#gotta bask in those simple things!

[valorxdrive]

"Y'know.. With the last two Christmases I celebrated having nothing but lasers, a throwdown and literally teaming up with Santa at some point. I kinda forgot how it is to have a 'normal' one at this point."

...

Sora wonders what that says about him.

"Least if I gotta do christmas carols, I can fly down the street instead of freezin' the ankles in the snow!"

[lurkingshan]

Step by Step Missed Some Steps

Welp, here we are at the end of this show. And it sure did have a finale! That was indeed an episode 12.

Look pals, I’ve been clear about the fact that this show went off the rails for me in the final stretch. The finale didn’t change my view on that, unfortunately — it was, in my opinion, not a good episode of television and not a particularly coherent ending to this story. The time skip served little purpose in terms of character development and as one final hilarious pacing joke, Pat is still somehow 26! But we did get some nice domestic fanfic vignettes and one last bed scene as a parting gift, which was cool of them. I am a simple woman and I was in fact happy to get 30 uninterrupted minutes of domestic relationship fluff. Would I have liked it if the fluff had a stronger connection to an ongoing emotional arc? Sure would, but with this drama I’ve learned we really can’t have it all.   

In the spirit of giving this show a fair assessment while also not repeating myself too much or belaboring my criticism, I’m just gonna do a quick rundown of what its attempted big themes were and how successful I thought they were with each major thread, now that we’ve seen the full thing. Shoutout to @waitmyturtles and @neuroticbookworm for talking this through with me and keeping me sane the last few weeks, as well as @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle, @williamrikers, @wen-kexing-apologist, @colourme-feral, @bengiyo, @colourme-feral and @sunshinesanctuary, all of whom wrote posts I have linked here. This is going to be a critical analysis so if you want to just vibe and bask in the cute feel free to skip reading. :)

The slow burn that never caught fire  

Let’s just get this out of the way. This show failed on the romance writing. They did a nine episode slow burn then fumbled the emotional payoff, tacked on a traditional four-act-structure breakup that didn’t fit, and had the wrong person apologize in the final reunion scene. There may have been a lot of sex, but the emotional arc for these two was incoherent and dissatisfying in the end, and I saw nothing in their reunion scene that explained to me why I was supposed to believe they would suddenly be a functional and happy couple. You gotta actually do that character work to sell it, not just tack on some cute epilogue scenes where they are suddenly healthier without showing me how they got there. 

But thank goodness for Man and Ben, because they still managed to salvage something out of this mess on the strength of their chemistry alone. I thank them for their service, and I will always treasure the bittersweet arc of those first nine episodes and the exquisite angst of Jeng’s lonely pining. That was good shit. 

Pat’s emotional maturity and character growth

Speaking of having the wrong person apologize in the reunion scene, this might actually be the thing I am most frustrated about. I’ve had a somewhat rocky road with Pat in this show, but I’ve wanted to believe in the arguments that his emotional inconsistency was intentional and leading us to some major character development for him. The show almost pulled it out in the final arc and got somewhere on this theme, but they blew it on the dismount. 

Because all the ingredients were right there on the table. In episode 11, we saw Pat finally come into his own, both at work and in his relationships. We saw him succeed at work, we saw him grow more confident, we saw him draw firm boundaries, and we saw him call both Put and Jeng on their bullshit. We saw him walk away from these toxic relationships that weren’t serving him, and we were on his side. The finale even opens with him thriving in his new business with Chot! It was a little weird that the show had him suddenly being besties with Put given where we left them in episode 11 (I could see a way for that to happen but the show, as ever, did not do the work and hand waved it away with a time skip, so no points from me) but that’s fairly easy to overlook as long as it serves his arc. When the finale opens our boy is doing well for himself—he has become a successful businessman in his own right—which you would expect to also come with some advancement in his emotional maturity. In those early scenes he seems like he’s finally got a handle on things. 

Except that crumbles the moment he sees Jeng again, and he instantly regresses into the same insecure, emotionally erratic, weak-willed youth he was before. We see him repeat all of his old patterns (to the point where it felt almost like intentional callbacks to his scenes from earlier in the series, but that would be such a weird thing to do in this context). He begins doubting himself, he loses emotional control and sobs into his dad’s shoulder, he gets wasted and makes a public spectacle of himself, he randomly decides to get back with an ex who wronged him, and he apologizes to Jeng for standing up for himself and ending their relationship when Jeng was the one entirely in the wrong and has done no work to change anything about his situation or earn Pat’s forgiveness.

And so rather than enjoying the reunion, I was mad when I was watching this scene. Flames on the side of my face. I have no idea what the writer was thinking when they crafted this ass backwards reunion scene, but it did double damage in that it put the final nail in the coffin for two of the show’s major arcs. Impressive in its own way, I suppose! 

Filial piety and Jeng’s family expectations  

This one truly just has me scratching my head. It feels like they simply…didn’t finish this part of the show? Because they’ve been telling me for 11 episodes that Jeng is broken and crumbling under the weight of his responsibilities to his father’s company (well, if I’m honest, they’ve only been telling us that explicitly for a few episodes, because for the first two-thirds of the show they were telling us he loves his work, but I’m trying to go with fandom interpretations of subtext here) but that he couldn’t simply walk away from this job because he is the eldest son and must fulfill his obligations of filial piety. And that a big part of the reason he fucked things up with Pat was because of that enormous pressure he was under, and he would have to face that and make things right.

So what happened in the finale to continue this storyline? Absolutely nothing! After a two year time skip in which nothing in Jeng’s work or family life changed, Pat randomly decides everything was his fault, actually, and he wants to get back together, and then Jeng simply walks away from this job. Casually strolls into his dad’s office and hands in a resignation letter like it ain’t no thing in a very short, very oddly toned scene in which his dad just kind of shrugs and then tosses the letter in the bin. Jeng even mentions in the next scene with Pat that his dad’s reaction was bizarre. And that’s it! That’s the end of that plot. We go through a bunch more time skips and Jeng did in fact leave that job, nothing else happens, the end. 

And look, I’m on record as feeling like this version of Jeng that was so broken he couldn’t see his way out of this situation or be a decent partner to Pat emerged in episode 10 largely out of nowhere, but the show took us down this path, so they needed to stand by it and finish the story. But they didn’t bother. Jeng “I intend to improve myself” Kittipong Attajiranon did nothing of the sort (at least not on screen where we could see it) in either his professional or personal life. Instead his problems just magically solved themselves and we time skipped through him becoming more stable. What am I to make of that? Guess we’ll never know!

Whatever the heck that was with Jaab and Jen

I feel like for this section I should just insert that meme of the blonde lady trying to work out incomprehensible equations, because that’s what it feels like trying to figure out what the point of this storyline was. Jaab appeared on screen in this finale for about two minutes, and Jen didn’t appear at all. The show doesn’t even bother to tell us if they’re together already or if Jaab is going to Japan to try to win Jen back (even though they previously told us he’d be back from Japan by this time), and neither of them is even mentioned again.

For this, they ate up a ton of real estate in the penultimate episode? Make it make sense!

Perils of the closet and homophobia in the workplace

Let’s end this on a positive note, shall we? This is the theme I do think came through most clearly, and they almost pulled it off (but not quite thanks to the baffling end of Jeng’s work and family arc).

We saw Pat and Jeng and Chot all deal with various forms of the closet and homophobia throughout the show. We saw the way that Chot’s partner being closeted with his family hurt Chot, and the relief he felt when he was finally able to be fully open with his love. We saw how Put’s fears about being out with his career hurt Pat. We saw how Jeng’s parents did not fully accept him and how he consequently struggled to be his authentic self at work. We saw Pat express his discomfort with the way media companies exploit queerness for monetary gain. We saw Pat get caught up in an online scandal when his relationships with Jeng and Put were exposed. We saw how all of these gay men were put in the position of working for executives who saw their sexuality as a problem to be crisis managed and a bargaining chip to threaten them with.

And in the finale we got to see Pat and Chot flourishing in their own company, where their queerness was an asset and not a problem, and where they got to set their own rules about how they wanted to work and who they wanted to work with. We got to see Jeng focus on the job he loves most in a setting where he can be his authentic self. Everybody has found a better work life balance. And we got to see all of them happy and in love and thriving. And even though the way they got there didn’t always feel earned, at least we can say they got a beautiful ending free of those burdens.  

As a final note, I just want to say how fun it’s been to watch this show along with y’all. We didn’t always agree, but the discussion was always interesting and the experience brought me a lot of joy. The show yeeted itself off a cliff for me in the final stretch but I will always remember the watch experience fondly and y'all will have to pry Man away from my cold dead hands. Onward to the next drama!

[unholy-screeching9]

Hi!! First, I want to say that I love your writing style. So much detail! I also LOVE your art!!! Absolutely amazing.

I have a request! I’d like to see King Dice x reader, their first meeting. Game and show, or whichever you prefer! I’m not picky! I’d love to see how the two first met and how or when they fell for each other 🥰

You have free creative liberty with this!!

Feel free to message me if you need any ideas!

Thank you so much, sweetheart! Your kindness means the world to me. A lot of time and effort is put into my work, so I'm very glad it brings you joy. So sorry for the long wait! As always, if these aren't up to your tastes, let me know. I'll revamp them for you.

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting"

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (GAME)

King Dice loves to work in the casino. He has to, otherwise, his life would be absolutely miserable. His deal with the Devil really left him with no other choice.

There’s nothing more satisfying to him than watching those who are stupid enough to walk inside the building lose everything they had worked for. He relishes in the tears of the foolish. 

He also basks in the attention he gets from the ladies, the gentlemen and everyone in between. No matter who has fallen in love with Dice’s looks, the man accepts it wholeheartedly. Enjoys it, even. Multiple times, he’s found himself sitting in the head chair of the Grand Hazard table, with one person on each arm, two behind him with their hands on his shoulders, and even the occasional one sitting in his lap.

There is rarely ever a dull moment in the Devil’s casino. There’s always something to keep Dice entertained, whether it’s a tussle between the drunkards, a particularly exciting derby, or even some new drink concoctions the Tipsy Troop came up with. There’s always something.

Except… those things start to bore Dice. 

Sure, they’re enough to grab the manager’s attention, but the time span that these things keep his attention has slowly been dwindling. 

As invigorating as the job is, the routine has started to become too predictable. Get up. Go to work. Fawn over the attention. Sign soul contracts. Go home. It’s like clockwork. Every single day. 

It’s not to say that Dice is getting tired of his job. Oh, no. Not even close. The man just wishes that things could be a little more exciting sometimes. The shifts are long and tiring, it’d be nice to see at least a little change, to make the day pass by faster. 

Eventually, though, Dice gets his wish. 

The day you started showing up. 

Oh, hell, you are captivating. Your confidence as you strut through the double doors, catching every eye as you mosey your way down to the bar. The clacking of your shoes against the marble floor. The way you shoot a warning glare at anyone who tries to make a move on you. Good heavens, you’re a feisty one. 

Dice likes that. A lot. 

His legs sneakily carry him over to the edge of the bar, where he eavesdrops on your conversation with Ginette as she takes your order. 

You order a glass of the Old Fashioned, on the rocks. A strong, yet simple drink that hits all the right notes. 

What an excellent choice. Dice didn’t take you for someone who liked the liquors. He was expecting a classic red wine, or even a martini. 

How… unpredictable you are. Just what Dice needed, to bring back the spunk and glitz the casino had lost. 

You take your drink, and you brush past the manager, not even noticing him as you make your way past the slot machines. Past the derby area. It seems you have your heart set on something that requires more than just luck. 

You take your seat at the Poker table, sipping at your cocktail with the dealer casually sliding you a hand of cards. 

You’re after what skill can bring. You’re one of the intelligent ones. 

You certainly know the way right to King Dice’s heart. And now, he’s just GOTTA  have you.  

He watches you. Intently. From a distance, at first. He doesn’t want to scare you away from intimidation, but in all honesty, the looks you cast his way tell him that scaring you should be the least of his worries. 

Those looks also let him know that you know he has his eyes on you. You know you’ve fallen into his spotlight. But unlike the others, you aren’t pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. No… you have other things on your mind. 

Like the poker game in front of you. You’re so concentrated and determined; you know damn well what you’re doing. Dice can see it in your eyes, from his position at the bar. 

You’ve got a good poker face, but those beautiful eyes of yours are very telling. You think you’re about to win big. And goodness, when you glance up from your hand and cast him a suspicious look from your seat? 

He’s gotta get your name. He needs to know just who you are. To let you slip between his fingers would be the biggest mistake of his life.  

While you’re focused on your cards, Dice slowly makes his way over to your table, momentarily looking over the other players. ‘Watching for cheating,’ so to speak. Then, he steps behind you, smirking delightedly as he gets a peek at your hand. 

Looks like you’ve got yourself a straight. Not a terrible hand, but there certainly are better hands out there. But it doesn’t look like you’re making any moves for replacement cards. And, your bet seems to be rather high. 

Dice wonders if you’ve got little faith in your fellow players, or if you’ve just never played the game before. Maybe if he offers a bit of advice, he’ll be able to make you melt, just as he had with all the others who played hard to get. 

“You sure you wanna keep these cards, dear?” The die whispers sweetly, fondly. “It looks like you’ve got a rather low hand, with a high bet.” 

To Dice’s surprise, you let out a soft chuckle, leaning over and whispering right back, “thank you for your input, sir. But I’m quite alright. It seems that you may need to look into buying some glasses, though…” 

Ohhh, ouch. What a blow to Dice’s ego. He can’t believe you had the gall to speak to him in such a manner, all for trying to give you a little tip. While he’d usually go after those who speak like that, he just loves your attitude. It drives him nuts. 

He’s gotta see where this goes. What exactly drove you to refuse his advice? What kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve? 

The dealer calls for the players’ hands. You confidently set your cards down, the other players groaning softly in defeat, as the winnings are pushed towards you. Confused, Dice takes another glance at your cards, and his stomach does a somersault at the sight. 

A straight flush. All spades.

How could he have missed that?! 

Dice looks over at you, and is met with your confident eyes staring right back at him. Aw, hell, you’ve got him hooked. 

“Spades and clubs do look rather similar, don’t they?” You smirk, amusedly patting his shoulder. “I don’t blame you. It took me a little while to get used to the symbols when I first started out.” 

The manager is at a loss for words. He knows damn well the difference between a club and a spade, he’s worked these casino floors for over half his life. But how could you be so condescending, and yet… so oddly kind at the same time? And how in hell are you so good with your wit? 

He needs to introduce himself, before he loses his composure. 

“That was a very swell game indeed, my eyes must have missed the symbols… I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m—”

“Oh there’s no need for that, sir. I know exactly who you are.” You smile, calmly. Coolheaded. “The legendary King Dice of the Devil’s Casino. Anyone in the Isles who doesn’t know who you are would be a fool.” 

With his heart skipping several beats, the King quickly forms a smooth reply. 

“Well, since you seem to know so much about me, what about telling me about yourself? How about putting a personality to that pretty face of yours, doll?” 

You smirk, shaking your head and finishing off your liquor. Standing, you grab your winnings and hand him your empty glass, straightening up Dice’s bow tie for him. 

“Now, why would I talk about myself with a stranger, Dice? You of all people know the dangers of slipping out too much information.” 

“Aw, you’re hurting my heart, sugar. Not even your name? Something so simple?” 

“Hm… Alright, King of Hearts. The name’s (y/n). Don’t use it too much now, or you might just grow tired of me.” 

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Dice speechless, longing for more. Just how he had left so many others before. 

Good god. Now he understands what he’s put them through. It hurts. It hurts so damn good. There’s no way he could ever be tired of you, especially with a name like that. He needs to see you again. As much as possible.

He can’t wait for your return. And thankfully, he doesn’t need to wait for long. 

You come back again, the next day. And the day after that. And soon enough, you’ve become a regular, slipping into the mundane routine Dice had gotten so bored of. 

Except… you take away the normalcy. Every day you come by, the routine is just slightly different. 

Sure, you walk in, ignore the peepers, grab your usual cocktail and make your way to the poker table. One game. You win, every time. And then, you leave. It’s like clockwork. 

Except… the conversations you have with Dice. Those are slightly different. Every time. 

He tries to learn more about you. You shut him down, with a slight tease. You laugh as he fails to form a coherent reply. You leave, with Dice watching you. But every time you talk, you humor him just a little more. Driving him closer to what he wants.  

The more you come by, the more crazy he gets about you. He switches his tasks around on the schedules, making sure he is always available at the poker table and the bar. Just so he has an excuse to see more of you. To learn more about you.

Dammit, all you’ve given him is your name. That, along with the small details he’s picked up just from watching you, is not very much to work with. He needs more. 

He needs to take you out of this suffocating atmosphere. To bring you somewhere nice and quiet, where you can get to know each other outside of your casino affiliations. 

A date. He needs to take you on a date. 

He tries to be straight forward, at first. The next time you come by, during your usual conversation, he asks you to indulge in his fantasies, just for one night. 

“One date, darlin’. A night away from this casino’s chaos and craziness. Let me find out more about what makes those gears in your head turn.” 

“What a direct approach, King. But I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that. There’s just not a reason for me to accept your offer.” 

Your voice is smooth, confident, with a hint of teasing. But there is something that Dice catches—something you had hoped he wouldn’t. Longing. 

The man is so. Damn. Close. He just needs to figure out a way to tip you over the edge.  

