immature high schoolers cussing and throwing childish insults at each other. This was not the kind of dynamic I was expecting at all. And this was supposed to be the abusive relationship we’re expected to cry for Stolas over??? The writers were making it seem like Stolas was the sensitive one in the relationship the entire time, afraid of standing up to her. He could’ve thrown her out a long time ago if it was that simple.

-- Man... the C word is being spat out more than the f-bombs in this episode!

-- We see from Stolas’s phone that he’s planning to have a meeting with Asmodeus soon. This is probably about the whole crystal thing to give to Blitzo in the future so he could FINALLY drop the deal about giving the grimoire back in exchange for sex. How much you wanna bet this meeting with Asmodeus is a pointless plot hole waiting to happen until the last minute? I can just tell by the way the scheduled meeting on Stolas’s phone was shown to us in a blink of an eye and it wasn’t even that important.

-- Stolas: Cheating implies there was a betrayal. This woman never gave two sh*ts about me or very much our arranged marriage.”

Oh jeezus... less than 40 seconds in and this episode already pissed off with the bullsh*t. These writers are seriously telling us “It’s okay that Stolas cheated on his wife, cuz she never liked him anyway.” Well, OF COURSE NOW we know she never liked him! Of course, NOW it’s revealed she abused Stolas the whole time they were married! I mean after all, how else is Viv gonna let Stolas slip by and have him be in the right EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME!!! As if all of his flaws from season 1 to the last episode just never happened and now suddenly, he did nothing wrong and his affair is completely justified when it shouldn’t be. Y’all can see it how you wanna see it, but cheating is cheating and it’s wrong!! It doesn’t matter if Stella never loved him or he never loved her. If he really couldn’t stand her, he could’ve just divorced her when he had the chance too. It’s not like anything was stopping him from before. You could say Octavia was the main reason why he stayed, but he and Stella already fight in front of her!! She was already not happy with this family to begin with since the first season. And besides, how can we even say that cheating on Stella was excusable when Octavia was obviously affected by it?? He may not have cared about how Stella felt, but what about Octavia!!?? His DAUGHTER!??

-- Stella in the first episode of the second season made it seem like the whole divorce thing was gonna be a big deal like it was a whole violation to the Goetia demons and Stolas was breaking a rule, but so far... the divorce did nothing. All we see is her bickering with him more and demanding her belongings back from the mansion. She never even liked him from the beginning anyway, what would make her so upset about the divorce? What does she have to lose from it? The power? The money, the status?? I mean, she would lose her status as a queen... but that’s it. Aside from that, she’s still a noble and she’s rich. She shouldn’t have anything to worry about. And she mentioned her brother as if he wasn’t to be messed with. Like he was gonna be angry and come after Stolas for having the audacity to divorce his sister. But all I see is a pompous peacock who just wants money and doesn’t care at all about Stella’s divorce... Why would they even be asking for money or power???? They’re already rich as hell!!! What else could they possibly want to gain from Stolas?? Just more money???? Wha- do they want the kind of status that Stolas has; a demon prince? Cuz, I don’t think that’s how it works. Even if they did have motives for trying to get what they want, those motives don’t even make any sense. They’re trying to rid Stolas of possessions that they already own. So this whole motivation for keeping Stolas alive along with the conversation that they had is pointless. From where it stands even from the second season, Viv is just making Stella and Andre evil for no reason. She only wants them to be evil without thinking it through and to make Stolas look good.

-- We’re barely a minute in this episode and we jump straight to Striker breaking in, shooting, and kidnapping Stolas! That introduction had no build-up whatsoever. It happened so swiftly, I couldn’t even keep up!! This episode is already so rushed and fast-paced, and Andrealphus didn’t even get a proper first appearance. Like the show showed us Andre spoke for two seconds without a good first appearance. Almost as if he’s already made his appearance before, and this is our first time seeing him in the show and hearing his voice.

-- I find it funny how in the festival episode, Striker was being a little slick in his assassination attempt; hiding in his room before shooting at Stolas from a far distance, which seems like a more clever and cleaner way to go about it. But in THIS episode, he wastes no time just BARGING with his horse through the window, making a scene, and shooting bullets head-on right then and there??? And now he’s just straight-up being messy with it? Plus, now that Stolas can see he’s being shot at, he’s able to dodge every bullet coming his way, making it difficult for Striker to kill him. This wouldn’t have been so hard have Striker gone about it the way he did back at the festival; he could’ve hidden somewhere, shot Stolas, and BOOM mission complete. Why is he being so extra with it??? And he’s supposed to be an assassin??

-- Striker: *Somehow, shoots a bullet through Stolas’s hat.*

Well damn, no wonder this dude couldn’t shoot him. He got no aim.....

-- Why does Stolas keep dodging and flying from Striker anyway? All he has to do is look at him and turn him into stone. Frikin’ turn into a huge demon if you have to. Use your telekinesis to stop the bullets!! Now this so-called “prince” got tied into a knot by angelic ropes that restricts his powers when he should’ve been able to save his own ass. “Oh dear, the is worrisome.” Yeah, no sh*t buddy...

-- Even though he’s tied up, Stolas managed to pick up his phone and contact Blitzo. His powers are secured, fine. But his hands, legs, and feet are still free. He could literally just jump off of Striker’s horse using his legs and feet while they’re still on the ground and try to free himself with his hands.

-- Stolas: “I seem to have been stolen by that little cowboy friend of yours.”

Moxxie: “Can you describe him, your highness?”

Stolas: *Looks at Striker* “Sexy?”

Just say his name!!! You already know who he is!! You announced him back at the harvest moon festival! And you’ve seen him there!!! How come you don’t remember who he is all of a sudden??? yeah, “Good memory” my a**! And why is “Sexy” the first thing that comes to mind when you’re describing him?? I guess he doesn’t completely mark Blitzo as a single-target sexuality. And how come Moxxie immediately knows who Stolas is talking about when he was describing him? Does Moxxie think Striker looks sexy??? Like bro, your wife is right beside you!! LOL!

-- Stolas to Blitzo: I think you should come save me.”

Dude... just try to break free from the ropes and jump off the horse!!! Your hands and legs are free!! Stop being such a damsel waiting for your knight in shining armor. This is just another excuse to have Blitzo come and save you when there are other options.

-- Loona doesn’t say a word in this, but I’m not gonna b*tch about it like I do with everything else. Her voice actress’s fiance passed away due to cancer recently I believe, and she’s been going through it. So sorry for your loss, Erica! I hope all is well and you’re doing okay!

-- This whole comedic side plot with Blitzo and Loona seemed a little boring and I barely cracked a laugh. Nowadays, the Brandon Rodgers comedy is much more funny in his youtube videos than him as a cartoon character. There are more f-bombs in his dialogue than there is any character in him. Literally, any time he’s provoked, he pulls out his guns and attempts to murder someone, and it’s usually not even that serious. Not gonna lie, it kinda annoys me at this point. It wasn’t funny to me when they were in Hollywood, especially when he was going through some serious trauma which caused his rampage in the first place and we were supposed to be sad for him, so it definitely doesn’t make me laugh now. And they try to force a Karen character into this to make it more funny, but- I’m sorry. It doesn’t work for me.

-- Blitzo keeps complaining that he and Loona have to wait every 5 years to get a shot in the hospital, which I’m assuming is supposed to be a joke saying that all hospitals are a drag and super slow. I’m sorry? 5 years??? That’s a bit of a stretch! As far as my knowledge goes, most hospitals do take the time to schedule appointments for their clients. Even when it does take long, well... fairly enough, they do have a lot of clients to get through in at least one year. You can’t fully blame them for taking their time. It’s not like they’re being lazy. So yeah, I wouldn’t really make fun of that.

-- This little b plot shouldn’t even be in this episode anyway! This whole side plot was supposed to be comedic, but it just doesn’t fit at all when we’re dealing with a serious situation of Stolas being kidnapped and about to get killed. And the fact that we keep cutting away from this plot back to back is even worse! I think it makes more since to give Millie and Moxxie more attention than to continuously show the shenanigans happening with Blitzo and Loona. Either that or save the whole “Loona’s shot” thing for another episode and instead have Blitzo join Moxxie and Millie in saving Stolas. Loona doesn’t have any lines in this anyway, so she doesn’t even have to be in this episode.

-- The lady at the counter says she couldn’t read but was able to find Blitzo’s name on her paper sheets just fine with no issue. Clearly they didn’t think this dialogue through. What, does she have short-term memory? How was she even hired??

-- This whole folk song about Striker is so stupid. It’s honestly pretty forgettable. For real though, how come this dude suddenly has a reputation for being the most badass assassin in the West??? This episode is pretty much showing us that he is very well-known amongst all the demons. But aren’t most assassins supposed to be... idk, secretive??? Plus, if everyone already knows about him, how come Millie’s parents didn’t know who he was before they hired him as a farm hand??? And why is he suddenly a famous assassin?? Wasn’t he supposed to be some random imp who was hired by Stella to kill someone? This is just a whole other retcon. Goddamn it, I am so sick of all these retcons!!

-- I’m so glad Striker shut them up. That was the only part in this whole episode to make me laugh.

-- I honestly forget that Millie and Moxxie are even in this episode. I’m sorry- are these two just meant to be the supporting cast now??? Are they only just there to show everybody how cute of a couple they are? Cuz we already know this!!! So M&M are the ones to go and save Stolas because they have to “settle a score” with Striker.... What exactly is it that you have to settle with Striker? The loss of your fight with him?? Okay, sure, but I still don’t know why they feel the need to “settle a score” with him. It’s not like he did anything that they held a grudge against. Millie’s leg almost got amputated cuz of him, but that’s it. She’s walking just fine, otherwise. And Moxxie did feel inferior to Striker, but it was nothing serious (plus he continues to feel inferior with no kind of build up. So that whole plot alone was pointless). I just feel like there’s not much bad blood between them to settle a score for. It makes more sense for Blitzo to go rescue Stolas while M&M assisted him. And besides, Moxxie and Millie trying to fight off Striker didn’t exactly end well the last time. Blitzo shouldn’t have any trust in them to take care of him themselves. The only reason why they succeeded in this episode is because.... plot.

-- Of course, we just have to have some other pointless conflict that happens and is concluded in a blink of an eye. So Millie puts a cowboy hat on Moxxie and they stop to get gas. While Millie walks around and asks questions, some random a**hole confronts Moxxie about the hat he’s wearing and assumed he stole one of his simply because it looks like the one he’s wearing. Did it ever occur to this moron that most hats just look similar to each other? Why is he getting his d*ck in a twist over some stupid headwear?

-- OH F*CK OFF WITH THIS!!! So now Moxxie is suddenly a strong badass and could brawl with more than two people twice his size!!??? Where the hell was THIS when he was fighting Striker the first time or in the last episode!!!?? Like, can he fight or not!!??? This just does not make sense to me, especially when his whole character is about him not being a very skilled fighter like his wife or Blitzo. Not only is Millie an on-and-off fighter when the plot wants her to be, but so is her husband? Gimme a break!!

-- Stolas: “Wouldn’t a holy bullet have sufficed? Or could you not afford those?”

Stolas is technically bringing up the fact the imps are the lowest ranking and hardly have any cash on them. The show keeps telling us that imps are the poorest of the poor, but they sure as hell aren’t poor enough to own a whole circus (*cough* Blitzo’s dad *cough*). Not to mention Blitzo had a pretty high-paying job and could rent a whole office. Seems like to me that the imps are living pretty average for a species being the lowest rank.

Wait... Is Striker an Imp or a snake?

-- Striker: I was paid to give you the real royal treatment.

Mm, no... You were paid to just shoot him (yet another retcon). All you’re doing is pointlessly dragging this mission by torturing him when you could literally just pull the frikin trigger and put a bullet in his head. Shut up with the edgy monologue and kill him!!

-- WTF!!!

-- Stolas decides NOW to try to turn Striker into stone... That should’ve been done already, buddy!

-- Does this kink really get turned on in bed by getting painfully tortured, having his limbs broken and impaled n sh*t?? WHY DOES BLITZO STAB STOLAS AND BREAK HIS BONES WHILE HAVING SEX IN BED????!!!! LIKE Y’ALL, I CANT-

-- Why they gotta make my girl Stella so dumb in this show? I’m not surprised in the least (though I was hoping it wasn’t the case), but it honestly just irritates me more with what they’re doing to her. So Andrealphus reminds her that if she get’s Stolas killed, she would get nothing. But why does Stella have to be told that?? She should already know this! And why is she being all “Tee hee hee” and childish about all this anyways?? Yeah, Stolas gets to die and that’s what she wanted, but she’s being all giggles about it and she turns into a little brat and whines when told she can’t kill him and I can’t even take her seriously. I was expecting her to act much more sinister and serious. What happened to her hot-temper that could easily get provoked?? Idk that just rubbed me the wrong way.

Andre: When Stolas dies, his duties, his possessions, his legions, it will all pass to... Via.”

-- Okay... so what? It’s not like Stella even cares about that, as far as we’ve seen. All she ever did was throw parties and talk sh*t about Stolas. She doesn’t care at all about fulfilling any duties Stolas had to take care of. She’s never even been interested in the book. What exactly has she done that was even remotely Goetia-like? Ma’am just hates her ex and wants him to die.

-- Okay, first off.... eww! What is this?? Like dude- back up! What is this incest sh*t I’m lookin’ at? I don’t like this. Viv, plz don’t!!

-- Andre: I say we bide our time, and wait for the chance to gain the upper-hand.”

B*tch, what are you talkin’ about! You already had the upper-hand. And you’re sister clearly doesn’t care about Stolas’s possessions or power. She doesn’t even care that her daughter gets to obtain that. She just wants him dead. If anything, it just seems like YOU want what Stolas has and is only controlling your sister.

-- Can we PLEASE stop going in and out of Loona and Blitzo and just focus on the fight scene with M&M vs Striker! The stupid side plot doesn’t even fit with this episode! This is supposed to be a serious moment with Striker kidnapping Stolas and keeping Moxxie and Millie out the way, yet at the same time were expected to laugh and giggle at Loona escaping the wrath of a frikin needle!!!??? And the stupid girly pop music doesn’t even help!

-- Why her butt?..... Out of all the places to give her a shot???

-- Striker: “Oh I remember how easy you are to choke the life out of, little one.”

Moxxie: *Getting choked by Striker* Harder!

Umm, excuse me, sir? WTF!!! Is Viv making these little jokes a trope now!!? Why does Moxxie have a kink!?? He’s not even a very sexual person!! I dunno if he was just doing that to throw Striker off or somethin, but WHAT IN THE HELL!!?? And why did Striker immediately let go, feeling disgusted!!??? Bro, you made a statue with a literal stick-shaped boner???!!! This should NOT have caught you off-guard so easily!!!

-- When something is falling and is about to come crashing onto you, you do NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES walk forward! You could literally just jump to the side.

-- I don’t know if Striker is dead or not, but if he is, Then way to go, Viv! You may have just killed off a character that was even slightly interesting. If you're gonna make a character and have him get this popular only to kill him off, at least venture him a little bit first!! This was only his second debut in the show and we hardly gotten anything from his character! There wasn’t much backstory to him or anything. Just that he was a bigot who was hired to kill Stolas and HATES nobles! And Striker even mentioned that there was someone he cared about taken away from him by the upper class. It raised wonders why he felt so much hatred for the rich folk and we won’t even get to explore that cuz he may have possibly died. I may not care much about him, but there were still some things I noticed about Striker that I found interesting and they needed to be explored.

