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dumbslxtclub · 1 year

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you’re on your own, kid | e.m - part nine (bonus chapter)

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: we learn the root of eddie’s longstanding guilt as he navigates the crossroads of your relationship.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 19, anxiety, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, not beta’d

word count: 2.8K+

a/n: cheeky little bonus chapter for you!! wanted to give eddie his moment in all his angsty glory, big shoutout to my bestie @dickfics69 for beta reading this one and working with me over zoom to flesh out these thoughts. hope you enjoy!

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog @reidstea @sashaphantomhive @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86 @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2

↳ one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

Part Nine: You Sunshine, You Temptress

The door swings closed behind Eddie, and shock hits him like a freight train bulldozing through his momentary confidence. The warmth of your skin still lingering on his fingertips, the flushed-pink of your lips practically grazing his still imprinted in his mind. Heart pounding, hands shaking, and the faintest smile playing on his lips. Fuck. He wonders if he should celebrate or criticize his actions, but he’ll have time for that later.

Lucky for him, it’s hard to sift through the onslaught of thoughts flooding his brain over Squid’s vocal crying bouncing off the thin walls of the living room. He flicks on the near-by lamp, illuminating her still bundled-up figure in the crib, squirming around in the confines of swaddle.

“Hey, chunky monkey.” Hands outstretched, he places a hand behind her head to support her neck, worming his other hand to her lower back. Lifting her up and out, he quickly readjusts to rest her into a cradle position. With her head nestled into the crook of his elbow, he begins lightly tapping on her side and bouncing gently. “Shhh, let’s give your mom a quiet night tonight, yeah?”

Sighing, he makes his way to the couch, assuming the same spot the two had spent a majority of their shared night. Once comfortable, he runs a finger delicately along her rosy cheek, mouth wide open to release a plethora of screams at maximum volume. He traces along her chubby cheek, around her eye and across her eyebrow, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. With this new contact, the tickle must be relaxing to her with the cries slowly weaning off. He’s learning to read her like a book, desperately flicking through the rolodex in his mind searching for what might calm her down. And so, he continues the motion with the corners of his lips still upturned as he studies her tiny face. Up and down, small circles, repeating the motion until her cries morph into coos and soft grunts. Eyes fluttering open, she takes in the faintly lit room around her. Eddie grins as he sees her big brown eyes, gazing up at the plaster ceiling with the occasional babble.

“There she is.” Pulling his feet up onto the coffee table, his knees are faced skywards in a semi-supine position while he relaxes back into the cushions behind him. With a dramatic huff, as if Squid weighs a tonne, he maneuvers her into the groove between his legs. With her head nestled comfortably between his knees, face now eye line with his, he gives her sides a small tickling squeeze. “Couldn’t sleep, huh? Yeah, me neither.”

Although he’s positive she couldn’t identify him at barely six-weeks old, he feels his stomach backflip as her eyes bore into his with a sense of recognition. Familiarity. Safety. Her cheeky face lights up at the sight of him, shooting him a wide and gummy smile, nestling further into the comfort of her swaddle.

And then, it hits him. She was crying because she just wanted to see him.

His heart swells, letting out a soft exhale, pure affection bubbling in his chest and threatening to boil over. God, Eddie wishes he had Jonathan’s camera with him right now, wanting this image immortalized forever. Another picture to add to the pair taped in his locker, getting to see that smile every time he swung open the metal door. But simultaneously, he would not wish for anything to take him out of this moment, no desire to see the perfect image in front of him through a lens. It wouldn’t compare. Wouldn’t even come close. It’s like he’s meeting her for the first time over and over, intently examining her features. He can’t believe something could be so small. So new. So perfect. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he thinks she might be growing into her head. Time to think up new ways to get under your skin.

The two sit there, the faint hum from your fridge the only sound aside from Squid’s gurgling as her eyelids grow heavy, unable to fight off the call of sleep any longer. Her lips contort into an O-shape as she yawns, all the while Eddie runs the back of his forefinger along her chin. And, for the last time, her eyes catch a glimpse of Eddie’s before closing to the world, adequately settled once again. The pair sit in silence, Eddie taking to playing with her mess of hair as he waits for confirmation that he can put her back in the crib without waking her. There’s no doubt she’s Steve’s daughter with the amount of soft, brown hair adorning her head. He takes to mindlessly combing it with his fingers, first brushing it all to one side as a sort of comb-over. Unsatisfied, he brings all of the hair to the middle, smiling giddily as he clasps his hands together in an upward motion. He continues brushing her hair inwards, watching his creation come to life. The mess of hair takes the form of a mohawk, the world’s smallest metalhead sleeping peacefully before him. He chuckles to himself, giving her cheeks one final squeeze before carrying her back to the crib.

There’s a particular chill to the mid March air, the promise of warmer days a luxury not yet granted to the town of Hawkins. Amidst the leaves kicked up by each breeze and the occasional cluttering of a metal can along the gravel, Eddie sits with his knees tucked to his chest. A moment of sheer solitude alone on the steps of your trailer, embers from his cigarette being prematurely carried into the wind. Nestled between his middle and forefinger, Eddie’s lips wrap around the filter, taking in a long drag of tobacco, allowing the haze of smoke to fill his lungs as it has countless times before.

He’s not unfamiliar with the early hours, the eerie loneliness it brings to those few unfortunate enough to experience it. Intimately acquainted with the hues of gray and purple penetrating through the thin covering of lingering cloud forms, the view grounding him numerous times after waking from yet another nightmare depicting red skies and suffering. Images burned into his mind’s eye, inescapable and so tangible he feels he could reach out and touch them if he so desired. Breathe in the dense fog, allow it to coat his lungs with a thick layer of desperation. Wrap his fingers around Steve’s dirt-covered bicep, try helplessly to pull him to his feet. Press firmly into the wound carved deep into his abdomen to stop the waste of blood seeping out. Every night, no reprieve, reminded of what he didn’t do.

Hands shake subconsciously as he once again returns the cigarette to his parted lips. It’s been the same story stuck on repeat like a broken record since the day the group returned without one member. The story that resulted in countless nights of lost sleep. The story no one is more desperate to believe than Eddie.

He couldn’t bring himself to accept any other versions of the events, not with the implications they carry. And yet, day by day, his perfectly crafted web begins to collapse under the weight of new information. Carefully spun silk methodically weaved into a pattern of his choosing, now fracturing and threatening to break apart. How could he begin to explain it to you? And how could he ever expect your forgiveness once you knew the truth?

He wonders some days if it’s possible to be completely consumed by guilt, swallowing him whole and plunging him into a purgatory of his own creation. He should have told you. He should have told you the first night the group returned, at your trailer. Before he knew about Squid. Before he began to care. Before he grew attached.

There are facts, and then there are assumptions, hopes without tangible proof growing more and more likely to be true. Dustin and Robin were as bad as each other when it came to making mountains out of molehills, finding the smallest pattern in their daily lives and deconstructing it until they inevitably arrived at the same conclusion. With each speculation, Eddie grew increasingly more anxious, hoping to keep their conspiracies out of your earshot. But he couldn’t deny the mounting list of strange happenings. Robin’s recollection of the flickering lights in her home, divulged mere hours after Squid was born. Strapping the carrier to Eddie’s chest before running to a strangely familiar van sitting in the Hawkins supermarket parking lot, its occupants spent the day seeking her out. And then tonight, a frantic Dustin peddling his bike all the way to the trailer park, breathless and shaking as he announced the news before whisking Robin away.

Owens found something.

That was all the information Eddie had to work with at the moment, and he would love to say it was all he was privy to. Ignorance is bliss, and he was afflicted with too much knowledge.

He allowed you to feel hopeless.

He encouraged the intimation that Steve was gone.

He did all of this, knowing fully well that Owens had been looking for Steve since day one.

Guilt morphing into pressure, sinking him further into a dark sea of half-truths that should never have been spoken. Haunted by a pact made by the group, covered in the blood of others as they crawled out of the remaining gateway to a life now unfamiliar to them. He knew what he was getting into.

Shaking his head, he stomps his long since burnt-out cigarette butt to the ground. Eddie knew better than to let you in, to grow as attached to the pair of you as he’s become. His miserable existence is a movie, the ending of which he’s seen dozens of times before. A jangling of keys, a slam of a door, a scuffling of rocks under worn tyre. Everyone leaves, eventually. Yet, he can’t shake the feeling that he may be in too deep this time, finding pieces of you in the deepest recesses of his soul. Like children exchanging trading cards to complete their own collection, going out of their way to fulfill what the other lacked. He could have kept the first exchange civil, one acquaintance looking out for another during a time of need. Whose need was greater was something Eddie failed to consider. A burden in his childhood, unwanted by his parents and discarded at the first possible chance. A failure in his adolescence, rebelling against the status-quo and reducing himself to a portrait of what the world expected him to be. And at rock bottom, as he trudged along the gravel driveway of the trailer park he called home, gut heavy with culpability and survivor’s guilt. Plagued by his past, and hopeless for the future, he heard it. Your wails cut through the silence of the park, a physical manifestation of the despair looming in the night air. The kind of anguish that he has seldom vocalized, but is intimately acquainted with. Like a wounded deer on the side of the road, body weak with suffering and begging for mercy, he approached your door with an air of humaneness. Armed with only his innate sense of compassion, he comforted you from a distance, keeping his walls firmly in place.

Walls that were being deconstructed brick-by-brick with every late return overlooked, every firm kick beneath tender skin, every soft exhale as sleep danced across your eyelids. His carefully constructed edifice of detachment now non-existent, uncomfortably open to the uncharted terrain that comes with emotional involvement. And he can’t help but fear that his intentions have turned self-serving, enjoying being at your beckoning call. Willing to crawl to the ends of the earth if it puts a smile on either of your faces.

Selfish.

The week following Squid’s birth, Eddie picked up a shift at the auto-shop after reassurance that his presence wouldn’t be needed around the trailer. He planted his decade-old backpack at his feet before the metal lockers, clicking the combination he was assigned until the access was granted. From the front pocket, he rifled through until his fingers found the glossy paper of the fresh image. Securing adhesive putty to the four corners of the sheet, he mounted it in his locker beside the ultrasound, pressing it down firmly with his thumbs. A scuffle of boots on laminate flooring was followed by his co-worker’s cheery voice.

“Look at that! Your girl had her baby, hm?”

Eddie spun around to the older man beside him, his wide grin openly displaying neglected and yellowing canines.

“Oh, yeah. She did.” Eddie shuffled uncomfortably, wading knee-deep in the waters of the lie he’s created. The man scooted closer, studying the image. “Her name’s officially Audrey, but I’m still rooting for Squid.”

Bob (maybe Ed, who cares), face gruff with deep-set wrinkles in his crow’s feet, chuckles at the image. It’s not hard to imagine the image evokes memories of his own children’s births, kids who have long since moved away and now try to call once a month.

“Congratulations, son. That girl looks like she’s got a good head on her shoulders." His oil-stained forefinger indicates to you, wide grinned in the hospital bed. Eddie smiles.

“Yeah, she sure does.”

“Take good care of ‘em, you’re a lucky fella.”