You take his hand, guiding it towards your empty glass so he can take it back to the bar for cleaning. 

Even with the gloves Dice is wearing, he can feel just how soft your skin is. It’s warm. Comforting. Addicting. Good gracious, you’re driving him insane. 

He watches you leave with a spring in your step, his eyes trailing down to the casino’s glossy marble flooring. After some deep thought, the man gets an idea. And for him, it’s brilliant. 

If he’s going to grab your attention for good, he needs to catch you off guard. Like a game of cat and mouse. 

You’ve always been great on your feet—you haven’t missed a step once in the time you’ve come to the casino. Dice wonders… What if you weren’t so good one night? What if something were to cause a simple slip, and who would catch you if something like that were to happen? 

Well, there’s an easy answer to each of those questions. 

When Dice orders for Wheezy and Chips to grease certain spots on the floor during cleanup, well, the two underlings know better than to question their boss. Still, it is rather peculiar how Dice only wants part of the floor to be greased. 

But there’s a method to the King’s madness. A method that only he can really understand. And you know what? That’s alright. 

The next day, before his shift, Dice sands the bottoms of his shoes. It breaks his heart a little, these shoes are expensive, but it has to be done. How is he supposed to be your knight if he slips right along with you?

To make a damn good impression, he pulls out the finest suit he has; one he saves only for special occasions. To him, this is certainly important enough. His choice of clothing, paired with the finest cologne he has is perfect for this night. Everything is in its rightful place. 

Now, all he needs is you. 

And when you arrive, it’s the most beautiful hee ever seen you. 

You’ve got such a fantastic choice in fashion, he wonders if that’s part of your line of work. The way your hair is done is just that much more striking, and that award winning smile to top it all off? 

Goodness, Dice better not mess this up. 

You immediately notice the slipperiness of the floor as you walk over to the bar, thinking nothing of it. You’ve walked in worse things before, and you haven’t tripped. Surely, you think, you can handle some tile that’s been cleaned a little extra. 

You grab your drink of choice, and carefully make your way to your favorite table, sitting in your usual spot. Your favorite dealer looks especially handsome today, you think to yourself as your eyes linger over Dice’s looming form for longer than they should. 

The man simply chuckles warmly in response, shuffling his deck with the occasional card trick thrown in before passing out the hands. 

You call, raising the open bet with that familiar confident gleam in your eye. The one that Dice had fallen in love with all those days ago. None of the other players have that confidence. 

Looks like your skill and luck take you far, yet again. 

Your royal flush steals the show, and you’ve gotta say, that’s probably your biggest win yet. You watch in satisfaction as the chips are slid towards you, finishing off your glass and setting it off to the side. 

Well, that’s the game of the night. You stand, acknowledging Dice as you trade in your heaping pile of small chips for a few large ones, for you to keep in your pocket. The man seems more assured than usual today. 

You cast him a wink before stepping away from the table, walking off with your winning chips in your pocket. Unfortunately, it seems that you’ve forgotten all about the greased floor. 

Before you know it, your foot slips from under you, and you start to fall, bracing yourself for a harsh contact with the unforgiving tile. 

That contact never comes. 

Instead, something else catches you nearly halfway. Something soft, silky, and smelling of Caron Poivre. Oh. Oh. 

That something is King Dice himself, grinning warmly down at you, his arm behind your back, and his free hand sweetly cupping your face. 

Now, it’s his turn to tease you, after all this time. It’s his turn to catch your aching heart, as you had done to him that first day you arrived. 

“Goodness, sweetheart. I know I’ve been trying to grab your attention for a while now, but I never figured I’d have to physically sweep you off your feet. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch after all this time, because of one measly drink…” 

For once, you’re frozen. You’ve got no retort, no comeback. Nothing to say. You just… stare. You take the time to look into his eyes, and inwardly scold yourself for avoiding them all this time. They really are a pretty sight for sore eyes. 

Those pupils of his are expanded so much you’re surprised you can still see a bit of those famous bright green irises. And they are just sparkling with want. Infatuation. 

You can’t look for long. Otherwise, you just might never be able to stop. Finally, you try to form some type of response, so he doesn’t have to stand there and hold you inches from the ground forever. 

“I… well, I just…” 

“What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?” 

Dammit, he’s gotten good at this. He looks at you so expectantly, waiting for a response, but with that strikingly handsome face? You’ve lost the words you had been trying desperately to gather up. 

He’s got you, after all this time telling yourself you wouldn’t fall for his trap. He’s got you good. 

“I… t-thank you, King…” 

He chuckles warmly, sending a few butterflies right into your stomach. 

“Don’t mention it, baby. I’d never blame you for slipping on these floors—the grease is always hard to walk over. It’s caught me a few times before, even.” 

Slowly, he helps you stand on your feet once again, and you brush yourself off, not making any move to leave. Not anymore. You’ve gotten so hooked, your caution has been thrown out the window. 

“I guess I owe you a drink, for saving my life like that.” 

Dice laughs. And fuck, it’s beautiful. It’s loud, deep, and so so powerful. It takes everything in you not to lock your lips onto his right there. Fuck. 

He’s hooked you tighter than anyone else he’s ever had. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about all that. It’s on me, doll. But only on one condition.” 

“And what would that be, King?” 

“You let me take you out to The Ritz for dinner.”  

Damn him. Damn that no-good, rotten, sleazy casino manager, always making deals. Tempting deals that are hard to say no to. 

Aw, hell. What’s the point in life if you don’t take any risks once in a while? 

“Alright, lover boy. I’ll indulge you with that date. Now come on, an Old Fashioned seems to be calling my name over at the bar.” 

That deal turned out to be the best decision of your life. 

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (SHOW)

If there’s anything a master of ceremonies like King Dice loves most, it’s attention. Power. Influence. Money. Especially money. What else is supposed to pay for his high maintenance lifestyle? The term “money doesn’t buy happiness” is utter bullshit to the star. 

And boy, does Dice get what he wants. All the time. The spoiled Devil’s lackey NEVER hears the word no. It’s really not in his vocabulary. If the King says jump, the servants say “how high, sir?” If he says bow, his fans are on their knees. Some even kneel down before he can finish the word. 

A beautiful penthouse separated from the rest of the “common folk” of Inkwell. The top show on the radio, that plays for hours, every single day the channels run. An adoring and loyal audience, who would do absolutely anything he would ask of them. 

The finest clothes money can buy. Five star meals from only the most expensive and high end restaurants. Endless jewels and other expensive trinkets to keep the showman happy. A simple card butler at every door, and several laying out his carpet. His own limo, and driver. Staff that take care of the home duties while he relaxes. 

Really, how could you get any more fulfilled than that? 

Well, King Dice could certainly tell you how.

Everything he has is fantastic, and he wouldn’t trade any of it away, sure. That’s a given. He does love his extravagant life he’s signed a contract to. However, after so many days, weeks, months, years of doing the same damn thing, over and over again, things start to get pretty old. Pretty fast. 

And sure, the parties, acting/musical gigs, and other various events of celebrities do bring about the variety to spice up the day, but even so, something is still missing. 

Of course, being the fantastic actor Dice is, he’s learned to hide his boredom when on the air, or in front of an audience in general. He’s learned to lie, very easily. Though, that may just be part of his nature. Dice has always been a good liar. 

But god, he needs some change to his luxurious yet excruciatingly boring life. Something to keep his attention.

Thankfully, his prayers start to get answered.

Dice’s audience switches up in terms of people and their seating arrangement, every night. The variety helps bring some newness to his beloved show, when things start to get a little too dry and repetitive. 

However… Recently, there’s been one person who’s started showing up to the show every night. In the same exact seat, without fail. Always the first one to arrive, and the last to leave. 

You. 

But although you are there the longest, loyally sitting in your seat with all the others, you aren’t as overly enthusiastic as the rest of his fans. 

No… it’s like you’re watching a movie by yourself. You sit, silently, with a small smile on your face. It’s oddly comforting to the star, seeing you watching him intently. Not making a damn scene, like the other folks who just can’t get enough of him. 

You’re there for the after-show, when Dice is surrounded by his overly excited fans, BEGGING him for autographs and pictures from the press. But you don’t smother him. You simply watch behind the crowd, with that damn smile on your face. 

You’re the final one there, but before he can offer an autograph or even just a chat, you’re walking off. It confuses him. You confuse him so much. 

Why on earth would you stay so long and then just leave, without saying anything? Are you shy? No, you don’t seem like the shy type. Your smile isn’t from being flustered. You smile warmly. Boldly. Like you simply stick around to watch Dice for entertainment, and nothing more. 

The man watches you leave, staying in place until you turn a corner, disappearing into the night. He stands, contemplates for a few moments, before heading inside his waiting limo, his mind still trying to wrap around you. To understand you. 

Night after night. Every single show. You’ve become part of Dice’s daily customs, except he never gets bored. In fact, the more you show up, the more interested he gets. 

The outfits you wear get prettier and prettier to him. That smile of yours starts to make him blush, right there on that stage. You start causing him to fumble a little, each time you catch his glance. Good lord, what are you doing to him?

No, there’s no question. Dice knows exactly what he’s feeling, but he’s too conflicted to admit his feelings. Dammit, he’s in love. 

He’s in love with someone he hasn’t even properly met. 

It’s unfair. It’s so unfair, how you know so much about him, and yet, he knows absolutely nothing about you. And you don’t even give him the chance to learn. You leave before he can say anything. 

After a while, Dice can’t help but follow from a distance. Nothing too crazy, he’s no creep, but he just wants to see just where you end up every evening. The route you turn on doesn’t typically lead to any residences, so you’re not going home. 

Dice discovers that you head to the nearby bar every night. The building is just a few doors down from the studio, really not a far walk at all. It’s where he finds you every night as he rides by slowly. He’s caught bits and pieces of you sitting at a stool by the counter, sipping away at whatever drink you fancy. 

That’s the one thing he’s got on you. You like having a drink after his shows. Nothing super telling, but interesting nonetheless. 

And with interest comes determination. Dice needs to find out more about you. He needs to hear your voice. Get your name. Anything. 

You’re like a parasite that Dice welcomes with open arms. You latch onto his brain, taking complete control over his thoughts. The game show host is more distracted during his performances, only showing emphasis and charisma because he knows you’re there. In fact, he’s more passionate about what he does, as long as it keeps your attention. 

Every laugh he coaxes out of you when he says something witty and funny. Every clap you give him after he finishes with his introduction and his signature exit. Every lingering stare, where you both lock eyes with each other. You’ve got beautiful eyes, shining with wonder and energy. He could get lost in them, if he didn’t have a show to run. 

All of these things drive him to do his job well. As long as he keeps you of all people happy and entertained, well, that’s now enough for him. All he needs now, is who exactly you are.

Another signing session after his show. He runs through each paper quickly, honestly just trying to get everyone out of his hair fast enough to keep you still. His eyes search for you the entire time, barely even paying attention to his audience. He doesn’t care about them. 

Just you. 

They finally start to dissipate, and Dice finally catches your eyes again. Just as you’re starting to leave. Before you can get too far, this time, a gloved hand grabs your wrist. 

“Wait-!” 

You pause, your head turning back to the host who’s staring at you with unusual kindness, it almost breaks you. Almost. 

“I… sweetheart, you’ve always been the last to leave, but you’ve never even said a word. You haven’t asked for a single autograph or photo. So tell me, why? Come now, just tell me a little about yourself.” 

The look he gives you is so entrancing, you’re so close to caving in. You can tell he’s trying so hard, you’ve seen it since the beginning. As soon as he saw you. 

But of course, you’re not stupid. King Dice is a showman at heart, and there’s nothing he loves more than his career. Some random, quiet fan wouldn’t change that at all. 

“Sorry, sir, but I know your type. It’d be dangerous to say too much, and I don’t want to take any chances.” 

You smile, taking his hand tenderly, and giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it from your wrist. 

“But I will say, you’ve got quite the gig going on here. You’ve caught my interest, that’s for sure.” 

And with that, you walk away, just as you have every night. Leaving the star to watch you disappear, wishing he had more. Leaving him with more questions than answers. Leaving him to his thoughts, which are riddled with your face. Your eyes. Your voice. 

It was the first time Dice had heard you speak, and god, the sound is heavenly to him. It’s a shame you left so soon, before he even got the chance to hear more from you. 

To the limo he walks, allowing his driver to take him home. He’s glued to the window, his eyes scanning the bar for your presence as the limo slowly makes its way through the busy streets. And there you are, in your usual seat, swirling a glass of your favorite drink. The view only lasts a few seconds, but those moments are precious. 

What he wouldn’t give to be beside you, sharing a bottle of rosé wine, lamenting to you about just how hard it is to keep up a professional appearance all the time. How he sometimes feels jealous of you, someone normal, someone who never has to pretend. 

Laughing with you. Joking around, and sharing stories from all of Dice’s career adventures. Hearing stories from you, about how you spend your time outside of coming to the show. Slowly scooting closer to one another, glasses in hand, your drinks clinging together in a toast. A toast to normalcy and good fortune. 

A toast to love. 

Hell, if you’d let him, maybe he’d even kiss you. How beautiful would that be, to taste the alcohol on your lips? To share a beloved connection with someone who seems to care about him? 

Dammit, Dice’s feelings have reached a crazy degree. He can��t deny it to himself anymore, he needs you. You’re the piece that he’s been missing in his life. Maybe, with you, he’d finally have that sense of wholeness again. 

The entire drive home, Dice thinks. Thinks of how to sweep you off your feet. How to get you to return his affection. What he can do to make his dreams come to reality. 

A solution is a lot harder than he thought it would be. For the first time in a while, Dice is stumped. 

You never leave his head, even when he falls asleep that night. You haunt his dreams. 

The routine is the same, the next time you show up to his performance. You watch him host with a warm smile on your face. He meets you out front, after the rest of his fans have been taken care of. You move to leave, and he grabs your hand yet again, striking up another conversation. 

“C’mon, doll, don’t leave me hanging like this. I don’t know how much more I can take. You know so much about me already, but what about you? Give me something to work with, here.” 

You laugh softly at his insistence, and Dice isn’t sure he’s heard a more beautiful sound in his life. You’re more intoxicating than even the strongest whiskey he stores in his mini bar.

You take his hand like you had before, but this time, your touch lingers ever so slightly. 

“I’m not sure what a brilliant showman like yourself is doing, trying to learn about someone like me. I’m really not all that special, sir.

Dice shakes his head, gently squeezing your hand, savoring the softness of your skin. The electrifying warmth you send through his hand, up his arm, right into his heart. 

“There’s gotta be more to yourself than you’re letting on, I see it in your eyes. Humor me a little, here. At least put a name to that beautiful face of yours.” 

You smile softly, turning towards him completely. Cocking your head to your side, you look at him in amused confusion, letting him continue holding your hand. 

“It seems like you’ve got your heart caught up in a tussle, King Dice. Alright, I’ll give you my name, if you can answer this for me: why me, out of all these people? You’ve got fans who would bend over backwards to make you their groom, why have your heart out for the quiet observer?” 

“I…you just interest me, is all. You’re different. Much different. You have that aura of mystery surrounding you, and I want to break it away. Now please, darling, your name?” 

You smirk at his answer, kindly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles before letting go of his hand, turning away once again. 

“You’re getting closer, sir. But you’re not quite there yet.” 

With a soft laugh, you walk away. Again. Dammit, you’re making this so difficult, the suspense is driving Dice mad. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he walks to his limo as usual, climbing inside. He stares at the hand you had held, intently, wondering just how he’s supposed to get you to crack. 

The slow approach just isn’t working. Dice needs to be bolder. He needs to catch you when you least expect it… 

He’s never accompanied you to the bar before. He’s always just watched you go, debating on whether or not he should. Well, now, he’s made up his mind. 

This has to work. 

That night was the last show of the week, giving Dice a day off in between. Normally, he finds joy in his time away from everyone else, using up his chance to have some alone time. But now? All it does is fuel his impatience. That day is the longest he’s ever had, with half of it consisting of clock-watching alone. 

Finally, Monday comes. Dice is back in business. And today, he’s going to pull off a trick that will surely catch you. It has to. The showman is on his last leg. 

His staff have never seen him practice so hard during rehearsal. Dice runs through the motions over and over again, even when he’s got the routine nailed down perfectly. 

Makeup is the same way. Applying the eyeshadow and mascara. Removing it when it appears to be too cakey. Applying again, lighter this time, with a little blush for good measure. Better, but barely noticeable. Adding another layer of the purple shadow, along with fresh pigment over his pips. 

With his makeup perfect, his performance perfectly memorized, and his suit straightened, Dice has one of the best show nights he’s had in a long time. His audience notices. His band notices. He’s sure even his boss notices, way down in hell. 

You notice. And that’s what he cares about. He sees it in your eyes. That beautiful glimmer that keeps him motivated. 

And the performance isn’t even Dice’s main trick. This is going perfectly. 

Granted, due to the fantastic night, Dice was kept back just a little longer than he’d like, greeting, signing, and smiling for photos. His cheeks are throbbing by the time he takes care of the last person. 

But this time, you wait. When you would usually be gone by this time, you decided to stay just a little longer. And Dice almost forgets his mission out of surprise. 

“You did great tonight, King.” You smile warmly, grasping his hand in yours. 

You both stand there for a little while, smiling warmly at each other, just silently enjoying the company. And then, like all the other nights, you let him go, and you leave. 

And this time, Dice is okay with that. 