With him and Moxxie, I still feel like there wasn’t much score to settle between them. To me, they don’t have much of a dynamic at all, and they were supposed to be rivals. In fact, their second meeting felt rushed. The second Millie and Moxxie barged in, Moxxie just went ahead and pulled a trigger on him without saying a word. We don’t even get to hear any dialoge between them. It’s fighting, fighting, and more fighting. There wasn’t even much of an enemy relationship between them. Actually, Striker seems to have more of an adversary with Blitzo. And what about him and Blitzo??? The writers made it seem like Striker had a pretty big impact on him; from when he tried convincing him to join forces because they were so similar in certain ways to Blitzo hallucinating him in his trip dream. With the conversation they had at the festival, Striker was manipulating his insecurities. And that apparently affected Blitzo, because an episode later, he was dreaming about Striker tormenting him, along with Moxxie, Verosika, Fizz, and Stolas. So yeah, was kinda expecting to see some more interactions between those two. Neither of them didn’t even get to speak to each other this whole episode!! Its like I said, Blitzo should’ve joined Moxxie and Millie in Stolas’s rescue.

-- So Stolas is injured and is rushed to the hospital. Blitzo finds out about the and asks the most stupidest-a** question to have put have ever been put in this dialogue....

-- WHAT. DO. YOU. MEAN!?!?!?!

Of course he can get hurt!!! You already know that, you stupid d*ck!!! Why else did you point the gun at Striker before he killed Stolas back at the festival!! You obviously knew he would get hurt if he was shot!! What did you think that Angelic Weapon was made for??!!!! Whatever happened to that weapon anyway? We don’t ever get to see that again at all? Judging from Moxxie’s reaction, the gun seemed like a very rare weapon in hell and is impossible to get. How did Striker even get his hands on it? We don’t even get to explore that?

-- So, as it turns out, the aftermath between Stolas and Blitzo in the Ozzie’s episode actually did occur....

......through text messages *face-palm*

Jesus christ on a bicycle..... The way this was addressed was a literal blink and a miss!! I HATED IT!! I didn’t even realize this was the aftermath until I saw it on twitter!!! So you mean to tell me we don’t get to explore what happened with them after Ozzie’s ON SCREEN at all???? They never even directly talked about what happened??? Are you for real, Viv?? Like- i-is this your way of shutting us up? Like you knew we were curious about what happened between them and decided to half-ass your way out of this by showing a bunch of text messages and moving forward?? Are you THIS lazy!!!!??? They’re not even fully conversing through these messages. If anything, Stolas is the main one doing all the talking while is Blitzo barely responding to him.

-- Dear lordy.... and reading messages don’t even make it better. Stolas is dumbed down deeper than his ex, bro!!! Obviously, he didn’t learn a DAMN THING!!!

Stolas: “You seem very upset and you took off so fast. I’m sorry if anything I said or did may have offended you tonight.”

F*CKING WHA--!! He says it as if he has no clue why Blitzo was mad at him or if he was upset with him at all! Um, b*tch... HE TOLD YOU WHY!!! Like to your face, he said, “Don’t act like that what we have is anything but you wanting me to f*ck you. You make that pretty clear all the time.” And you invited him in your house to cuddle with him knowing damn well he wasn’t in the mood!! You should already know why he’s upset!

Im sor- Is this another retcon or something?? Were we supposed to see it how Stolas saw it? That Blitzo was upset for some unknown reason and we just can’t figure it out? Are we just gonna act like Stolas had done absolutely NOTHING wrong and he’s just an oh-so-innocent uwu baby bird? Are we gonna act like Blitzo didn’t just call out Stolas, spelling out the exact justified reason why he was mad?? Cuz that’s exactly how this text message scene is acting like!! Like their dialogue only revolves around what during their date and not what happened after that. Why is Stolas even talking about what happened at just Ozzie’s?! There was much more to the situation that affected him after he was dropped off. He was crying on his porch when Blitzo pushed him away. But now the show is not even gonna have them explore that in their messages. And now Viv is not even gonna have Stolas be considerate of Blitzo feelings and know why he’s mad? As if all they did was go their separate ways without saying a word instead of Blitzo dropping Stolas off at his house!!

And he goes on to say this-

“I’m glad that Ozzie’s is not the case of you being upset. I wasn’t upset either. I actually thought it was funny. It didn’t embarrass me at all.”

Okay... first off, what happened at Ozzie’s DID make him upset. YOU were just another one of those reasons. And you ain’t find sh*t funny, you were embarrassed just by BEING THERE with him, hence another reason why he’s mad at you! Like- Seriously?? What is happening right now?? Are all of us watching the same episode!!!??? Why is Stolas acting like such an oblivious and clingy idiot with the long-ass at paragraphs??

-- Okay yall... I’m done.

*Sigh* Okay.

This episode was... well it was somethin'. I'm not gonna say whether I like it or not, though the latter might be obvious enough.

I say the only thing I liked a little about it was Stella. Which is why I'm SUPER disappointed with how her character was written so far. If she were to actually be a character, I would like her more without going, "Oh Jesus... how are they gonna butcher her this time?"

Stella is as one-noted as ever! And there were a couple of traits they added to her character that is just so irritating-- Like, I can't take her seriously anymore. Viv doesn't change a thing about Stella. Her whole character is, "I hate my ex and I want him dead!" And that's all there is. That's all Stella was worried about this episode. Like- ma'am? Could you just get over it!!? We get it, you hate his guts. And we don't even know WHY she hates him so much! Why does she want him dead, so badly? What could possibly warrant her hatred?? This is like her 4th appearance in this show, yet we're still not given her backstory. Nothing is hinted on why she became such an evil Darla Dimple. At first, in the first season, it seemed like Stella was only angry that her husband had an affair and cheated on her. So angry, she even called a hitman on him. Though it was rather harsh to want someone dead for that, you'd understand why she would be angry. I mean, who wouldn't!!! My husband cheated on me and it greatly affected my family!! That's how we saw it (or at least that's how I saw it). You can't even tell me that Stella never loved Stolas, because it was hinted that she initially did care about him. At least, according to Octavia who said that things used to be decent between them.

But now, since season 2 began, Viv suddenly just slaps us with the fact that Stella had always hated Stolas for no reason?? She just likes to make fun of him and talk sh*t while laughing at him?? She didn't care at all about the affair, but she still insist on tormenting him.... cuz she's evil??? And that excuse is not even justified alone, cuz why is she so evil??.... Because... she was just born that way???

Tch, yeah, alright Vivzie... whatever.

It doesn't even make sense why she's married to him if she's always hated him. Why did she even stick with him if she was just going to keep talking bad about him and complain about being married to him??? Yeah, I know there were arranged to marry, but they're adults now. No one could tell them what to do! She could've just divorced him. And clearly, nothing came of it. She could've left him WAY before now. You could say she only stuck around for the riches and the power, but she obviously doesn't care about that! All she ever did was throw parties. She didn't show off any riches or power she had when she was with him. And again... why does she want him dead?? What was her final straw here?? It was already established she didn't care about the affair and she already hated Stolas. What, was it because he embarrassed her by doing what he did? Well, like I said, she doesn't care about the affair, so why would she care about the embarrassment!? I just don't understand---

And I've already mentioned this, but I also didn't like how childish and giddy they made her about the whole thing. I didn't like to see how excited she was about her ex finally dying. I mean, it's nice to see she has no regrets and is proud, but in cases like her behavior about it-- it just doesn't seem to work for me. I was expecting Stella to be... stone-cold. Like just a soft-spoken, strict, and sinister woman who is somewhat secretive of her wicked ways and is tricky, but doesn't hide it fully. And despite knowing what she's doing, she doesn't care at all about the effects of it as long as she gets what she wants. Almost like Lady Tremaine from Cinderella, Ursula from The Little Mermaid, or Mother Gothel from Tangled.

But instead, I experience this-

I don't even like the way she acted when she was told she can't continue going along with what she wanted. She started to whine like a baby, crying "Aww! But I want him dead so badly!!!" Like, miss-- how old are you?? I would expect for her to be all "harumph!!" and begrudgingly agree with her brother after arguing with him a little. Not this immature little princess who will cry if she doesn't get her dolly back!

Another thing that bugged me about this episode, of course, was more Stolitz. It's pretty clear up to this point that Viv so DESPERATELY wants to make these two endgame. She doesn't care at all about how fast, how rushed, or how unplanned she makes this show as long as Stolas and Blitzo become a couple in the end. But just by rushing the show and not planning it, she doesn't really do a great job of showing us these two are good for each other. It just gets more toxic, especially with Stolas acting like he always cared about Blitzo when he obviously didn't and just becomes more selfish and oblivious to his feelings. Hell, he continues to be a flirt after Blitzo pretty much calls him out on it! And Viv tries to show us that Blitzo had always cared about Stolas and secretly wants a relationship with him, but considering the blank responses and the passive-aggressive behavior from those text messages, it's clear Blitzo does NOT like Stolas and doesn't care at all about him! Even when he reacted with disbelief over him getting hurt, he still gave him a short-worded text!! Like-- Blitzo just doesn't like Stolas, okay Viv.

Ugh!! This show has officially broken me with the stupid sh*t, y’all. I still have some things I wanna say about it that I may have left off, but I’m to tired for now. They can be saved for another day. I-I cant anymore- The only reason why I’m even going along with this is because I’m curious to see how these eps will turn out. Like, I’m still curious about Fizz, Verosika, and Barbie. And you best believe I’m waiting for the last episode where we get to hear Octavia finally go off on her dad. It’s a literal challenge at this point, but bring it on. And It’s ironic, cuz I love critiquing shows, whether I like them or not.

#helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critical #anti helluva boss #anti stolitz #anti blitzo #anti stolas #helluva rant #SpindleHorse critical

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quodekash · 5 months

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IM BACK BITCHES

this time on fluffy guynawa fanfic dot points: what were they doing during the “several months later” time skip?

they played a bunch of soccer together

they DEFINITELY had a LOT of bathroom interactions bc I refuse to forsake bathroom boyfriends

let’s say, after the “I’ll be a shooting star that makes your dreams come true” (😭😭😭), they go to the bathroom to clean up cos like they fully punched each other, and it leads to a very tender scene with emotional music as they dab each other’s faces with tissues (man I love the cheesiness of bl scenes /gen), and its interrupted by someone who walks in just like needing to go to the bathroom (extra points if it’s Tee, or that guy in the red jersey who was sitting between them in episode 9, or auto and/or max)

yes I’m aware that that scene wasn’t in the time skip but shut up I couldn’t think of anything else for the bathroom

another time they just get drunk for some reason and once again end up throwing up in the bathrooms together <3

they got together at least once a week to just stare at the stars (most often on rooftops, but occasionally just lying on the grass or something), waiting for a shooting star (and every single time they ended up bickering or falling asleep, and JUST missing the star)

and they SAID they were watching for a shooting star so that they can regularly wish for guy’s leg to be healed, and these get-togethers are DEFINITELY not dates. They continue to use this as the excuse even when guy’s leg is fully healed, “just in case it flares up again”

the first few times they did this they sat and craned their necks up at the sky to try and see the whole thing

one time guy fell asleep on nawa’s shoulder

so then after a while it ended in them lying on the grass and looking up, or lying down on the rooftops. often they would lie like with their heads next to each other with their bodies facing in opposite directions (if you don’t know what I mean by that, they’re lying like this !¡) and it would lead to a LOT of tender staring and looking at each others lips and awkwardly looking away and back at the sky, holy shit these guys are hopeless

these bitches have to get to school early in the morning (like 5am) for soccer practice (unless they didn’t have soccer anymore in the several months later but shut up I decided they did for the sake of fluff) so several of these definitely-not-dates ended in an “accidental” sleepover cos they fell asleep and then woke up to realise they needed to GO

at some point they would go to kang’s house (or just. somewhere) to hang out with kang and sailom (and sometimes also the squad), but guynawa would always be mysteriously left alone to watch a movie together or something

kangsailom would very frequently leave because they needed to study or just to go make out or some other reason. I think it’s like half-intentional when they leave

MAX AND AUTO, ON THE OTHER HAND, ARE ANOTHER STORY

Whenever guynawa were together and hanging out with anyone in the group, max and auto ALWAYS schemed together (or sometimes alone if one of them wasn’t there for whatever reason) to get guynawa alone together.

Whenever pimfah is with the group, she helps auto and max with this (and let’s be honest, she’s more successful alone than the rest of the group is with joined forces)

Napdao definitely gave them a group assignment to do together at some point

When they’re hanging out with the football team, the ENTIRE football team, INCLUDING the coach, does everything in their power to get guynawa alone together lmao

coach would make them do extra practice together because “nawa your catches are getting sloppy, you need to stay back after practice to improve. Guy, you stay back too to help him” or “guy and nawa, you’re always arguing, you need to work on your team building skills. I want you to do practices over the weekend so that you learn to trust each other more and stop bickering”

They would always do what coach asks, but very “begrudgingly” (they’re both actually thrilled to be spending more time with one another, but obviously they’re not gonna make it SEEM like that, they’re gonna be giving a “let’s get this over and done with” attitude all throughout)

that’s all I came up with but I’ll almost certainly be back (I have many more fluffy guynawa fanfic dot points sitting in my notes app, so just you wait)

#guynawa #btw i use soccer and football interchangeably because I’m scared #also if that one game in ep12 was the last game uh. no it wasn’t. they just played recreational friendly games or something idk shut up #nawaguy #dangerous romance #dangerous romance series #dangerous romance the series #drts

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 1 year

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For @gothicsprinkles who wanted a little Paz/Raga fluff and I hope this can ease the pain of ‘that episode’ a little...

Two times Raga laughed at Paz having a bad day and one time she didn't

Corin and the kid stay behind on the ship to keep the Razor Crest safe from Jawas, which Din had become unreasonably paranoid about for some reason, while Din, Paz and Raga head into the village to check up on the rumor about a Beskar spear being on display in a temple there.

Raga is bored, trailing behind a bit as Paz and Din's continuous bickering is just annoying her today and gives her a vicious urge to punish them both for being such idiots.

The boys can't decide on who gets to enter through the city gate first, definitely first grade idiots, and they end up standing under the arch, snarling at each other and refusing to back off from the other encroaching on their personal space until they're half an inch from a keldabe.

“Welcome, visitors!” A voice greets them. It is a cheerful young man with thick black hair and gorgeous mauve eyes that quickly fill with confusion as the two Mandalorians stay almost-kissing rather than look over at him.

Raga has almost caught up with them, ready smack some sense into their helmets, when the welcome-guy saves her entire day, week and possibly month, by saying; “Oh, you are newly weds?”

Ah, she remembers reading about it, how this place with its big temple is a known spot for the locals to visit on their honeymoon to get blessings from their gods on their marriage.

Paz and Din both inhale sharply, pull back even sharper, but neither get to say anything before Raga emerges between them and places her left hand on Din's shoulder and her right hand on Paz' shoulder. “Yes.” She says, with great ease and complete solemness. “Yes, they are.”

The t-visors snap over to stare at her and Raga can 'feel' their disbelief and outrage. It's beautiful.

“Welcome, welcome! And congratulations!” The welcoming-guy blurts out, all smiles and politeness again. He focuses on her again. “And you are?”

Raga lets go of the boys and steps forward, placing a humble hand on her breastplate. “The guy in blue is Paz. The guy in grey is Din. My name is Raga and I'm Din's sister. I always wanted to visit this temple and they were kind enough to let me come along on their honeymoon.”

There is a click as the private line between her and Paz activates and there is an angry hiss of; “What the hell?!” Followed by another click and Din's voice snarling; “Raga, I'm going to kill you.”

Raga can't stop grinning. This is one of the best days of her life.

“Allow me to lead the way.” The welcome-guy gestures them to follow. “I will show you where the temple is, the housing where you will be staying the night and I will inform the elders that another couple will be joining the fertility dance this evening.”