And with a squeeze on the younger boy’s shoulder, Eddie’s co-worker retrieves his lunch pail from his respective locker and pulls an old baseball cap over his balding head, bidding Eddie farewell. The two innocuously spoken words reverberate through his mind, heating his heart in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.

Your girl.

The dam breaks before Eddie is cognitively aware of it, suppressed emotions boiling over like an unwatched pot on the stove, neglected and unable to be further contained. Hot tears streak down his wind-burnt cheeks, hand quickly finding his mouth to stifle his untrustworthy exhales. He squeezes his sleep-deprived eyes shut, relishing in the burning sensation on his waterline. Every fiber of his body urges him to let out a scream into the quiet trailer park, as if that will absolve the heartache in his body. Instead, he resorts to choking out unsteady gasps of air between his tightly linked fingers, the steady stream cascading from his eyes along the grooves of his cheeks. He validates his greatest fear, allowing his guilt to overwhelm any self-love he granted himself. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve you. A boy in man’s clothes, playing house with the girl next door, as if that would make him feel whole.

And it did. It made him feel needed.

Wanted.

Loved.

He was quick to shut down your admission earlier, but still endures the aftermath of the shared sentiment. Sometimes, I’m glad he’s gone. What a fucking awful thing to think, let alone speak into existence. Of course, he felt no judgment when the words softly left your lips, understanding completely where you were coming from. But now, he can’t help but think of the implications should Steve return. And all will be right in the world. Squid’s dad will be back in the picture, something he always longed for her to have. A position he was happy to fill in the interim, now surely slipping from his grasp. What could have been, destined to exist as unlived dreams tucked into the bottom drawer of his mind. With all the love he has for the two of you, and he doesn’t know where to put it now. It’s too heavy to carry on his own.

His gaze flickers to the temptation of the unoccupied trailer across from him, his bed empty and awaiting.

Cold. Desolate. Lonely.

The familiar comfort it brings, however solitary it may be. He was used to it. But after all he’s experienced, he’s not sure if he can go back to that way of living. His mind goes to the little girl, snuggled up in her crib, blissfully unaware of the plight around her. And you, wrapped up in cotton sheets and exhaustion, waiting for him to return through your slumber. How easy it would be to lay down next to you on the plush mattress, wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him as he longed to. To inhale the scent of shampoo lingering in your hair, press his lips to the nape of your neck, feel your warmth beneath his undeserving lips But, then again, how could he deserve such an unearned luxury?

Instead, he remains paralytic for a moment longer, occupying the space of limbo between his two comforts. A man destined to fail from the moment he was born, he cannot envision a scenario in which he is absolved of his guilt.

His heartache.

His love.

#eddie x reader #Dad!Eddie #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #pregnant!reader #singlemom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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wonda-fhr · 5 months

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Hey-a! I'm really into reading AU stuff, so Alternative for David and Justin? (au of your choice, fantasy if you have no pref)

And arms for all three of them, pretty please? c:

Thank you for the Questions from the "oc asks: character design edition" :) I'm sorry this took so long.<3 The arming question challenged me more than I thought it would, and the answer to it is even less satisfying.🙈 My intention to read up on the subject left me with a lot of confusion and some knowledge I never wanted to have. That's why I'm stopping now and sticking to the most basic answer possible.😅 Maybe one day I'll continue this research. Until then, I trust that Lia knows exactly which one to choose and for what reason.😉

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

Lia is not only trained in many weapons, she is also a weapons enthusiast. Precision is much more important to her than maximum damage. She is always armed, although she would be dangerous enough without it. A gun and a knife are part of her standard equipment whenever she leaves her home. She has an impressive arsenal of weapons in her hideout. For missions, she adapts her equipment to the situation. But her two larger pistols, with optional silencers, and three different blades are part of her standard equipment.

David doesn't like weapons. He carries a small pistol for emergencies when he goes on missions. He also carries a knife, but only because it can be useful, not with the intention of using it as a weapon.

Justin has a small handbag-sized pistol that he carries with him at all times. However, he prefers to rely on telepathy as a weapon. In his armor, he likes things heavy and impressive, assault rifles and missile launchers. Mighty Boom.

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

In the original Au, David and Justin are no different from the Fhr look, and I can't imagine that they will ever be very different.

In a fantasy Au, David would also be dressed in elegant, colorful clothes. His hair would be a little longer. I don't see him in armor or with heavy weapons, he will always be some kind of magical supporting bard. That's what he is in bg3 right now. For Pathfinder, I changed David a lot, just took his personality and made him into the dragon Milvirvilan, who accompanies Lia and is under her protection. (Yes, he wouldn't hurt anyone, but many him, he needs a protector).

Justin has also had his signature style for too long to let it go. His fantasy self remains flashy and colorful in private, but terrifyingly armored when it comes to battle. The armor could use a colorful accessory or two to make it more recognizable. I'm not sure what class he would be comfortable in, which is why Justin has never been part of a fantasy world. Maybe a bomb-packed alchemist with a magically boosted punch.

In the original world, David and Justin are part of my OC Patchwork family. Their appearance is the one you know from fhr, not with all the scars, but with others. When I place my OCs in other AUs, they stay as close to their reality as possible. (David was the absolute exception in the Pathfinder wotr.) Body, hair, clothing style, they stay who they are. It's important that they feel right. If Justin walked through a futuristic sci-fi shopping mall, he'd buy the pink fluff piece, just as David would master the instrument in the world that most closely resembled a piano in emotion and sound. There is no way around it.

#fhr sidestep #david kingsley #justin rosedale #lia kingsley #ask game #still thinking about au's

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seiya-starsniper · 8 months

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Trope Game

Finally getting around to doing this! Tagged by the amazing @tj-dragonblade and @reallyintoscience, thank you so much darlings! <3

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

-10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don't care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it's a hard no and you'd never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you'd insta click out of the fic if it wasn't tagged

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it's conditional.

Age gap: +8

Age gap is a pretty compelling trope for me, mainly due to the power dynamic differences and how those get addressed. In a dark fic, the power imbalance can make for good whump/angst if the writer really leans into. In a more romantic/fluff setting though, addressing the age gap and the power dynamics in a healthy manner is practically a requirement for me to enjoy the fic. In a pwp/smut setting, sometimes it's just hot to have an older person guiding a younger one.

Codependency: +3

Co-dependency can be a compelling trope for me, but I won't seek it out unless it's from an author I know and love, or it's recommended to me by someone who shares my tastes. If it's darkfic co-dependency though, sign me the fuck up, maximum whump and unhealthy dynamics let's gooooooooooooo.

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +10

Love this trope. Love it in dark fic when things get dicey between the two love interests and there's a power struggle, but I also love it when someone kills someone just because they hurt their lover, amazing trope. A++++++++

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +20

99% of all my favorite ships are some combination of this in canon and in fic. Give me all of it, all day, every day.

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: +10

Big sucker for this trope in all forms. I love antagonism that turns into something else and then oh no, we have to actually communicate about things. Or not. Or, for maximum angst purposes, a betrayal happens. (can ya'll sense a trend yet lmaooooo)

Friends with benefits: +5

Big fan of this trope in a PWP setting, but for anything else, it must also be accompanied by (see below trope) or I probably won't be super interested in the fic.

Sex to feelings: +10

Absolutely love this trope. Sex first, communication second. Lots of room for misunderstandings and heart to hearts.

Fake dating/relationship: +5

Fake dating is my guilty pleasure and I adore it but it's not a drop everything and read it sort of thing for me. It's gotta be propped up by some of the other tropes for me to find it compelling.

Friends to lovers: +5

Same as with fake dating. There's gotta be something else in there to make it more compelling to me, but I do love reading it (and writing it!)

Found Family: 0

This trope used to be a +10 for me but I think I've burned out on it over the last few years lol. Too many antis have used the excuse "ew you can't ship them, they're part of the same found family so it's incest!" and I am just...tired lol.

Not to mention so much fic I've read is often just the female and/or poc characters propping up the white mlm ship and slapping "found family" on the tags.

That said, I'm still a sucker for the trope as a whole, just not so much in fanfic.

Hurt/Comfort: +10

ANGST ANGST ANGST. My bread and butter. Give me all the hurt/comfort. Or hurt with minimal comfort. I love having my heart wrung out.

Love Triangle: -10

Unless the love triangle resolves into a polyship do not even show me a love triangle fic lol.

Poly, open relationships: +10

A++++++++++ trope. No notes.

Mistaken/hidden identity: 0

Mistaken and hidden identity to me are two TOTALLY DIFFERENT THINGS but I digress. Not my favorite trope and won't go seeking it out. This kind of goes hand in hand with amnesia fic too I think. I have read some AMAZING ones, but that's like 1 out of every 50 I try to give a chance to lol

Monsterfucking: +100000000000000000000000

Just, yes. Proud monsterfucker always and forever.

Pregnancy: -5

Meh lol. I like kidfic quite a bit, but pregnancy is just not that interesting to me in fic. I think the one exception to this is maybe omegaverse pregnancy fic, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I'm a slut for omegaverse worldbuiding than anything else. Human pregnancy though, could take it or leave it.

Second Chance: +5

I really don't care for this trope as a whole, however I have read some amazing ones recently for Dreamling so it's I'm giving it some points. This is probably due to the fact that I am also a slut for angst hahahaha.

Slowburn: +7

I love a good slow burn but I am also impatient as fuck so I'm docking some points from the full +10 hahahaha. Bless authors for 100k slowburn fics, you are the backbones of fandom.

Soulmates: +10

I LOVE SOULMATES. I love true mates, I love all the lore around having one person be your other half. But I also love people who subvert the trope in fun ways, people whose soulmates have died, people who don't marry their soulmates, immortal soulmates, people born without soulmarks, worlds where soulmates aren't perfect and sometimes your soulmate is also your worst enemy. I may love the subversions more than the actual trope come to think about it lmao.

Tagging with no obligation @aquilathefighter @eobardthawneallen @lyriclorelei @rooftopwreck @ferelden-loser @tryan-a-bex @bazzybelle @zigzag-wanderer @silver-dream89 @lenreli @valiantstarlights

#seiya gets tagged #this was fun thanks for tagging me!!!!

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cookie-crumblr · 2 years

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Locked In, Walking Out

Part: 1

F!Reader X Max ~Yandere Prisoner OC

His info: ⛓💌⛓

Part: 1 2

!!MINORS DNI!!

CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, DARK FIC Yandere, reader has a vagina, not too defenseless reader, Imprisonment (not of mc) shock collars(not on mc), swearing, cat calling, corrupted systems, teasing, pet names (sweetheart, dollface, princess, doll), sa NON-CON not from mc, a gross man-pig assaults reader, hurt no comfort, blood, dissociation

!!MINORS DNI!!

Author’s note: sorry if my bad mood comes across in this one…

You work as a junior prison guard at Locke West Maximum Security Penitentiary.

You were given a huge bonus, better health benefits, and a fat raise when you were reassigned here.

You couldn’t say no.

Besides, what could possibly go wrong at the nation’s most secure prison…

Made so secure, just to hold the nation’s most dangerous criminals…

They’re forced to have shock collars on, so it’s not like they can do anything, right?