Stepping into the limo, he directs his driver towards a parking spot at your favorite bar’s side door, where he won’t be noticed by the public. The last thing he wants is for the press to butt in on this moment. He needs peace for once. 

Quiet and humble, Dice walks inside the bar, immediately looking at where you usually sit. A lonely stool, in front of the bar counter. Surrounded by empty seats. Perfect. 

You swirl your glass of scotch in your hand, eyeing the drink as you contemplate to yourself. You wonder if you should let go of your danger sense, and take the risk. 

Should you give him your name the next time you see him? Should you let him show you a different side to his charismatic persona? A side that only you would ever get to see? 

“Scotch, hm? An interesting drink of choice, but I think it fits you. You’ve got the strong boldness that comes in the drink.” 

Looks like you’ve got a choice to make. 

You look over to the side, smiling fondly when you see the very same showman you had just walked away from, sitting beside you as the bartender whips up his drink. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I never took you for someone who goes to the bar, King Dice… you seem more of the type to have the servants make your drinks.” 

The man laughs as his martini glass is slid his way, picking it up and carefully swirling its contents. You really do have such a way with words.

“Don’t be fooled, that’s usually how I take my alcohol. But the bar does offer something that I don’t have at home.” 

The man looks back up at you, slowly leaning forward, wanting to get lost in your shining eyes. 

“It gets pretty lonely without someone to share the alcohol with, doll. But here? Well…” 

You ignore the heated feeling in your cheeks, taking a drink from your whiskey, watching him closely. 

“Well what, sir?” 

“Why not try a drink in a place where there’s a little company? Some good-looking company, to boot. You seem to like it here very much—I see you sitting here with a drink in your hand every time my limo passes by the bar.”

It’s your turn to laugh now, as you take another sip of your drink. Alright, he’s got your heart’s attention and you know it. It wouldn’t take much more than a little nudge from him, and your shell would be broken. 

“I don’t know if it’s very safe for me to share a drink with a complete stranger, handsome as he may be.” 

Dice smiles, his hand reaching forward and tilting your chin upwards, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. He also gives you a chance to examine his facial features up close, and boy, he’s even better looking than your view from your seat in his audience. 

“Well then, let’s stop being strangers, shall we? I know I ask you this every night, but this is the last time I’ll try. What’s your name, gorgeous?” 

You chuckle softly to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you tip back, finishing off the last of your scotch, letting an ice cube fall into your mouth. You let it melt on your tongue slightly, swirling it around in your mouth as you contemplate your answer. He has been waiting very patiently for—! 

Every thought in your mind comes to a halt as a soft, sweet pair of lips takes over your own, an arm wrapping around your side to bring you closer. You blink in shock, eyes wide as you stare at the one responsible for the sudden gesture. 

It’s King Dice. And he’s kissing you. 

Slowly, you set down your empty glass, cautiously leaning forward, accepting the affection. You know he had been working hard to earn your love, but if you’re honest with yourself, he has already had it since the beginning. It just took him a while to unlock it. 

His tongue slides into your mouth, finding the ice cube you had been sucking on, and swiping it from you so quickly you barely even notice it’s missing by the time he pulls away. 

He smirks down at you, the ice resting against his cheek as he laughs quietly at your speechlessness. 

“Your name, doll. What is it?” 

Completely enraptured, you finally utter out the word that Dice had been dying to hear ever since your first conversation with one another. 

“(Y/n)… my name is (y/n).” 

With a victorious grin and a raise of his glass, Dice happily responds to your lovestruck mumble. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). It seems now that we are no longer strangers.” 

He taps his fingers on the counter, and the bartender slides you a brand new drink, filled to the brim.

“So, how about that drink, then?” 

You take it slowly, raising it up so it’s just underneath your slightly sore lips. You smile once again, laughing in disbelief, feeling your heart skip a beat. 

“Whatever you say, showman.” 

And from there, it’s history.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 764: Liz Phair Girly Sound to Guyville

I was 15-years-old when Exile in Guyville came out. At that age, I was in a phase where I was fixated on loud, angry punk music and didn’t have much of an appreciation for contemporary singer-songwriters. Furthermore, my knowledge of indie rock was limited to the late ‘80s SST roster. So while I was aware of Liz Phair and her debut album, it didn’t seem pertinent to my interests. And somehow, I managed to go nearly 27 years without ever hearing a note of it. 

And then in the spring of 2020, a younger friend of mine posted something about it online and I found myself thinking “shit, if the younger generation is latching onto it, then I gotta get caught up.” So I pulled up Exile in Guyville on my phone while I was puttering around in my backyard and sure enough... I fell for its charms almost instantly. I think I’d always assumed it was more of a conventional pop record... a solo artist backed by hired gun studio musicians. The cover looked like a cross between a fashion ad and Madonna’s “Justify My Love” video. I knew it was a very “sexual” record, which only reinforced my assumption that it was targeted towards a mainstream audience.

But what I heard in 2020 was a scrappy young musician singing these unadulterated, unflinching, and resilient songs about being a woman in a male-dominated scene. Yes, it was an unapologetically sexual album. And yes, Phair had an eye for visual art, understood the allure of fashion photography, and shaped the aesthetics of her debut album to tap into that enticement. But this wasn’t Madonna. As one critic noted, Liz Phair had the appeal of a friend’s cool older sister---the one that smoked cigarettes, dated older guys, went to shows with a fake ID, played guitar, and let you rifle through her record collection.

The lore surrounding the album is too much to tackle here, but certainly a part of its appeal---the modeling of the track listing off of Exile on Main Street, the signing to Matador off the strength of her bedroom four-track Girly-Sounds tapes, the connections to the thriving early ‘90s Chicago scene, etc. The thing is, it’s a fantastic record even without that context. Songs like “Help Me Mary” and “Never Said” are just bangin’ ‘90s alt-rock pop anthems, even as they tackle the more localized issue of shit-talking and misogyny in the Chicago music community. Phair was obviously an untrained singer and musician, her vocal style being very matter-of-fact and the mechanics of her guitar playing being fairly simple. But when you hear a song like “Soap Star Joe” or “Explain It to Me,” those qualities elevate the power of the music. Like so many great folk songs, the simplicity of song structure and the relatability of the singer give the music its emotional weight. 

Ultimately, there has been no shortage of great writing on Exile in Guyville, and whatever I type out here will in no way match... say... what Gina Arnold accomplished with her entry in the 33 1/3 book series. But even if it’s a fun album to run through the lens of critical analysis or to examine as a reflection of a specific time and place, to me it will always be a great album that I immediately fell in love with in my backyard on an unseasonably warm spring day during an otherwise bleak time. 

It became my soundtrack to the happier moments of the lockdown era of COVID. I listened to it while I basked in the sun in my backyard. I listened to it while I grilled on my barbecue. I listened to it over and over again on two long road trips out to my grandparent’s cabin in western Colorado. It’s an album that feels like a beam of positivity projected out of the darkness, and it consequently felt like a perfect salve during those uncertain days of Spring 2020. It was an intimate, diaristic window into another person’s life at a time when we were cut off from other humans. It’s brash, fun, catchy, brutally honest, and timeless, and as the Northwest has gotten its first few sun breaks suggesting the upcoming arrival of Spring, it’s an album I’ve found creeping back into rotation in anticipation of warmer days.

[contradictivs]

@pear1ridged 

A PERFECT DAY —— the weather was nice, there weren’t any classes. just a couple of idiots simply existing. basking in the sunlight, enjoying the breeze. but tanner’s mind is quick to wander about. his own thoughts running laps in his head. he loves watching the clouds, gives him a chance to use his imagination. “ — nah man you gotta look at it like this. ” and with that he’s turning his head at an awkward angle and once again pointing up to the sky. “ from here it looks like one of those giant ass scooby doo sandwiches. you gotta trust me. ”

he’s mostly saying it like this because he wants to watch the other make a fool of himself. no better way to spend the day than teasing ryder. “ i’m being so deadass right now ryder. i swear to god. ” he keeps stacking on extra words, hoping that the other simply couldn’t call his BLUFF. tanner was simply thriving.

Ryder was always happy to be outside. It could be as simple as laying out in the sun on a calm, warm day like they currently were — He was especially eager to spend as much time outside as possible after the colder weather of fall and winter. Being from California, even the cooler part of the state, Ryder was definitely an outdoorsy, sunshine guy. “You look like you’re about to snap your neck,” the blonde commented as he watched Tanner. A small tilt of his head before he was glancing up at the sky again to squint at the apparent sandwich-shaped cloud again. 

But he made no move to crane his neck in such a way as Tanner even as he tilted his head to look at it. “I think that it just looks like a blob.” He leaned back against his hands before attention was back on Tanner. “Maybe you’re just hungry so you’re seeing things.”

[ghostofnibelheim]

azure-steel​:

The sand crab did eventually succeed in its great escape; the pauldron toppling enough to one side with the added weight of the collected mussels shifting with the momentum applied by the small creature’s desperation to get away. It went unnoticed, however, as it safely scurried back into the pool from whence it was plucked, given that Cloud’s attention was squared solely on the numerous shellfish now raining from the ceiling right above his head.

Of course, Sephiroth would know better, of course the guy would make a grand spectacle of such an ample discovery - and if he thought that sly little grin of his had gone unnoticed he was sorely mistaken. So thankful was he that the place was dark enough to shield the soft flush of heat painting the bridge of his nose. But rather than resent the man for stealing his thunder, the former infantryman was otherwise enamoured with this new abundance of food now laying at the ex-SOLDIER’s feet. Surely it didn’t take away from his own efforts, rather than it did to add to it.  And he does so; retrieving the makeshift bowl, first plucking out the sponge and the dry starfish, he pours his meagre collection into the pile of ailing sea life now doomed to be that evening’s dinner.

“Gotta say, you made that look easy, yeah?” Cloud says this mostly under his breath, but his tone was not without a little humour and accompanied no less by a small amused nasal huff, his own mouth curling ever so slightly at a single corner; fleeting as it may have been.

There was a moment then, amidst the previous tensions the pair of them endured up until now, where they were once again engaging in idle - if sparse - conversation. Anger and hatred, it would seem, expelled far more energy than Cloud knew was really good for him. So much of himself was taken up in hating this man for the crimes of the past, and he found that he missed what it was like to simply bask in the company of another, no matter who they were… forcing himself to question once again just how long it had been since the last time he’d been gifted such a pleasure of simple chit-chat.

He dared not hazard a guess… still an answer he was not ready to hear.

There really was no use in dwelling on it, nor for the time being, not when the promise of food, real solid food, was literally in biting distance. He did not know the names of the morsels in front of him then as his gaze casts lower to spy the numerous shells opening and closing on the tarp in their search for saltwater, though he was quite sure there was potential to eat some of them raw. Once upon a time the thought of eating live sea food would render him sick to his stomach, but the hear and now dictated that beggars simply could not be choosers, he was ready to devour anything put in front of him in that given instance.

Habitually, and as if to move things along a little quicker, he reaches for a a single dangling leather clad hand, still expecting the man to help him to his feet. Cloud was, perhaps surprising even to himself right then, looking forward to a warm fire and food in his belly. The company he kept around this pseudo-dinner table they would be sharing had long become a moot point.

“Maybe I did.” Sword back in its scabbard, Sephiroth didn’t object as the blond added his bounty to the rest into the sailcloth. He watched the content fall and pile up together with detachment before leaning over to gather the edges of the cloth together and lift the bundle with ease. “But this is the easy part.”

He was no fisherman by any means, and had never really devoted any kind of special attention to his surroundings in the few times he’d been deployed to port towns. The memories of walking past bustling tables filled with the catch of the day were hazy in his mind. How those rough hands so easily and quickly turned raw seafood into delectable meat, removing shells, scales and bones with finesse and exèerience, was a mystery even to him. Hopefully accessing the meat of these clams wouldn’t rob them of their patience and time… and just as hopefully, they wouldn’t get sick from it.

In his head he was already moving forward. The fire should be started. After which he should go back to the coast and gather drinkable water, before the tide returned. It’d be quicker on his own, and perhaps in the meantime, Cloud could get some shells opened or at least figure out the process. Then…

Green eyes did a quick double take, silver hair swaying gently under his chin when his head turned back to the side and his steps halted. There was a hint of dumbfounded confusion in the way the man slowly blinked at the hand reaching up to him, and this feeling was betrayed in the pause, longer than usual, that lapsed before his reaction.

Right. Cloud needed help to walk still. Only now it occurred to him that the weary young man had to have all but crawled back down to this area to attempt and forage for food. A humiliating exercise driven by despair in his hunger? In that case, wouldn’t he have eaten his share right away rather than collect it? Was it rather out of pride that he couldn’t wait for his return and ask for him to provide?

Before he could consider that option and be humored, he did note to himself that the blond was asking for his help, right now.

A third option formed in his conscious then… that Cloud could be wishing to make himself useful. Something so humanely simple and, to an extent, relatable.

Wanting to achieve results, receive the approval of some kind of judge.

Where had he seen someone like that before? There was something missing there, where he was trying to remember.

His free hand lifted to grab onto the other’s, firmly around the curve of his wrist, and so easily did Sephiroth pull Cloud back on his feet. Those encumbering thoughts slowly dissipated to the back, while attention was given with a downward trail of his narrow irises to the length of the ex infantryman’s legs, watching them gradually steady themselves to support his weight.

“Almost there.” Two simple words, just one note above mutter, but confident in his assessment. Barring any relapse, the man would be walking on his own in a day two.

After that…? Change. He didn’t know in which sense exactly, but after this long, Sephiroth felt he’d welcome it. With just a nod, he invited the blond to walk back with him to the camp.

[miekasa]

Things the aot characters would match with u ?

Eren

Sneakers. It makes him somewhat giddy when you guys wear them at the same time, particularly if it was unplanned. 

He just thinks they look nice, and it’s something that you guys can match with that doesn’t look completely obvious or cringe. You can wear them at the same time or on your own, but for Eren it’s really just knowing that you’re wearing something he bought you.

Not matching matching per se, but one of my favorite things to think about is Eren having his key necklace, and buying you one with a lock on it. Again, matching but not over the top.

Jean

Maybe simple jewelry? Like plain, gold or silver bracelets/rings—nothing too much, but you guys still know it’s there. Watches might be a bigger splurge, but he’s willing to do it, especially if they’re nice and classy.

Once he knows you’re okay with jewelry, you’ve gotta be careful with him. He’ll ice you out if you don’t stop him. He has a sorta refined taste where you’ll get something, and think “Hey, this is really nice,” and then boom, the price tag could pay for your courses for a semester. 

Other little things like matching/coordinating phone cases, you guys each having mugs from the same place, even little charms on your keychains that match together.

Water bottles. This was more so him buying you one (and yes, it was an overpriced Hydroflask) to make sure you’re drinking enough water. If you don’t think he’ll force feed it to you if he notices that your bottle is heavy, then you thought wrong.

Levi

Lots of the things are pretty practical, and are the result of Levi buying it for you because he thought you needed it, or needed a better version of it; so, in a way, it’s not intended to match, but because he buys what he already has and knows works, you end up with a copy, so inadvertent matching 😌

For example, he’ll buy you mittens or gloves if you don’t have any, or if he thinks the ones you have are shit and need better insulation. They happen to be the same ones he has because he knows those work, so now you’re matching. Same goes for things like lunch boxes, water bottles, even the towels in your apartment.

Plants. Again, he probably intervened saying you need some source of fresh air in your house, or something smart like that. If you don’t have a green thumb, don’t worry because he’s practically taking care of it for you. Occasionally he’ll note how your plant is doing in comparison to his and it’s pretty cute to hear his little plant parent rambles while he’s watering them.

Matching aprons. It’s cute, don’t let him tell you otherwise; and if he does, you know he’s fronting, because he always wears his when he’s cooking, anyway.

Connie

Tattoos if you’re down for it. It can be as simple or stupid or extravagant as you want, you honestly have full control over the design even tho it’s going on his body please. He doesn’t care—he trusts you, and he wants to match with you, so whatever you want, wherever you want it!

Sneakers for him too, but I think he’d go as far as to have matching/coordinating outfits with you. Particularly sweats and crew necks and hoodies, and if you guys are traveling together, then you’re more than likely matching at the airport.

He probably put some stupid sticker or decal on your car that you’re stuck with now. Good luck. He put the same shit on his so at least you can look dumb together.

Armin

Stickers, whether it be on your laptop or phone case or water bottle or even just in your room; he’s got one and you’ve got one.

Stuffed animals. He has a lot that he just buys for you, but you guys go on a Build-a-Bear date and make bears of each other at some point, and it’s kinda cute. He keeps his on a shelf close to his bed so it’s safe and sound.

Stationary, like pencil cases and pens and such. They don’t have to be fancy with your initials engraved at the top, but you guys buy them in sets of 2 so you have the same stuff, and get cases to store everything that match, too.

Porco

Something cute that you put in his car that he doesn’t have the heart to remove, no matter how much he bitches about it. Like those little sticky rubber ducks with the glasses that go on your dash.

Gym bags. Yes, he’s a gym bro. No, he doesn’t care if you’re not. Allegedly they were “two for one” at the Adidas outlet, so now you’ve got one. It can double as a duffle bag if you’re not getting any practical gym use of it. 

You could probably get him to wear matching rings as long as they’re not too obvious; just a simple gold band is really the furthest he’ll go (he never takes it off, but don’t point it out or he’ll chuck it at you).