Raga nods, following him. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

She honestly cannot decide on what makes her laugh the hardest; when she gets Paz and Din to hold hands for most of their stay, when they end up having to dance together with a bunch of other newly weds (Paz constantly snarling that Din is a horrible dancer and Din barking back that Paz keeps stepping on his feet), or the utter rage radiating from the boys when she's given a luxury hut to herself while they have to share a... love-shack. (Paz keeps complaining that Din is over on his side of the bed while Din insists that it is Paz who is over on his side.)

There is no Beskar spear in the temple, but Raga will cherish this place for the rest of her life.

Raga is bored. She's been stuck in the Covert for months with absolutely nothing of interest happening. She envies Din his freedom...

Stalking towards the training room, aiming to burn off a little energy, Raga barely notices Halito waiting in the hallway.

“Raga.” Halito hurries after her. “Wait. Stop.”

Raga grunts, stalking onwards. She's not in the mood for small talk.

“Listen, I know that despite my offer to you, Vizla somehow managed to convince you to say the vows with him, but...” Halito has to trot to keep up with her. “But the guy is a douche!”

Raga grins. She knows Paz can be a giant douche, but she likes that about him because she can be an even bigger one.

“I'm a much better fighter than him.” Halito claims in a fit of unfounded confidence. “I'm not scared of Paz Vizla. I would happily fight him!”

“Okay.” Raga replies, busy planning her work-out.

Halito slams his fist against his breastplate in a show of gusto and runs off somewhere not there.

Good. That means she has some peace and quiet to do her training.

And after that, Raga kind of forgets about the whole thing.

It's three days later when Paz enters the room and pulls off his helmet to show her a rather confused expression on his face. “There is something seriously wrong with Halito...”

Lying on the bed, propped up by a buch of pillows, reading a book so old it's threatening to fall apart between her hands, Raga tilts her head curiously to signal him to explain.

“The guy has been jumping out of closets and ceiling vents and once out of a stove to attack me. He even hid under the stairs and tried to bite me yesterday. Hell, I think he chipped a tooth on my leg.” Paz is definitely puzzled by this odd behavior. “I mean, I'm actually getting bored of trouncing him again and again, but the guy insists on fighting me for some reason.”

Oh. Right. That. Raga grins.

Paz frowns. “What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything.” Shrugging with slightly overdone innocence, Raga closes the book and places it on the wobbly table next to the bed. “He was not happy about our marriage and declared he was going to fight you, probably so I would divorce you when you lost.”

Paz scowls. “That little shit...”

Raga lifts a coy eyebrow and scans Paz from head to toe with a shameless grin. “As you've trounced him so far, I guess we're still married then. Good. I was getting used to your snoring.”

“I'm going to kill him.” Paz growls, puts on his helmet and stalks out of the room.

Diving for her helmet, Raga puts it on and hurries after him. She is not going to miss out on this show.

Paz finds Halito in the common room and doesn't hesitate, merely marches up behind him. And when the guy turns around, he is greeted by Paz' helmet slamming down on his so hard the sound echoes through the Covert and the impact sends him crashing to the floor.

“Get up!” Paz growls, as if the groaning and squirming man on the ground is currently physically able to. “You want to fight me? Let's go. Come on!”

Grinning, Raga crosses her arms and settles to watch. She's joined by every other Mandalorian who heard the commotion and knows there is entertainment to be had when Paz is involved. Soon bets are being taken and credits pool into an impressive pot for the lucky winner.

Halito might be an idiot but at least Raga isn't bored anymore.

It starts with old man Vizla delivering several sharp comments Paz' way, which Raga knows cut deep as he desperately wants to live up to his father's expectations. It is followed up with Paz and Din getting into a verbal fight, a nasty one that Raga knows has Paz' gut tied up in knots and aching, then continues with their dear leader refusing to send Paz out on a bounty hunter mission and choosing someone else instead, before it ends with a lovely mix of Paz' jetback malfunctioning (Causing him to break his arm.) and Sungodt muttering why he couldn't be more like Dez. As far as shitty days go, this is definitely a doozy, Raga can tell. Paz is hurting. He's hurting a lot.

Paz can be grouchy on a good day, but whenever he goes quiet, too quiet, Raga knows he's struggling with a different kind of pain than the one he's got in his healing arm. She knows and she doesn't like it.

From the very beginning of their friendship as children, Raga never did like to see Paz sad and withdrawn. And she hates it when he shies away from her.

“Paz, our room, now.” Raga orders. She doesn't wait for him to refuse, which he will if given the chance, merely stalks off. Time for some drastic action.

It takes longer than usual for him to show up, enough time passes that Raga considers sending a threatening message for him to get his fine ass to their room as ordered, but then the door beeps, slides open and Paz walks in to join her in their room.

“What?” He sighs as the door closes behind him, clearly not in the mood for a fight. He just sounds tired.

Raga takes off her helmet and clambers on to the bed to get comfortable before patting the surface next to her. “C'mere.”

Paz doesn't move. “I don't-”

“Come. Here.” Raga adds a little strength to her words.

Paz sighs again, but he walks over and sits down on the bed. “What?” He asks again.

“Take your helmet off.”

Another hesitation, but he removes it. Paz slowly runs one hand over his hair while he reaches out with the other and places his helmet on the table next to the bed. “Okay, what is it?” He looks over at her with weary eyes and appears to be expecting her to criticize him for something too.

Raga frowns. Dank farrik, how she hates that there is no trace of his usual arrogance. “Paz, it's just a shitty day.”

“I know.” Paz replies, trying to smile, but the smile is off and it doesn't reach his eyes.

Raga grabs a hold of him and maneuvers Paz to lie down next to her and rest his head on her chest. Once she has him where she wants him and is fairly certain he won't try to escape, she starts running her fingers through his hair in a slow, gentle motion. “Do you know why I went from freaking out about you having the hots for me to realizing I wanted to marry you?”

Paz tenses up. Either he doesn't like to think about her reaction, her harsh words in particular, or he's nervous about what changed her mind. “No.”

Raga continues to draw her fingers through his hair. “I freaked out because I didn't want to lose you. Not because I thought you'd cut me off if I didn't feel the same, but because you were in love with me and that meant everything we had would be ruined. Because I knew love always ends in heartbreak and hatred.” She can feel a slightly bitter smile emerge. “My parents fought all the time. So did yours, remember? The tales we were told as children were of couples who fought each other as much as the enemy and we were told that was the Way. I thought love meant it had to be loud, messy and painful. It never occurred to me that it could be different because that's what I've had with everyone else.”

Paz stays silent while he listens as she continues to explain.

“But with you... It's different. I laugh harder with you. I feel more myself with you. I can breathe.” Raga studies the man curled up to her and feels warm contentment spread through her veins “When something goes wrong, or right, or I hear a funny joke, or see something bizarre, you're the first person I want to talk to about it. Your face is the first thing I want to see in the mornings and the last thing I want to see before I fall asleep at night. Your hands on me feel like a reward each and every time. You always make me feel calm and that things will be okay.” She runs her fingers through his hair a final time before letting her touch linger on his neck. “Home will never be a place to me, home will always be you. So, never mind what Dez says. Never mind what Din says. Never mind our enigmatic leader or Sungodt. Don't listen to them and don't you dare change; I like you just as you are. My best friend and my riduur. My home. My Paz. My Way.”

A faint shiver goes through Paz' big body and he slides an arm around her to squeeze himself a little tighter against her. He even hides his face against her stomach. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to because she knows.

Let the Galaxy do its worst, let other people say and do stupid stuff, it doesn't matter. As long as she has Paz and Paz has her, they will look after each other and nothing can really hurt them. Together they can handle absolutely everything and not even death will dare to challenge them.

Raga grins at the mere thought of how awesome their children will be, and how their little ones will have a father who will love them, be a home for them and who they will be damn proud of.

Today might be a shit day, but the future will be wonderful.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Paz Vizsla #Raga Saxon #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming

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missywritesfor7 · 9 months

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🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 7: Choosing Life ||

Jungkook guides Luna into the palace making sure to not be seen by anyone. Right now only their small brotherhood is aware of what’s going on and he’s trying to make sure it stays that way.

They get to Jin’s sparring room and Jungkook opens the door where all 6 guys are waiting. Luna has already met Jimin and Hoseok, but she’s having trouble determining which of the other guys is the prince. They’re all dressed fairly casual, except one who is dressed a slight bit more formally with dress slacks and a button down shirt.

“Hyungs,” Jungkook says bringing Luna over to them. “This is LuLuLuna.”

“Luna,” she groans.

“Bow to the prince,” he says elbowing her.

She still isn’t sure who it is, so she bows at the more formally dressed one. Everyone laughs much to Luna’s confusion.

“Not him,” Jungkook giggles. “Him!” He points to Jin who’s lounging on the couch in a t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that first?!” She says feeling embarrassed.

“It’s ok,” Jin laughs standing up. “I’ll give you a pass since you’re not from here.”

“I can still be your prince if you want me to, though,” Taehyung smiles feeling honored to be mistaken for the prince.

“Not the time,” Jungkook says.

“Told you she was cute,” Jimin giggles.

“Will you shut up!” Jungkook fusses. “Can we focus now. An SV convert discovered her portal. We need to keep him and everyone else from using her again.”

They all look at each other stone faced. It makes Luna more nervous to see how even the prince’s soft and inviting features have turned sharp.

“Um,” Luna says nervously. “Mr. Prince, sir.”

“No no,” Jin says shaking his head. “Just call me Jin.

“Jin…I get that this is like a big deal and all, but I can’t just convert. There’s so much I have going on at home.”

“What difference does it make if you’re dead?” He says bluntly.

“Well…” she has no answer. But do they not realize the severity of what they’re asking her to do?

“I thought you explained everything to her?” Jin asks looking at Jungkook.

“I did. I told you she’s stubborn.”

“I’ll show you stubborn, you demon bunny!” Luna says hitting him.

“I’m not a demon!”

“You bit me like a demon with your little demon bunny teeth!”

“This is the thanks I get for bringing you to safety?”

“How safe is it if I’m going to die?!”

“I told you the solution!”

“And I told you no!”

“Did you tell her the other option?” Yoongi asks quietly cutting into their bickering.

“Yoongi hyung,” Jungkook says. “I’m telling you-“

“What other option?” Luna asks. “Does it involve me dying still?”

“If we can get in and close off the portal then it won’t be a problem,” Yoongi starts. “But in order for you to stay alive while we do that you’ll have to drink blood.”

“Drink blood?”

“A lot of it.”

“A lot? How much is a lot?”

“Depends how long it takes. You’ll just have to keep drinking until the job is done. We’re not sure what exactly we’ll face so you could be drinking for a while.”

“So…either I convert, I drink a ton of blood, or I just die?”

“It’s your choice,” Jungkook says.

“Do I not have time to think about it?”

“You can take all the time you want, but the portal isn’t going to stop growing. The longer you take the closer you get to death.”

Luna stares at the ground searching for an answer. This is such a huge decision to make with little time.

“Maybe,” Jimin says standing and stepping towards Luna. “We should take her somewhere to make her more comfortable while she decides.”

“She’ll be in my room,” Jungkook says a little too quickly.

“I-I just need to think,” Luna says. “This is a lot.”

“Let’s do this,” Namjoon says. “Take her to your room. Give her a little bit of time, but we need to act fast.”

“I know,” Jungkook nods. “We’ll be back.”

Luna reluctantly follows Jungkook out after bowing to the correct person. He takes her back to his room where she never thought she’d be again. She throws herself on his bed and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Look,” Jungkook says sitting on the bed next to her. “I know it’s a lot for you to think about with very little time, but if you care, I would prefer if you didn’t die.”

“Thanks. Is that because you need me to save your kingdom?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he exhales shaking his head. Then he chuckles. “No. That’s not the only reason.”

“It’s not?” She asks sitting up. “What else do you need me for?”

“Who else would I be able to mess with when I’m bored?” He giggles.

“You asshole,” she says hitting him with a pillow. “If I save your kingdom, shouldn’t I be treated like a Queen or something?”

“Hah! You think that’ll make a difference to me?”

“It should! Don’t you have to uphold some oath or ethics or some shit since you’re a royal shield or whatever?”

“Even if you are praised as a savior, my vow is to be a shield to Seokjin and the Kim family. Not some half breed spaz.” He laughs scrunching his nose.

“You know what, just for that I think I will just let the portal take me over because fuck you.”

“You’d sacrifice your life just to spite me?” He chuckles. “I’m honored.”

“Shouldn’t you be nice to me? The fate of your world is in my hands right now.”

“I’ll think about being nicer if you tell me what you’ll choose to do.”

“I don’t know,” she sighs laying back down. “What would you do if you just learned these evil creatures from tv and books are actually real, and somehow you have their venom in your blood, and now you have to make a huge sacrifice one way or another to save them?”

“I might sacrifice you myself if you call us evil again!”

“What choice would you make?” She asks ignoring his threat.

“Well,” he sighs rolling his eyes. “It would make the most sense if you just converted. I know that’s not exactly what you want to hear, but you’ll have the best chance of survival. You’re already half vampire, just finish the job.”

“But I’ve built an entire life as a human.”

“I get that, but you really won’t have much of a life as a human if you stay that way.”

“So…if I drink blood…”

“You’re not going to drink blood,” he scoffs.

“What makes you so sure?”

“You fainted when I told you I was a vampire.”

“Ok, but that’s different.”

“So you’re going to drink blood?”

“Maybe I will,” she sasses.

“Can’t wait to see it,” he laughs standing up. “Let’s go then.”

“What? Now?” She asks surprised.

“Yes now!” He says grabbing her arm and pulling her off the bed. “That portal is growing each second, we don’t have time to waste.”

He takes her back to the sparring room where the guys are still waiting. He explains to them that instead of converting she’s chosen to drink blood to keep the portal from growing faster while they go in and do recon. He sounds much more confident about her drinking the blood than she actually is. The thought of it makes her gag but she’s trying her best to muster the courage so this can all be done without her having to fully convert and leave everything and everyone in the human world behind.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Hoseok asks.

“Once we’re in there you can’t change your mind,” Namjoon says noticing the apprehension on her face.

“Yeah,” she nods slowly. “I mean I don’t have much of a choice if I want to continue living as a human.”

“Half human,” Jungkook mumbles.

“Shut up, demon bunny!”

“You little-”

“Anyway!” Namjoon says raising his hand before they start bickering again. “We need to get started.”

It’s seems they’ve already planned their roles and everyone springs right into action. They decide to do it in Jungkook’s room where Luna can relax on his bed and hopefully not stress too much while they’re doing recon. Jungkook and Namjoon are both tasked with entering her portal, discovering where it goes, if anyone is there, and shut it down as soon as they can. At the first sign of trouble they swore to return before things get out of hand. Yoongi and Hoseok are tasked with making sure the blood supply doesn’t run out and making sure her body doesn’t have any negative reactions. Jin has a family meeting to attend on the other end of the palace. He won’t be able to miss it, but it will give him the chance to keep everyone else occupied so no one will know what’s going on. Jimin and Taehyung somehow appointed themselves as the ones to stay with Luna to keep her company.

Everyone gathers in Jungkook’s room with bottles of blood and whatever monitoring equipment Yoongi felt was needed. They need Luna to drink a bottle of blood before they can get started. Both to make sure the portal is stable before they enter, and also so she can prove that she’d be ok drinking blood, which Jungkook isn’t fully convinced she can do.

Luna stares at the bottle of blood Jungkook handed her and takes a deep breath. It for sure smells like blood which is triggering her gag reflex. With an unsteady hand she raises the bottle to her lips and takes a small sip.

“So?” Jungkook asks. “Do you think you’ll be able to do this?”

Luna takes another sip and nods. “I have to,” she says forcing more of the blood down. She’s fueled by both fear and the determination to return to normal.

It takes a bit, but eventually it becomes a little easier to get it down. Soon enough she’s finished the whole bottle and the six vampires staring at her seem satisfied.