Day 1~

“New blood eh? You must’ve done a good job to get transferred here. Grats.” The senior guard called “Nills”, spoke a little too monotone for that to be a genuine congratulations, but you take it.

“Thanks sir,” you reply enthusiastically.

He looked you over, and smiled, while leaning in closer, “You might not last long here, sweetheart,”

Another guard walked in, and your senior backed up.

This Junior guard was to be your tour guide, and as she began, you noticed she used a similar monotone voice.

“This is the employee lounge,” her voice drew out. “This is the locker room, and where you’ll be changing—” If you could fall asleep while walking this would be the time you did. “This is the— This is where—” UHG! you aren’t even paying attention. Pay attention…

Now you’re only focusing on trying to re-focus!

“BZZZZZZZT”

You were jolted back to the present as heavy doors buzzed open for you both. You were suddenly excited, now you get to see the prisoners, and experience what your new job has to offer…

“Hey honey! Bend over for me, won’t cha?!” a prisoner in his locked cell heckled you. You realized you hadn’t been asked to change into your uniform, so you were still in your nice clothes.

You wore a short dress (no matter how you think you look, you pull it off perfectly), nice enough to impress your boss, but definitely too sexy for depraved men who are locked in cells.

“Oh yeah… That happens, regardless of if we’re in our uniforms or not. Ya get used to it, trust me.” She rolled her eyes and buzzed his collar.

“ARRRRRRRG!! You jealous BITCH!” he spat, as he fell to the ground.

You kept up with her, instead of sticking around that cell.

“This is their canteen,” She was back to her boring tour voice, but this time you managed to listen, being more alert with your surroundings around these men.

Towards the end of a less crowded cell block, you noticed a rather large cell coming up… “What’s that for?”

“That’s Max’s cell. His people pay off the prison for his comfort,” She said plainly.

“What?! that’s a thing?!” you exclaimed.

Prisoners shouldn’t be “comfortable”! you thought.

“Yeah, prisons, and wardens like money. They pay well enough, and Max stays out of our way.”

“Who is this, Max?”

“You know… The Aristandros family… You seriously don’t know?” She looked shocked. “Maxwell Aristandros. The head of the family that controls over half of the nations resources…”

“Wait… If he’s that important to the nation… Why the hell’s he in here?” you ask, stunned.

She shrugs “Maybe he’ll tell you. His is the only confidential case here. None of us know. Except maybe the warden…” She puts her hand on her chin.

You arrive at the lavishly decorated cell, your jaw on the floor. You almost don’t notice the man that matches the aesthetic of a gorgeous old painting, even in that orange jumpsuit and black collar. He’s lain over a chaise lounge, eating an orange, his face toward you, giving you a cheeky smile.

You scowl at him, “HOW CAN WE ALLOW THIS?!” You motion with a wide stance toward the cell, and toward him. “Shouldn’t he be, I don’t know, suffering here?! to be becoming a better person or whatever! WHAT IS THIS?!” You can help but feel angry over this whole stupid scene of a man with three life sentences, supposedly in charge of over half the nation, and in prison living like he’s the king of some medieval fantasy land!

“Woah, I like this one Cher! Give my complements to the warden for me.” His voice was smooth and silky to add a bright red cherry on top of his whole stupid yet beautifully crafted icecream sunday.

Cher sighed and placed a hand to her head. “listen, like i said, his people pay us. It’s not like the taxpayers are wasting any money on this one.”

You couldn’t help but still feel angry, maybe even more so since he seemed to enjoy your outburst.

You end up going home that day much angrier than you thought.

“Time for a romantic bath with myself and some icecream…”

Day 2~

“You look nice, dollface,” he nodded his head.

“Get used to it 232. The warden herself gave you to me, so you’ll be seeing this a lot.” you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s max, doll, and I’m inclined to correct you, she gave you to me. Not the other way around. You’re mine.” he smiled smugly.

“Who’s in possession of who’s shock collar.” You state tapping your foot in front of his cell door, getting fed up with his games.

“A formality. a necessity really,” he shrugged. “Never know what a dangerous man like me would do to a pretty thing like you without it.” his smile became wolffish, showing off his rather predominant canines.

“Uhg. You’re insufferable. Just, get ready, I have to escort you now,” You placed your hand on the reader near the cell’s door, it buzzed approvingly.

As it slid open, he rushed out and grabbed you. Before you knew what happened your head hit the wall you are now pinned to.

“Careful, princess, what if someone saw us like this?”

Your face reddened, what is this?

And, why do you kinda like this…

It’s your job now to control him.

You lifted your knee hard to meet his groin, and he doubled over. After that, you pressed the button for 232’s shock collar, and he fell to the ground, convulsing.

While he was distracted you tried to catch your breath and still your heart.

You can’t let that happen again.

You stand outside the showers when you hear the slaps of shower sandals approaching.

Goodie…

“Hey beautiful, miss me?” he came out with a loosely wrapped towel hung low around him, showing of his toned body and that perfect v carved into his hip bones. “Hey, eyes up here,” he smirked.

F-fuck…

“W-What are you talking about? Go get dressed 232. Quit fooling around, you have a very busy day today,” that for whatever reason, I have to babysit…

He lifted your chin, your face blushing, you stared back into his eyes. His voids of pupils, surrounded by dark brown, feel like they might be sucking you in, you think you could lose yourself in them…

“Good girl,” he smiles and gently lets your face drop, to go get dressed.

While he’s gone you try to compose yourself.

WTF was that Y/N! get a hold of yourself! UHG. You seem to be doing a ton of groaning today, and there’s still plenty of time for more unfortunately.

You make it to the canteen with your prisoner in toe…

“Hey there sweetheart! Give us a show!”

As the man stood, you whipped out your baton, sensing you’d need it.

Max lurched forward, and you blocked his path with your baton at his gut.

“Don’t, 232” you say sternly.

The cat caller’s eyes widen at you stopping Max, and he sits back down slowly.

You put the thing back away on your belt and escort Max to the back having him sit by himself. People approach and you allow them to sit with some distance between them. They talk to Max in what sounds like some code, but you don’t really care if they’re conspiring.

Your job is just to babysit him…

Day 3~

As you’re dressing your senior walks in and puts his arm up over you, he’s staring down your top’s open buttons.

You roll your eyes.

“Didn’t realize you’d be worse than the men in the cages, sir,” you say continuing to pull up your boots and fasten your belt.

He leans down closer, his cigarette stained breath permeating your precious bubble, “Sweetheart, I already told you you wouldn’t last,” he licked his lips, “Now you’re Max’s pet, poor thing. I see why he picked you…” he leaned back, a satisfied smirk plastered on his old face.

After that weird and uncomfortable encounter you made your way to Max’s “cell”, this time you had your baton ready before opening his door. He casually walked out, hands up behind his head.

“Hey there doll, how’s my good girl doin’ t’day?” He asked, his voice so smooth, you falter in your tough nature again.

“H-hey…” You spoke shyly, then coughed “I’m good, thanks… H-how are you?”

He smiled, “I’m glad to hear that,” Before you realized he was standing behind you, his face ticking your neck, “You want to kill some time with me, doll?”

His hands ghosted gently over your arms, as if almost asking permission.

You need to say no…

“Y/N!” you hear your superior yelling.

Max gripped you tighter momentarily in anger, before letting you go. He’s sending death glares toward Nills.

“S-sorry Sir!”

“come with me.” he turns and walks behind a corner. you lock Max back into his cell.

“This kind of behavior deserves some kind of punishment, don’t cha think” Nills asks in a manor that’s definitely not questioning, and definitely too creepy to be work appropriate.

“What? Listen, I have to take 232 to the showers now. Are you done?” you tried to walk away, but he roughly grabbed you and pulled you back.

“Oh you’re not getting off easy here, sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that, creep!” you stomped on his foot.

He covered your mouth with his hand in a way you couldn’t bite it, and pulled you closer.

Who would have thought it’s not the prisoners you have to worry about, but your superior…

He undid your belt as he held you against a wall, your tried to fight, or grab your weapons but he easily overpowered you.

His hand was shoved down your pants in seconds, and he lifted it up to inhale your scent, you gagged against his hand.

You kept fighting, however useless it was.

He’s disgusting!

Now he’s pulling your pants down and turning you around. You hear his buckle being undone too, and tears prickle and threaten to fall. You refuse them, not wishing to loose your dignity to this man.

You don’t know what to do to stop this, and there isn’t anything anyway… Please, don’t… You try and say, but with his hand still covering you you can only puff out bursts of noisy air.

Your throat vibrates with the rest of the sounds of distress you desperately try, and yet fail to let out.

His dick is pressed between your legs and he doesn’t prep you before entering…

You feel like your being ripped apart, it hurts so bad, like sandpaper it’s so dry inside you, and it feels like his length never ends.

The tears that you refused fall freely now. You give up fighting and slump into his grasp waiting for him to finish.

Luckily he does fast. Obviously you’d prefer if he hadn’t at all… If this whole thing hadn’t at all…. You’re definitely taking a plan b, and getting tested after today… But how are you gonna go about the rest of your shift now? how do you come back tomorrow… You’ve been here 2 whole days almost 3, just for this?

You slide down the wall and cry into your knees.

You don’t even notice him leave.

Whether you’re a virgin or not, you see blood pooling between your legs through your uniform.

You don’t care about anything right now.

You just hurt all over, and your heart feels as heavy as a thousand ton weight sinking inside you. You might throw up, no you wish you could.

You wish you could exspell what’s just happened from you.

and your mind for a short while takes you away, not with white wings into the sky peacefully, but with a heavy and dark fog, that seems to swallow you whole and suffocates your thoughts.

You call the warden some indiscernible time later and tell her you’re going home, she hears the tone in your voice and lets you without asking.

#yandere x reader #my fic #my oc #oc x reader #oc x you #yandere x you #yandere #dead dove do not eat #tw yandere #tw sa #oc max #prisoner x you #reader x prisoner #you x yandere #reader x yandere

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dylanconrique · 1 year

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I gotta say that for maximum angst, Tim has to be far away. Nyla could be the handler/contact for Lucy since she has so much UC experience (and Tim does not really). Plus the stress of “my loved one is hurt and I am too far away to provide comfort and help in the moment so I’m just stuck hearing my worst nightmares come true over a radio” is simply too good to pass up. And I could see Lucy telling Nyla about a pregnancy pretty easily. If she’s doing UC, she knows Nyla will be her best role model and of Nyla is handling the case, she’d want to know about anything that would need Lucy to be more careful. (Bonus points for Nyla being the one to tell Lucy to take a pregnancy test.)