Mikasa

Some kind of accessory—bracelets, hats, necklaces, scarves. She’s into that kinda stuff, just don’t make a big deal of it when you’re in public or she’ll get embarrassed please.

Pins. You’ve got one on your jacket and she’s got one on her book bag or something. Again, they don’t have to be identical; you can get two different Pokémon, or references to a show you both like.

Lipstick. You don’t have to both wear it at the same time, but it’s still something sweet to have.

Sasha

Charm bracelets! The charms themselves don’t all have to be identical (tho at least one of them would be), but just the fact that you guys both have them and are collecting charms at a similar rate is cute.

Definitely matching cups or mugs or something of the like. Kitchen towels with the same pattern or each other’s initials on them. Matching shot glasses, too, obviously. 

Your home/lock screens match, too. Pictures of each other from the same day or of the same scenery or something. She always lets you know when she’s gonna change hers so you can change yours too.

Annie

Hoodies. They can be solid colored, or two if the same ones just in different colors. Hoodies are kind of her go-to look, and nothing that draw too much attention anyways; so she doesn’t mind having the same one as you.

Backpacks. Again, they don’t have to be exactly the same and can be relatively simple in design; and is something most people have anyway, so it’s not outlandish. She seems like a Kanken kinda girl, so you both can have one in different colors.

Pieck

Jewelry. Strikes me as the type to be okay with getting each other’s initials on necklaces or earrings or something, but it could also be more covert like having each other’s birthstones on a pendant.

Speaking of stones, you’re getting crystals whether you like it or not. They will be on your nightstand, they will be in your car, they will be in your jacket pocket, they might even be in your bra and don’t ask her how she got them there without you knowing. They’re in hers too if that makes you feel any better.

Hange

Jackets or sweaters. Wanna say matching cardigans in particular, and yeah, they’re pretty ugly but that’s the point! To bask ironically in the pointed ugliness of them all so much that it becomes cute to you.

Snow globes. Hange is obsessed with them, whenever you travel they collect one and sometimes even if they just pass a store at home and see two unique (translation: weird looking) ones, they’ll pick them up. So, congrats.

Socks with funky patterns on them. Beer bottles, weed plants, zodiac signs, dinosaurs—whatever Hange buys, they buy in packs of two so at least you’ll never run out of ankle socks.

[gladerscake]

No One Better

(Gally x Reader)

Hope you have some time, because this one’s large and in charge (of the feels, that is). Huge thanks to all the lovely people who encourage me to keep writing. Enjoy!

A few beads of sweat rolled down your temple, your bottom lip beginning to sting from how hard you were biting down on it, your brows furrowed in intense concentration, all while you were struggling to finally saw through this one stupid chunk of wood. It was a particularly thick one - you’ve been at it for almost ten minutes, with frustratingly minimal results. The muscles of your right arm were positively aching, pleading for you to drop the shucking saw and just ask somebody for help.

However, your resolve was stronger than your protesting muscles. You could do this. You didn’t need help.

You gave yourself a minute to rest before drawing in a deep, determined breath, and getting right back to it. You couldn’t believe it - will all this effort, you’d only managed to saw through half of it, thus far. Gally always made it look so easy...

“Having a bit of trouble there, baby?”

Your mouth immediately curled in a little grin at the deep sound of his voice. Gally’s voice. As if on cue, just when you were beginning to think about him.

The Keeper of the Builders, who you now proudly called your boyfriend, seemed to have a sixth sense for those things. To anything that had to do with you, really.

It’s been a bit over a week, since you two had made the fateful transition from close friends to something much, much more thrilling. And even though it hasn’t been that long since the change of your relationship’s nature, you could say, without question or a shadow of a doubt, that you’ve never felt happier.

The way Gally treated you on the daily, with such gentleness, care, and endless affection, made your heart bloom with delight at his mere presence. You couldn’t say you had been shocked by his manner - he’s always been kind to you, since the moment you two have met. But seeing this side of him, the loving and warm side, the one nobody else but you got to see, was a gift in itself. You believed you were immensely lucky that Gally returned your feelings and wanted you by his side, and you couldn’t wish for someone better. To you, there was no one better - simple as that.

As of this moment, you chose to bite back a cheeky remark in response to Gally’s slightly teasing question. Instead, you straightened out your posture, allowing your grin to grow as you loosened your death-grip on the saw handle and turned to face him.

“Me? Not at all! What gave you that impression?” You chirped as Gally chuckled, deeply, taking a big step closer to you. His striking bluish-green eyes peered down at your delicate features, an amused grin playing at the corners of his mouth. God, you could never get used to how attractive he was to you...

“You’re kidding, right? I could hear your grunts all the way from the Deadheads.” He glanced at the saw in your hand, trailing his gaze to the chunk of wood and your underwhelming progress, and swiftly figured out what was causing his girl such distress.

You playfully rolled your eyes at his comment “Well, not everyone is a big hunk of muscle like you, my Keeper.”

Gally tried to control the blush he instantly knew was about to paint his cheeks. ‘My Keeper’. You’ve been calling him that often since you two became a couple, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely love it. It almost always distracted him from whatever he was doing or talking about, but he didn’t mind. He definitely didn’t want you to stop.

Nonetheless, he kept his composure and cleared his throat, grinning down at you “You flatter me, baby. But you’re not wrong.”

You released a light-hearted laugh as he quickly scooted behind you. “Here, let me help.”

You felt a familiar warmth spreading through your body and circling your abdomen as Gally reached around you, his powerful torso nearly pressing against your back, his calloused hand enclosing around your smaller fingers on the handle, in order to guide your movements. Your pulse was already beginning to quicken, your face gradually getting hotter, as you struggled to ignore the effect his closeness was having on you.

“T-Thanks...”

Gally pressed a sweet peck to your cheek as he tightened his grip “Mm-hm. Now, shoulder up...” He instructed, softly, his breath slightly tickling your ear. You did as told. “Yep, just like that. Now lock your elbow. Your arm’s a little wobbly - that’s why it’s taking so much out of you.” Again, you did as he said, doing your earnest to focus on the task at hand, and not on your boyfriend’s low, breathy voice in your ear, or the heat of his strong body, or the way his arms felt around you...

“Like that?” You inquired, timidly, glancing up at his freckled face.

“Exactly. Now, drag it back and forth, and don’t squeeze the handle too hard - you’re just wasting energy that way.”

You took a deep breath and proceeded sawing through the wood, with Gally’s help, as he kept a firm grip on your hand. To your surprise and relief, it really did feel a lot easier, now that you were no longer straining your muscles in all the wrong ways, and in a matter of minutes, the sawed-off piece fell to the ground with a soundly “thump”.

You let out a victorious laugh, causing Gally to chuckle at your reaction. He thought it was entirely too cute.

“Finally! I did it!” You beamed at your boyfriend as he pried the handle out of your hand, placing the saw on the work table before interlacing his fingers with your own.

“You sure did. Next time, if you’re struggling with something, just come get me, okay? There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes, blissfully, giving him a short nod of agreement. “Fine, fine, if you insist...” You mumbled, the urge to kiss him coating your senses and pulling you closer into him. You didn’t fight it. Standing up on your tippy-toes, your linked your arms around his neck and leaned in, pressing your soft lips against his, your ears basking in Gally’s deep hum of satisfaction. His hands wasted no time gripping your waist as he kissed you deeper, his lips moving so seamlessly and tantalizingly against your own, your mind beginning to swim at the sensation.

Despite not wanting to break the kiss, the distant sounds of other gladers working and chattering forced you to stay aware of your surroundings as you reluctantly pulled away from Gally’s lips with a sweet final peck. The builder grinned, giving your waist a languid squeeze before delivering you a wink that almost made your knees buckle.

“As much as it kills me, I gotta get back to work, baby.” He feigned a sneer as you chuckled, nodding in compliance and unwinding your arms from around his neck. You stepped back, already missing his closeness and warmth.

“Same here. Meet you at dinner?”

“You’d better!” Gally smiled, genuinely, before turning on his heels and departing to his task of fixing the Med Hut’s leaky roof.

-later that day-

“Alright, boys, let’s wrap this up. We’ll get back to it first thing tomorrow.” Gally clapped a couple of his builders on their backs - his way of letting them know they had done a good job without actually having to say it. He wasn’t big on dishing out praise and compliments, unless it came to you.

“Whatever you say, boss!” Scott, one of his most capable builders, quipped as he climbed down from the roof, fist-bumping a couple of his friends while they stretched their sore muscles.

Gally huffed to himself before going to pick up his instruments, his tall form disappearing from the guys’ line of vision.

As soon as the Keeper appeared to be gone, Scott’s expression promptly melted from cool to sour, a hint of spite flashing through his eyes.

“Looks like someone’s in a hurry to get back to his girlfriend.” He deliberately over enunciated the last word, frowning, as if just the thought of it was too ridiculous to occur.

Another builder, Jack, cocked a questioning brow at his friend “Oh? Jealous much?”

Scott rolled his eyes in response “I just don’t get it! How did that even happen? Why him? She had like forty shanks to choose from, and she went for him?”

Jack had to snicker at the guy’s plain and obvious jealousy, the sight of it being thoroughly entertaining. “Hey, easy, man! Clearly she sees something we can’t. She’s made her choice - deal with it.”

“Yeah, but did she have to pick the ugliest one? I mean, honestly, if it were someone like Minho, or Ben, or hell, even Newt, I’d sort of get it, but...”

Gally scoffed, bitterly, rejecting the idea of listening to the rest of that lovely conversation. Did they really think he couldn’t hear them? He’s only been a few feet away this whole time, for shuck’s sake. His features darkened, his hands clenching into fists. He knew it was stupid to let something like that get to him - obviously it was nothing more than jealous ramblings of some dumb shank, who would most likely wet himself if he knew Gally had heard him.

Still, as much as he despised to admit it... It stung, hearing that. Mostly because, deep down, some obnoxiously self-deprecating part of him, agreed with Scott’s words.

Gally had never really given much thought to his looks. That is, until you came along. As his feelings for you grew, so did his insecurity. He knew he wasn’t conventionally “hot”. True, he was one of the tallest guys in the glade, and he assumed he had a nice body, thanks to his job as a builder, so he at least had that going for him. His face, however... Gally didn’t believe it was anything to be considered “handsome”. As opposed to you, who he thought was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

He hated this, hated feeling like he didn’t deserve you, hated knowing that you could probably do so much better than him, especially when you weren’t there to reassure him, to tell him otherwise and kiss away his every troubled thought.

Gally growled, internally, his jaw tensing and his knuckles turning white. No, he needed to snap out of it. What the hell? You wanted him. You chose him, you were with him, you were his. He couldn’t let his faith in your devotion to him crumble, just because some dumbass had opened his big resentful mouth.

With an exasperated grunt, Gally stalked off to meet you for dinner, as promised. He was sure that as soon he saw your face, he would forget all about what had just happened. He hoped gazing into your glimmering eyes would be enough to hush every last unwelcome thought. Yet, as hopeful as he was for that, the tension in his broad shoulders remained, as if something heavy was weighing down on him, with very little he could do about it.

-later-

Something deep within you was telling you something wasn’t right. You felt a nagging sting of worry pinching at your heart as you made your way back to Gally’s hut, that you and him now shared.

You couldn’t help but sense that Gally had seemed a bit... off, all throughout dinner. The soft smiles he’d sent your way didn’t reach his eyes. His usually bright bluish-green eyes had been tinged with an underlying bleakness, and you had no clue where it was coming from. You’d tried to ask him about it, but the only response you got was a mumbled “It’s nothing” and a hurried kiss on your cheek.

You didn’t like it. You knew Gally so well by now - you could tell when something was bothering him. You cared about him, deeply, and so, seeing him so obviously anxious about something and not telling you what it was, put you in a bothered state as well.

Whatever it was, you needed to get it out of him. Gally was your boyfriend, and a pretty amazing one at that. If there was anything at all that you could do to help him deal with what was plaguing mind, you would do it, over and over again, if you had to.

You pushed the door open and entered the hut, a loving smile curling your lips as your eyes fell upon Gally. The builder was sitting on the bed, busily scribbling something in his journal, his knit brows and slightly clenched jaw painting his face with a look of pure concentration. Probably sketching in some alterations for the Med Hut expansion. You released a muted giggle, thinking his expression was entirely cute.

Gally immediately looked up at the sound that escaped you, his smile reflecting your own, his deeply focused gaze softening the second it landed on you “Almost bed time, huh?”

“Yes, indeed.” You delivered a little grin as you shut the door behind you and approached him, your delicate hands landing on his shoulders with a pleasant squeeze “And you’re still not done working?” You eyed the journal in Gally’s hands.

He responded with a scratchy chuckle “Perks of being a keeper, baby - I’m never done.” He feigned a deep sigh that made you giggle once more, but nonetheless, placed the journal aside, wanting to give you his full attention.

The only instances where you two got to be truly alone with one another were early in the morning and right before bed, so Gally cherished these moments with you. He would spend every second of every day alone with you if he could, but for the time being, he’d take what ever little scraps of time he could get.

“Well, I’m here now, so... Maybe you’re done, after all?” You smiled, your hands kneading his shoulders in a relaxing manner, feeling his firm muscles slowly release built-up tension under your touch.

Gally grunted, deep in his throat, as his own hands took a hold of your waist, pulling you closer in a not-so subtle motion.

“I sure as hell am, now...” The deep, slightly raspy tone of his voice made you weak in ways you hadn’t imagined before, but you were far from complaining.

With a playful smirk, Gally suddenly fell back on the bed, and you yelped in surprise as with one simple, yet effective tug, he brought you down with, causing you to topple onto him.

“Gally!” You attempted to scold, lightly slapping his chest, but the laughter bubbling from within you, as well as the rising pink hue to your cheeks, let him know how you truly felt about it.

“Aww! Sorry, is this too much?” He asked, almost rhetorically, a cheeky glint dancing in his eyes.

The blush adorning your cheeks only grew as you gazed down at him in pure fascination. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe Gally was yours, that you got to see the side of him everyone else was blind to. You shook your head, leaning down to plant an amorous kiss on his plump lips, as he took no time melting into it with a low-pitched hum. His large hands, warm and eager, gripped your waist tighter as he shifted you both up the bed, until the back of his head almost knocked against the makeshift wooden frame. You whimpered, softly, against his mouth before breaking the kiss. You witnessed, with a tinge on satisfaction, that his freckle-littered cheeks were now even redder than your own, his breath escaping through his parted lips as he stared at you like you were something out of this world.

Gally felt like he could never get enough of you. Your closeness had his heart nearly beating out of his chest, and the intoxicating sensation of your lips on his sent him reeling with more need than he knew what to do with. However, as he gazed at you, taking in every detail of your breathtaking features, his mind involuntarily called back to his inner turmoil, a couple hours prior. The spark in his eyes dulled, the corner of his lips twitching with a barely-noticeable frown as he was pulled back into that loathsome state of self-doubt he’d tried so hard to fight against.

The rapid change in his expression, as minimal as it was, did not evade your notice. In a blink of an eye, your dream-like state morphed to concern as you reached up a hand to cup his warm cheek “Hey... Gally, what’s wrong?”

He huffed a light puff of air, tilting his head to nuzzle his face into your cupped hand, the small gesture nearly making you swoon.

“It’s nothing. Stupid. Don’t worry about it, baby.” Gally mumbled, the response identical to the one you’d received at dinner.

Well, that wasn’t going to be good enough this time. You frowned in sympathy “Yeah, that’s what you said earlier, too. I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t believe it now.”

Gally relinquished a hushed groan, evidently reluctant to share what was on his mind, but all you wanted was for him to know that there was nothing in the world he couldn’t talk to you about. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the exasperated crease on his forehead, momentarily feeling it smoothen out under your lips.

“Come on... please? I can’t go to sleep if I know something’s bothering you.”

Gally sighed, deeply, his intent gaze meeting your own, and once again you were met with the somber pool of dejection that you had been so quick to spot.

To say he was hesitant to discuss it would be an understatement, but the plea in your gaze and soft voice was impossible for him to ignore. There probably wasn’t a single thing you couldn’t get out of him.

With a defeated grunt, Gally reached a hand up to carefully thread his calloused fingers through your silky hair, his voice dipping an octave lower as he finally spoke “Sometimes it just doesn’t feel like I’m good enough for you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the mere sound of those words leaving his mouth. You felt a ferocious urge to stop him right then and there, yet... you didn’t. No, you couldn’t interrupt. You asked for this, for his honesty, so now he was giving you exactly that. You had to let him finish.

“I mean... You could’ve had anyone. Absolutely shuckin’ anyone, but for a reason I still don’t fully understand, you’ve picked me.” Gally bit the inside of his cheek, his rough fingertips turning cold as he let the words fall from his mouth. “I know what people are thinking. ‘What the hell is an amazing, sweet, funny, beautiful girl like you, doing with one of the ugliest shanks here?’. And you know what? I hate it, but they’re not wrong.”

Every sentence shot an icy pain through your heart as you had to bite your bottom lip to physically restrain yourself from shutting him up. You couldn’t stand that Gally was so critical of himself, especially when you saw him as the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“And please don’t take this the wrong way - I’m not doubting your... feelings for me, and I’m so lucky that they’re even there, it’s just...” He trailed off, briefly, wanting to choose his next words carefully. “It’s a bit of a struggle to understand. Because you deserve the best, and I’m... well, hardly that.”