Namjoon and Jungkook are geared up and ready to go. Jungkook takes a seat next to Luna on the bed and for a moment his deep red eyes show a hint of worry.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” Jungkook asks softly.

“Yeah,” she nods. “I think I can get through this.”

“Once we’re in we won’t be able to communicate. I just want to make sure you stay comfortable the entire time.”

“I don’t know if there’s much more comfort you can give me,” she chuckles nervously.

“Well if you need anything just yell at these guys to get it for you,” he says offering her a reassuring smile. “We’ll try not to take long, just make sure you keep drinking.”

“I will,” she nods. “Now hurry up and go, doe boy.”

“Can you decide whether you’re going to call me a bunny or a deer?”

“No,” she smirks pushing him. “Now go.”

He stands up rolling his eyes at her. He and Namjoon look at each other and prepare to go in.

“Be careful,” Hoseok says.

“We got this,” Namjoon smiles. “Let’s go.”

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cutesilyo · 2 years

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i still cant stop thinking about amephil because i literally have no idea how theyll be interacting in canon lmao so here’s just some approaches:

the awkward exes: piri and america just have no idea how to interact with each other anymore, so they default to being unerringly and diplomatically polite. they try to ignore each other outside of official functions, and get extremely flustered when forced to talk to each other in casual settings. everyone else knows that they have history together, but they avoid talking about it so much that nobody tries bringing it up

distant, annoying acquaintance: piri and america get along really well! they’re the best of chums! they’re so similar that they’re almost always on the same page! but they also don’t really bother to catch up personally, like they’ll hang out if they see each other but won’t particularly go out of their way to be with each other. the reason for this is because they annoy each other too easily when theyre stuck together for more than a few hours. they were housemates once and they swore never to do it again.

frenemies: piri and america are ridiculously familiar with each other, due to having lived together for decades when piri was still america’s colony -- a fairly unique relationship that only piri has with america. but because they have so much baggage, every time they interact with each other ends up in a lot of polite-on-the-surface-but-teeming-with-frustration-beneath bickering. they care for each other, which is fairly evident in how they keep seeking each other out just to annoy each other, but you can’t catch them ever admitting it

frenemies with Angst (TM): same as above, but now piri and america are angsty because deep down they really want to reconcile but feel like the other won’t be receptive to it. piri sees america being mean to him as america seeing their past friendship as something he regrets and would rather entirely forget about. america sees piri being mean to him as piri being too bitter about their rocky past to ever see him as an honest friend. there’s still a lot of unprocessed feelings from their history they’re still internally conflicted about, and they get reminded of it every time they see each other. but they have to keep the image of being the airheaded, happy nation, so they just continue to act as belligerent friends.

the friends that act like lovers: piri and america are intensely showy about how affectionate they are to each other. they’re in each other’s social media posts all the time, and america always has his arm draped over piri’s shoulder, and piri keeps calling america these cute pet names, and america is always buying piri gifts, and piri always defends america in conversation... everyone assumes theyre a thing? but theyre really not and laugh off any suggestion of it.

fuck buddies: piri and america are diplomatic allies, and as far as everyone else knows, thats all there is to their relationship. but also, sometimes, england has to visit america to talk about business stuff and piri is the one that walks out of america’s bedroom (and serves him tea, because he’s real hospitable like that). and sometimes indonesia has to pick up piri to go the next asean hangout/party and piri is clearly wearing america’s dress shirt. when asked, neither piri or america ever really give a serious answer and just joke around it.

idiots in pining: piri and america are frustrated! piri cant really explain why he still likes being around america so much even though he has every reason to positively hate his guts! america cant really explain why he still tries caring for piri even though he doesnt really have the obligation to do that anymore! oh, whatever can explain the way they hearts beat like crazy when they’re next to each other or the way they constantly seek out the other’s touch! oh, but unfortunately, piri thinks america still has a thing for russia while america thinks that piri and indonesia are together. what do you mean this burning pain they feel in their chest sounds like jealousy?

divorced: piri and america are perfectly genial to each other at official functions but fight like hell everywhere else. and their fights always end up being so painfully personal too, with stuff like “why did you betray me?” or “you always said you’d be by my side!” getting thrown out every so often. you’d laugh about how melodramatic they can get but they look so heartwrenchingly pained at each argument that you just feel sad. their friends try to ensure they never meet, if they can help it. they love each other, but the trust between them is just so irrevocably broken that they’ll never truly get over it.

#hws #hws america #hws philippines #amephil #mine #personally im more of a frenemies kind of person but its really entertaining to think of all the other stuff

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yournewlodger · 1 year

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I posted 15,686 times in 2022

That's 1,336 more posts than 2021!

52 posts created (0%)

15,634 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@roberette

@weyoungender

@section-69

@a-star-that-fell

@doccywhomst

I tagged 984 of my posts in 2022

#brock - 61 posts

#lodger speaks - 51 posts

#dw spoilers - 44 posts

#doctor who - 38 posts

#star trek - 17 posts

#doctor who spoilers - 14 posts

#unreality - 10 posts

#dall-e mini - 9 posts

#tianna - 7 posts

#missy - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i think if i could get a good artist to do a nice illustrated version of the part in take me out to the holosuite where they're all together

My Top Posts in 2022:

See the full post

233 notes - Posted May 1, 2022

this might be a controversial opinion but the tenth doctor was absolutely head over heels for that old man (professor yana) well before he knew he was the master. the doctor saw that gilf and it was love at first sight

473 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

as a new-ish star trek fan part of my experience is realizing just how haunted i am by star trek actors having appeared in things i grew up with without me realizing it. every day i go to the internet movie database and every day i’m like “whoa holy shit that was that person the whole time!?” and it like rewrites my entire experience of that piece of media

everyone put in the tags what star trek actor in something else moment that just rocked your fucking world when you realized it. i’m curious

1,191 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

in the event of a multi-doctor episode with (hopefully) all of the nuwho doctors, i think that the only two who wouldn’t be derogatory to each other would be eleven and thirteen. i can picture the rest of them bickering/bantering and begrudgingly trying to save the universe, while in the background eleven and thirteen just point at each other excitedly grinning like idiots. the camera pans away from them for one second and when it cuts back they’re wearing each other’s jackets.

1,302 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay, so here are our options:

1. David Tennant is the Fourteenth Doctor because the Jodie Whittaker's Doctor regenerated into him.

2. Ncuti Gatwa is the Fourteenth Doctor because Ten3 does not count.

3. Sacha Dhawan is the Fourteenth Doctor because Jodie Whittaker's doctor regenerated into him.

4. Jodie Whittaker is the Fourteenth Doctor due to the existence of the War Doctor.

5. Peter Capaldi is the Fourteenth Doctor due to the existence of the War Doctor and the time David Tennant regenerated into himself.

6. Matt Smith is the Fourteenth Doctor due to the existence of the War Doctor, and the time David Tennant regenerated into himself, and Jo Martin’s Doctor.

7. David Tennant is the Fourteenth Doctor due to the existence of the War Doctor, and the fact that he regenerated into himself, and Jo Martin's Doctor, and the existence of TenToo.

8. TenToo is the Fourteenth Doctor for the above reasons.

9. Donna Noble is the Fourteenth Doctor for the above above reasons.

10. Both David Tennant and Ncuti Gatwa's Doctors' true numbers are unknowable due to the existence of The Timeless Child.

11. Both David Tennant and Ncuti Gatwa's Doctors' true numbers are unknowable due to the existence of The Timeless Child, and the uncountable amount of times The Twelfth Doctor died and was reborn in Heaven Sent.

12. Both David Tennant and Ncuti Gatwa's Doctors' true numbers are unknowable due to the existence of The Timeless Child, and the uncountable amount of times The Twelfth Doctor died and was reborn in Heaven Sent, and all Doctors seen in noncanon materials are actually canon (Peter Cushing films, Scream of the Shalka, Curse of the Fatal Death, etc...)

13. Both David Tennant and Ncuti Gatwa's Doctors' true numbers are unknowable for all of the above reasons and also because pseudo-Doctors such as The Valeyard and The Dream Lord are also The Doctor.

14. The above is true, but The Doctor is simply a title, and anyone who claims to be The Doctor is also The Doctor. Jackson Lake is The Doctor. Clara is The Doctor. Missy is The Doctor. Graham is The Doctor. Every actor who has played The Doctor are also The Doctor.

15. The above is true, but due to The Egg Theory everyone else is also The Doctor. We are all The Doctor.

16. None of the above is true because no Doctor after the Revival is canon.

17. None of the above is true because no Doctor after the First Doctor is canon.

18. None of the above is true because there is no Fourteenth Doctor. The number was skipped for some reason.

19. The numbering system is flawed and useless to current canon, and we should switch to identifying Doctors by their actors, as we do with The Master. (Example: Hartnell!Doctor)

20. The above is not true because we would still need to find a way to differentiate the 3 - 4 Doctors played by David Tennant.

21. All of the above is technically true, and Russell T Davies should put it up to a poll and see who wins, and we must all commit to the democratic vote.

4,793 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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romione-trope-fest · 2 years

Text

A Very Pasteful Plan

Have another Stuck Together! We hope you love it!

————————

Fic Title: A Very Pasteful Plan

Author Name: cheesyficwriter

Selected Trope: Stuck Together

Brief Summary: Finally fed up with his two best friends and their constant bickering, Harry joins in on a plan to force Ron and Hermione into close proximity…whether they want to or not.

Word Count: 1,329

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: N/A

A/N: 5th Year AU that will be told entirely from Harry’s POV. Split into two chapters.

A Very Pasteful Plan

“I know exams are coming up, Hermione. You’ve only reminded me five bloody times!”

“That’s rubbish! I wouldn’t have to remind you at all if you would just follow the study schedule I’ve drawn up.”

“I don’t need a study schedule, or color-coded notes, mind you.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn’t even bother anymore.”

Harry groans, massaging the deep crease in his temple. He’s not sure how much longer he can remain apathetic to the nonsense spewing out of his best friends’ mouths. They’re making a lot of noise in the center of the Gryffindor common room for two people talking at each other—not to each other, per usual.

“Exams are still weeks away, Hermione! Can you at least wait to nag me until the week of?”

“Make it stop.” Harry sinks lower in his armchair.

“As you wish!”

Harry’s head snaps up, not realizing he had spoken his plea out loud. He finds Fred and George grinning down at him.

“Wait, no.” He straightens in his chair, and an apprehensive pit grows in his stomach. “What are you two up to now?”

Fred winks at him. “You’ll see.”

George digs a suspicious-looking vial out of his pocket—why he has potions stashed within his robes, Harry will never know—and the color of the liquid inside takes on the appearance of white paste.

Harry squints his eyes and readjusts the glasses framing his face before reading the label. “Oh no. No no no no. You can’t possibly be thinking—”

“Yes,” Fred confirms.

“We are,” George chimes in.

“Thinking that.” The twins finish in unison, both displaying matching grins. George tosses and catches the vial in mid-air, glancing back at the pair still verbally sparring in the background. “For twenty-four hours.”

“Twenty-four hours?” Harry yells, before remembering to lower his voice to a whisper. “Are you crazy? They’ll kill each other.”

The twins only waggle their eyebrows in response.

Harry turns to his only hope, who—knowing her—has been quietly listening in on their conversation.

“Gin. Help me out, here.”

The fiery redhead taps her chin, pretending to think. “Let’s see. You’ll be taking away their basic rights, any ounce of privacy, and forcing them to interact with one another…I’m in.“

“Ginny!” Harry admonishes but finds it hard to resist laughing at the devilish yet adorable grin on her face.

“Don’t worry, Potter.” George claps him on the shoulder. “The chances of them actually remaining stuck together for all twenty-four of those hours are slim.”

He doesn’t even want to know what George means by that.

“But, just for you, we may consider shaving that time down to twelve hours, out of the pure kindness in our hearts,” Fred teases.

Harry only grunts in response as the twins wander towards the portrait hole.

"We’ll set the plan in motion at dinner tonight!” Fred calls out before they disappear.

Sighing, Harry watches as Hermione finally decides to stomp up the spiral staircase, marking an end to her row with Ron for now. The redhead scowls at her retreating form before slumping into the empty chair next to the chess set.

Harry makes a mental note to arrive at the feast a bit earlier than usual this evening. It’s certain to turn into a show he doesn’t want to miss.

–

“Hi, boys.”

Hermione slides into the open seat next to Ron in the Great Hall, plopping her stack of books on the long table with a solid thump. Their animosity has seemingly worn off, and Harry wonders if they managed to make up in between classes, or if they’re choosing to pretend the conflict never happened. Either way, Harry has half a mind to find Fred and George and call off the ruse.

“Hiya!” Ron flashes her a grin before biting a huge chunk out of the chicken leg in his hand.

Harry shakes his head at his two best friends. It’s honestly baffling how quickly they can go from screaming at each other in the common room to exchanging cordial pleasantries in the dining hall.

“Here, ‘Mione. I got you a plate.” Ron slides a dish in front of her, piled with more food than Harry has ever seen Hermione eat. "It looked like they were almost out of buttered peas, but I snatched some for you.”

A warm smile graces her lips as she picks up her fork. “Thanks, Ron."

Harry takes a large swig from his water goblet. They have no idea that they’ve settled right into the twins’ trap.

His eyes flicker to the row of students and he finds Fred and George smirking at him. George holds up his goblet and points inside his cup before winking. Harry’s gaze shifts to the two goblets placed in front of Ron and Hermione, both filled to the brim with pumpkin juice. As if on cue, his unsuspecting friends each pick up their goblets and take a sip.

Oh no.

Harry opens his mouth—somewhat compelled to reveal Fred and George’s plan—but Ginny nudges him from her seat and he remains quiet.

Hermione’s fork clatters against her plate, and her hand darts under the table to presumably meet Ron’s resting on his knee. The tips of his ears turn to a distinct shade of pink as he stops chewing the large volume of potatoes in his mouth and glances down.

"Hermione. Let go of my hand.”

“What are you talking about?” she scoffs. “You let go of my hand!”

“Are you crazy? You’re the one who grabbed mine!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry can see Ginny smirking down at her kidney pie.

“Ron.” Hermione lowers her voice, biting down on her lip as she surveys the crowded room for any onlookers. “Our hands are stuck.”

“That’s ridiculous!” He attempts to shake his hand away with no luck. “What kind of magic is this?”

Isn’t it obvious? Harry wants to shout out, but he refrains from intervening after spotting the glare on Ginny’s face.

Hermione shifts in her seat, looking anywhere but at Ron. “We can’t be seen in public like this. What will people think?”

“Let’s go back to the common room,” Ron grumbles. “Surely you’ve got a book somewhere that can get us out of this.”

They struggle to stand up together while concealing their joined hands beneath a tangled mess of their robes. Their forced proximity is comical, and Harry finds it difficult to maintain a straight face as Hermione stumbles off the bench, swatting wisps of stray curls out of her eyes with her free hand.

“Why are you two so smug?” Ron narrows his eyes at Harry and Ginny.

The murderous gaze on his face is enough for Harry to feel good about keeping the twins’ secret for now. Ginny holds her hands up in innocence, and it’s obvious she feels the same.

“Let’s go, Ron,” Hermione snaps, and they stride towards the exit while bumping shoulders and looking around to make sure no one is watching their shifty behavior.

Harry makes a move to chase after them when a hand on his arm stops him.

“Wait.” Ginny’s eyes widen. “Are you actually going to follow them? Aren’t you worried that they’ll…you know.”

He winces, not wanting to imagine his best friends getting up to…you know.

“Are you joking? I can’t leave them alone. I’m more worried that they’ll kill each other first!”

Although Harry knows this experiment is designed to figure out how to end Ron and Hermione’s incessant arguing for good, he also believes their rows will be magnified ten-fold if they’re left to their own devices for too long.