-The “Can We Be Friends” Anon

you know what? you're so right!! it'd be so much more gut wrenching if tim was miles away while this all was happening. and i bet with nyla's detective skills she'd figure it out in seconds — hell, maybe even before lucy does. i could totally see them sitting out in the car on one of their stakeout missions, and her blurting out like, "are you pregnant?" and lucy immediately dismissing it like, "of course not" but then she sits on it for a minute and does the math in her head and the lightbulb goes off like 'oh shit!' omg!!! and i just thought of this but i could totally see nyla demanding in that motherly tone of hers to go inside the pharmacy just a couple buildings away to take a pregnancy test. she'd even give lucy the money to buy it like, "you owe me this after pestering me about u.c. school during my home birth. go!" and once they found out in that car together that she does indeed have a bradford bun in the oven she'd give lucy the option to bail out. especially since nyla knows that if tim found out she'd let her go undercover knowing she was pregnant he'd pull her inside out. i mean, there's no way he would let her do anything but desk work, or take low end calls with officer wrigley again from s1 throughout her pregnancy.

oh, and btw, we're besties now. no take backs. 🥰🥰

#anon #answered #the rookie #nyla harper #tim bradford #lucy chen #chenford #otp: you know me so well

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xanthippe74 · 2 years

Text

My 2021 Drarry favorites: a rec list

These are by no means the only fics I enjoyed this year! There were more fabulous stories than I can possibly list, and I only managed to read a tiny fraction of the works that enticed me. Here are five fics (and one comic) that I adored. Please read the AO3 tags for specific content and warnings before diving in!

To Live & Die in LA by @fw00shy (28K words, rated E)

Summary: Someone blackmailed Pansy Parkinson. Pansy's father hires Harry Potter, P.I., to get to the bottom of the scam. But how is Harry's errant ex-boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, involved? And why did Draco run to Los Angeles in the first place?

Written for HD Cluefest. I was a bit shocked (but thrilled!) when I saw that someone had claimed this prompt of mine, since it was based on a 1939 novel with a very complicated plot (Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep). The tarnished glamor of modern-day Los Angeles may seem like an unlikely setting for an EWE getting-back-together Drarry story, but I was just as enraptured by it as I was by the twists and turns of the story. Swimming pools and Tiki bars are fused seamlessly with werewolves and magical detective work. Not only did fwooshy deliver with the blackmail/murder mystery storyline, she absolutely nailed the film-noir mood and Harry’s dry-as-the-Santa Ana-winds POV.

Mortal Frame by @tackytigerfic (6K words, rated M)

Summary: Draco’s on a mission, and this time it's personal. But it's not easy to track down something that no one wants to talk about, especially when Harry Potter keeps popping up everywhere Draco goes. Though at least he’s on Draco’s side this time, and if he happens to be useful, and kind, and great in bed—well, Draco’s not exactly complaining.

The story of three pubs, one Horcrux, four overpriced sandwiches, and two damaged men just trying to make sure that Bellatrix Lestrange stays dead.

Written for HD Wireless. Tacky created a perfect balance between tender hurt/comfort and the tense, heavy tone of the story. Each scene is richly atmospheric—lanterns swaying in the winds of an oncoming storm, a snow-covered graveyard, a decadent meal in a hotel suite—yet it always feels like a spotlight is shining on Harry and Draco in a dark, smoky room. I could feel their intense connection through every touch and bit of terse dialogue, and it was as compelling as Draco’s mysterious mission. What an exquisite piece, crafted in only a few thousand words!

at the end of his tether by @helle-bored (4K words, rated M)

Summary: There's a worn page folded in an inner pocket of Harry's robes with a single underlined paragraph.

Discrete magical signatures have been observed after the destruction of a Dementor. Some scholars believe this implies that the souls of its victims persist as captives within its form, as opposed to undergoing immediate obliteration, and therefore serve the purpose of providing the creature with sustenance over a prolonged period of time.

Harry has carried it for nearly two years.

Inspired by the drarry microfic prompt, “Savior Complex,” this short fic had me holding my breath (and bursting into tears more than once). Helle’s prose is gorgeous, and the story is perfectly paced for maximum suspense and emotional impact. This obsessive!Harry is driven, tormented, and unforgettable. Bonus points for the excellent tag, “Thematically speaking: Dementors are pinatas full of souls and Harry’s got a baseball bat.”

Take A Chance On Me by @mintamintathings (41K words, rated E)

Summary: There's a DJ on RareFM with a secret.

Or: the one with all the ABBA in it.

Written for HD Fan Fair. Mintaminta took my poppyseed-sized prompt and grew something tremendous from it. I can’t remember a down-and-out Draco that moved me as much as this one. His loneliness and self-loathing are written so viscerally, both through his POV and the perfectly chosen details of his life in the Muggle world. Despite the heavy angst, there’s hope in the form of some wonderful original characters looking out for him. Their kindness and his rocky, slowly-developing relationship with Harry ultimately lead Draco towards healing. This story haunted me so much that I read it twice before the fest reveals.

Party Invitations and Falling in Love with Your Sworn Enemy: A Tactical Guide (A 129-Page Comic) by dustmouth (art, rated T)

Summary: Chronicling the trials and tribulations of one Draco Malfoy, employee of the Godric's Hollow Postal Office, and the events unfolding around the hottest local party in the calendar year. Featuring: Owlengitis, bingo-based plots, and Julie Bumble's questionable neighbourhood erotica.

Written for HD Fan Fair. I know I was not alone in cheering when I immediately recognized the artist’s distinctive style. Dustmouth’s comics are the stuff of Drarry Legend (or they deserve to be!) for their humor, their cast of very expressive characters (both human and animal), delightful plots and dialogues, and—of course—the wizarding fashion. I had an enormous smile on my face the entire time I was reading this comic, and I often had to stop because I was laughing so hard. I’ll be coming back to this one whenever I need a booster shot of serotonin.

The Compact by astolat (64K words, rated E)

Summary: Hermione frowned. “The real question is why the magic of Britain would be failing now, in fact.”

“That is not the real question!” Ron said loudly; he’d woken up fully by now, and Harry had too; it was starting to sink in that they’d found the problem. “The real question is, how do we fix it?”

I mean… it’s astolat, so I knew going in that it would be brilliant. But I was still blown away by the depth of magical theory, world building, and HP canon lore. The story does more than incorporate Arthurian legends into a modern setting—it uses them as a catalyst for blowing up the entire power structure of the wizarding world. And, as always, astolat makes familiar characters come to life so vividly, you’d swear they’re living, breathing people existing in another dimension somewhere. Getting a new Drarry fic from this author was the nicest surprise of 2021. It makes me very happy to know that this little corner of fandom still has a piece of her heart.

#rec list #drarry #my recs

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miekasa · 3 years

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1+1 (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, fluff...... again....... is it getting boring and predictable yet lmao, once again the dog’s name is captain and no i do not regret it

↯ word count: 2.5k

↯ summary: levi ackerman is a cuddler, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. (aka me once again pushing my physical affection is levi’s love language agenda because he’s a poor, touch-starved little man).

i. the lap pillow: person A sits upright, while person B rests their head in person A’s lap. head pets and hair playing option, but highly encouraged.

Levi spent an obnoxious amount of time picking out the perfect couch for his apartment. He might have paid a little bit more than what he’d originally budgeted for, but it was worth it; his soft, plush couch and accompanying cushions were equally comfortable and beautiful, matching the interior of his living room, and posing at the perfect nap spot when Levi was too tired to make it to the bed, or wanted to lounge around with Captain for a while.

Or, well, it used to be worth it. Because now, Levi would rather lay his head on your lap than on his stupid, expensive couch and all its cushions.

Sure, the couch still provides comfort or refuge for the rest of his body, a comfy cavern to stretch his limbs or crash on after a long day, but with you there, all the benefits go to his head; literally, because when his head is in your lap, you stroke his face, comb through his hair, pad your thumb against his lips—whatever, Levi doesn’t really fucking care, because all of it is heavenly.

“Do you want to go to bed?” you question softly, hand raking through Levi’s hair. He’s lying on his back, not even pretending to have been watching the TV, as to let you have maximum access to his hair and face.

“No,” he says shortly, shifting his foot around to allow for your yorkie puppy to curl up at the other end of the couch, “Comfortable here.”

You try to hide the chuckle from escaping your lips. Levi certainly wasn’t shy about how much he liked your affections, especially within the closed walls of his apartment; but it always amused you just how simultaneously clipped, yet clingy he could be about it.

“Your neck is going to hurt, love,” you tell him, slowly moving your right hand from his hair to trace along his eyebrow, then down his cheek.

Levi huffs, ever so slightly. Then, gently, turns on his side, rotating his body and head, so that his cheek is now pressed along your thigh, legs curled up to his stomach, allowing Captain more space to curl into a ball at the base of Levi’s feet. He bends his arms, both coming to rest on your thighs as well, just an inch from his face.

“It’s fine like this,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep—and a bit of frustration, because you’ve ceased playing with his hair at this point, “I’m going to take a nap, don’t move.”

You can help your laughter from escaping, “I don’t really have a choice, now do I?”

He hums in affirmation, shifting around just a bit to his comfort. You smile at the way he wiggles his toes, Captain taking it as an invitation to snuggle closer to Levi. You rest your right hand against Levi’s shoulder, lightly massaging his muscles as to not disturb his drifting to sleep, and resume your focus on the TV ahead of you.

Just when you’d thought Levi was on his way to falling asleep, he lets out a discontented grunt, moving his arm backwards to grab at your wrist, and with gentle, but firm force, moves your hand that was massaging his shoulder to the top of his head. He says nothing, only moves his hand back to its previous position, and once again shifts to readjust his napping position.

You get the message, and with a wide smile, you carefully begin to thread your fingers through his hair again; and with a satisfied purr, Levi snuggles his head into your lap, and finally drifts off to sleep.

ii. the half spoon/chest rest: person A lays flat on their back, while person B curls into their side, laying their head on person A’s chest.

Levi rarely falls asleep before you do, so he’s had quite a bit of time to observe your sleep habits—as non-creepily as possible, of course.

You’re a pretty normal sleeper—again, not that he spends his time watching other people sleep, or anything—but you do have your own quirks; most of which Levi finds endearing on some level or another. Like the way you always have to have a minimum of three pillows on your side of the bed, even if you don’t sleep with all three of them at the same time. And the way your arms subconsciously curl up, usually around a pillow if Levi isn’t there, or even around yourself if there’s no object for you to grasp.

One of your sleeping ticks he isn’t particularly fond of is the way you move around. Not sporadically, and thankfully, not to a point that leaves you sprawled across the mattress at an obscure angle, but just… around. He especially hates when you roll away from him, because you usually roll away and never roll back.

Which is why Levi is generally fond of cuddling positions in which he’s holding you, as to make sure you don’t, quite literally, roll out of his arms. Because nothing pisses Levi off more than waking up and realizing you’ve rolled away and taken to snuggling against your pillow instead of him. He’s much better than a pillow. Warmer, too. Not mention, a real, actual human being.

Right now, you’re tucked almost expertly into Levi’s right side, head laying on his chest, your right arm over his stomach, hand just barely tickling the exposed skin from his shirt riding up. Levi likes the feeling of your shallow exhales rippling against his shirt, and the warmth of your cheek pressed against his chest.

He’s about to fall asleep himself, when he feels you shuffling, and oh no, not on his watch. Before the worst can happen, Levi secures his right arm over your shoulder, as to hold you against him. The urge to roll seems to leave you then, the only movement is of your right arm, which you bend at the elbow, now laying your palm against his pecs.