A short pause. Finally, it sounded like he was finished, and now it was your time to let him know precisely how you felt about all of it.

With a preparatory intake of air, you cupped his face in both hands, making him look nowhere else but at you, your eyes shining with determined empathy. “Gally... I chose you, because it’s always been you. Forty shanks here, and not one of them ever made me feel even a fraction of what you make me feel. I can’t explain why, because it’s not something that has an explanation - I don’t have an alphabetised list of reasons why I fell for you! I just... did. Because of who you are - that’s everything about you. And I don’t know who you’re calling ‘ugly’, because it sure as hell isn’t my boyfriend.” You paused, watching his eyes as he stared at you, mesmerized, without blinking, his mouth falling slightly agape as you could practically hear his heartbeat drumming in his chest. “So... Yeah, I can confidently say, without question, that I’m pretty happy with what I chose.”

After a few seconds of wired silence, Gally finally broke out of his entranced stupor, his voice nearly quivering as he traced a finger down the soft curve of your jaw.

“And what is it, that you chose?”

His touch made the loving warmth within you spread like wildfire, soothing your throbbing heart and coaxing a delicate grin to etch your lips “The best.”

At that, Gally released a short, incredulous huff, but couldn’t find it in himself to question it any further. You were truly a gift to him, a gift he had no idea what he’d done to deserve. In that moment, all the worries he’d had were effectively silenced, pushed away into the farthest, deepest crevices of his mind, not to be heard from again in a long time, if ever. Not a minute more would be wasted caring about anyone else’s opinion on your relationship with him. The only one that mattered was yours, and that’s the one he would hold into, for as long as you’d allow it. For as long as you’d want him.

Gally’s muscular arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into him, tightly and protectively, as he buried his face in your hair, trying to get you as close as humanly possible, and still feeling like it wasn’t enough.

You responded by nuzzling into the warm crook of his neck, your lips pressing the gentlest of kisses to his sun-kissed skin, the heat of his strong chest soaking into you and shrouding you in an impenetrable sense of comfort and love. His love. The type nothing else could compare to or dare to challenge.

“You know, the day you change your mind will definitely be the most devastating of my life...” Gally whispered, almost inaudibly, the consuming safety of his embrace clouding your senses.

All you could do was breathe a soft chuckle, holding onto him tighter as your lips murmured against his neck “I guess it’s a good thing that day isn’t coming.”

Because in your mind, with all the uncertainties and uneasiness that surrounded the glade, that was the one thing you didn’t have a single doubt about. It was him. Gally. And there was no one better.

Thank you for reading!

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @lattsgocaps @magnoliabloomfield @sherbertscarrothead-2 @the-marvel-meme-emporium @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

[mrpenguinpants]

Xiao: String of Fate [Soulmate AU] HCs

Hey anon! Okay, I’m just gonna level with you. This request? This request right here? Probably one of my favourites. I went feral over this at 3am and my monkey brain fabricated an entire life story for Xiao when he’s not even out yet.

I sorta combined this request with my feral plot idea (which is honestly a 20k word fic at this point), but ahem, I hope you like and np^^ gotta make so many offerings so Xiao hopefully blesses me. Have a lovely day anon!!

--- Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ Fainting ]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @sunnshiii @hanniejji​  @snowy224 @mayumintsu @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @legionqueensav​ @youaskedfurret​

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Xiao: String of Fate [Soulmate AU] HCs

The red string of fate is a concept that those who are connected by a red string are destined to meet and fall in love. Regardless of place, time, or circumstances. The red string can never be broken unless one connected passes away.

Alatus

For the past few days, Alatus would wake up early and scale the mountains of his small village to pick Qingxin flowers. The morning dew would still be on the petals before the sun came by and evaporated everything. It became a bit of a small joke that the elders used to make, that a earth spirit would appear at the break of dawn to place the flowers for harvest. Not that Alatus minded, he was grateful that whatever celestial spirt was out there made sure to replace the ones he took. Remembering to always offer a prayer of thanks and a small offering, you would scold him if he didn’t.

He quickly scaled and vaulted over the wooden beam and slipped into your room. He winced at the sound of his shoes landing on the wooden floor but you didn’t seem to stir. You were still sleeping peacefully as Alatus took the fresh flowers to add to the ones already in your small vase beside you. They were your favourite flower after all. He reminisces about when you were both children and how you would drag him to mountains and tell him all about how at the very top there was his beautiful white flower. But you were both too young with small limbs to even attempt to climb it, plus if you somehow managed to do it, it would take too long and both your parents would be worried. It never seemed to deter you as you reasoned that a wind spirit would help your journey. Come to think of it, you always put a lot of faith into celestial beings. But he goes along with your plan, never one to contain your desire to explore.

He’s suddenly snapped out of his memories when he hears a soft knock on the door. It quietly opens to reveal your mother. She gives him a small smile as he looked a bit guilty for getting caught breaking in before waving him over to hand him something. You left him with a small bamboo package that you had wanted to give on his birthday. On top of the bamboo, you had wrote a short but warming message that you were worried about him always running off outside and that he might catch a cold. He smiled softly at your words, ingraining the way your ink brush flowed down the bamboo sticks into his mind. He offer’s a small thanks as she gives him a comforting hug. Whether for him or her he doesn’t know and she leaves.

He carefully untied the brown string keeping the package together to unravel a blue, white, and gold sleeve. He silently marveled at how beautiful it was and held it up to the light, it almost seemed to shine with subtle highlights. He has no idea how you managed to create this, he had never even seen the dye of red or gold used in clothing before. Perhaps the celestial beings decided to bless you for your prayers and devotion. He gives one small squeeze of your hand as he ties the sleeve to his arm and he slips out through the same window he came from. He looks up at the mountain’s he’s scaled before setting on the tallest one. One so tall the elders say that it could reach celestia.

As he scales the mountain he can feel a taint tug on his thumb, before it slowly disappears. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, breathes in deeply, and continues upwards.

The Golden-Winged King

One of his first adepti duties was to investigate the place he once knew as his home. There had been a dream eating demon that had been spreading curses onto unsuspecting youths. Putting them into eternal sleep before they bodies finally succumbed and they passed away. It was horrible and Alatus swore he would do everything in his power to make the dream demon suffer. Unfortunely, seeing as this was his first time venturing out back into the moral world and still recovering from his trials, he was assigned to work with a senior anemo adepti. One who was well-versed in using polearms that could “show him the ropes” as mortals would say.

This other adepti was too loud and erratic for his tastes compared to the calm and peaceful friend he once knew. Always getting side-tracked and flying around Alatus like some overgrown pixie. Never taking anything serious even though the both of you were tasked to destroy evil. But he held his tongue since this was his senior, gripping his sleeve when he was especially annoyed. This only seemed to spur the other anemo adepti further and inquire about the sleeve. Naturally, Alatus was hostile and guarded. That was first time he ever raised his voice which instead of becoming offended or angry, the other adepti was impressed.

From then on the other adepti seemed to want to interact with Alatus at any given moment. From checking in with him on his latest mission or if he heard about how the delicious flowers tasted. Who even ate flowers? Either way, every instance of communication was brushed aside, he would always make some weak excuse that he needed to train. Which lead to the other challenging him. The both of you were the same element so it would be a good time to see who was the best at wielding it. Overtime he began to look forward to your weekly spars. Even finding a bit of joy out of them. Ever since he had climbed up the mountain it had been constant training and hardships but when it came to these spars. It was fun. Alatus began to open his heart a tiny bit, let’s himself relax and fall into amusement when he see’s his partner’s face pop over him as they hovered over him.

He even began to feel his locked up heart start to beat a bit faster whenever he saw his partner perk up and wave at him. Whenever you threw your arm around him he never brushed you off like he used to, just basked in your presence as you rambled about how this stuck up bird was running everyone through the ground with her demands. It was amusing for fresh adepti’s to see you both interact. The ever stoic and aloof Alatus that taught them through strict rules loosen up immediately and smile whenever your head popped up to scold him for his training methods.

It was fun. Until the day he became possessed and killed you with your own weapon.

Guardian Yaksha

Guizhong was concerned. Ever since Rex Lapis had saved the poor adepti man from his possession, he had locked himself in. He still fulfilled his duties with alarming accuracy but it seemed that he completely on auto-pilot. He could stand in the pouring rain without realizing it or he always seemed to be in such a rush. Asking to do anything that needed to be done rather than relax. He was going to end up running through his long years at this rate. She brought it up to Rex Lapis and his fellow Yaksha but none of them had the time or want to check in on him. It was a time of war after all. Except one.

You watch him stand in the rain. Any attempts from you or Guizhong to ask if he was better always failed and you didn’t want to push. But this was already past the point of simple concern. So the next time you saw him relapse you walked over and embraced him. He usually carried himself as stiff as possible but you swore you were holding one of Rex Lapis’s pillars. You braced yourself to get thrown off or at the very least be questioned but none of those things happened. He just stood there and to be honest, you weren’t sure if that was even more concerning. You both didn’t say anything even when the rain stopped until Rex Lapis had summoned you both over.

You and him never developed a close friendship but he never seemed to brush you away whenever you sat beside him ever since you hugged him in the rain. A bare acknowledgement on good days but that was alright. Just sitting in each other’s presence when the war wanted to be quiet somedays was nice. On harder days when fighting took too much of a toll on your body you would lean your head on his shoulder. He never shrugged you off or seemed bothered by it, in fact, it almost seemed as if he leaned back against you. You both never spoke during these moments, just a silent understanding looming over you both.

Then when Morax announced that Guizhong had passed away, you felt as if you somewhat understood how Xiao felt. You didn’t even register that you had walked back to the same place Xiao was standing back when he was in the rain. The war was finally over but after everything that had happened to get to this point, it was hard. You knew that a few of your other Yaksha’s were ready to return to Jueyun Karst or return to earth. You blink quickly as you feel two arms wrap around you and you realize how funny fate seems to be. You choke out some unintelligible noise that’s a mix between a laugh and a sob as you cling onto him and let your bottled up emotions pour out.

He’s the last person you see in the newly established Liyue, wishing him luck in the rest of his journey, as you return to the earth. You aren’t sure what you’ll turn into but you hope that the peaceful atmosphere you both created will remain.

Xiao

It was completely out of the blue when you asked if he wanted to come on an adventure with you. You were both sitting under the tree that held the Wangshu inn up when you suddenly sat up and pointed in some far off direction across Liyue. Asked if he wanted to come with you after the lantern festival was over. He was a bit taken aback, you were a traveler first and foremost but you never asked if he wanted to come with you. You had always assumed that he wanted to stay as a protector of Liyue but after what Morax, now Zhongli, had said and how it was time to him to step down. You decided to ask him. It didn’t have to be far, you both could go to the stone gate if he wanted, just if he wanted to come with you anywhere.

His first instinct is to decline but you end up cutting him off before he can say anything.

“I know you have your reasons and loyalties to stay as Liyue’s protector. That’s why I’m not asking for you to accompany me across Teyvat. But I don’t know when I’m going to be back and after what happened in Liyue, I thought it would be nice to just, take a break, and go anywhere. You don’t have to accompany me if you don’t want to but I think it’d be nice to wander together,” you say as you continue to look across the land from the balcony. He can’t see where you’re looking at exactly but he ponders your words.

To wander and go anywhere. Just the two of you. He’s never even considered leaving Liyue even after all the demons were replaced with weak hilichurls and slimes. He gazes up at the tree’s leaves, looks further to see celestia, and even further back to his home. Guizhong always said he needed to relax and live in the moment of now rather than running past everything but was he really ready for that? 

“Ah, sorry was that a bit too forward? I really didn’t mean anything ba-”

“Yes. Let’s go,” Xiao cuts you off as his eyes shine in a new light of determination, “Wherever you want to go, I will come with you.”

You blink once, twice, before a bright grin stretch's across your face as you quickly ask if he’s joking. He’s not, and you cheer excitedly as you list off different places you’ve wanted to explore. Perhaps the shoal? Maybe even further into the chasm? Actually wait, the electro archon has closed that area off so maybe not there. Xiao patiently listens to you ramble as he smiles softly. Your excitement is addicting and he can feel his heart flutter just a bit. How long has it been since he felt this way? He can feel a small tug on his thumb, he looks down but he can’t see anything, but there’s a comfortable weight that he’s felt has been missing for a very long time.

---

If this seems interesting and people seem to enjoy it, I can post the actual fic when Xiao banner drops as a bit of a catalyst. It’s basically the same idea.  Though it’s kinda long so I have no idea when that’s going to be finished. It might turn into a thank you gift instead. (or ahem, you know, if you wanna commission me and see it earlier there’s that haha just kidding;;).

Honestly, I took a lot of liberties. I read the lore on adepti and Xiao but most of this is my monkey brain and previous semi xiao fics (which you don’t have to read but it would be helpful to see extended parts). Phew, this took a lot of time. It’s not as cute as my other fics but hopefully you all enjoyed it^^

Actually, nevermind. I hate this. I’ll keep it up since I haven’t posted this week yet but I hate this. 

[honeyhenry]

Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie​ is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause I think i’d remember a face like yours” 

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement. 

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.” 

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him. 

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit. 

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs  to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-” 

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie​ @michelehansel​ @la-cey​ @palaiasaurus64​ @sassy-pelican​ @brandycranby​

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[isthisthingeven0n]

every word : a.h

hotch wakes up with an unexpecting phone call, one he’s longed to hear; you’re awake. (1.9k) 

a/n : holy shit you guys i didn’t expect this response to ‘hear you’ but thank you so much! i promise there’s a happy ending to this, i think we all need it 

hear you / every word 

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Rolling over, you shuffle closer into his embrace, feeling his breath fanning across your shoulder. “Are you awake?” Aaron whispers, brushing his lips across your neck, listening to you giggle.

“Well, I am now,” You joke, lifting your gaze up to your boyfriend, never tiring of his drowsy smile. “I suspect we have approximately two minutes of privacy.” You whisper, and Aaron nods in agreement.

“Let’s make the most of it then,” Aaron mutters as he wraps both arms around you, pulling you on top of him as you try and suppress your squeal. “you gotta be quiet, honey.” He whispers into your lips as he kisses you softly, feeling you moan happily.

“Wait,” You pause, resting your hands on either side of Aaron’s head as you peer your head up toward the door, seeing the knob rattling.

Swiftly, you lie back down beside Aaron as you pretend to sleep and snore loudly like a cartoon character.

Within seconds, the door opens and Jack rushes in. He jumps up onto Aaron’s bed and lands in between you both.

“You’re just like your Dad, Jack,” You chuckle as he dives underneath the sheets, curling up in between you and Aaron. “king of subtlety.”  

Aaron laughs lightly as Jack pops his head back up from under the sheets, messing his hair up as he looks between you and his Dad. “Do you have work today?” Jack asks with a heavy heart.

“Not that we know of,” You happily tell the mini Hotchner who smiles brightly. “so, what do you wanna do today then little man?”

You perch up on your elbow, listening to Jack intently as he rambles on about all the things you could do today, forgetting that there are so many hours in a day. But just watching you with Jack, Aaron feels at peace, that he’s finally allowed himself a chance at happiness with you by his side.

Opening his eyes, Hotch looks around.

It was just another dream. You’re still in the hospital.

Sighing heavily to himself, Hotch wipes his face as faint sunlight tries to filter through his blinds. Ever since you went into the hospital, he hasn’t had a full night sleep. You possess his mind, haunt his dreams of a simple life that he’s unsure he’ll ever have back.

Hotch turns to look at your side of the bed, untouched. Your pillows remain perfectly fluffed up as your perfume coats the cotton, weaved into the fabric that provides some comfort in the dead of night.

“I miss you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters under his breath, returning to lie flat on his back as he stares up at his ceiling, missing those early mornings of bliss with you and Jack, his family.

Yet, out of the corner of his eye, Hotch can see his phone lighting up. Without hesitation, he reaches for it and answers it. “Hotchner,” He responds, now sitting upright.

“Hi Mr Hotchner, we have you down as Ms Y/l/n emergency contact?” A woman on the other end of the phone questions and Hotch tears the sheets from his body, now perching on the edge of the bed with his feet hanging just above the floor.

“That’s correct, has something happened?” Hotch asks as the worst possibilities cloud his mind and remains unaware of his bedroom door opening and Jack peering in to see his Dad tensing up with his phone against his ear.

“Ms Y/l/n has woken up,” The woman states, and Hotch has to catch his breath as his heart hammers against his chest.

Barely able to process anything else the woman on the phone says, Hotch just nods to himself. “I’ll be right there, thank you.” He tells her and hangs up, taking a moment as he laughs happily to himself, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes.

“Is Mom awake?” A tired voice inputs and Hotch glances over his shoulder to see Jack stood there in his PJ’s, fidgeting as he leans against the door.

Rising to his feet, Hotch walks over to his son and kneels down. “Yeah, buddy,” Hotch quietly states with a smile crossing his face. “come on, we gotta go.” He tells his son, taking his hand as they both head downstairs for their things before rushing out of the door without a second thought.

*

It felt strange, that much was undeniable. Every time you blinked, you worried your eyes wouldn’t open again, that you’d be forced back into the darkness alone.

You were regaining control of your limbs as your Doctor explained everything to you in detail once you were fully conscious and competent. Part of you wondered if you dreamed everything you heard whilst in a comatose state, but as you listened to your Doctor, he was simply telling you everything you already knew.