“Sod it.” Harry gathers up his belongings and runs after his mates, despite Ginny’s protests.

He reckons this plan can deteriorate any stable relationship—or rather, whatever the fuck kind of relationship Ron and Hermione have.

#submission

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-Two

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

content warnings: secondhand embarrassment, i dont know how skiing works, poor editing, NSFW 🔥

***

To Nesta’s horror, Cassian was serious when he said he’d teach her how to ski. Nevermind the fact that it’s his birthday, and they should be having a lazy morning together filled with cuddles and breakfast in bed. Instead, they’ve been up since six in the morning without food or drink, just to shuffle around in the snow while Cassian repeats the same instructions over and over. By late morning, the rest of their group has gotten up and joined them at the beginner’s trail to be firsthand witnesses to Nesta’s humiliation.

She stares down at the blinding white slope before her and inhales a breath of frigid mountain air, trying to steel her nerves before she has to push off the ground and take flight.

Cassian sees her hesitation and sighs. “Come on, Nesta,” he urges. “It’s thirty feet to the bottom of the hill.”

“Why is it so steep?” she demands, even though she knows this is a practice hill. Toddlers in skis are shuffling around them, hand in hand with their parents.

“You’re not falling to the bottom,” Cassian says, growing impatient. “You’re gliding.”

He’s already shown her how to maneuver with skis a dozen times already, and Nesta can see that he doesn’t have another dozen times left in him. Unfortunately for him, Nesta’s own patience was used up hours ago. Her stomach pangs with hunger, and she has a pounding headache from the cold and lack of sleep.

“Oh, come on, Nesta,” Gwyn calls from behind her. She hops up and down in her snow boots like a cheerleader. “You can do it!”

Nesta does not want to do it. She looks down at the hill, then back at Cassian with pleading eyes—eyes that he can’t see under her ski goggles anyway.

“I can’t take this anymore,” Azriel mutters from somewhere. He picks up his ski poles and points to Emerie. “Ski lift?”

“Sure—” she starts to say, and then remembers that she’s here to support Nesta. “Not now,” she amends.

“Just go,” Cassian turns to tell them. “At least some of us will be having fun.” Nesta watches as he goes over to Emerie and Az to give advice on the trails, the same frustration from last night building in her chest.

Stupid ski trip. Stupid uninvited guests. Stupid birthday that Cassian isn’t even treating like a birthday.

Gritting her teeth, Nesta jabs her ski poles into the ground. She’ll conquer this hill, and then she’ll conquer the rest of the trail, and then she’ll take her skis and set them on fire.

With everyone briefly preoccupied and no eyes on her, Nesta pushes herself downhill. Her skis slip a little as she takes off but she readjusts her feet the way Cassian showed her, regaining control. She takes a deep breath, realizing the height isn’t as scary as she thought it would be. Testingly, she bends her knees and pushes herself farther, gaining speed.

“Oh, oh, look!” she hears Gwyn say from behind her. “She’s doing it!”

The voice breaks Nesta out of her precarious concentration, and she almost misses the kid right in front of her skiing at the pace of a turtle. Gasping, Nesta swerves at the last second to avoid running him over.

Her skis clack into each other and she feels her ankle twist, and then she’s down. Hard. Her face meets snow and her ski gear jabs into her body as she tumbles down the rest of the hill, until she finally meets flat ground and rolls to a painful stop.

Nesta only hears a dull roar in her ears as she slowly pushes herself upright. Ignoring alarmed looks from stray skiers around her, she reaches forward and unstraps one ski from her foot, then the other. Her goggles fall to the ground next. Once free, she stands up and walks away, ignoring the calls of her friends from the hilltop.

She walks until she loses sight of the trail and then the resort, until the flattened and trampled snow piles up into powdery mounds untouched by human presence. A cropping of towering evergreens appears before her, and she heads straight for the thicket without pausing.

Once safely entombed by the dark tree trunks and frosted branches, Nesta releases a breath and screams. Screams until the frustration and anger within her bluntens just a little.

The forest absorbs her fire and answers with silence.

“Better now?” Cassian’s voice comes from behind her.

Nesta whirls, ready to fling her next scream at him for having the nerve to follow her, but she only restrains herself because it’s his birthday. Guilt and humiliation nips at her; she shouldn’t be doing this on his birthday. “Leave me alone.” Her voice is raw from shrieking.

Cassian only takes a step closer to Nesta, eyeing her up and down. “You’re not hurt, right? ’Cause that would be embarrassing for you.”

Any edge that was taken off starts to build up again, and Nesta really doesn’t want to look at him right now. “Cassian—”

“Your face is turning red,” he suddenly gasps, pointing. “You should try yelling again, babe. I don’t think the entire resort heard you last time.”

Done with her boyfriend’s shit, Nesta releases a growl and rushes at him. He’s a lot closer than she realized, and in a blink she slams right into his broad chest and shoves him with all her might.

Cassian laughs, short and blunt, and pushes her right back. Her back hits hard-packed snow and then he’s on top of her, pinning her wrists loosely beside her head. Icy wetness seeps past the neck of her jacket.

“Do you want me to fucking bite you?” Nesta snarls, getting in Cassian’s face.

“Always,” he says without hesitation, pressing closer to her. “But first you gotta take a breather.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she seethes back. At this rate, she really might bite him. She wants to see his smug face drop when he realizes he pushed her too far.

“You might have an aneurysm at this rate with your anger issues.” He pouts prettily. “Imagine how sad that would make me.”

“I DON’T HAVE ANGER ISSUES!” she shrieks.

Cassian barely blinks. Nesta breathes heavily in the ensuing silence, realizing how embarrassing this is for her. Yet she doesn’t know how to stop.

Closing her eyes, she drops her head to the ground and turns away. Wishing she could sink into the ground and vanish for a few minutes, at least until she gets herself under control again.

After a moment of quiet, she feels the back of Cassian’s fingers brush her neck. “I wondered where that spitfire girl went,” he says lowly. “She didn’t die. You just hid her very well.”

Nesta’s body doesn’t know whether to feel soothed or incited by the touch, the words. “Does it make you happy?” she breathes, her eyes still closed. “That she’s still there?”

“It would be murder if you ever got rid of her. Don’t you dare,” he threatens.

Nesta huffs a derisive laugh. It’s easy for him to say, when he isn’t the one that has to live with it. “I bet you’re enjoying this.”

“Only if you are.” He sounds completely genuine, and Nesta feels him pluck something out of her hair—likely a snowflake.

Realizing Cassian has long since released her wrists, she opens her eyes and stares at the column of his neck. She doesn’t see the regret and concern on his face when he says, “I ruined today, didn’t I?” She watches him swallow before he adds, “I’m sorry, Nes.”

“It’s your birthday,” she mutters, looking away. “You can do whatever you want.” Even if it’s spending the whole day skiing.

“You’re right about that.” His warm breath hits her nose, and now that Nesta’s head is somewhat clear, she can feel every place where his body settles into hers.

Before she can betray herself and forget how upset she was at him only a few minutes ago, Cassian pushes up and off of her. Frigid air replaces where he was just sprawled, and then he’s holding out a hand to Nesta. “We’re going back to our room,” he says, watching Nesta’s feet closely as he helps her stand. “You can ride on my back.”

“Why?” Nesta grumbles, brushing herself off. “I can walk fine.”

“You twisted your right ankle on the way down that hill, and you started limping as soon as you thought you were out of sight.” Cassian turns around and points at his back. “Get on while I’m being nice.”

That makes Nesta scoff, because he’s always nice, but she has little fight left today. She tries to reach up to wrap her arms around his neck, but Cassian grabs her legs and hitches her up onto his back before she can struggle.

She responds with a scowl, clasping her hands across his chest and getting comfortable. “You noticed I was hurt but didn’t have a problem with tackling me to the ground?”

Cassian squeezes her thighs and holds her closer, tossing a blinding smile over his shoulder. “Sorry if I wasn’t expecting you to try to jump me with an injured foot. You took me by surprise.”

“Bullshit,” Nesta says as they start walking out of the trees. “You did it on purpose.”

“Do you like starting fights, Archeron?”

“Do you?” she retorts.

They bicker back and forth like that until they reach the resort, and even once they’re inside the lobby, Cassian doesn’t put Nesta down. The exhaustion of the day has settled over the both of them by then, and the elevator ride up to the penthouse is peacefully quiet.

Back at the empty suite, Cassian carefully lowers Nesta to her feet. “Take your clothes off,” is all he says before heading for the bathroom, shedding his heavy outer jacket as he goes. Nesta has no problem listening; she’s all too happy to take her snow-drenched gear off and breathe air-conditioned air again.

She only realizes as she’s removing her boots that her overwrought emotions must have dulled the real pain of her fall. Her entire body aches down to the bone, and her twisted ankle has it the worst. Inspecting the swollen skin around her foot, she wonders if Cassian will make her see a doctor when the sound of a running faucet pulls her attention. Still dressed in her thermal underwear, Nesta pads over to the bathroom.

Inside, the room is dim, and the only light comes in from the single window panel at the far end of the room. Cassian sits on the rim of the clawfoot tub as it fills with heated water, already naked.

Nesta coughs, caught off guard. The sight is far from unfamiliar to her, and yet she hates to admit that she’ll never not react to it.

Cassian looks up at her, meeting her eyes head on, and a giggle almost escapes her.

“What’s that dumb look on your face?” he says with high brows. “Take your clothes off and get in.”

Nesta firmly schools her face into obedience. Is she a grown woman or a schoolgirl? she chides herself as she strips naked. But as soon as she’s free of her top and leggings, Cassian stops her. “Turn around,” he says.

Is this a sex thing? She hopes it’s a sex thing. She does as she’s told, and hears Cassian hiss in a breath. Glancing at the mirror over the sink, Nesta winces when she realizes what he sees. “Damn.” Her back is peppered with still-forming bruises from her fall, along with her legs and ribs.

Getting up, Cassian approaches her and cautiously runs his fingers over a reddened spot on her ribs. “I think a ski pole stabbed me there,” Nesta says, frowning down at the bruise. She looks like shit, and not at all in a desirable way.

“How’s your ankle?” Cassian kneels to check for himself, handling her like a porcelain doll. He presses gently above the bone where she twisted it. “Does that hurt?”

Nesta considers saying yes, just so he can keep fussing over her like this, but she shakes her head. “I’m fine. Just a little achy.”

A sudden chaste kiss between her legs makes her yelp, and she twists to find Cassian still on his knees, grinning sheepishly up at her. “You know what can help with those aches?”

Nesta blanks as Cassian runs a calloused hand up her inner leg. “Uh…really good dick?”

Cassian is visibly trying not to smile when he says, “A bath.” He stands and turns the faucet off, before going to help Nesta into the tub.

Steaming hot water just beneath the point of being uncomfortable hits Nesta’s calves, then her hips and chest. She might moan in relief as she sinks into the bath.

Cassian settles in across from her, taking up most of the tub space as Nesta twists her ponytail into a bun. He takes her ankle onto his lap and starts massaging above the injury. He notes, “We haven’t been alone like this in ages.”

“I remember when it was my job to be the chill guy,” he continues, rubbing circles into her leg. “I was the one doing stupid shit, and now I have to tell other people to knock it off when they do stupid shit. Since when did Azriel take my role?” he mutters to himself.

Nesta tilts her head against the lip of the tub and watches Cassian, taking in the barely visible lines of weariness on his face. She was once in a similar boat, too, where she had no one to answer to but herself. “Do you miss it?” she asks hesitantly. “Life before we got to know each other?” A life spent in the company of his friends, meeting different women every other week and being as free as possible.

“No,” he says easily. “I miss life before we had to share each other with other people.” He meets her eyes and smirks. “Who knew monogamy could be so exciting?”

Nesta’s stomach curls at his honesty, and she doesn’t know what to say. In the silence, Cassian reaches for a washcloth and lathers it with a bar of pine scented soap. But before he can reach for Nesta, she snatches the washcloth from him and pulls herself forward into the cradle of his limbs. What she can’t say, she’ll just have to show.

She starts soaping up his arms, granting extra attention to his tattooed biceps.

“You’re hurt—” he tries to protest.

“Shut up.” She runs the washcloth over his shoulders, across his collarbones.

When Nesta reaches his chest, she starts, “Earlier in the woods...I lost control.”

Cassian looks wary, but she goes on, “I don’t know why I did that. I thought I didn’t do that anymore.”

“I know why,” he says simply. “You were having a bad day. It was overwhelming.” He shrugs.

“But I’m better than that,” she insists. “You might think it's cute or funny when I—lose it, but I spent years training myself not to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience.” She takes in a breath, her movements slowing. “I learned how to escape reality, remember? I climbed into books and TV and songs, and at one point my entire life passed me by because I refused to participate in it. If I didn't participate, I couldn't be hurt.” She wrings out the washcloth, and Cassian carefully pries it out of her grip.

Nesta places her empty hands on her thighs, avoiding his touch, his eyes. “I think you were one of the only people who ever made me want to come back to real life,” she offers awkwardly. “That's why you made me uncomfortable at first. There were times I would look at you and think, He's better than anyone from the books. If I start living on the same plane as him, I can have him. Does that make sense?”

Cassian swallows visibly, but nods.

“It seemed like an impossible thing to do at the time—participate in the real world, make real friends. But have you noticed? I don’t read as many romance novels anymore.” Not because she doesn’t love them, but because she no longer needs them to remind herself she's alive.

She looks up at him, searching for his thoughts and opinions. Cassian looks like he's doing the same with her face, but then he says, “If you need to scream, even if it’s at me, tell me. I’ll take you somewhere far away, or I’ll let you have it out right in front of everyone. Whatever the hell you want, as long as you tell me. Please.”

Nesta starts to shake her head, adamant, but he stops her with the most pitiful look he's ever given her. “There’s nothing I hate seeing more than you trying to swallow down your rough edges. Even in the woods, you were about to tame yourself before I provoked you.” Cassian holds out a pinky, completely serious. “Consider it my birthday gift. Don’t do that shit anymore.”

Nesta stares at him, his plea warring with years of conditioned self-restraint. “I already got you a birthday gift,” she finally grumbles, but hooks his pinky with hers.

He seems satisfied, but doesn't let go of her pinky. With surprising strength, he uses their hooked fingers to pull Nesta into him, and she just barely catches herself on his chest before he brings her head down and kisses her deep.

Nesta already has her legs adjusted around his waist and his cock pressed against her stomach before she can pull away far enough to choke, “What’s this for?”

He leans up and catches her lips with his again, dipping his tongue just far enough inside to flick the roof of her mouth before retreating. “For existing. And for those aches.” He presses down lightly on a bruise at her back and runs a soothing thumb over it right after. Between her thighs, she feels him growing hard.

Nesta huffs a distracted laugh, the steam from the water sending a red flush up her chest and neck. It's suddenly very hot, and she unconsciously squirms in his lap. “I just realized I’ve never had sex in the bath before,” she says out of nowhere, rubbing her chest and quickly dropping her arms. She’s babbling, she knows. Contrary to popular media, being a seductress is harder than it looks. Half the time she has no idea what to say, and she considers herself lucky that Cassian is driven wild by it anyway.

Cassian entertains her, nodding along while his fingers slip past her ass, brushing her folds. “That sounds like something that should be amended, don’t you think?”

“Well, in terms of comfort I’m not sure if it’ll be better than the shower—” She’s cut off by a finger teasing at her entrance, making her jerk. “Yes,” she says quickly. “Yes, it should be amended.”

He hums thoughtfully, leaning in to nibble and suck at her neck. Her hardened nipples brush against his chest, and Nesta pushes closer into Cassian’s embrace. She’s half-rocking against him when she rasps, “How do you give head in the bath? Do I, like, have to hold my breath underwater?”