Levi exhales, content. Now he can sleep peacefully. Well, almost. There’s one more thing he likes about this position, and it’s his ability to use his free hand to reach down, scoop under your knee and drape your leg across his waist—and he does so happily; smiling to himself as you subconsciously burrow yourself further into his side.

Much better, Levi thinks, letting his eyelids flutter shut. It was time for bed, after all, and he had a feeling he’d be waking up warm and cozy in the morning.

iii. full contact cuddle: person A sits or lays on their back, while person B rests almost directly on top of them.

“I don’t get why you like this so much,” you say, words mumble, as you shimmy up Levi’s body to lay your cheek against his chest, “How do you possibly benefit from this?”

If you asked Levi, this was probably his favorite way to cuddle. Something about having almost all of your body weight on top of him, your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped completely around you just made him feel warm, and cozy, and content. Plus, the added bonus of you laying directly on top of his dick.

He could say all of that, but instead he opts for a minimal hum, and, a simple, “It’s warm.”

“Yeah, because you’re warm, Levi,” you point out, but burrow into his skin anyway. You’re not exactly complaining, laying on Levi is nice; especially a shirtless Levi, with how warm his body runs. And, well, for other reasons, too.

Once again, you’re met with a non-committal hum. Levi just holds you for a bit, listening for the way your breathing slows and evens out, feeling for signs of your body slowing down against his.

After a while, he shifts his arms, moving so that they’re no longer stacked atop each other, but with his palms both resting against your back, creeping under your shirt. “It’s the weight,” he replies carefully, moving his right hand to rub against your skin, “It feels nice.”

“The weight?” you question, lifting your head to look at him, your chin poking into his chest. Levi looks down to meet your eyes, a small nod in reassurance.

“I can’t… explain it,” he tells you truthfully, “I just like the feeling of you against me. It’s not symbolic or any shit like that, it just, feels good. Sometimes feels like we’re… I don’t know, connected or some shit. I can feel you breathe when I breathe, and all that.”

It’s a poor explanation, and nothing close to what he wants to be able to convey, but you understand him anyways; you always do. You have to hold back your overgrown smile, just barely letting the corners of your lips turn upwards at Levi’s response. You extend your neck briefly to place a short kiss against his jaw, before turning to head to lay back on his chest.

“No, I get it,” you reassure him, snuggling against him for extra measure, “Feels nice to just know you’re there.”

Levi hums in affirmation, his hand squeezing at your waist affectionately—a silent thank you for being able to read between his lines. You lay like that for a while, your exhales tickling against Levi’s bare chest, while his hands massage at your back.

“Besides,” he says, his hands slowly venturing down past your waist; he squeezes at your hips, adjusting you so that your center is directly on top of his, and encouraging you to lift your upper half, so that you’re looking down at him, a full view of the wicked smile on his face, “I kind of have a thing for you being on top of me.”

iv. the seated snuggle: person A sits upright, maybe slouched a bit, while person B cuddles into their side; a hand wrapped around A’s waist or arm, and B’s head resting against A’s shoulder.

Levi likes his alone time, but even when he’s focusing on himself, he’s acutely in tune with you and your emotions. And to be honest with himself, he spends a lot of his alone time thinking about you—consciously or not, you find a way into his brain, and Levi has long since accepted that you’re a permanent, and very welcome presence in his life, one that can be more powerful and enjoyable that his own solitude.

Even when he’s sitting on the couch, right leg bent and tucked under his left at the knee, a book Hange had recommended in his hand, with a shitty hospital drama playing as background noise on the television; even then, when he’s relaxing and enjoying his novel, he purposefully feels out your presence and gauges your emotions.

Though, if you asked him, it shouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to understand that you were feeling a little out of it today—maybe not quite sad, but moving a bit slower, perhaps tired, or annoyed by your day at work—despite the cheery lilt in your voice. But Levi knew, he could feel it, that something was off; but he could also feel that this something wasn’t getting talked about today, or that, perhaps you just didn’t have the words to express it right now.

Levi greets you as he would when you come through the door, tilts his head up when you lean down to give him a kiss, and lets you pad into your bedroom to change and shower. You shuffle around after that, making your way to the kitchen to reheat the dinner he’d cooked earlier, and flitter between your bedroom and the living room after that.

And Levi knows; he knows that you want to talk to him, but that you wouldn’t dare to interrupt his alone-time, because you know how important it is to him. What you fail to understand is that you’re just as, if not more, important to him because you give him space.

So, Levi waits until you’re hovering by the doorway of the living room again, and then, without looking up from his book, silently opens and extends his left arm. He counts three seconds before you come shuffling over to him, wasting no time tucking yourself into his side, and resting your head on his shoulder. Levi hums when he feels your cheek press into his neck, and wraps his arm securely around you.

“Long day?” he questions, eyes still on his book, but reading at a marginally slower pace now.

Your eyes flutter shut at the question, working harder to snuggle yourself into Levi, wrapping your arms around his waist, “The longest.”

Levi hums, finishing his page, and tucking the ear to mark his spot before closing his book. He turns his head to press a kiss into your forehead, and pulls you a little closer against him. “It’s over now, I’ve got you.”

v. the times together/pretzel: person A rests with back against a wall/couch/object, and person B mirrors their positions; both A and B’s legs are intertwined, while they look at each other.

Levi will only take a bath after he’s showered, because there’s no appeal in sitting in your own wet dirt. That being said, post-shower baths with you are something he looks forward to, especially after a long, drawn out work week.

You both sit facing each other, legs bent and intertwined, your empty champagne glasses resting on the tiled floor beside the tub. Levi lets you make bubble beards on his face, and smiles as you splash them away and placate it all with a crescendo of kisses.

“I love you,” you smile between presses of your lips, the palms of your hands squishing Levi’s cheeks together—and he just lets you, because he loves you.

Levi thinks it’s his turn now, though he has no interest in bubble beards, or mohawks, simply mirroring your actions to cup your face with his hands, pull you closer, a whisper on your lips.

Wet thumbs pad against your cheeks, and Levi thinks that even like this, with only the flicker of candle flames illuminating your face, that you’re beautiful, and the best thing he’s ever gotten the opportunity to love and care for in his life.

So he lets you know, “And I love you.” And he means it; and you know he does.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #aot fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader

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bugheadfanfictionawards · 2 years

Photo

Hey there! Welcome to The Ninth Bughead Fanfiction Awards! Let’s start the year off right & close out this hiatus by letting those who made last year’s continued hellscape just a little bit better with their words, images, & support!

TIMELINE

February 1 (Today. Right meow.) - NOMINATIONS ARE NOW OPEN

February 12 - Nominations will close at 6pm EST / 11pm GMT / 9am AEST (13 February)

February 28 - Nominations are announced publicly!

March 15 - Voting will open at 6pm EST / 11pm GMT / 9am AEST (15 March)

March 22 - Voting will close at 6pm EST / 11pm GMT / 9am AEST (22 March)

March 26 - Award winners will be announced (Time TBD)

CATEGORIES

MULTI-CHAPTERS

Multi-Chapter Overall: Complete - fav completed multichapter

Multi-Chapter Overall: WIP - fav work in progress multichapter

Fluff - fav fluffy sweet multichapter

Angst or Hurt/Comfort - fav angsty or hurt/comfort multichapter

Fantasy/Sci-Fi - fav multichapter with fantasy/sci-fi elements

ONESHOTS

Oneshot Overall - fav oneshot

Fluff - fav fluffy sweet oneshot

Angst or Hurt/Comfort- fav angsty or hurt/comfort oneshot

Fantasy/Sci-Fi - fav oneshot with fantasy/sci-fi elements

SPECIFICS - Multichapter or Oneshot

Favorite Betty or Jughead - fav Betty OR Jughead in a fic

Between the Sheets - favorite smut fic

Under the Radar - fav fic with under 65 kudos

Tropefest - all the holiday goodness, enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, fake dating, roommates, bed sharing, domestic goodness, etc

Favorite Series - fav fic series with a story added within the eligible dates

AUTHORS

Author Overall - fav writer

New(er) in Town - started writing during this nomination period

Smut - fav smut writer

Fluff - fav fluff writer

Angst or Hurt/Comfort - fav angst or hurt/comfort writer

Fantasy/Sci-Fi - fav writer of fics with fantasy or sci-fi elements

Creative - most creative writer

BONUS

Favorite Commenter - fav commenter either on your fics or the fics of others

Favorite Bughead edit or Gif Maker - fav edit or gif maker of Bughead, solo Betty, or solo Jughead gif sets

Favorite Riverdale Gif Maker - fav gif maker whose content is primarily non-Bughead

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The Ninth Bughead Fanfiction Awards nomination form can be found HERE!

RULES

To promote variety in nominations, a fic & author may only be nominated for a maximum of 2 categories each. If either is nominated for more than 2 categories, the final categories will be decided based on how many votes each category received, and only the top 2 will be selected.

Likewise, each nominated fic or author may only win 1 award each during the voting round. Whichever category receives the most votes will win the award—subsequent category wins will go to the runner-up.

All fics must have an initial publish date between January 1, 2021 and December 31, 2021.

If a fic has been nominated, or won, in any previous Bughead Fanfiction Awards, it will not be eligible for nomination this round.

Nominations through our inboxes or replying to this post will not count. Please use the Google Form only.

Each fic/content creator only needs to be nominated once to continue onto the voting round.

If you bribe your readers for votes in exchange for “prizes,” eg. faster updates, you will be disqualified. Still cannot believe I have to put this on here.

To help with preparing your nominations, a printable doc version can be found HERE, and a pdf version can be created going to file->download->PDF document in said doc! If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to send us an ask or reach out to @bettycooper. Thank you for helping celebrate our talented & dedicated community!

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #bettycooperedit #jugheadjonesedit #riverdaleedit #bettycoopercentral #jugheadcentral #9thbffas #*admin #riverdalesource #dailyriverdale #otpsource

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

One of the first few girls I'll ever write in here wobdoswsn- I'm going on my base knowledge of Jean here and it's not gonna be a pretty start, mind you. I don't ship characters really but I see the dynamic in this one, honestly one of the fics that are easiest to write for me. Also I just realized how many poly asks are there aodhsosnxons—

Chivalry Isn't Dead

Poly Relationship Scenarios with You, Jean and Diluc!

Background (How It Started)

You are a knight in Ordo Favonius, the place where you met Jean and Diluc for the first time. You were there when they both started and you were also there when they ascended to be the Dandelion Knight and the Cavalry Captain.

You became close first with the captain, the first one you've met between them, because of the fact that you were under his unit. Back then he was very open and close with you, teaching you and making sure you were intact.

When Jean ascended, that's when she found out about you due to the nature of her work as one of the higher-ups. She found you so endearing with your whole-hearted desire to secure Mondstadt.

Jean knew about Diluc for a while now due to his status as one of the youngest to ascend in Captain hood and how their work was closely aligned, and they both collaborate with their silent oaths to protect you. The trio of you are VERY confused over your own feelings, wondering what exactly this entails or which one would you have to choose.