Now, it was early- you knew that much as you sat upright enjoying the warmth basking your skin.

“Sir, you have to come back during visiting hours,” Your ears perk up to the sound of voices in the corridors, and suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as his voice stands out.

“I haven’t seen her for weeks, please,” Hotch pleads, his voice cracking as he moves on, heading to your private room. He pauses outside of it, the blinds still closed. “hey Jack?”

Jack looks up at his Dad, clad in his PJ’s and slippers, but covered in his coat for warmth. “Yeah?”

“Mind giving me a minute okay? I just wanna talk to Mom privately.” Hotch asks, and Jack simply nods as sleep still laces his mind.

Standing up tall, Hotch tries his best to compose himself as he reaches for the door handle and pushes the door open.

“Hey stranger,” Your voice is raspy but clear as Hotch stands in disbelief. He closes the door behind him quietly as he keeps his focus on you, seeing you awake and looking right back at him.

“Y/n,” He breathes out, forcing his feet forward toward your bed as a sad smile forms your lips whilst they quiver. “oh, Y/n.” He reaches out, unable to stop himself as he hugs you tightly, not wishing to part from you again.

You rub your hand across his back as you feel him sob into you. “Aaron,” You mumble, ignoring the tears falling from your eyes as he pulls away and sits down beside you, his hand never leaving yours. “I’ve missed you so much.” You tell him, sniffing as you remain in disbelief. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Hotch chuckles to himself. “I’m so sorry Y/n, for everything that happened that night, I, I should’ve walked with you.” He explains, but you squeeze his hand tightly, cutting him off.

“It wasn’t your fault, Aaron,” You sigh in relief. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to tell you that.” You laugh, and Hotch furrows his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asks, clearly perplexed.

You shuffle in your hospital bed, ignoring the mild throbbing of your forehead as you take a sip of water, even if it still burns your throat.

“It’s going to sound insane,” You preface, but Aaron keeps his eyes on you. “I, well, I heard everything whilst I was in the coma.”

Glancing up, you see Hotch staring back at you with that unreadable expression. “Everything?” He asks quietly, and you nod in response. “That, that’s insane, honey.” He tells you.

“Yeah,” You know it’s crazy, hell, how could you possibly begin to fathom it? “but I heard every conversation, every visit from the team and when you came,” You trail off. “yet, all I could think about was telling you that it isn’t your fault. None of it was or ever will be.” You tell him, not daring to tear your gaze from his. “I love you, Aaron, so please, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You heard me?” His voice softens as you nod. “I, I,”

“It’s okay, Aaron, you don’t have to say anything else.” You smile, lifting your hand from his as you place it on his cheek, missing the feeling of his cheeks rising as he smiles into your palm.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Hotch admits, feeling the searing pain cross his heart at the thought.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Hotchner.” You joke, stroking away the stray tears that fall from his eyes.

You glance over his shoulder, noticing the door beginning to open.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” You whisper, and Hotch quickly wipes his eyes as Jack shyly enters.

“Come on over, buddy,” Hotch calls over his son who rushes over.

“Hey, Jack,” You try your best to remain composed as Jack looks up at you with those big eyes, full of love. “I’ve missed you, kiddo.” Your voice cracks and Jack stands in front of his Dad who helps him up onto your bed.

“I’ve missed you, Mom.” Jack remains strong as he hugs you, both arms around your neck as you hold him close.

“I see your Dad wasted no time in getting here, huh?” You joke, seeing him in his PJ’s like Aaron. “I feel a bit left out.” You ease into laughing with Jack, knowing it’s the best medicine for situations like this.

Seeing you with Jack, laughing like old times despite everything is just another reason why Hotch loves you with his whole heart.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Hotch comments as you nod to him before averting your attention back to the mini Hotchner, listening to his stories from school.

He glances through the now opened blinds, seeing you smiling with all your might, despite the evident fear in your eyes.

Hotch takes out his phone and dials Rossi, knowing he’d need to know.

“Rossi.” Dave answers.

“Dave, Y/n’s awake.” Hotch states and Rossi laughs happily through the line and can hear him telling Krystall the good news.

“Oh Aaron, that’s excellent news, is she alright?” Rossi asks, now sitting down as Krystall pats his shoulder before heading into the kitchen.

“She’s doing okay,” Hotch comments, looking over his shoulder at you and Jack. “she’s vulnerable, but I can tell she’s putting on a front for Jack’s sake.” Hotch explains.

“I’m just glad she’s awake,” Rossi sighs. “does she know how long she’s been out?”

Hotch chuckles under his breath. “Y/n erm, she heard everyone the entire time.” Hotch states. “I know it sounds crazy, and trust me, I agree, but she explained how she could hear every conversation someone had with her or others in the room.”

“Damn,” Rossi whistles. “Reid's going to have a field day with this.” Rossi tuts, hearing Hotch laugh lightly. “That’s a lot to have on her mind, though, Aaron.”

“Yeah,” Hotch mutters. “it’s going to be a process for all of us, but we’ll work through it, as a family.”

Rossi smiles to himself, having seen Hotch at his lowest to his highest of highs with you by his side. “Send her our love, okay?”

“I will, thanks Dave.” Hotch hangs up after that and takes a moment to compose himself, knowing it’ll all work out in the end, as you have each other, and that’s all that matters.

okay so thank you for reading! and thank you to these wonderful angels for their amazing and entertaining comments: @spencerreidsoulmate @ellyhotchner @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @ssa-kassidyhughes @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @lumineshawn @oreogutz​ @prentisswrites​ @theinsanespaceship15​ 

[divine-mistake]

helios, his modern muse

Summary: You prefer the version of him that you can keep inside your tiny apartment, the Steve who looks beautiful in a blue button-up and slightly wrinkled khakis, what he’s wearing now. The Steve who has dried clay beneath his nails sometimes, the one who sculpts and molds objects of beauty from nothing, who makes art out of ugly things. Sometimes, you think it’s why he chose you out of everyone—his need to make art from something ugly.

Characters: Steve/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), language, female body imagery

Word Count: 2801

A/N: This is a tumblr request for someone who wanted a sculptor Steve and a plus-sized reader. Please enjoy!

main masterlist | AO3

If Steve is the sun, then you would give up everything to be his moon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His eyes are fire when he looks at you and you wonder if you could touch the sky, the same blue of his eyes, would it feel as warm as the way his gaze does? “How was work?”

He’s sitting at your kitchen table, looking like a god among the stained wood and rickety chairs. A newspaper—so old-fashioned he is, you’ve tried to teach him he can read the news on his phone but he always insists it’s better from the paper—is spread across his lap, thumbing through the pages, a glass of water sitting within reach. Your tiny New York apartment, kitchen tiled green and ugly, looks so small when he resides there. Like his body takes up space and his aura, his being, the light he projects even when he’s just sitting there doing nothing at all, swallows up the atmosphere inside.

If Steve Rogers is the sun, then god, you only shine in the light he radiates.

“Exhausting,” you reply, throwing your keys into the catch-all bowl in the entryway and kicking off your heels. A bath, a blanket, and a bottle of wine are calling your name, but Steve does this incredible thing where the moment he sees you, he opens his arms up like the gates of Heaven and you have no choice but to slump into his embrace.

He does that now, too. With a shuffle of his paper, where he folds it and places it on the dining table, he stands up from the wobbling chair and takes a step toward you, opening his arms wide and smiling with that boyish grin that gets you every time. And like always, you’re stuck in his orbit and unable to resist him, throwing yourself into his hold and relaxing against him.

Your bodies press and mold like magnets forced together. Steve’s arms slip around the smallest part of your waist, squeezing you, his hands roaming over the generous curves and dips that make up your body. Your own arms twine around the back of his neck and you hang from him, letting him support your weight, and on another day if you were less tired and more aware, you’d feel embarrassed at this whole thing.

It’s just simple math, most of the time. If Steve is the sun and you’re still heavier than him, then what are you?

But Steve never makes you feel like that and you love that about him. He holds you like you’re weightless, like you’re this stretch of empty space he needs to cling to before it disappears. Steve drinks you in like you’re oxygen, nothing but gas, a method of sustaining him. And more than anything, he looks at you as if he isn’t the fucking sun, all twenty-seven-million-degrees of him, like he isn’t the star that everyone else revolves around, his warmth, his smile, his blinding light.

No, Steve looks at you like you’re his sun, and sometimes, like now, it steals every ounce of heat from your soul and leaves you frozen.

He must feel you stiffen in his embrace because he ducks down to kiss you then, pulling you impossibly closer, nudging under your jaw with his nose to make you tip upward to reach his lips. You respond like it’s second nature, your mouth moving with his in a dance you’ve choreographed over the last year, and when his tongue smooths over yours like velvet, it ignites a flame in the dredges of your stomach that turns you messy and frantic. Steve laughs against your lips as if he doesn’t know whether to give into your demands so easily, but you know, eventually, he will.

This time, he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, and your eyes flutter shut as you breathe him in. He smells like earth, bergamot and clay, something fresh that you can’t name as you still the excitement in your heart. It’s a preferable smell to when he comes home from missions, tang and copper and smoke and death. You prefer the version of him that you can keep inside your tiny apartment, the Steve who looks beautiful in a blue button-up and slightly wrinkled khakis, what he’s wearing now. The Steve who has dried clay beneath his nails sometimes, the one who sculpts and molds objects of beauty from nothing, who makes art out of ugly things.

Sometimes, you think it’s why he chose you out of everyone—his need to make art from something ugly.

When your eyes open again, his are closed as he drinks in your effervescence, like he needs your presence to survive. Like you’ve been gone for so long he can’t stand it and needs to bask in your body once again. Behind him, and you’re not sure how you didn’t notice it before, his newest project is left drying, old newspapers he swears he only keeps around for art sitting beneath it to protect your rented floors.

It’s something new, you realize. Something Steve hasn’t attempted to sculpt before. When he first decided he wanted to move on from painting to clay sculptures, he started off small. Oven-baked clay he turned into plates and bowls and lop-sided cups. Things he could paint afterward, combining his talents, something that always brought this look of pride and satisfaction to his face, especially when you cooed over how beautiful his pieces were. He made little statues he gave to his friends, too, an angel’s wing for Sam and a white wolf for Bucky—which took him so long because he had to get it perfect and sweetheart, animals are so hard to make, but I gotta do it for Buck.

This though, this thing that’s sitting, drying, in your kitchen, is a body. And it’s silly, really, but it’s a woman’s body, with her breasts shaped perfectly and her stomach taut, her hips flared into a base. Her neck is slim and her shoulders are smooth, held confidently.

It’s a woman’s body and it isn’t you. It could never be you. You’re too wide, too inelegant, too round in the areas that are so so flat. Steve makes beautiful art out of ugly things. You remind yourself of this so you are painfully aware that Steve could never sculpt you. He would never sculpt you. His need isn’t to make art of you, but to make art out of you.

Steve never makes you feel like that. He never makes you feel ugly.

You’re plenty good at doing that yourself.

“Do you like it?” His voice interrupts your descent into self-pity. He must have realized you’d been staring at it.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, and it’s the truth, it really is beautiful, but it feels like a lie to say it outloud.

Steve scratches the back of his head and you miss the warmth of his hand on your waist. It feels like a rejection. 

“Yeah,” he says, drawing his hands through his golden hair. “Natasha, uh, well, she wanted something like it. It’s not her,” he quickly assures you, eyes finding yours again. “She didn’t model or anything. It’s just a symbol of feminism, inner goddess, or something like that. Her words, anyway.”

He’s nervous. You don’t know why.

“She’ll love it,” you tell him, your hand smoothing down the wrinkles of his shirt over his chest. It seems to calm him, a happy sigh leaving his mouth. “It’s a powerful statement for her. I think she forgets that her body can hold beauty, not just power and strength.”

You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, a reassurance. Are you trying to reassure him or reassure yourself?

His hold around you tightens. “Sometimes I think you’re the opposite,” he says, his voice low, rumbling in his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder if you know how much power and strength you hold over me.” His nose follows the curve of your soft jawline. “It isn’t just your beauty that makes my heart beat like this.”

Steve unwraps your hand from where it caresses the fine, sun-sprite hairs that meet his neck, and he presses your palm against the warmth of his chest. Underneath it, you can feel his pulse, jumping like it's attuned to you.

“This is what you do to me,” he murmurs against your ear, making you shiver despite his heated breath. “You’re the greatest work of art I never made. The kind that belongs in a museum.”

You laugh, but it’s mean, and you never meant to be mean. The guilt sets in when Steve’s eyes, his gorgeous baby blue eyes, are awash in a steely hurt as he searches your face, looking for something that might not be there.

“I’m sorry,” you force yourself to say. “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“You don’t believe me?”

If Steve is the sun, you’re just existing in his shadow, basking in all the good that he projects and never knowing what to give in return.

Instead of answering, you cup his face in your hands and run your thumbs over his cheekbones, sliding your fingers down his neck like trickling water, then smoothing out the stress, the stiffness, in his shoulders. He loves it when you do this—relaxes into your touch like a big cat, warm and pliant from the light of day.

But he doesn’t relax this time. Steve stares down at you, his gaze faraway, like he’s looking through you. Like he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking.

You hope he never can.

The arm slung around your waist begins to guide you toward the bedroom, and you let him, because if there’s one thing in this life you trust with everything, it’s Steve. Not because he’s Captain America, not because he’s a superhero whose job description is to save the world, and not because he might love you the way you love him. You trust Steve because he’s Steve, he’s safe and secure and soft, and there’s never been a moment where he’s given you a reason to doubt him.

But those words—you’re the greatest work of art I never made—can’t be real.

Steve moves with you until you’re standing in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on your wall, the one he installed for you when he got tired of seeing it balancing precariously on the floor where you left it, and it steals your breath for a moment. To see him standing behind you, nearly a foot taller than you, his body wide and broad and warm and so goddamn beautiful, you think that if a year is all you’ll ever have with him, to touch him, to see him like this, then you’re the luckiest girl alive.

If Steve isn’t the sun, then he’s its God. Helios, you might call him in your dreams where he brightens the night until you feel alive, I love you and your sun.

“What do you see?” he asks you, his hands clutching your waist, holding you in place.

“The most beautiful thing in the galaxy,” you tell him. “The man I love more than anything.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Me too,” he says. “You’re like the goddamn sun, sweetheart.”

But it makes you frown, and he notices it in the mirror’s reflection. “You’re the sun,” you say, spinning around to face him, but Steve’s hands lock around your body and he stills you, and once again you’re staring at his eyes through the mirror.

“Do you ever see how beautiful you are?” he asks.

No. He hides his face in your neck and you’re forced to stare at yourself now instead of him.

“Do you know how much light you bring into my life? How cold I feel until you’re in my arms?”

No. You think about the statue, the body of a woman you wish you were the size of.

“Do you know how much I need you to exist?”

No. Steve’s arms wrap around your soft middle and you wonder what he would look like holding a woman who takes up less space, who lets his brilliance shine without weighing him down.

When he looks back up at you, in the mirror, your face is twisted into something ugly. Steve, you suppose, will want to make art out of it, to smooth away the pucker in your lips and the draw of your brows, the way your forehead wrinkles with contempt.

He releases you, stepping away, feet taking him toward his dresser. You are frozen in front of the mirror, eyes roaming over your body, highlighting every insecurity you’ve had since you were young, the ones you always said you’d grow out of.

If Steve isn’t the sun, then you can’t be the moon—you’re just an asteroid floating around in space, lost, dying, crumbling. People don’t look at you and assign a value like beauty to you.

You almost don’t notice when Steve is behind you again, his arms wrapping around you, something colorful in his hands. He places it against your body, cupping it in his arms like a treasure. A gasp leaves your mouth.

It’s a sculpture, like the one he made for Natasha, but it’s different. The breasts are heavy, hanging lower and a little uneven, still beautiful. The stomach isn’t flat but round and the way he’s carved it makes it look soft to touch, bouncy, despite the knowledge that it’s clay. The hips and shoulders are wider, more familiar, and he’s painted it in shades of blue that match his eyes, match the sky right as the sun is setting and night is moving in, when the moon is coming alive.

But what catches your eye more than anything are the golden stripes of shimmering paint that make up the stretch marks—dangerously similar to the ones that decorate your own body—and how they catch in the light.

It’s rapturously gorgeous.

“You made this?” Your voice is breathy when you ask, your hands trembling, reaching out to touch this beautiful statue, but you just can’t bring yourself to.

Steve hums in agreement. “It’s why Natasha wanted her own.”

“Who—” You swallow thickly. “Who did you make this for?”

If Steve is the sun, you would burn up in his atmosphere, just for a taste of his solar flare when he looks at you the way he is right now, loving and kind and still hungry, like he’ll never get enough of you.

He kisses the skin behind your ear, taking one of your hands in your own to press the sculpture into your grasp. Gently, he folds your fingers over it so you can feel the delicate curves of his art against your skin.

“Can’t you tell?” he asks, his lips drawing a line of fire from your neck to the top of your shoulder. “It’s you, sweetheart.”

No—how could you? This sculpture can’t be you. It’s too beautiful to be you. Even with all its flaws, all the things that should point out that make it less than perfect, it’s art. Steve is an artist. He makes art out of ugly things. He made art out of you, and it’s so fucking stunning, you wonder if maybe his hands could do that to you. Could his hands sculpt your body, your living body, into something better than it is now if you let him touch you enough? Are his hands warm enough with the light of the sun to melt all your imperfections away in the same method he uses to shape clay?