“You don’t need to know how,” he mutters, grasping her by the hips and tugging her up so that he’s eye level with her chest. He starts leaving a trail of openmouthed kisses across her breasts. “You’re not doing anything I don’t tell you to do today.”

“What do you mean?” Nesta’s grip on Cassian’s shoulders tightens when he brings a pink nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and pulling off with a flick of his tongue. She can’t move her hips for fear of climaxing at the slightest touch. “It’s your birthday,” she manages to get out. “And I like seeing what I can do to you.”

“Then save it for your birthday.” He pulls her back down firmly into his lap, making her thighs clench with restraint. “Because I like seeing what I do to you more.”

To prove his point, he parts her legs and slips one finger inside her. The smug pride on his face at what he finds makes Nesta move to grip the rim of the tub. Having a pretty boyfriend might have been a mistake, she thinks. That kind of face will get away with anything. Right now, for example.

“Tell me what you want, then,” she pleads.

Cassian leans back, pretending to think. “Sit on my cock,” he finally says.

An easy enough order, one Nesta is all too excited to carry out in only a few movements. It takes a minute to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, and the water doesn’t help in dousing the fire in her veins at all. With heat pounding deep in her core, Nesta releases a terse breath. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, and Cassian watches.

“Now don’t move,” he orders.

“What?” Nesta’s knees involuntarily clench around his hips, her body already craving the feel of moving against him, on top of him.

He levels her with a look. “No clenching, no rocking, no touching.” He hisses in a thoughtful breath, combing a wet hand through his hair. “Actually, that isn’t very fair, is it?”

Nesta is about to nod furiously when he says, “You still need to wash yourself.” He hands her the washcloth she used on him earlier and leans his elbow on the rim of the tub. “Be quick about it. No games.”

Nesta’s eyes widen, looking at the washcloth, then back up at Cassian. Excitement tingles in her fingers and toes, and she doesn’t want to argue with him.

Gulping tightly, she soaps up the washcloth, then smooths the lather over her arms. It’s hard to focus on what she’s doing when there’s a pounding pressure between her legs, and the only thing that keeps her going is that she’ll be rewarded when she’s done. Cassian doesn’t bother watching her, instead tipping his head back against the tub and closing his eyes. From this angle, the tendons in his neck stand out clearly, and the hard line of his jaw looks tense. Nothing on his calm face reveals that Nesta is the reason for his tension, though.

Bringing the soapy cloth over her breasts, Nesta looks up to see if Cassian is secretly peeking at her through his lashes. His eyes remain shut, the perfect portrait of a man at rest.

Suddenly, his hips shift beneath hers, and Nesta nearly drops the washcloth. Straightening up, she has to use herculean strength to force her inner walls to relax around him. “You moved,” she accuses him.

“I was getting comfortable,” he says, still not opening his eyes.

“Why can you move but I can’t?”

That gets him to look at her. His eyes are hooded and lazy when he says, “You’re still talking?”

“Maybe if you had clearly explained the rules—” Nesta starts to grumble, but shuts up when he quirks a brow at her. She won’t lose this game, not for anything—even if she’s split at the seams with Cassian inside her and is one thread away from completely snapping.

Now fully alert, Cassian watches Nesta finish washing up. He hasn’t touched her once since he pulled her onto his cock, and now Nesta tries to make up for the aching lack by pretending her roaming hands are his.

It’s not until the washcloth reaches her tummy that Nesta pauses, her hand frozen over her lower abdomen. Because there, even past the cloth, she can feel him. The skin just slightly bulges, and she looks down at herself with her lips slightly fallen apart. She didn’t realize he was nestled so deep in her, but now she swallows past a lump in her throat. “Cassian…” she starts weakly. Every last muscle is trembling with the effort to stay still. Can he really be unaffected by all of this? Is she really the only one dying right now?

Without intending to, her hand drops the cloth, slipping toward her clit. She can only brush the sensitive nub before Cassian says quietly, “Don’t.”

So this is against the rules, too. She can’t even bring herself to look at him, she’s strung so tight. Taking a shallow breath, she grabs the pitcher from the shelf by the tub and fills it with water, using it to rinse off the suds. When she’s done, with water droplets running down every inch of her, she dares to look at Cassian again. Her anxiousness to get this over with must be written all over her face, and yet.

“Good,” Cassian says, voice just a little grated.

Nesta’s heart rate picks up a beat. She’s finally getting her reward.

“Now sit still and pretty while I rest,” he says, sinking even lower into the tub—and causing his cock to dig even deeper into Nesta. “This is a bath, not a splash pad.”

Nesta chokes. “What—I thought—”

“Hm?”

She presses her lips together tightly, refusing to protest. He can’t make her warm his cock like this forever, can he? Soon enough he’ll crack.

Four minutes in, and he doesn’t crack. While Nesta gets closer to crying by the second, she has yet to find evidence that he’s even aware of her presence. Her only proof is the fact that he’s still rock hard, occasionally twitching against the depths of her walls.

At five minutes in, Nesta can’t help it. She breaks, and her inner muscles clamp around Cassian with a viselike grip. She half-sobs in pain and relief, and her hips jerk of their own accord.

Cassian’s eyes fly open at that, the pupils blown wide, and Nesta has to catch herself on his chest to keep from crumbling. If she had half a working brain left, she would have noticed the trembling restraint that lines Cassian’s limbs, or the way his eyes burn with welling desire and even sympathy. Instead, she turns her face into his chest and begs weakly, “Pleasepleaseplease.” Her thighs keep shifting, rubbing back and forth to create friction, but she can’t give herself permission to move the way she truly needs until Cassian gives her permission.

Nesta feels Cassian’s broad hand come up to carefully brush her back. She nearly weeps with relief at the touch, but he doesn’t go any further. “What do you want, baby?” he says roughly.

“You,” she forces out. She doesn’t care if this is losing.

“Me, what?” He sounds like he’s about to lose, too.

“I want you to fuck me.” She’s nearly whimpering, trying not to squirm on his lap.

Cassian, the horrible bastard, has the nerve to snicker in her ear, though he sounds more than a little wrecked when he says, “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

In a flash, he has Nesta pinned against the porcelain tub. And before she can decide whether to laugh or moan or cry at the turn of events, Cassian covers her mouth with his and thrusts into her, giving her everything she wants.

***

Hours later, after they’ve sated themselves on sex and food and Cassian is napping sprawled out across Nesta’s back, she receives a text from Azriel telling her he won’t be there to celebrate the rest of Cassian’s birthday.

Az: You two deserve the alone time. Also I didn’t get him a present.

Another text pops up before Nesta can reply.

Az: I did order a cake to be sent up to your room, though. Don’t worry, there’s not a picture of your boobs on it.

Nesta’s eyes widen at that, not knowing why—or how—that would be an option. But she completely forgot about getting cake in all the unexpected hassle of their vacation, and not for the first time is she grateful that Azriel came along with them on their trip.

Typing back a quick thank you, Nesta clicks her phone off and curls further into Cassian’s warmth. He shifts on top of her, hugging her closer, and a moment later she feels his nose poking at the crook of her neck. “Good morning,” he murmurs thickly, sleep coating his voice.

“It’s six p.m,” she snickers. The sun slipped behind the mountains just a few minutes ago, leaving the room a blue dark.

Cassian responds by slipping his hands under her oversized tee, rubbing the muscles along her back. “Where’s everyone else?” They haven’t seen Gwyn, Emerie, or Az in hours.

Nesta turns around in Cassian’s arms to face him. “Consider them gone. We’re by ourselves for the rest of the night.”

He perks up at that. “Really?”

A knock sounds from the penthouse door, and Nesta remembers Azriel’s text. She squirms out from under Cassian’s weight with some difficulty and stands off the bed. She points a stern finger at him. “Don’t move from here,” she orders. “I’ll be back.”

Cassian leans back, looking questioning and amused, but Nesta has already jammed her feet into slippers and left the room by then.

She accepts the covered platter from room service at the door and leaves a tip, before carrying the cake over to the coffee table in the living area and setting it down. Within ten minutes, she has an entire setup arranged: the fireplace is up and roaring, the fur throw she stole from Cassian’s couch to bring on vacation is spread out before it, and the cake candles are lit. The Italian dinner that she ordered earlier also arrives by then, and once everything is laid out, she calls for Cassian to come downstairs.

He’s fully dressed in a sweater and jeans when he appears at the top of the short set of stairs, and he looks so excited to see her that he doesn’t notice the cake or the dinner until he’s only a few steps away from her. Very slowly, his smile freezes. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your birthday,” Nesta says. “Duh.”

“But I thought we already celebrated,” he stumbles, looking around. “With the skiing, and the bathtub—”

Nesta makes a face. “You thought that was celebrating?” She shakes her head and beckons Cassian over to the fur throw, right before the table decked out with food.

He sits down beside Nesta, looking over her in nothing but her thin white shirt. “Are you cold? Do you want my sweater?”

She rolls her eyes as far back as they can go. “No, I want you to focus and make a wish before 6:27.”

“How do you know my birth time?”

“Will you do it or not?” she threatens. The candle wax is melting onto the cake.

Cassian stares at her for a moment longer before finally facing the cake. Closing his eyes, he mouths something unintelligible and blows the candles out.

Nesta claps softly. “Happy two years away from thirty. What did you wish for?” She leans closer.

He leans away. “It doesn’t come true if you go around announcing it.”

Nesta’s shoulders drop. “Wishes aren’t real, Cassian.”

“That’s what you say.” He swipes a dollop of chocolate frosting off the cake with his finger and holds it out to Nesta.

Smiling, she wraps her lips around his finger, scraping the chocolate off with her teeth and licking it clean. He sucks on the same finger when she’s done, chasing after her taste and the lingering frosting. “What do you want first?” he asks. “Dinner or dessert?”

“This.” Nesta pulls out a small box from under the table, placing it in front of Cassian. She didn’t have time to find wrapping paper or a bag, but she’s a bit proud of herself anyway.

Cassian once again looks taken by surprise. “You didn’t have to…” He trails off as he reaches for the box. It’s already obvious what it is, but he still opens it carefully, hesitantly.

He stares at the silver watch for a little while and then looks back up at Nesta. “I…” He clears his throat.

“What do you think?” In all honesty, Nesta already knows. But she needs to hear it from him.

He meets her eyes. “It’s so…normal. Do you know what I mean?”

It’s the type of gift that Nesta’s mother would have given to her father, the type of gift that wives would give to their husbands. Not necessarily original or thoughtful, but domestic.

“Since you like to spend your time thinking about taxes and minivans and stuff,” Nesta says, remembering their last conversation about the future, “I thought you’d like something normal.”

Cassian laughs at that. He takes the watch out of the box and turns it over in the firelight, still a little dumbstruck. “I love it,” he says roughly.

Nesta kicks him in the knee. “It’s a watch, not an engagement ring.”

But he doesn’t hear a word, already clasping it onto his wrist.

***

Their last day at the resort starts early with Gwyn, Emerie, and Az banging on the suite door at five in the morning. Though Cassian is already up by then, Nesta snarls and snaps like a bitch at being dragged out of bed to watch the sunrise.

With everyone’s bags packed and waiting at the door, they all gather on the balcony connected to the suite in content silence. Azriel nurses a thermos of coffee that he refuses to share with Cassian, and Nesta is wrapped up in that fur throw she loves, half-asleep against Emerie.

When the sky starts lightening, Cassian pulls Nesta away from Emerie and into his body. “You’re gonna miss it,” he murmurs onto the top of her head.

She blinks awake, looking out at the sky slowly being streaked with a dozen colors. From here, the view over the mountains and the quiet town some miles beneath the resort is breathtaking. Easily better than any sunrise Cassian could have shared with Nesta back home.

It’s beautiful, and in that moment he decides he wants to see even more beautiful places than this with Nesta. Someday.

“Pretty,” she yawns, tilting her head back against his chest. Cassian feels guilty for keeping her up so late the night before, but he’s not ashamed of how she rests in his arms right now.

After the sun climbs past the lowest peak, the group of them slowly but surely come more alive. Emerie asks Az to go inside with her and do a final check before they leave, and Nesta shakes both the blanket and Cassian’s arms off herself.

“Some coffee will wake you up,” he promises her, leaving her outside in the dewy morning air with a kiss on the temple.

When Cassian returns to the balcony with two freshly brewed cups, he finds Gwyn and Nesta in deep conversation. “I never apologized for crashing your weekend,” Gwyn is saying.

“You don’t need to,” Nesta responds, watching the world wake up below her.

“Still,” Gwyn says, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I acted out of character, didn’t I?”

Nesta turns to her then, the sun haloing her face, and the look of understanding she wears makes Cassian take a step back inside.

“He does that to me,” Gwyn goes on, looking lost as ever. “I don’t know why he does that to me.”

“First love will do that to anyone,” Nesta says.

This isn’t a conversation Cassian should be overhearing, he realizes. Turning around with his coffees, he goes to find Emerie and Azriel instead.

In the living area, Emerie realizes at the last minute that she’s missing her phone charger. By the time she finds it, Nesta and Gwyn have rejoined the group.

Cassian hands Nesta her still-warm coffee with a warmer smile. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Hell yes, baby.” She slings an arm around his waist.

They barely make it to the resort lobby before Azriel and Gwyn start arguing over which route to take home.

“Why would you add an extra hour to your trip for no reason?” Azriel is saying.

“It’s none of your business!” Gwyn retorts.

“She’s scared of highways,” Emerie inserts.

While they bicker on the way to check out, Cassian finds Nesta’s hand and runs a finger down her palm. “Hey, Nes?”

“Hm?” She looks up at him.

He curls his fingers around hers. “Thank you for doing this.”

***

a/n: i cant keep posting chapters right before i sit down to cry in front of kdramas

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea

#ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfic #nessian au

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

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At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @anetteaneta @stardustkenobi @casifer-is-king @foxilayde @tlcwrites @aellynera @kindablackenedsuperhero

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for.

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you.

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.”

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room.

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex- must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?”

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit.

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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shedobewritingalittle · 3 years

Text

Not A Team-Part 1: The Start

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The Reader tries to live a normal life, but her memories won’t leave her alone. Rhodey comes to visit the reader with a proposition.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Talks of death, talks of mental illness, mentions of feeling alone

Four Months Ago

"Y/N, do you think you can tell me why you're here?" The female therapist asks, clicking her one before setting it down on her notepad. The ex-hero shifts on the charcoal grey couch, wanting to be anywhere but here. While she knows that the room should be sort of calming, but it has the directly opposite affect on Y/N. Her stomach is twisting in knots and she feels like her breakfast is going to come up.

"I was told I had to come here." Y/N replies, looking down at her chipping burgundy nail polish. There was hardly any color left on her nails, but what was left was stubbornly holding on, a constant reminder of what she had painted them for.

"Yes, but why were you told to come here?" The doctor-whose name was escaping Y/N at the moment-pushes, shifting in her own seat. Y/N continues to stay silent, which makes the therapist sigh, "Look Y/N, you have to be here. The only way you are able to get out of this is when I am able to determine that you aren't a danger to yourself or others. The government needs to know that you are okay. It's apart of the Acco-"

"I-I messed up. I messed up bad." Y/N cuts her off, wanting to get this all over as quickly as possible.

It's the understatement of the century. I messed up bad. That's what you say when you crash your car or get too drunk and text your ex. "Messing up bad" doesn't land you in court mandated therapy. No, Y/N hadn't "messed up bad", but she couldn't say what she had actually done. Even if she couldn't get the words out of her mouth, she was well aware if she had done. The smell of burning flesh used to be something she would wear like a perfume. Now it threatens to invade her nose, forcing her to go back to that night. Y/N tries her best to ignore it, but it's so hard to forget a smell like that.