In the span of that mulling, you three had become very close due to your intervention, the glue that keeps you all together literally. You're very physical when you're dealing with people you consider very close, and the both of them always melt upon your embrace.

Between the both of them was light-hearted competition on who can make you feel safer, protect you better. And you are ever so dense over their friendly banter, and the sexual tension between them.

When Diluc left the knights, you had been under the comfort and command of Jean instead, taking your place away from the Cavalry unit to be those of the stationary knights to assist her after she became the Acting Grandmaster. You were devastated over his disappearance the most due to your closeness and Jean was the only person who could keep you sane.

The relationship starts in that period with you and Jean as the first set of couples.

When Diluc came back, his relationship with Jean became estranged and yet there was still a hint of comfort when he was under your presence. Jean was a bit devastated at their new status quo as she had come into terms of her feelings about him during his leave.

You spent most of your time then trying to get close to Diluc again and his feelings came back tenfold, making him finally confess. In front of you and Jean. the tension was thick when Jean finally caught her breath to inform Diluc of your relationship with her.

Horrified yet still adamant, Diluc stood his ground and looked at you both, millions of emotions flashing through his red irises. Jean looked at him longingly and of the old memories they shared protecting you. And you... were trying to understand why you desire them both in the same level.

Your honesty over the situation suddenly opened up the idea of polyamory and it seems that despite the tension between the two ex/knights, with you as their mediator and lover, they were willing to try or wait until you choose only one of them.

Spoilers: You chose both in the end.

How The Relationship Goes

While things go nicely between you and the other two, when it comes to them alone it was... weird. You pretty much carry the triangle here as they were both wary of displaying affection with each other, and most of it has to do with the reputation they have to uphold.

Jean protects you at day, Diluc makes sure you're safe at night. The nature of their work had you evenly split between the both of them and you three chance a fully present meet up by evening when Diluc is still on his shift and Jean has finished her work early.

Speaking of, you and Diluc fret over Jean's overworking albeit different in approach. Diluc would be brash about his opinion, calling her out while still offering materials that may help ever so subtly. While you are more adamant, sometimes dragging her off her seat and you taking over her work while she rests on the couch.

Since her work correlates with yours, you always put double the effort to help her with commissions to make sure it gets cut faster. This sometimes backfires with the both of you overworked, a disappointed Diluc pulling you both to the Winery to relax by the fireplace without the scandalous rumors sparking.

When you show physical affection Jean, she always reciprocates it the best she can, happily granting you attention and letting you cling to her during work. Your presence grounds her, relaxing her at the same time with your bouts of comfort.

When you indulge Diluc with affection, he's stoic and cross armed usually. Because of the nature of his work at the tavern, giving him some loving would need to be done while he works or not at all. The customers would find you behind the counter, clinging to his waist as Diluc serves the drinks nonchalantly, sometimes he wears glare if people were about to comment on it and that usually shuts them up.

Behind closed doors however the Ragnvindr indulges you too with his affection, still stoic but reciprocal, the rarity of it making it the more precious.

Dates RARELY happen between you three because of the fully loaded schedule all three of you have. It only ever happens when you all suddenly have free time or you cry about it.

The both of them spoil you a lot more than you'd realize. Diluc gifts you and Jean materialistically, while yours were small trinkets, Jean's are more for functionality or items that had slipped past her lips once of which Diluc remembers.

Sugar daddy Diluc for the both of you, motherly Jean in retaliation, and you're just their precious darling that will never be hurt under their supervision.

In time, Diluc and Jean would end up getting closer but still behind closed doors for safety. It was only ever you that's so shameless to pour out affection in full display and these two are too intoxicated by your love to pull you away.

During daytime on a weirdly usual occassions the people of Mond frequently spots your trio strolling hand-in-hand around the city, lively chatter about anything and everything before going back to your stuffy workspaces. Diluc would part a few feet away from the headquarters with a kiss on the head for you two. And when he turns back, you and Jean would giggle to yourselves before going to work.

Bonus: Diluc has asked for a professional painter to paint you and Jean, said canvas hanging at his office in the Winery. Jean has a Kamera photo of you three by her office too. And you have them both in a locket.

As Leverage

Your highly advantageous position to garner the heart of not only the Acting Grandmaster's but also the holder of the wine tycoon (and Darknight Hero) had made you a target for many lecherous beings.

While those with mind do not outright take you away, opting to trying to get to your good side as leverage, there are rascals like the Abyss Order who just does what they want and can.

The moment you disappear, both of them are immediately alerted due to their schedules coinciding with yours. And with your kidnapping, they too slip into the shadows, never to return for days.

It was one of the scarce moments that Diluc and Jean are in perfect sync, knowing each other's plans and next move, falling into each other's pace as they carefully concoct their plan for your retrieval.

Jean would definitely cry. As she was the one who mostly basks in your presence, there are many parts of her breakdown that comes to play: the heavy work left behind, your comforting presence that keeps her alive, and the fact that she lost you when she's supposed to keep an eye on you as per silent agreement with Diluc.

She'd cry at him, telling him she's sorry for being careless, and Diluc would comfort her in his arms without ending up as broken as her. This moment had established a bond between them that would be a solid foundation to your triangle, but also a better understanding of how important you are to them.

You disappear three days maximum with how quick and smart they are about the kidnapping.

Abyss Mages were almost forgotten with how quiet they suddenly got after that incident. That massacre.

While traumatized, you are also more than happy to see the newfound closeness between your lovers, as you melt into their tight cuddles after rescuing you.

There may or may not be talks of plans about you and Jean moving in the Winery officially.

Ugh, so cute!!! my bi ass was on full blast here-

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #jean x reader #genshin impact #exile.goblet #exile.flower #genshin impact headcanons #sojourner specials #hhhhhh #cute #gender neutral

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multifandom-girlie · 3 years

Text

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 ?

Imagine: Requested by Anon. You get slightly jealous of all the female fans groping and touching Daniel constantly.

Pairings: Daniel Gillies x Wife!Reader

Warnings: none.

Words: 1409

It wasn't a rare thing to go to events with Daniel at times because sometimes they can be a lot more interesting and fun to see in person and there's a bonus of being able to buy a great outfit for the occasion. I also love going to see how happy he gets when he greets his fans and gives them hugs and takes pictures with them, he treats his fans as if they were his children and they are really important to him. Although, some of his fans-mostly the females have a 'slight' crush on him and it makes your relationship difficult at times. Like when I get messages telling me Daniel deserves better. It used to hurt me more than it does now as clearly, Daniel doesn't care about their opinions when it comes to me. He knows me, he doesn't need to be told stuff like that by his 'biggest fans'.

However, it's not all bad though. Some fans, may have a crush on him but they love our relationship so much that there's literal fan accounts. It surprises me how many edits there actually are of me considering I'm not nearly as well known for my work as Daniel is and I'm not even in the Movie Industry, I literally work as a psychologist. Just a normal psychologist which Daniel finds fascinating, which always leads to the mass questionnaire I have when getting home. Also, not the mention... the role comes in useful in certain situations. But, if it happened in real life let's just say I would be very promptly fired and led of the premises, to put it simply.

This time however was an awards ceremony and for most intimate ceremonies like this for awards as big as this, there's very limited people allowed inside so unless your were invited you couldn't actually watch the ceremony. However, like most gatherings with invite only attendance a maximum of 700 fans get picked to sit on the sides of the red carpet leading up the entrance to be welcomed on arrival by their idols.

I was clutching Daniel's hand on the way there and playing with the wedding band on his left finger, which made me feel comforted. It always does. He knows how nervous I get when being with him at events like this because of how I'm written off as an nonentity. Which is true, I have no desire to be in the public eye but it's hard not to be when your married to such a talented and significant man. I only come as Daniel's plus one to these events because I'm so proud of how hard he works and the thought of him getting an award for something he so passionately adores is and incredible thing to witness. It's also unsurprisingly better to watch in person than on the tv at home.

As we were getting out of the sleek, black of the limousine we have been driven in all I heard is screaming and that's when I knew that I just had to smile through the nervousness and remember they only want Daniel. Daniel had already stood up out of the car and turned around to me and grabbed my hand to help me out of the car too, like the gentleman he was. He didn't rush me either to get out of the car, almost like he didn't have an award to win or fans behind him to great. That's how I know that no matter how many of these events I go too, I'm always going to be fine because he puts me and how I feel before anything.

I stood up and linked our arms together whilst we just started to walk up the stairs towards the carpet leading forward and when we got to the top and stopped he grinned at his fans or as his at his adopted children as he likes to call them at times and kisses me on the cheek before walking over to the right side of the carpet to greet people. I could see the flashes of light on our sides as we were being photographed and then someone tap on my shoulder. It was a reporter, I walked closer to them whilst letting go of Daniel's hand which he didn't seem to fully register.

It was Hollywood Reporter. They smiled at me and started firing questions.

"So, Mrs Gillies how proud of Daniel are you for being talented enough to win this award ?"

"I'm extremely proud of him and it's not a biased opinion but truly I don't believe it could have gone to a better person than Daniel. He truly works so so hard and he really deserves to be awarded for how sensational he so clearly is."

"Absolutely! How about his most recent role ? How are you taking to the look of a new character in his recent release of the movie 'The Lost Wife of Robert Durst' ?"

"Oh, it definitely took some getting used too but I think he really needed a character so different to Elijah who he's been since 2009, I believe. So, yeah coming home with a really long and messy head of hair was slightly confusing to me but then again a lot of the time he comes home in costume and I just look at him and think 'I'm not gonna question it. You do you.' So, its very good for him."

"That's awesome. Well, thank you for talking to us. We apologise if you didn't want to be talked too."

"Oh, no your welcome. Most people don't bother to apologise, you've been by far the nicest reporters. Have a nice evening."

"And you !"

I turned around to see a good number of women touching Daniel's arms and chest though and some were even kissing him on the cheek. I walked over towards him and wrapped my arm around his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. I whispered that we needed to start going in soon and he nodded his head at me. I didn't want to take away his time with his fans but at the same time I was actually getting jealous of their hands all over him so I did something they couldn't.

"Baby, I'm getting cold...can I have your jacket please ?"

He looked at me oddly and I knew exactly why. I have never asked for his jacket before and whenever he offers I turn it down most of the time because of the cliche of the gesture. Nevertheless, he took it off and put it around me. Then just before turning round again he kissed me on the head and said 'five more minutes'. I nodded and stuck by his side, making sure that I was always touching him in some way or when I couldn't showing of my wedding ring. Normally, I'm not a jealous person but this was getting physical. The five minutes had ended and he was just taking one last picture before wrapping his arm around my waist and walking us up to the entrance. As we were walking he spoke up to me.

"Can I have your jacket ? Really ? Is that the best you could have done."

Oh shit. He caught on. It was one thing to be jealous but to admit it to him...never gonna happen.

"I don't know what your talking about, baby. I was cold."

"You don't get cold that easily, beautiful. We both know that. You also know that you hate the cliche of asking for a partners jacket. Just admit it, you were jealous. Even if there was no need to be."

"Why you don't you try seeing me with a load of men that aren't you touching me and kissing me and see how you feel. I know that I'm your wife and that is enough confirmation to know that I'm it for you but it's still not nice to see a crowd of girls groping you at every event we go too."