“You made me look so beautiful,” you say, a sob choking your words.

“No,” he says. “I could never make anything as beautiful as you.”

He sweeps you into his arms and kisses you sweetly, then, the sculpture he’s made of you the only thing keeping your bodies apart from one another. You cling to it like you’re afraid to lose it, like if your hands aren’t on it, maybe it will disappear and it’ll have been a dream, the fact that Steve’s made you into art. You’re glad you aren’t art, though. Because if you were art, put up in a museum where he says you belong, then Steve wouldn’t be allowed to touch you so generously, so warmly, so perfectly.

And you let him touch you, hoping to memorize the way he molds your wide hips, the dip of your waist, the curve of your shoulder, as if he is sculpting you all over again.

If Steve isn’t the sun, then he is your Helios, your god, your everything. And if he is your Helios, then perhaps you are the sun after all.

Taglist: @melancholic-metanoia

[itcanbegoodagain]

Gentle Love

More Everlark fluff, because, really, is there ever too much?

Word Count: 1821 (not really proofread)

Now that the need isn't so dire, it's harder for me to rise before the sun does. And, most times, it isn't a problem. There's no need for me to be up so early in the day. Summer, though, was a different story.

The sun was too damn hot!

So, with heavy and unwilling limbs, I rolled out of bed, straightening the sheets before washing up.

Minutes later, when I crossed into the kitchen, Peeta was already there, finishing breakfast at the table. He broke into a grin, making my lips lift into a smile back. He stood and grabbed the warming teakettle off the stove, filling a mug and placing it at my spot on the table.

Then he took a step over to me and gave me his customary good morning kiss on the crown of my head. At first, I teased him about doing it everyday, but now I wrap my arms around Peeta's stomach, not-so-secretly craving this gentle love every morning.

"Hi," I said softly, grinning and pressing a kiss to his shirt. He hugged me back, resting his cheek on my head. My eyes fell shut again, craving to return to sleep, while I basked in Peeta's steadiness. This little ritual we do always starts my day off on the right foot. The beat of his heart had almost lulled me back into a light sleep when he quietly said my name.

I squeezed him tighter, holding him close for another moment, and unwound myself from his embrace. One of his hands came up to rest on the side of my face. "I gotta head to the bakery now." His thumb lightly ran down my cheekbone. "I'll see you later. Have a good day," he added, and I replied in kind.

I heard the door shut behind Peeta as I sat down to my now cooling tea. Sipped it and, ah yes, the perfect temp. He even remembered to add the extra mint leaf. Quite a spoiled wife, I am.

By the time I finally deemed myself alert enough not to fall out of a tree, the sun was already climbing high in the sky. It was going to be a very hot day.

--

The animals are much smarter than I am, evidently. They were staying home, in their cool dens and nests, as one should on a day as blistering as this. Sweat was pooling in, just, all of everywhere. I was tired and uncomfortable, to put it lightly. The added bonus of nothing to show for the day really topped it all off.

It was a relief to finally return home, dumping my bow and bag as soon as I entered the door. I peeled my shoes off next, leaving them in the entryway. I'm usually the one fussing at Peeta for doing just that. When I reached our bathroom, the first thing I did was turn the shower on. My clothes were quickly shucked to the floor, the tie from my braid promptly following.

I closed my eyes as I stepped into the cool stream of water, running my fingers through my hair to get it thoroughly soaked. I spun in a slow circle, grateful for the simple luxury of a shower. Still, not one to be wasteful, I indulged in a few more minutes of sitting in the steady stream, then I stood and shut it off.

With the towel wrapped around me, I pondered what to wear as I looked at my closet. I tend to favorite pants, but there is no way. I decided on instead wearing my soft dressing gown, the thin fabric only brushing my knees surely going to keep me cool.

--

I sighed, pulling the fridge open. My lack of kills from this morning's hunt became glaringly evident, what with all these vegetables staring back at me. I reached in and grabbed a few different things, shutting the door with my hip as I turned around.

Then I got to work, cleaning and chopping as necessary, and put together a pretty nice salad, if I do say so myself. Light, fresh veggies from our garden out back, with a squeeze of lemon juice and cracked pepper sprinkled on top.

Air conditioning has yet to make it out to many places here in Twelve, so all of our windows were thrown wide open, the curtains moving in the summer breeze. I could hear Haymitch's geese honking over in his yard, and I grinned to myself. Geese, of all things to raise.

Peeta came in as I was setting my plate into the rack to dry, using a towel to wipe my hands. I leaned back against the counter, looking him up and down. Took in his sweat-soaked shirt, his flushed cheeks, his damp hair. I rose a brow. "Hot day in the bakery, was it?" I asked, breaking into a grin.

He rolled his eyes as he nodded, shooting me a snarky grin as he grabbed a glass of water. He quickly downed it, filling the glass up again before reaching over to snag my arm and bring me closer.

I backed up a step, his arm falling into the space between us. He sent me an exaggerated pout. "Nope, not until you take a shower. I'm already rinsed off, so no touching until you are, too."

Peeta tried to reach out again, this time for my other arm, and I evaded it. I gave him a look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, I give. I'll go shower." Then he grinned, and I knew that look. "But not before I do this!" he said, quickly darting in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

Before I even reacted, he took off for the stairs, yelling behind him, "Okay! Going! Love you!" as he went. I watched him go, touching my cheek as a flush spread its way across my face. His casual show of love sometimes still makes me shy, but I'm learning to take in every little moment he tells me that he loves me in a different way. I try to do the same for him in return -- he deserves that at the very least. At most, more than anything I could ever give him.

But I'm too selfish to let anyone else have him. And nobody else compares to me in his eyes, so there's really nothing to worry about at all, is there?

My smile slipped off my face over the next few minutes, but it easily returned when I caught Peeta's eye as he came down the stairs. He was wearing his undershorts and a t-shirt on top, also doing his best to stay cool. I stood and made my way over to him as he followed me with his eyes.

He took his hand and ran his fingers up my neck, over my jaw. Cupped my cheek, pulling my head closer as he slowly, deftly, kissed me. My breath caught in my throat, just for a moment. "Am I clean enough for you, now?" he asked, pressing his lips to mine again, gently biting at the bottom one. "I missed you almost as much as I melted in the heat."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh, I know. It's merciless out there. I don't even want to think about how hot it is in front of all those ovens."

"Precisely why I closed up early, my dear." He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I said to hell with selling what was left in the case, so I shut off the ovens and passed it out on the way home. Knowing you were here may have aided in my decision, but really, who's to say?" He smiled at me again, a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

My heart swelled at his words. How I ended up with such a generous man as my husband, I will never know. Everything he does somehow makes me love him more, and I don't know how there can be much more room in my heart for it to keep growing.

"It's gonna be a meatless day today - no luck hunting this morning," I told him. It's not a problem if I don't get anything out on my hunts; we don't rely on what I bring home, but we vastly prefer it over the butcher's cuts. "There's also a salad in the fridge if you're hungry."

"A personal chef, just for me," he said, pulling the door open and taking the plate out. "Thank you."

I joined Peeta at the table, resting my chin in my hand as I looked out the window. Took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The need for sleep returned now that I had a full belly, and I closed my eyes. Oh, perhaps it's okay not to do anything the rest of the day. I could give myself this day of doing nothing. Perhaps I could convince Peeta to do the same.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to look back at Peeta. He was already watching me, his features soft in the sunlight. Yes, I thought, tilting my head, he will be easy to convince.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "What are you scheming up over there?"

I hummed. "Oh, nothing, really." Then I stood, walking around the table, and planted myself in his lap. One of my arms rested on his shoulder, my hand easily finding its place in his damp hair. Peeta's eyes fell shut as I lightly combed my fingers through his curls. He let out a small sigh. One of his hands traced back and forth on my thigh, the other one twining with my free hand in our lap. We stayed like this for a while, comfortable in the other person's company.

At some point, he began bestowing the lightest and softest kisses along my neck, his closest access point. Using the hand already in his hair, I brought his face up to mine, kissing his lips. He tasted like lemon.

"What do you say," I started, "to lazing around the rest of the day?"

He grinned. "Way ahead of you, my love." Kissed me again, this time with more pressure, my heart racing in response. "Well, maybe not exactly nothing...." he added, pulling me ever closer to him.

I laughed, feeling the warm pressure of our bodies against each other. "I thought that was a given in the term 'lazing around.'"

"It is. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of it."

I bit my lip, holding back a sarcastic response. My thumb tilted his chin up, our lips meeting in the middle for another kiss. He made a noise in the back of his throat when I lightly scraped my nail along his skin, and I grinned against his lips.

A good day to laze around, indeed.

[itsallyscorner]

west side + bucky barnes + headcanon if possible & congrats on 700 bby!!!!!

West Side is a vibe ngl👀 Also thank you my love! I hope you like it!!💛

This is SO long for a headcanon, but I always get carried away and too detailed..enjoy:)

💌.

west side

Warnings: a smidge of smut*

I don't wanna think too much

I just wanna feel

You know that it ain't no rush

Let me keep it real

Just let me be in your life like that

In your life like that

I'll bring the light right back

I'll bring the life right back

Bucky Barnes has always interested you. Ever since you’ve seen him at the airport in Germany having a stand off between Tony and Cap.

You didn’t know why but he just piqued your interest. The mysterious aura he had behind him and the way he would just silently stare into space.

You wanted to know what went on in his mind. You wanted to know more about him.

When he first moved into the tower, he only talked to Steve. Then it expanded to Sam, Nat. Sometimes Tony and Bruce because they had to help him with his arm.

He never really talked to you. The most he did was nod as a greeting towards you whenever you walked into the room.

Though that didn’t make you oblivious to his lingering stares whenever you were in a room.

You knew he was interested into you too. If he were some normal guy you would’ve pushed him into admitting it or heavily flirted with him until he would give in.

But no, he was Bucky. A soldier who’s been held captive by Hydra who they used as a murdering machine. He’s been through so much, you didn’t want to put more on his plate.

So you dealt with his sneaky glances and the way he would avoid your eyes when you talked to him, it was the only way you could get close to him without rushing.

He only began talking to you after you busted into his room one night. You heard his cries and screams through the wall that divided your room.

You hovered over him trying to wake him up. You tried calling his name, even shook him awake, but it didn’t work.

You ended up straddling his body, settling yourself on his stomach to make him feel your weight. Maybe it would ground him.

You weren’t gonna lie, the feeling of him underneath you made you excited, but not like this. While he was having a nightmare.

He woke up with a jump, his eyes widening when he saw you above him. His hands gripped onto your thighs as he caught his breath. Your lively eyes were like a light in the darkness of his room.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just a um— a bad dream.” He breathed as he took in every detail of you.

“I thought you don’t get those anymore? Didn’t Shuri help you with them?”

“They come back now and then.”

“What will help you back to sleep? Can I do anything?”

“Can you..can you hold me?” He nervously asked you.

“Of course I can.”

I'm gonna make you want more (More)

I'm gonna be your new favorite

Tell 'em you closing the door

I am the only for sure

Oh, babe

The moment you two shared that night helped formed a new relationship between you two.

He smiled at you now, even held a conversation with you. You guys even hung out alone watching movies and helping him catch up with what he’s missed.

A few months later and he’s been feeling more confident in himself. He was like a new man, but to Steve, Bucky was turning into his old self.

The charming flirt who could pick up any gal with just a smile.

Tony had parties at the tower almost every weekend. At first Bucky was quite uncomfortable but once he got the groove and caught the eyes of a fine woman, he was chilling.

Maybe chilling a bit too much for your liking. The more he got comfortable, the more he was seen leaving the party with a new girl on his arm in some skimpy dress.

You’d find yourself scowling at his back whenever he left the party as you took a swig from your drink.

You shouldn’t be jealous. He wasn’t yours. But it was the fact that you two were constantly tip toeing around each other.

You knew his eyes drifted down your chest when you had a v neck on. You knew he felt the electricity whenever your hands would brush up against each other. You were feeling whatever he was feeling, yet he avoided it and took a girl back to his room every weekend.

Tony was having yet another party. You were leaned against the bar in between Wanda and Nat, looking at the crowd.

“(Y/n), looks like you’ve caught a certain super soldier’s eye.” Wanda tells you as she nudges your arm. You look to where her attention was and see Bucky’s eyes scanning your figure with his jaw clenched.

“He’s been looking at you for a while now. You should go over there.” Natasha hummed suggestively.

You scoff in reply, “He could find his own way here” You were tired of tip toeing around the bush.

Best believe that man found his way to you. Finally noticing your challenging looks and the way your lips lingered on the rim of your cup.

The night ended in his bedroom. He was about to take control but you stopped him, shoving him down to sit on his bed. While you were on your knees pressing light kisses onto his length, you stared up at him with those bright eyes of yours.

“I bet those other girls you brought here made you do all the work, huh?”

“They just wanted you to fuck them, didn’t they? Did they ever pay attention to what you wanted, James?”

“No, only you.” He said through gritted teeth.

After, your bodies were flush against each other, tangled in the sheets. His back against your chest as his head rested between your neck and shoulder. He held onto you as if his life depended on it.

You were shocked when he slipped his cock into your seeping pussy, sighing as he basked in the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him.

“Just wanna feel you. I can’t get enough of you.” He dreamily sighed as he held you closer to him.

Hold up, there shouldn't be no hold up

There's more love if you follow emotions

Show up, now if you're down to roll up

Meet me on the west side for me

The morning after wasn’t awkward at all. You woke up to him stroking your back as he randomly pressed kisses onto your face.

“Morning, doll.” He greeted you with his morning voice. Deep and rough.

“ ‘s that what you tell all the ladies after they spend the night?”

“No one spends the night, they’re usually gone by the time I’m up. You’re the only one.” He confessed as he smoothed down your hair.

The two of you end up having a morning pillow talk. Finally confessing your feelings for each other. Turns out he was just as done with beating around the bush as you were.

“I don’t want anymore stupid hookups to get over you. They were pointless, all I could think about was you. I’m following my emotions. I want to be with you.”

“Are you sure, Bucky?”

“I don’t need anyone else, I only want you.”

I don't want it if it ain't your touch

It's better every time we chill

You ain't gotta bring no stuff

We got all we need right here

Just let me be in your life like that

Be your wife like that

I'll bring the light right back

I'll bring the life right back

You and Bucky were inseparable. Steve even got jealous a few times.

You two shared a room, holding each other to bed every night.

When his nightmares came back, you were there to hold him in an instant. Though that rarely happened anymore.

The time you both spent together usually took place in your shared room. Whether it was sex, movie nights, you had all what you needed right there. With each other.

The only exception was food.

He only liked it when you touched him. He wouldn’t even let Steve hold him in a hug for more than a minute.

That didn’t just count for hugs or any other kind of intimate gestures. It also counted when he had any cuts or wounds on his body.

When he was cleared for missions, he would come back with a few marks. When they were minor scratches or grazes he went straight to your room.

He would sit on the toilet seat as you cleaned his wounds, while you asked him about his mission.

If it went bad, the two of you remained in comfortable silence. He just looked at the way your face contorted in concentration as you patched him up. The sight made all his stress just fade away.

He absolutely adored the small and simple things you did to take care of him.

It was the simple things like: bringing him tea late at night when he couldn’t sleep, combing his hair, and even cleaning his metal arm when you saw it looking a bit iffy.

Those were the things that made him realize that he wanted you for life.

Homeboy wanted to wife you up, sis.

You meant so much to him. You brought the light and life back into his own life making him feeling like the luckiest man on Earth. Even after all the shit he’s been through, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because it led to you.

[strawbabysimp]

Dio Relationship HCs

Gotta love the best worst boy♡

Sex isn't important to him, it's just a fun thing to do, but sometimes he'll surprise you with all the romantic cliches like candles, rose petals, wine, chocolate, etc. He never asks if you like it but he takes note of the ways your eyes light up at certain gestures and makes sure to repeat them.

Dio's favorite part of you is your neck. He'll kiss it whenever he feels like it, run his fingers down it, he's even been caught staring at it a few times. He rarely actually feeds on you unless you were to explicitly offer, he more so enjoys it since it's one of your body's most precious areas and he's fascinated by it.

You guys wear matching pajamas during the cold seasons. It happens. Full-blown hot chocolate drinking, candy cane eating, holiday songs action as well. Does he ever smile during it? No. Does he enjoy it? He'll never tell you that but he did stock up on marshmallows so take that as you will.

He rarely gives verbal confirmations of his feelings if ever(they're always super vague as well) but he loves to hear them coming from you. You can never say these things too much in his opinion. From an outsider's perspective, he seems annoyed but in all honesty, he's melting inside the more times you say how you feel about him. Throw in a kiss or two and he'll forget about harsher times for a while.

Dio loves to read during the day and just so happens to do so aloud during the times you're sat near him. Curling up on his lap is also an option as long you don't block the view of his text.

You need to understand this man will never be stable. Your love can never fix all that he's been through and you can't expect it to. You have to love him in his own world, not try to change it to fit yours.

His biggest insecurity in the relationship is ending up like his father and honestly, it'll never go away. He'll always think he'll end up hurting you and this leads to him going through periods of avoiding you, doting on you, honestly he's just very unpredictable even if this does lessen the longer you two are together.