"And when you say mess up-"

"I used my powers and people got hurt." Y/N answers, her hands getting hot. She glances down, trying to will away the heat and the fire that will surely follow. The therapist writes down a few more notes. Y/N finds herself hating the way the pen scratches at the paper, the sound almost deafening.

"Is it hard to control your powers?" The doctor asks, to which Y/N immediately shakes her head. She looks back up at the therapist, clasping her hands tightly together. Y/N is trying to look as normal and okay as possible, hoping that the therapist believes her little act.

"No. It-They're just slightly influenced by my emotions and I was just really emotional that day." Y/N replies as she feels the heat move away from her hands. She shifts on the couch, hating the attention she's getting right now, hating the way the therapist's eyes seem to notice every little movement and thought. The therapist writes that down, nodding.

"Why were you so emotional, Y/N?" The woman questions. The ex-Avenger looks back down at her hands, her wedding ring shimmers in the light that's streaming through the windows. Just seeing it makes her stomach sink, her throat tightening with that same emotion.

Now

Y/N has always hated silence.

It's the reason why she loved being in the city so much. It was constantly awake. There was never a moment of silence, no the city was always screaming and shouting. Y/N had welcomed the sound with open arms. Even when the Avengers moved out of the city and went upstate, it was still loud. Everyone kept different hours, everyone had different tasks so the base was never completely quiet. Life on the run with Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Nat wasn't quiet either. The five of them were a family, always constantly talking and bickering.

But now, she lived alone.

It was raining out today. The incessant pounding of the water droplets against the roof and the ground outside provided a much needed melody as Y/N moved around the house. Boxes still littered the rooms, precariously stacked on top of each other. She's been leaving here for a while, but some boxes she can't bring herself to unpack. For example, the large one in the middle of the living room that was labeled "WEDDING DRESS + BOUQUET" was now being used as an impromptu side table. Another one that was shoved into the second bedroom had "PICTURES FROM COMPOUND" scrawled on the side in sharpie. She doesn't think she'll ever open that one, not knowing how she handle all of those memories.

Y/N forces herself to pick up one of the boxes in the kitchen, this one labeled "WINTER CLOTHES". Usually, she would be outside tending to the garden (her therapist had told her that she needed a hobby to keep herself busy) or doing small tasks that needed to be done. However, because of the rain she was stuck inside with all the boxes that she had yet to unpack. The box is heavy, most of the weight most likely coming from her bulky winter coats.

Y/N had left the city she had loved so much, packing up her life to move to a small little house upstate. The city didn't feel like home anymore. Living in Steve's apartment without him felt wrong. It had never felt like home, didn't feel like she belonged there. They never lived at the apartment together, they didn't share any memories here. No, this place was all Steve. She was constantly surrounded by Steve-his things, his memory, his smell. It was suffocating, being surrounded by a man that had abandoned you.

Five years she was gone. Five years he had grieved and mourned over her and then-almost immediately when Y/N came back, Steve decided he didn't want to stay with her. He didn't tell her what he was going to do. Maybe he knew that if he had, she would've tried to talk him out of it. Y/N knows that she would've begged for him to stay with her. She was a. proud woman, but she wasn't proud enough to beg.

She had expected him to come back to her. Y/N thought he was going to return the stones and come back. She had thought they were going to be able to continue where they had left off, they were going to able to be together after all this time. They were finally going to be able to settle down and start that family that Steve had always hinted at. Get a house with a white picket fence and get a cute little dog. The fucking American Dream.

And then he had came back as an old man, with a gold wedding band that she hadn't given him on his finger. Steve gave Sam his shield and his legacy, no longer able to carry the mantle of Captain America. And Y/N-well Y/N's world just crumbled around her, her dreams shattering because Steve decided that he was going to move on.

She still loved him, she even still loves him now. It was impossible not to love him, even though he had left her behind. Y/N tried her best to hate him-told herself that Steve had betrayed her and that he didn't want her. She tried to tell herself that Steve didn't even love her, because if he had loved her why would he be so willing to abandon her, especially after he had just got her back? It didn't matter how much he hurt her or what he did to her, Y/N's heart would always belong to Steve whether she liked it or not.

Feeling incredibly conflicted, Y/N had forced herself to stay her by husband's side as he got sick. She didn't ask for an apology, even as Steve told her over and over that he was incredibly sorry for what he did. Y/N knew that he wasn't actually sorry because if he was actually sorry, he wouldn't have lived an entire life with Peggy. She wouldn't tell him how hurt she was or how looking at her wedding ring made her feel sick now. No, Y/N had played the role of the dutiful wife. She held his hand as his condition worsened and made sure his affairs were in order. Her feelings didn't matter as she tried to make his last days more comfortable.

And then he died.

Steve died, leaving her behind. She didn't dare talk about what had happened, what he had put her through. Y/N, even with all of the bullshit he had put her through, didn't want to tarnish his legacy. Steve Rogers was a hero and she wasn't going to be the one that ruined that for everyone. Even Sam tried to ask her if she was okay and she had just brushed it off, telling him that she was glad that Steve had picked him to carry on the legacy attached to the shield he had received.

Y/N had tried to carry on after Steve was buried, but it was hard. She was dropped into a world where all of her friends were gone, a world that had moved on without her. It was a world that she didn't belong in and she knew it. Y/N tried her best to return to normal, but she quickly learned that there was no such thing as the normal she was used to. Everything felt wrong, felt off in some minuscule way that made her unable to adapt to regular life again.

Y/N just kept bottling up her emotions, the pressure continuing to build up as the days went on. She was drowning it and there was no life preserver in sight. Everyone else went back to normal, going back to school or getting a job or finding ways to get busy. Y/N knows that she should've gotten help, that she should've tried talking to someone, but she didn't. Maybe a part of her didn't want to admit there actually was a problem, that Steve hadn't been the perfect husband and she felt abandoned by the man she married.

And that had led to her completely losing it.

Y/N would later be told that it was a nervous breakdown. A nervous breakdown. She felt-and still feels-like that name wasn’t what she experienced. It was so much more than just a nervous breakdown.

It had led to innocent people getting hurt, people that hadn't cause her pain, people that were most likely suffering just as much as she was. Her emotions were just too high and her powers-her powers decided to act on her impulses and her feelings. She had just been so God damn angry at Steve-

Y/N has to drop the box she was holding, her hands growing hot. She mutters curse words as she hears what sounds like glass shattering inside the box as she forces herself to calm down. She does the breathing exercise that the therapist had told her to do, attempting to rein in her emotions. Her eyes shut, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth. Y/N tries to pull the heat back inside of her, but it just won't go back in.

Her heart is beating fast in her chest as she quickly moves back into the living room, her feet carrying her to the front door. Her bright red hand grabs ahold of the doorknob, throwing the door open.

The rain is much louder now, making it almost hard to see with how much is coming down. It hits the ground violently, a cold wind trying its best to cool Y/N off, to no avail.

She quickly walked down the steps of the porch as the heat crawled up her arms, her temperature rising. Y/N knows she won't have the time to take off her clothes and she also knows that she's gone past the point of attempting to rein her powers in. Her hands catch first, bright yellow and orange flames quickly covering her skin, coating them until no skin remained.

The flame crawls over her body, burning away her clothes before the flames take over her entire body. The rain turns into steam as soon as it hits her fire covered body, a cloud surrounding her. Y/N feels more relaxed as the flame licks at her skin, covering her from head to toe. It's easier to calm down after she does this, getting some of those stronger feelings released in order to return back to normal.

Hours later while she is in the middle of cooking, someone knocks on her door. Y/N sighs softly, putting her slotted spoon back down on the counter, quickly wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She makes her way to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole before she opens the door.

Rhodey stands before her, dressed in far more causal clothing that he usually is in. Y/N's eyes are immediately drawn to the thick manila folder in clutched tightly in his hands. He gives her a small smile. Y/N knows that he isn't just here to visit. No one ever comes to visit.

"Hey." Rhodey says gently, almost as if he's testing the waters. They haven't seen each other in a few months, not since the events that had led her to moving all the way out of here, not since she got out of the psych ward she had voluntarily gone to after her accident. Voluntarily is the wrong word here. The US Government had all but strong armed her into going.

"Hi. Uh-Here, come in. It's cold out." Y/N responds, opening the door a little wider. Rhodey's smile grows as he steps inside. He stops for a moment, looking around at her home. It's small, almost more of a cottage than an actual home. He takes note of the lack of any personal items, no pictures out on display, no tchotchkes. Boxes still litter the living room even though she's lived here for a few months.

"It looks good. Real cozy." Rhodey comments as Y/N shuts the door. She nods, giving him a polite smile as she moves past him to go back into the kitchen.

"Why'd you come by? I know it isn't for dinner." Y/N cuts straight to the point. She doesn't even bother looking at him as she checks to see if her pasta is ready. Rhodey's smile falters for a moment while she strains the pasta. He clears his throat, quickly regaining his composure.

"I-Well I stopped by because I wanted to talk to you about something." Rhodey walks into her kitchen, leaning against the counter as she pours the pasta back into the now empty pot. Y/N holds out her hand for the folder, which he immediately hands over. She flicks through it, seeing the plans for an exhibit honoring her husband. Rhodey shifts slightly as he sees her eyebrows knit together. As she goes through the pictures, she can see that it wasn't in the preplanning phase. They had their exhibit ready, all done up with a fresh paint job.

She's seen the exhibit before. Y/N had teased Steve constantly over it, thinking it was the funniest thing that he had a whole exhibit dedicated to him, a man who couldn't even use a cell phone. Steve told her once that he didn't mind the teasing, told her that it was one of his favorite things about her.

But that was then and this is now.

"The Smithsonian wants to expand their exhibit on Steve. I don't exactly see why this has anything to do with me." Y/N's eyes catch on a picture of her and Steve at their wedding, big stupid smiles stretched across their faces. The page notes possibly names for this part of the exhibit, all of them making that emotion crawl up into her throat.

"They want you to speak at the opening. You and Sam." Rhodey answers, watching as her face drops. Y/N closes the folder, still looking down at it. The papers suddenly feels like they're a million pounds, weighed down so many memories. For a second, Rhodey gets his hopes up, thinking that she is actually considering it.

"Get someone else to do it." Y/N tells him, handing the folder back over to the man. Her voice is a lot colder than it was before and her friend could practically see Y/N building her walls back up. Rhodey sighs, holding it for a moment before setting it down on the counter.

"They want people who knew him, Y/N."

"Then get someone else because I sure as hell didn't." She snaps, the fire on the stove growing. Y/N quickly shuts off the burners, shaking her head, "Ask Barnes, ask literally anyone else."

Rhodey opens his mouth before shutting it. He didn't know how to respond. He knew that his friend was upset, but as soon as Steve did what he did, she had shut herself off. Rhodey had tried and tried to get through to her and after what she had did...Rhodey knew she was going through a lot and that Y/N wouldn't tell him or anyone else how she was feeling. She just wasn't that type of person, never has been.

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat that threaten to swell up, serving Rhodey a plate full of food without him asking if he wants one. She ignores all the memories that flash in her mind, trying to keep it together. She hands the plate to Rhodey without saying a single word before serving herself . Y/N grabs them both drinks and napkins, moving around the kitchen in complete silence. They both sit down at her little table, the only sounds being the two of them breathing and their forks hitting their plates.

"How are you doing?" Rhodey breaks the silence, looking across at her. Y/N pushes her food around her plate, shrugging her shoulders.

"Doing better. I go to therapy once a week like I'm supposed to. It's-It's a lot easier to breathe out here." She replies, setting her fork down. Rhodey gives her a small smile.

"I'm glad you're doing better. I'm sorry I haven't been checking in on you. I know you wanted space and some time." He says softly, to which Y/N shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink. She knew that Rhodey felt guilty over her situation, but the man has enough on his plate. He doesn't need to adding 'taking care of Y/N' to his long list of tasks.

"You've been busy. There's a lot of rebuilding that needs to be done and you shouldn't have to be checking in on me." She looks up at him attempting to give him some peace of mind, "I'm doing better, I promise."

It wasn't the biggest lie she's ever told. She was doing better, but she still wasn't herself. Although, Y/N didn't know if she could ever return to being herself pre-Blip. Before all of this shit, she had Steve to lean on. Now...well now she didn't have anyone, and she didn't want to burden any of her friends with her issues. They had their own shit they were going through. They didn't need to deal with hers.

Later on, long after dinner had finished and the rain decided that it was done working for the day, Rhodey stood up from his spot on the couch. Y/N smiled warmly at him, walking with him to the front door. When they step outside onto the porch, the night air is cool and calm, the lovely smell of rain surrounding them.

"Y/N, I just wanted to say that I didn't want to ask you. I know-I know you're still healing. They told me I had to ask, but I didn't want to. I just want you to know that." Rhodey suddenly announces, turning towards her. Both of them were barely illuminated by the porch lights and the light spilling out from her front door. Y/N nodded, that lump in her throat returning.

"I know. I know, Rhodey." She replies, her voice cracking slightly. Y/N stands there for a moment, both of them looking at each other before she decides to throw her arms round him. Her friend is a little surprised by the action, but hugs her back happily. Y/N shuts her eyes for moment, resting her chin on his shoulder. He rubs her back soothingly, wondering if this is the first hug she's had since Steve's funeral. They pull part, once again looking at each other.

"You take care of yourself okay? I'm going to try to come and visit more, but I need to take care of yourself." Rhodey tells her, giving her a kind smile, "And don't be afraid to text, okay? You can tell me about anything, it doesn't even have to be important."

"I'll be sure to text you all about the growth of my sunflowers and whether or not I am capable of fixing a sink." She teases, which makes the man laugh.

"That's all I ask. It was nice seeing you Y/N." Rhodey tells her, making his way down the steps of his porch. Y/N leans against one of the posts, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It was nice seeing you too." Y/N responds as she watches him walk over to his car. He gives her a small wave before climbing inside. She stays on the porch until he drives away, not moving until she can no longer see his tail lights.

Y/N relaxes her shoulders, sighing softly as she turns on her heel and walks back inside. The ex-hero shuts and locks her door. She walks back into the kitchen, gathering the discarded and used plates. As she is putting them in the sink, her eyes land on the manila folder resting on the counter.

Y/N knows that Rhodey most likely deliberately left it behind. She reaches out and picks it up again, a picture slipping out and falling into the floor. Y/N bends over to grab it, holding it gently between her thumb and forefinger. She flips it over, being greeted with the sight of her husband smiling back at her. Y/N knows the picture well-it's one she took.

She finds herself smiling back at him, her finger tracing over the image. She took it after a mission. Steve's hair is a mess from his helmet, his face dirty and he has a split lip. The shield is propped up in the seat beside him and he's just smiling at her. He looks incredibly tired, but he's still smiling at her. This is the Steve she fell in love with, the Steve that had promised to give the world. The one she had seen herself raising a family with.

Y/N leans against the counter, resting the photograph beside the open folder. She flicks through it again, her eyes studying the exhibit dedicated to her and her relationship with Steve Rogers. 'Two Heroes United' was the name they ended up on. It makes tears brim in her eyes as she looks over all of the pictures that make up this part of the exhibit. While normally she didn't like sharing her personal relationships with the world, this felt okay somehow, it felt almost cathartic.

She shuts the folder, taking another glance at it. Her finger traces the embossed Smithsonian logo on the cover of it. If she did it, she wouldn't be doing it alone. If Sam could do it, it couldn't be that bad.

Right?