"Ok fair enough, it's not nice of an image to picture. Even if it would never happen because I'm not going to let it. If I need to add to the confirmation, I mostly certainly will."

"Oh ? How are you going to do that ?"

"I'll show you, in the bathroom in ten minutes."

"Deal."

"I love you, beautiful."

"I love you, handsome."

MASTERLIST

#daniel gillies #daniel gillies imagine #awards ceremony #imagines #celebrity #celebrity imagines #jealousy #wife reader #tvd #to #the lost wife of robert durst

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 2 years

Note

I don’t know if you still are looking for some headcanons, but I think Grog would give really good hugs. Like he’s mindful of how strong he is, but still makes sure you get a good comforting squeeze. Those arms are made for fighting AND for cuddles.

…Or maybe I just want to snuggle with Grog. 😅

I'm always looking for headcanons nonnie!

you're absolutely right though! I think he learned pretty fast with Pike how hard he could squeeze her before she gets hurt and he eventually learns that about all of vox machina. if anyone ever wants a really good hug they just find Grog and shoves themselves into his chest and he just hugs them as hard as he should. and sometimes he lifts them off their feet for Maximum Hug and bonus back cracking!

and he loves doing it because it reminds him that he's more than his strength and brute force.

#lis makes hcs #critical role #vox machina #the legend of vox machina #tlovm

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

To Us, A Love Story Unwritten | Kuroo T., Miya A.

Hello!! Before you begin reading, THIS STORY IS A PART TWO to Redefining You , which I highly recommend you read first because a lot of things are connected! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bonus

Synopsis: Time away from Tetsurou leads you to the serendipity that is Miya Atsumu.

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, You, Miya Atsumu

Genre/Warnings/Tags: None! Angst, HEALING, Hurt & Comfort, surfer!Atsumu, tattooed!Kuroo, Fluff

WC: 7600+

a/n: here’s a word dump of my feelings bcos i made an oopsie and projected real ppl in 2d characters again

*playlist if u want maximum feelies: Blue (Elina), Miles Apart (Nick Wilson)

The thought of healing didn’t cross your mind until some months later.

In the mornings after that morning, you stood in your balcony, leaning against the railing with a mug of coffee, your thoughts wandering. Sometimes you thought of what kind of coffee you liked, and other times you caught yourself wondering how Tetsurou moved through his six AMs. Morning thoughts were reserved for the things you prefer to keep out of your head during the day. Tetsurou, of course, had always been an exception. He somehow always flowed in your train of thought whether the numbers on your watch flashed 3am or 3pm.

Or now, you thought after taking a quick peek at the time in your phone, 6:19 AM; all you could think about was how sad his golden eyes looked against the black of Tokyo’s backdrop.

Tetsurou making his way into your thoughts has always how it’s been for almost a decade, and habits are a little hard to break. At least, that’s what you say to reason with yourself.

Thinking back to your words that night, the “I love you” just kind of slipped out. But you know you meant it. Shifting your wrist to the side, you studied the tattoo again, then closed your eyes to remember the expression on your best friend’s features.

You meant the I love you, you told yourself again. Towards yourself that was for sure; towards Tetsurou.

And that’s always going to be the case, taunted the voice in the back of your head.

After that night, Tetsurou had broken up with his long term girlfriend for good. Though he didn’t necessarily ruin himself over the breakup—there were changes.

He still texted you at odd hours to show you a video he thought was funny, still showed up to your apartment for movie nights, and more or less was still present. But it was during the particularly sentimental scenes in the movie where he’d choose to refill the popcorn or grab another soda, and you could see that his can was still half full. You noticing that Tetsurou always chose to pick the other boba shop that was on the other side of town never flew past you either. You knew that that was the shop he always used to take her after classes—so even seeing how his hands never failed to tighten against the steering wheel when the two of you would drive by, you always pretended not to notice. Even though four months had passed, you know that for him, the wound was still fresh.

And remembering how sad he looked that night, you couldn’t help yourself to feel for his pain. At the end of the day, weren’t you just two people who yearned for the love that couldn’t be yours?

So you sigh and take a sip of coffee from the mug; it had grown a little cold. The digital clock on your phone read 6:31 AM next to a text from Tetsurou asking if you had time for lunch later.

Replying a quick ‘yep. meet u at the usual :)’, did nothing for you trying to have a more productive day off today and thus the morning felt a little slower than normal, so you sigh. Again.

It was going to be one of those days.

Tetsurou always made it a point to look gorgeous. Was he trying? Probably not, but that son a bitch knew people gave him looks that lingered a bit too long to be considered just a passing glance. You nearly snort in laughter at the way he opens the door to the café a little too, for better words, extravagantly, and walk to you purposely taking his time because you could tell he felt the way the young mom sitting at the table near the counter was giving him the look.

Then again, you don’t blame her. You weren’t too far from her reaction, albeit you actually had the decency to not openly gawk at him. Tetsurou plopped down in the chair opposite from you and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and propping them up the table before grabbing the menu from the middle of the table.

Already knowing your order, and his even though he still looks through the menu every time, you sit in your seat waiting for him to settle on the same thing he ordered the last time you ate there.

“Tetsu, why do you have to be so extra every time you see someone looking at you for more than three seconds?”

He cocked his head to the side and peeked at you from behind the menu, “Because I’m hot, tree.”

Though you rolled your eyes at the nickname, you still smiled at the familiar banter, “I still don’t get why you call me tree when you’re the literal beanpole in this friendship.”

“That’s rich coming from you, considering you told people you knew a talking rooster in highschool,” he deadpanned, but you knew he was on the edge of a chuckle from the way he emphasized his words.

“Hey,” you raised your arms up in defense, “people thought you were interesting that way so…”

Tetsurou set the menu down and rolled his eyes at your response as the waiter greeted the two of you. Before Tetsurou could open his mouth to say what he wanted, you spoke, “I’ll get the carbonara and he’ll get the tonkatsu ramen—“

“Oi-“ he interrupted from the side, still, you continued, “we’ll also get iced tea, extra sugar for him, and a little less for me.”

The waiter looked between the two of you waiting for Tetsurou to finish speaking but he only leans back huffing out a, “She’s right.”

You smirked. “You get the same thing every time.”

“Well what if I want something else one day?” he replied to which you rolled your eyes as a reply.

In between bites, Tetsurou looks up from his meal, “Any plans?”

You twirled the straw of your drink around the liquid and looked at him, “I was thinking of traveling somewhere. My boss is letting me take some time off, and season’s kind of slow, so might as well.”

He nods, and then points his chopsticks at you, sighing, “Oh to be young and employed with an employer who doesn’t want to kill you with work.”

“We’re literally seven months apart,” you deadpan.

He huffs in his seat and continues eating.

“Have you decided where you’re going?”

You look to your left at Tetsurou who’s facing you, no longer paying attention to the movie playing in the TV. Smoothing out the blanket on your lap, you sigh and tilt your head. “Kinda? I’m thinking somewhere warm. Kinda miss the sea.”

At this point the movie you two settled on a few hours ago had been completely forgotten, so you shift your body and face him. He offers you your third (or was it the fourth?) can of beer for that night, which you take and pop open immediately.

“(Y/n), can you even swim?” he laughs.

You glare at him from behind your drink. “I can go and look pretty in the beach while sipping my margaritas thank you very much.”

Tetsurou clinks his can against yours and leans back against the couch, shifting to a more comfortable position. When he finally settles, he positions his head in a way that’s still facing you.

Draping your legs across his lap, you rearrange the blanket so that it covers the both of you. You feel the weight of his hands leaning against your legs and then hear him speak, “How long are you gonna be gone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, a month? Two months? Haven’t even got the ticket yet.”

He gives you a look you can’t decipher, and then his voice becomes a little quiet, “What if I want to go with you?”

“Tetsu, you know your job won’t let you off that long,” you reply.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and pout at you, “You’re going to go and find a new surfer best friend who’ll buy you margaritas that flips his hair and you’ll forget about me.”

You chuckle. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

At this point the alcohol must have hit the both of you because you suddenly look at him, eyes soft in the way you usually would mask in the hours you were sober. He looks at you, equally as deep in the state of inebriation as you are because his eyes are as hazy as the slur in his tone when he says, “Nope! Because you looooove me (y/n).”

And he laughs at his own joke, tilting his head back to take another swig of beer. The comedic undertone flies past you anyway, because you fiddle with the edge of your sweater and sadly nod, “Yeah. I do”

In front of you, Tetsurou raises his hand, smiling, then hollers, “High five! Love you too.”

If it wasn’t for the liquid confidence, you would’ve laughed along to his joke and take another gulp of your beer to swallow the confession—but you’re four cans in and Tetsurou saying that he loves you too clouds the usual boundaries swimming in your head.

He doesn’t notice you when you take another heavy gulp from your can, or bite your lip afterwards, but he hears you when you say, “I do, you dumb fuck, I love you.”

And as soon as you say it, you feel him look at you. You choose to keep your head down. A few beats of silence passes before he speaks, “I know, (y/n),” he reaches forward to grab your hand, taking it into his. He traces the lining of the tattoo before continuing, “I know your tattoo story. And I’m still proud of-“

“I love you, Tetsurou,” you could almost wince at how loud it echoed in the silence, and the alcohol is still swimming in your system so you take another gulp hoping to dive deeper.

You feel him stop tracing the lines on your wrist so you take your hand back to your lap. He let the quiet envelop the room again before he spoke, and you could tell he was careful with his words.

“That time in the balcony, when you said you loved someone…” he trailed off so you look up and catch his stare. His eyes were still glassy; your head was still swimming, the rational thoughts further muffled by liquid confidence.

“I meant you,” you say, and try to fight the urge to break eye contact.

And because Tetsurou chooses to reply with a hushed ‘I’m sorry.’, you tell him ‘it’s okay, Tetsu.’ and retreat to your bedroom with a mumbled excuse of sleeping off a headache.

You lie in the dark with one hand over your eyes and sniffle quietly. You hear his “I’m sorry,” echo in the silence, but you try to ignore the thought at how immediate the apology was. He always had a habit of thinking about his answers in uncertain situations.

But you know him more than you give yourself credit for, you realize, so you shut your eyes and ignore the sting of the tears because you know. You’ve always known everything you felt for him had been on the unrequited side for the most part.

The certainty in his apology still hurt none the less.

That morning you wake up with a slight pound in your head and an empty apartment. At least he didn’t stick around, you thought, fully aware that the conversation afterwards would have most likely been too awkward to sit through.

Sighing as you rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, you paused in your track to look at the table where a plate of omurice lay in the middle next to a glass of sweet tea, the condensation still a little fresh on the glass.

Taking a seat and whispering a soft, “Itadakimasu”, you picked up the glass and took a sip. It didn’t taste as sweet as his.

Your eyes still stung, but you couldn’t help but smile at the taste. Looks like he remembers how you like your tea too.