If you think you're allowed to sip alcohol in his presence I'm sorry you're mistaken so say goodbye to that. If you come home even remotely smelling like it he'll take one look at you and ignore you for at least the rest of the day.

Home-cooked meals are something special to Dio. He didn't have those much and especially not from someone he cared for. It reminds him of his mother and the first time you do it if you see a tear in the corner of his eye and he ignores you the following day then don't take it too personally, you did well.

He doesn't need to sleep but sometimes he enjoys it. He'll always sleep on his side facing you. It's unknown if he's truly sleeping or basking in your presence and yes, you guessed it, he won't tell you either way.

Fights between the two of you are barely fights, more like one-sided battles fought solely by you. He will stay talking to you as you go on but he won't agree no matter what you say. He's Dio, he's right, you're wrong. Simple.

When it comes to comfort you you're out of luck. You're just going to have to curl up on top of him and that needs to be enough. No sweet words, no caresses besides perhaps a tighter than usual hold, and he may even bash on your feelings depending on his mood. He will try to make it up to you later though by surrounding you with things you love such as favorite foods, drinks, new clothes, and more but he's not really good at spur-of-the-moment things.

With Dio love is complicated. He doesn't really get it and sees it as a weakness reserved for humans("And I, Dio, am not weak!"). He definitely harbors affection for you but if that ever fully blossoms into love that's hard to tell. All you know is you're his most important person, he respects you, and you love him.

[writerofthecourt]

memories of what could have been

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

summary: seeing you in the stands, atsumu couldn’t help but think back on how your relationship got to this point

warning: inarizaki vs. karasuno spoilers, time skip spoilers

a/n: this was supposed to be short and sweet…what happened?? i’m sorry for any missed editing mistakes. inspired by this song by ito kashitaro. please give it a listen to after you’re done reading, it is such a good song!

The audience watched in nervous silence, waiting with bated breath as Atsumu stepped up to the line and prepared for his serve. The game had dwindled down to its final set, leaving both teams exhausted and sore from the constant rallies and unforgiving plays. If Atsumu could land a service ace now, it would mean the end of the game and victory for his team.

Looking at his teammates, Hinata and Bokuto both smiled at him encouragingly, while Sakusa’s glare told him not to mess up. Looking up to the stands, Atsumu found you in the sea of people, your lips curved into a radiant smile as you shot him a reassuring thumbs up.

Finding strength in the people around him, Atsumu released a shaky breath before tossing the ball up into the air, jumping after it to launch it into the opponent’s side of the court.

“Can I play?” a tiny voice asked from behind him.

Catching the ball that Osamu had just received, Atsumu turned around and raised a condescending eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning you with disdain and disinterest as you stared back at him with anticipation.

“No way,” he scoffed. “This isn’t a game for scrubs like ya.”

“That’s not very nice,” you replied, a frown now present on your face. “My ma told me that ya should be kind and share with everyone.”

“Yeah? And my ma told me not to talk with strangers,” Atsumu made a shoo-ing motion with his hands, “now go and play in the sandbox with the rest of the scrubs.”

Scrunching your nose in frustration, you stomped off towards the swing set where you had been previously occupying your time. “Jerk…”

Smirking in victory, Atsumu returned to receiving the ball back and forth with Osamu, letting out a gasp of surprise when the ball bounced off of his arm and went flying towards your direction.

“Oi, watch out!” Atsumu shouted to warn you.

Turning around, you quickly surveyed the ball before taking off into a running start. Jumping up into the air, you perfectly spiked the ball back to Atsumu, hitting him in the face as you gracefully landed on your feet.

“Wow,” you drawled out sarcastically with a smirk. “Sorry, my hand slipped.”

Osamu, who had been quiet up until this point, let out an uncontrollable laugh as Atsumu continued to groan on the ground, his face now red from where the volleyball had smacked him.

That was how you met Miya Atsumu.

The classroom was filled with hushed excitement as everyone anxiously waited in their seats for the lunch bell to ring. Today was Valentine’s Day, and all the students were once again ready to celebrate and revel in the traditions of the romantic holiday.

As soon as the bell rang, various female students ran up to Atsumu’s desk, showering him in a variety of wrapped and decorated chocolate confections. Despite only being second years, the Miya twins were the talk of their junior high, as their superior looks and athleticism made them the envy and desire of the student population, whether they wanted to be or not.

Looking over his large pile of gifts, Atsumu glanced at his brother from across the classroom, finding some sort of comfort in how Osamu also seemed to be struggling with his own horde of adoring fans.

“Atsumu-kun, please accept my chocolates.”

“I worked really hard on these, so please accept my feelings, Atsumu-san!”

“Atsumu-kun, are ya going out with anybody right now?”

“Oh, shuddup!” Atsumu snapped as he stood up from his desk, causing everyone to stare at him with surprise and fear. “I just wanna go out and play volleyball, but none of ya will let me leave!”

The girls around Atsumu’s desk quickly shrank back, some shuffling their feet in awkwardness, while others hid behind their friends.

“Yer a real jerk, y’know that?” Osamu sighed, shaking his head at his brother’s lack of tact.

“What did’ja say, ‘Samu? Say it to my face!”

Noticing movement from the door, Atsumu saw the top of your head peeking out from behind the door frame, your body obstructed from view due to the large number of female students standing outside of the classroom.

“Oi, [Y/N],” Atsumu called out, causing you to jump in surprise. “Come play volleyball with me and ‘Samu.”

“Uhh, sure,” you agreed nervously as some of the other girls began to glare at you. “I have something I gotta do first. I’ll see ya out on the field.”

“Sounds good!”

Turning around, you scurried down the hallway and rushed back into your classroom, hiding your box of chocolates away in the depths of your school bag.

Your friend, who sat in the desk behind you, raised an eyebrow at your suspicious behaviour. “I thought ya were gonna go confess to Atsumu-san? Ya said that’cha worked all night on those chocolates.”

“Haha, yeah. I’m chickening out,” you shamefully admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “He was a little busy…”

“Figures,” your friend scoffed, rolling her eyes at your cowardice.

“Yeah. Good thing I bought those extra store bought chocolates, right?” you chuckled, trying to ease the pain. “Now it won’t be awkward if I only give ‘Samu his chocolates.”

Your friend sighed before shaking her head in pity. “I don’t know why ya fell for that idiot in the first place.”

“Yeah, me too,” you whispered, remembering all of the effort you had put into your chocolates the night before.

At the simple age of fourteen, you experienced your first heartbreak.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but it was the truth. Nobody expected a powerhouse team like Inarizaki to lose in their first match of the Spring High National Tournament, but Karasuno was an incredible team, managing to secure the victory after a tremendous three set game.

Days following the tournament, a sombre atmosphere could still be felt lingering in the halls of Inarizaki High. The third year volleyball club members were now retired, turning to focus their attention on studying and entrance exams instead. They would still occasionally show up to practice and mentor their first and second years, but it was clear that their time in their beloved club was over. Everyone was heartbroken, but no one was more upset about the team’s loss than one blond setter.

“Hey,” you greeted Osamu as he opened the front door. “How are ya holdin’ up?”

“Fine,” Osamu replied with a shrug. “Definitely a lot better than ‘Tsumu.”

You nodded solemnly, entering the quiet house and exchanging your outdoor shoes for a pair of house slippers. “Are yer parents not home?”

“Visiting family,” Osamu answered plainly, tearing open a bag of chips to snack on them. “Want some?”

Shaking your head, you politely declined his offer. After a moment of silence, you shuffled your feet and glanced up the staircase. “I’m gonna go check up on him.”

As you began to climb the stairs, Osamu called out your name, making you turn back to look at him. “Thanks. For being there when I can’t.”

You smiled, nodding to Osamu before letting your feet carry you through the familiar hallways of the Miya household. Soon, you reached your destination, stopping right in front of the twins’ bedroom door.

Gently knocking on the door, you alerted Atsumu of your presence. “‘Tsumu? It’s me. I’m coming in, okay?”

Hearing a grunt of acknowledgement, you entered the room before softly closing the door behind you. Shaking your head, you sighed at all of the clothes and manga books messily strewn about the room. Typical teenage boys.

There, securely wrapped in his blanket from head to toe, Atsumu lay on his bed, his back facing towards you as he stared off at the wall in complete silence.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, taking a seat next to him on the bed. “‘Samu says that yer not holdin’ up too well. Are ya okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Atsumu mumbled, his nose stuffy and voice grating as if he had been previously crying.

“It’s okay if ya don’t want to talk about it,” you conceded, bringing a hand up to brush through Atsumu’s messy blond locks.

After a few minutes of silence, sniffles could be heard echoing throughout the room as Atsumu tried his best to muffle his cries into his pillow. With a melancholic smile, you continued to rake your fingers through Atsumu’s hair, staring out at the window to bask in the glow of the setting sun.

“Everything will be okay, ‘Tsumu,” you gently whispered. “You’ll be okay…”

Outside of the room, Osamu smiled as he heard your comforting words to Atsumu. He felt content knowing that the blond would be just fine now that you were here.

“Ahhh, I can’t believe we’re done!” you shouted in excitement, your eyes gleaming as you admired the piece of paper you had sacrificed three years of your life to obtain.

“Yer so loud,” Osamu grimaced as he stood to your left. Though, he also broke out into a smile once he saw how the happy expression on your face never wavered.

Graduation was both a joyous and scary occasion, as students now set off on their own paths towards an undecided future. Although nothing was certain, you weren’t scared. You were ready to take on whatever life threw at you.

“Hey, Osamu, come take a picture with us!” a couple of guys from the baseball club requested, shaking their phones for emphasis.

Shrugging his shoulders, Osamu left your side as you waited for Atsumu to finish his conversation with a couple of his female fans.

After snapping a quick photo with them, Atsumu waved his fans goodbye and walked over to stand next to you underneath one of the school’s cherry blossom trees.

“God, they’re so annoying. ‘Miya-san, yer so cool. We’re gonna miss ya so much!’” Atsumu poorly imitated, his voice rising to an absurdly high pitch in an effort to mimic their voices.

“Yer awful!” you laughed, shoving his shoulder once he was within arm’s reach.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know,” he smirked before glancing around. “Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Pictures,” you said, pointing to Osamu and a group of boys off in the distance.

“Ughhhh,” Astumu groaned, glaring at his brother with impatience.

As the two of you waited for Osamu to be done, a comfortable silence enveloped you and Atsumu. The hushed chatter of other students could be still heard as they all ran around, saying goodbye to one another and wishing each other good luck for the future. You looked up to the sky and smiled, admiring how the cherry blossoms danced with the gentle breeze of spring.

“I’ve been in love with ya since junior high, did’ja y’know that?” you asked, grinning once you saw the look of absolute shock painted on Atsumu’s handsome face.

“W-what-” Atsumu sputtered, not knowing what to say in response to your confession.

“Calm down, ya look like yer gonna choke or something,” you chuckled.

“Why are ya telling me this now?” Atsumu asked seriously, staring at you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Shrugging your shoulders, you answered Atsumu’s question. “Why not? It doesn’t change anything. Yer still gonna be moving to Osaka to try out for the MSBY Black Jackals, ‘Samu’s gonna be studying here, and I’m heading off to Tokyo. I just wanted to get this off my chest after all these years.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Atsumu reluctantly looked away, “I don’t feel the same way about you.”

“I know,” you said as you took a hold of his hand, ignoring how he seemed to flinch at your touch. “A part of me kinda hoped that you’d return my feelings and move with me to Tokyo, but that’s just a far-fetched dream. Besides, I’d never want to make you choose between me and volleyball.”

“[Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Will you stop it!” you playfully snapped, rolling your eyes at the Miya Atsumu’s sudden shyness. “It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with my feelings a long time ago. No matter what, at the end of the day, I’ll still love both you and ‘Samu all the same.”

Hearing your parents call out your name, you turned to where they stood as they signalled for you to meet them at the car parked a couple of blocks down the street.

“Okay!” you confirmed as you waved to them. Turning back to Atsumu, you planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, surprising him as you shot him one last smile. “Goodbye for now, ‘Tsumu. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

Atsumu could do nothing but stare as you ran off towards Osamu, interrupting the photo-taking as you hugged the ex-wing spiker before kissing him on the cheek and bidding him your farewells. The other guys around Osamu all whistled and hollered, but he just rolled his eyes at their lighthearted teasing.

Returning your hug, Osamu kissed the top of your head, saying his goodbyes to you as well before whispering something only you could hear. Both of your eyes drifted to Atsumu before you nodded your head and separated from the grey haired Miya. Waving to Osamu and Atsumu one last time, you ran off to catch up with your parents.

As Atsumu watched you leave, the blond clenched his fist tightly around his shirt, right where his heart would be. An indescribable feeling began to settle in his chest, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t chase after you.

Nevertheless, Atsumu’s feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

“Miya-san, you are one of the rising stars in the world of volleyball right now. Looking at your career up until this point, I can easily understand why so many new players see you as a figure of inspiration,” the interviewer complimented, a professional and polite smile on her face as she held up her microphone. “Tell me, is there anyone that inspires you to work hard and continue to do your best?”

“That’s a tough question,” Atsumu replied, sending the interviewer and camera a charismatic smile. “Well, if I had to choose…”

Looking back on his life, the first person that came to Atsumu’s mind was you. Like a lantern shining in the darkest of nights, your smiling face was the first one to appear in the setter’s head.

Suddenly, memories of you all came flooding back to him, especially that one fateful day underneath the cherry blossom tree where you had confessed your feelings to him.

“Uh, Miya-san?” the interviewer asked, snapping him out of his daze. “Are you all right?”

“Um, yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day,” he chuckled, earning a laugh from the interviewer as well. “Sorry, what was the question again?”

The interviewer only smiled as she repeated her question.

“Yer going on a date?!” Atsumu screeched, pulling at his hair as if he had just heard the worst news ever. He was currently on a Facetime call with you and Osamu, with your phone aimed towards your closet as you shifted through and appraised different outfits with the twins.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I said,” you confirmed, rolling your eyes at blond’s overreaction. “Now, which shirt looks better, the yellow one or the white one.”

“I personally like the white one,” Osamu replied, quickly glancing up from his laptop before resuming his essay.

“Since when? With who?” Atsumu interrogated, glaring suspiciously at you through the phone screen.

“A guy from my Intro to Biology class. He seems really nice, so I accepted his offer,” you explained with exasperation. “It’s just coffee, ‘Tsumu.”

“Just coffee?!” the blond asked hysterically. “This is Tokyo we’re talking about! We all know how sketchy those city boys are!”

“‘Tsumu, it’s just one date,” you sighed, no longer having the energy to deal with him. “Listen, if it goes poorly, I’ll block his number and never interact with him ever again. Deal?”

“Fine,” Atsumu relented, grumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite pick up. “But call me or ‘Samu as soon as you get home! If I don’t hear from ya by the end of the night, I’m going to Tokyo myself!”

“I’ll be fine, ‘Tsumu,” you chuckled before glancing at the time. “Okay, I gotta go. We’re meeting up soon. See ya, guys!”

“Bye.” “Be safe!”

Hanging up the call, Atsumu let his head fall back onto the couch, his fists shaking with frustration. He didn’t like you, at least not in that way. So why did he feel jealousy and disappointment burning away at his chest when you had announced to him and Osamu that you were going on a date?

Thinking back to graduation day, Atsumu couldn’t help but wonder if he truly did feel nothing for you back then. In any case, he couldn’t deny that the thought of you now stirred up something within his heart.

He hated himself for it, but he hoped that your date was a total disaster. That he’d be there to comfort you and rekindle whatever feelings you had for him back in high school.

Unfortunately, Atsumu never got his chance.

As the ball flew through the air, the opponent’s libero made a desperate dive to reach it. Unfortunately, his efforts were not enough, as the ball landed just out of his arm’s reach, so close, yet so far away from being stopped.

The whistle sounded, declaring the end of the game as the crowd erupted into both cheers of happiness and groans of disappointment. Atsumu’s teammates all ran up to quickly hug him, with Hinata and Bokuto being the first ones to reach the tired setter. Sakusa looked at the three of them with disgust, but he still sent Atsumu a small smile, telling him that he did good.

Atsumu laughed as Bokuto kept slapping him on the back, while Hinata congratulated him for his amazing serve. Looking up to the stands one more time, Atsumu chuckled as you sent him a beautiful smile and an enthusiastic wave of both hands, the shine of your wedding band reflecting off of the stadium lights.

“Y-yer gettin’ married?”

“Yeah! Isn’t this great, ‘Tsumu?”

“Y-yeah! This is wonderful, [Y/N]. I wish ya nothing but all the happiness in the world…”

Turning to your husband beside you, you began to excitedly talk about all the amazing players and the various highlights of the game. Your husband must have said something funny because you started to laugh, kissing him on his cheek before leaning into his chest with a hug.

Atsumu turned away from the happy couple, half-listening to the praises of his teammates. He had never once regretted his decision in pursuing volleyball, but he couldn’t help but think back to that fateful spring day.

If he had accepted your feelings back then, would he be the one that you were hugging right now? The one that got to see your dazzling smile and hear the twinkle of your laughter every morning?

Atsumu loved volleyball, but he also loved you.

He was just too late in realizing this fact.

fun fact: osamu was originally going to end up with [y/n], but i liked the idea of them remaining as friends a lot better. [y/n]’s husband is a canon haikyuu character, so if anyone can guess who he is, i’ll write you a request

EDIT: an anon has correctly guessed that it was konoha