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #tfatws

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elysianslove · 3 years

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when the stars align; oikawa tōru

requested by anon; ❝ hi bb :) can I request an Oikawa and reader story where they’re two petty/sarcastic best friends. Like they just have that understanding that their love is shown through petty comments or bickering lol but n e ways, the reader gets approached by a guy she doesn’t really like but isn’t thinking and says she’s seeing Oikawa and now they have to act like a couple but all they end up doing is bickering and Oikawa complaining. I hope that makes sense lol thxx <3 ❞

pairing; oikawa tōru x reader

warnings; it’s the fake dating trope with oikawa tōru. that is a warning in itself

note; i screamed when i found this in my inbox this trope has a special place in my heart and the fact that oikawa was requested??? pls don’t let this flop :(

━ you’re not sure why you said it. you rack your mind for an excuse: you’ve known him too long, you spend majority of your time with him, you had just been texting him a moment earlier — that must’ve been why you’d sprouted that ridiculous excuse to rid yourself of spewing out a futile, useless rejection. there’s an array of mixed emotions on you as you watch the boy before you shrivel in disappointment, sighing in frustration.

“i’m sorry, i’m dating oikawa right now, actually,” you had said, like the liar the same boy you refer to has coerced you into becoming to fuel your endless sneaking out.

the guy before you, honestly nameless due to both your carelessness towards him and your uncomfortableness around him, shoves his hands into his pockets cooly, attempting to shrug it off. “well, you know where to find me in case it doesn’t work out,” he jokes, and you have to fight off the urge to cringe directly in his face at his words.

instead, you lightly smile, more similar to a grimace, and nod politely, before turning and heading in the complete opposite direction, despite the other way having been your initial route. your shaky hands fumble for your phone, and you pull it out, unlocking it and tapping on the messages app.

i did something stupid, you type out, and you’re unsure whether you’re grateful or thrown off by how quick oikawa responds.

not surprising. what did u do

the familiarity of his tone only calms you slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, already having thrown yourself too deep when you’d thought up the lie, you explain the situation briefly. instead of a text message response, his caller id flashes across your screen, and your breath hitches. regret begins flooding you, and carefully, you slide to answer.

“i don’t want to hold your hand!” you complain, smacking at his palm when it reaches for yours.

oikawa sighs amusingly, grabbing your wrist anyways and linking your fingers together. against all odds, and to your disappointment, you shiver at the feel of his hand in yours. it’s considerably larger, and despite the fact that this is farthest from the first time you’ve gripped his hand, your insides twist. his fingers are slender, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are soft. for all the years you’ve known oikawa, his hands constantly run cold, and you’ve hated it for multiple reasons. one being the way it gave him an ego boost of ‘cold hands only mean i have a warm heart.’ the second being his infuriating actions of constantly pressing his palms to your skin, specifically the back of your neck. but most importantly, it signifies just how little oikawa tends to care for himself at times, the way his hands shake when it gets too cold, when the world grows too small, the tips of his fingers a bruised blue and purple. and you hate it. even more so, you hate how much you hate it.

despite all this, his hand feels — nice in yours; it’s a comfortable contrast to your own warm hand. still, your frown remains on your face as you see the school gates appear before two of you, never daring to reveal any of your thoughts to him.

“if you didn’t want to hold my hand, you would’ve thought up a better lie,” oikawa argues, and you turn your head to glare at him. he diffuses it easily when his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, your words faltering momentarily. “could’ve had anyone! iwa, mattsun, makki— i know they woulda loved to do this with you.”

“you’re insufferable,” you huff, but your cheeks are painting red, visibly too. he’s right, you realize. he’s terribly right.

“but you still chose me,” he teases.

your hand in his twists until you’re bending his wrist at an awkward, painful angle, until he’s pinching at your arm to force you away. he’s right, but that doesn’t make it mean anything.

by now, you’ve spent more time glaring at oikawa threateningly and in warning than you have your entire friendship with him, and it’s honestly starting to give you a headache. after admitting your situation to the three other third years, and giving them maximum fifteen minutes to laugh until they ran out of breath, iwaizumi included, spend the next twenty minutes huddled up next to oikawa, your chair attached to his.

the guy, who had been persistent enough in asking you out that you’d resorted to this, decided to spend his lunch break in the same area as the five of you, leaving you unable to push away and bicker with oikawa the same way you would any other day. you pick at your food as you avoid his gaze, oikawa’s arm around your shoulder heavy, leaving a trail of sparks up your spine and along your arms. it makes you want to scream, loudly too.

makki and mattsun have resorted to making fun of the guy, whispering between themselves, but it’s still awfully loud enough that there’s no possible way he can’t hear. iwaizumi and oikawa have their attention on each other, discussing some upcoming practice match in the weekend.

and all you’re left with are your thoughts, your nagging, unbearable thoughts, about how pretty oikawa’s hand looks as it hangs by your shoulder, brushing against your arm with every small shift of his body. with shameful, red cheeks, you shut your eyes in frustration, and allow the regret to boil and build in your stomach.

the weeks pass steadily. outside of school, your relationship with oikawa remains unchanged, and although he’s just as touchy as he is with you with an audience, the source of affection continues to be — simply friendship. and whenever you catch any disappointment building because of that, you pinch yourself in reminder than none of it is real. the way he always has an arm around you, the way he fumbles with your fingers, the way he ties your hair back for you while you work on an essay during your break, the way he kisses your cheek, a show of respect for your boundaries, but as a way to reinforce that you’re his in front of anyone, or the way he lets you lift one leg over his own, just because.

and you’re left wondering that if it were real, would it be the same?

he sits before you now, cross legged on your bed, back straightened and mouth stuffed with popcorn, completely engrossed in the movie before him with his eyes wide open. the three other boys are spread across the room: makki laying on his stomach, chin perched on his hands by the edge of the bed, while mattsun and iwaizumi share the couch, drinks in their hands, all three just as enamored by the movie as oikawa.

you had always been aware of just how pretty he is, and everyone around you has always ensured that you do. was it the way the light from the screen shone in his face, reflecting in his pretty brown eyes and shadowing some of his features? or was it the way he sat so comfortable in your bed, in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt because, of course, the four of them were bound to stay the night? was it the way his lips glistened with the water he gulped, or because of the way his tongue poked out to lick at the salt from the popcorn?

or was it nothing in particular, or everything all at once?

sighing lowly, you shift and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the bedroom door. “i’m gonna grab some water; anyone want anything?” you announce.

none of them seem to hear you, too lost in the movie, but makki turns his head to the side slightly, eyes remaining on the screen, and replies, “no thank you.” it’s all you need to leave the room.

as you walk out, oikawa eyes you, then eyes the filled up water bottles next to where you had been sitting. his heart tightens in his chest.

two months into the fake relationship you’d established with oikawa, and it begins to feel natural. it no longer feels off putting to walk hand in hand with him to school, or to greet him with a grandiose hug and a kiss on the cheek, or to wear his jersey to games and cheer for him from the stands, or to constantly have his ankle looped with yours beneath the table where, despite this all being for show, nobody can really see.

outside of your fake relationship traditions are your friendship traditions, which include, but are not limited to, him walking you home. it’s always been mostly because your mother adores him, or because he prefers the food that’s at your home as opposed to his, or because your home is on the way to his anyways, but it’s a lot closer, so he always ends up staying longer than anticipated.

either way, it’s not unusual that he walks by your side as the moon illuminates your path. it is, however, not very like him to stay quiet the entire way. you can see the roof of your home growing in size as you near it, and he’s yet to say a word to you. it both weirds you out and worries you, and before you can convince yourself you were overreacting, you pause in your step, the gravel beneath you scratching and crunching as you turn to face him.

“alright, spit it out.”

his eyes meet yours, wide and confused. “what?”

you sigh. “something’s up, and you’re either gonna tell me now or i’ll force it out of you later,” you reply.

“i’m not—”

“oikawa.”

“stop it, i’m fine—“

“tōru.”

“i can’t do this anymore.”

your heart stills, and almost as if in understanding, in pity, so does the world around you. the wind no longer howls in agony, respecting your need for silence as the trees around you look on curiously. your brain processes a little slower than your mouth, and you’re asking him, “what are you talking about?” before you could think.

his gaze falls from yours again, and he takes a step back. “i can’t be with you anymore. or — fake being with you anymore,” he admits to you.

you’re not sure why, but you had imagined this scenario to be a lot less earth shattering than it is. maybe you’d grown to like faking it, because it slowly started to become the closest you could get to experiencing it realistically. you refuse to speak, and it isn’t because you’re angry at him. it’s because you genuinely are lost for words. it’s not even a real break up, but it still hurts just as bad, if not worse. it’s your own fault for believing that this, whatever this was, was as simple as it seemed.

“not unless— not unless i can really be with you.”

what?

“what?”

he breathes in steadily, and moves forward, closer, closer, closer to you. his hands rise to your cheeks, cupping them softly, flinching when your breath hitches. but you make no move to push him away, only stare up at him, in wonder, in confusion. he opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak. you expect a monologue, a speech, a declaration of his undying love for you, because it sounds just as dramatic as oikawa is. the moon above you holds its breath, waiting for the band to snap, for the words to spill and drown you.

but then he kisses you.

his hands urge you up and he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft, and he tastes like cherry, and it’s probably your chapstick if you were being honest with yourself. his mouth moves languidly against yours, as if he’s trying to drag out every moment, as if he wants to purposefully slow down time, begging and pleading for the world around him to stop. the kiss is sweet, gentle, and somehow, kissing him is exactly the way you’d imagined it would. it’s breathtaking, and dizzying, and overwhelming, and needy and it’s beautiful.

when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of you. his hands remain cupping your jaw, his mouth hovering over yours. his thumb brushes along your cheek momentarily as he gazes at you, admiring you, as if memorizing every inch and every detail of your features.

“tōru, you idiot,” you sigh. the insult isn’t foreign to him, not even on your tongue, but he still looks taken aback, and even more so when you reach up and close the distance between you again. the world lives again, the moon celebrating within the clouds, the wind twisting in your hair, whispering and whistling cheerfully by your ear as the trees dance.

it all comes together, and the stars finally align.

end note; i’m so happy with this!!! i hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it!!! <3

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa fluff #fake dating trope #haikyuu fake dating trope #oikawa tōru x reader

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firetextskpop · 3 years

Note

Omg poly OT23 ofc no sexual stuff for jisung or chenle,but like imagine poly ot23 just babying y/n oml🥺

I love the idea of this sm, I’m sorry it took so long to write it. ♥ I’m going to break it down to days of the week and how they’re typically spent with the boys. I'll make it a multipart series.

Monday

Mondays were the days you woke up in the Dream Dorms. Often you found yourself in bed with Jaemin, his arms wrapped around you as he scrolled through a food delivery service. “Good morning” you mumbled and cuddled deeper into his side. “Good Morning love, what are you feeling for food?” He asked and rubbed your shoulder. You groaned for a bit before telling him your preference. Jaemin nodded and ordered food for the entire dorm. The both of you shared the dreams you had and discussed them until there was a knock on the door. “You guys up yet?” Renjun asked cautiously cracking open the door. Once he sees the both of you laying in bed with your eyes open, he smiles and properly greets you. The younger of the two informs the elder that food is being delivered. Junnie acknowledges him and tells you both that Chenle arrived. Quickly the two of you get out of bed and throw on a T-shirt to greet your other boyfriend. Once the two of you make it to the living room, Renjun has his arm around Chenle, and Jeno is cuddled against Jisung. "Good morning my loves! " You say rushing to sit on Chenle's lap and hold him close. He chuckles and the 3 males you haven't yet spoken to bid you a good morning. Jaemin went to cuddle with Jeno and Jisung. To your luck, Chenle brought Daegal, who also clung to you. As everyone talked and discussed their plans, the food arrived. You thanked the delivery man and sat next to your youngest boyfriend. "So yeah Y/N, We're going to go to the park then grabbing some food. Wanna come?" Jeno asked putting his hand on your knee. "Of course." You agreed, ruffling his hair. Once everyone finished eating, you and Renjun went into the kitchen to wash the dishes remaining. He washed, you dried. After all of the dishes were finished, Renjun loved giving you kisses all over and little praises to make your day just a little better. Jisung walks in and gags a bit at how you two can be like this any and everywhere. You rolled your eyes at the tall boy and go back into Jaemin's room to find some cute clothes to wear. After preparing for your 3-way date, you meet the boys in the living room again. "Since you won't give me the love out there, can I get my hugs and smooches in here?" You ask looking at Jisung. He nervously chuckled and nodded. Your arms wrap around him tightly and he kisses your forehead. He leans down a bit for you to kiss his cheek and nose and then you break the hug. Jeno pouted a bit before mumbling about not getting his affection. "Well you'll love me in public but Sungie is a bit shyer." The pout still stood on Jenos face. You went over to Jeno and kissed him, held his hand and the three of you went to the park. At the Park, Jisung rode a skateboard while eating his ice cream, and you and Jeno followed him by walking while still holding hands. After a few hours of the three of you being active, you all sat on the bench, and you cuddled against Jeno. He scrolled through the NCT/WayV group texts, which contained lots of memes, plans, and scheduling. You looked at the texts with him, then looked over at Jisung. The mentioned boy was thoroughly enjoying the scenery around him. With the people busy, the wind blowing against the trees and your skin, and quiet nature sounds, he truly felt at peace. Being here with people he loved just made it all the better. You reached out a hand to put on his and he looked at you and smiled. Before you knew it, Jeno's phone rang and it was Haechan asking when you 3 will be home. A brief discussion happened that ended on agreeing to go back at that time. On the way back, you held Jisung's hand in the car and told both of your boyfriends how much you appreciated the time together and that you loved them. They smiled and reassured you that the love was reciprocated. As soon as you got to their dorm, Mark and Haechan were sitting on the couch while bickering. It wasn't over anything serious, just a little teasing. "Hey, big head!" You mess with Haechan. He turns to you and throws a pillow at you. "Your head is way bigger than mine," Channie stated. "Whatever," You joked and

messed up his hair, now sitting between him and Mark. The boys talked to each other about upcoming scheduling to make sure everyone was prepared and aware. Mark rubbed his hand against your arm to warm you a bit. "The boys at the 127 dorms are excited to see you." He says loud enough for you only to hear. "Really?" You responded happily. Lately, 127 have had promotions which just finished. The promotions made it a bit harder for you to spend as much time as you'd like but never impossible. Mark nodded and checked his phone. "Our ride is here, you two ready?" You and Haechan nod and say your goodbyes to the Dreamies. The car ride to the 127 dorms was comforting, Mark flirted with both you and Haechan which made you blush. Once you arrived at the dorms, everyone actually still was quite busy. Jaehyun, Johnny, and Jungwoo all went to the gym, Doyoung, Taeyong, and Yuta all went to grab a bite of food and maybe even a drink, and Taeil went straight to sleep after returning home. Leaving you, Mark, and Haechan to your own. The younger of the two played on his switch as you cuddled against him in Mark's bed. Mark played his guitar while writing a new rap for his upcoming mixtape/solo release. Slowly you began falling asleep but when Haechan failed something in his game, you woke up a bit. You checked your phone to see that the boys who went to the gym had returned and began to get up. "I think I'm gonna sleep in Jae and Jungwoo's room tonight." The two youngest members nodded. "Alright, I think I'll go back to my room too. Johnny gives the best cuddles." Haechan said and looked at Mark. "Wait but you told me I did this morning." The 99 liner said a bit upset. "Did I? Well it's Johnny, he's like a big teddy bear an-" The older of the two could now see that the younger was messing with him and threw a stuffed animal at him before they began bickering again. You chuckled a bit to yourself before heading to Woo and Jae's room. When you open the door, you're surprised to find Jaehyun alone in bed. Judging by the fresh smell, headband, and him being in sweatpants only, you concluded that he just got out of the shower not too long ago. "Hey babe," He greeted you with a smile. "Hey, where's Woo?" You asked getting in bed with him. He wrapped his arm around you and put his face into your neck. "He decided to join Johnny for a bit." A hum of acknowledgment left your mouth as you got comfortable. Both of you drifted into a sleep while talking about your days.

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tsumusamu · 3 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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