After that night, there never really came a talk about where the two of you stood. Two days after the not so sober confession, Tetsurou showed up at your door with a bag of donuts demanding your company to picnic at this new spot he found recently. So you played along and pretended like nothing happened. The rational thoughts were back, your head no longer cloudy so this time, you laughed along with Tetsurou.

Though you could tell this time around his gaze towards you lingered a little longer, and he began to have moments where it looked like he was contemplating to start a conversation then ultimately deciding against it at the very last second. It was fine, though. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that conversation just yet.

So the next few weeks flowed like how it always did. Movie nights, playful banters, small talk, and beer—only this time you never drank more than two.

“Have you decided where you’re going?” he asks.

“Yeah, there’s this island in the Philippines. Siargao. My flight’s next week. The place looks sunny enough, but I might hop around the other islands if I stay long enough,” you reply.

“Don’t drown,” he laughs, and sets his beer down. You turn your focus back to the movie after chuckling at his reply and ignore how he never picked up a third can this time. And unlike before, he didn’t ask if he could come along this time.

Tetsurou drops you off with a half hug and a request that you update him as often as you can.

After a final wave at the gate, you board the plane with a return ticket to Japan slotted for two months later down the year.

The island of Siargao is as beautiful as the pictures you always see on social media. Outside the unit you rented, was a stretch of untouched beach that was some ways from the main square of the city. And true to your words, for the first week of your arrival, you spent your days kicking the sand, lounging by the water and sipping on margaritas.

Tetsurou sent you multiple messages during the first few days, to which you replied through selfies with your margaritas. He’d send you a photo of himself rolling his eyes with the caption “off to work, because I have a job. Like some people.” , or something along similar lines.

You tried to think this wasn’t some random trip you took just because of Tetsurou. It had been a long time since you last took a vacation for yourself; work was lenient, you saved up enough, and frankly, you missed the beach. Tetsurou was just the icing on top of the cake that helped you make your decision, you rationalized.

Plus, you thought, this place is paradise.

And you held on to that thought because a few days later came the knock on your door at six in the morning that introduced you to the serendipity you never could have predicted. Your little summer serendipity came in the form of a six foot one, and totally ripped blonde named Miya Atsumu.

He knocked at your door asking if you knew any places that rented out surfboards and scooters. By the time he was at the third word of his sentence, you knew he was Japanese because of the accent that lingered after he spoke. By the fourth sentence, he smiled in a way that had his eyes crinkling. And by the end of the conversation, by whatever being possessed you in that moment, probably that extra margarita, you had agreed to go to the main square in the city with him.

Atsumu knocks on your door for the second time that day at five in the afternoon wearing a loose white button shirt and another eye crinkling smile. Dangling a set of keys in one hand he nodded behind him and said, “Ready to go? I got the scooter from the place you told me.”

This time, you voiced out your hesitation, “Ahh, it’s alright. You don’t have to get dinner for me tonight. I just happened to know a place.”

He smiles and blinks at you laughing, “Ya travelin’ alone?” You nod then he continues, “Same here. Might as well know someone in the area. Heard the food here’s good, so let’s go.”

You open your mouth to protest but he turns and walks towards his scooter so you huff and follow after him. He did have a point. You were going to be there for two months so might as well actually take the time to know some people.

After Atsumu helps you fasten the belt on the helmet, he tells you to ‘feel free to hold on to my waist if ya need to balance.’ and then backs to the main street. Your hands rest on his shoulders as he drives along a road parallel to the stretch of water on your far left. It must have been close to seven, you take note, because as you glance up the colors in the sky begin to blend into mellow hues of orange and red.

You look forward and glance at Atsumu’s reflection in the side mirror before briefly catching his eye. From the mirror, you could see an expression that was somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

“Ya like what ya see?” he yells over the wind.

You squeeze his shoulder, then lean closer saying, “Just drive. I’m not in the mood to die.”

He laughs over the holler of the open air and you can’t help but smile along to how his laugh lingers in the air.

Soon enough, the two of you settle into a restobar by the beach, one close enough to the water where you could ditch your flip flops and let your feet sink in the sand.

This has got to be the fifth margarita I’m drinking today, you think to yourself before taking a sip. Still good though, you inwardly snort. Atsumu sits across you from the table nursing his own choice of drink.

The atmosphere was nice, the live musician strumming his first song in the background. Then Atsumu speaks from across you, “So,” he begins, “How long ya stayin’?”

You fiddle with the straw of your drink, facing him, “Two months. You?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know yet. Off season and there’s not much to do back home, so might as well be bored somewhere a little more scenic.”

“Indefinite vacation,” you nod—impressed, “Must be hella loaded.”

He laughs again, “I’m comfortable.”

The silence envelops the two of you again, but as the musician begins another song, from the corner of your eye you see Atsumu listen, clap, and smile so you decide maybe befriending this stranger won’t be so bad after all.

The next night you head for go for drinks, Tetsurou messages you with a picture of him and Kenma in the car with a caption, “movie night minus the traitor who left the country >:((“ and you reply with your signature margarita selfie with Atsumu throwing a peace sign to your right. Tetsurou replies with a smiley face and you don’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

The next few weeks consisted of waking up shy of the sunrise and walks along the trail where the waves crept towards the sand. Atsumu liked to join you in the mornings, of course, the days he actually wakes up before ten AM. Some days you’d watch him peddle out into the water catching wave after wave as you sat in the sand, under a shade. You didn’t really go out into the water and preferred to just sit in the sun, so the times Atsumu would catch a break, he’d lay out a towel next to you and sit to talk.

He was talkative. Extremely talkative. But it was welcome, you suppose. He asked aimless questions during conversations. Conversations with him usually sounded like this: “(y/n)?” “Yep?” “Whadda ya think about riceballs?” “They’re…okay, I guess.” “Good to know.”

It was endearing, you suppose. Atsumu respected your boundaries and never pried, that fact was for sure. Though, he chose to fill in the beats of silence with little facts about his life. Over the course of the next month, in the moments you’d spend with Atsumu during the day, you’ve learned that he was playing for a professional volleyball team, he’s originally not from Tokyo, he tripped during a fan meeting, has a twin brother who’s darn good at cookin’ (he emphasized), and that his favorite food is fatty tuna. You don’t remember specifically asking, but he talks anyway you can’t bring yourself to mind one bit.

During the past month and some, Tetsurou sporadically texts you a greeting to which you reply to—but this time, it wasn’t until much, much later that you realize you didn’t think too much about the change of tone and much hastier conversations. You usually ended the phone call this time around, too.

Nearing the last few stretches of golden hour, Atsumu would routinely knock at your door and drag you out to walk around the beach only retreating to your respective units hours after the sunset.

It was during this one night where Atsumu sits you down and stars a small bonfire. He excused himself for a brief moment then came back with a Tupperware of what you assumed to be snacks, a blanket, and a hoodie which he lent you (that up to now you still haven’t returned). You smile as he takes his seat next to you, comfortable in his hoodie.

“So,” Atsumu breaks the silence, “how come yer runnin’ away for two months?”

“That’s kinda sudden,” you reply.

He knocks your shoulder with his lightly before speaking again, “You don’t have ta’ share if you don’t wanna.”

“No pressure,” he says again and his eyes crinkle at his smile so you press your shoulder against his and say, “I just wanted time for myself I guess.”

He nods, so you continue, “It’s nothing dramatic, really. For a big part of my life I just…lived according to how people placed me in their lives. I guess I just wanted the space where I had to make decisions from nothing if that even makes any sense.”

“Depends. How many margaritas did ya have today?” he jokes.

“Atsumu! You were with me the whole day, I haven’t even had one yet,” you laugh out.

“But I understand what ya’ mean. Yer all good, I just thought you were gonna say you were soul searchin’ cause of a boy that broke ya’ heart back home.”

You look at him and wince. “In a way, that was a factor as well.”

Half expecting a sympathetic reply, you find yourself rolling your eyes and laughing because Atsumu suddenly yells, “Bingo!” and flicks your forehead.

He faces you and holds his hands up, “Hey, we all got a reason to do stuff so I ain’t gonna judge ya’.”

You smile and lean against his shoulder because you know he’s sincere.

“Atsumu?” you call out.

“Yeah?” he replies as he turns his head looking at you.

The red of the flames flicker as a glassy reflection against the brown in his eyes and your thoughts become jumbled for a second.

“If I find out you’re here because you got dumped I’m never letting you live it down.”

His eyes crinkle along with his laugh and you find yourself missing the pools of brown, but the echo of his laugh resonates clear in your ears as compensation so you decide you’re satiated.

“I swear I just got bored back home!”

Atsumu spends the next few hours by telling you stories and giving you soft smiles, and you don’t notice the absence of Tetsurou’s message that night.

On the afternoon after some weeks more, Atsumu comes to you by knocking at your door at five in the afternoon (which doesn’t even surprise you at this point), demanding you put on swimwear because he was going to teach you how to swim. At first, you stare at him with a blank look—wherein he stares at you right back with equal intensity, so after some time, you sigh and shoo him out, telling him you’ll meet him outside after you get ready.

After tugging on some shorts and a bikini top, you walk outside and glance around looking for the telltale blonde of Atsumu’s head. It doesn’t really surprise you when you hear your name being hollered from some distance, so as you look to the direction of the water—you see Atsumu waving his arms wildly, already waist deep out in sea.

The water was warm, at least, and you carefully wade in the water towards Atsumu. He lets you grab his arms to help you find balance against the waves knocking against you.

“You know you’re going to fail if you try to teach me right?” you say.

“Just needed an excuse to get you in the water,” he chuckles.

You respond by splashing him with a handful of water. And somewhere in between splashes of water and playful banter, you find yourself wading chest deep into warm water, Atsumu’s arms acting as your anchor against the push and pull of the waves. The two of you stay like that for some time and you allow the woosh of the water and distant sounds of the children on shore fill the silence.

“Golden hour’s almost up, ‘Tsumu, we should go back.” you say after some time.

He stands behind you and leans down a bit, then surprises you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. Your breath hitches, then his voice sounds low near your ear, “Look at the sky.”

And so you do. The sky in front of you lights itself in bursting shades of oranges, reds, and touches of violets. You turn your face to the side but stop because you see Atsumu staring at you, the expression on his face soft.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” his lips part to say, and you nod because you see licks of the sky’s painting reflected in the glassy brown pools of Atsumu’s eyes.

He blinks and smiles in a softer way that only the corners crinkle up, and you don’t notice how your hand eventually found its way to wrap around his because you’re gravitating towards him—face angling closer until you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Did you know,” you begin, “when you feel deja vu that means the universe is telling you you’re going down the right path?”

Atsumu looks as you, “Does this feel familiar?”

“In a way,” you respond and smile.

Turning to face him, Atsumu’s hands cradle yours as he presses his lips towards the side of your lips, then back to the side of your head feeling him smiling into the kiss. “You’re somethin’ else, (y/n).”

You look at him wearing a smile mirroring his, “Something good I hope.”

It’s something good, you decide later that night as you settle in bed after dinner with Atsumu. The past few hours flew by in a mirage of good conversation, light hearted jokes and even more eye crinkling smiles from Atsumu.

Settling into the comforter, you grab your laptop just in time as Tetsurou’s face pops up on screen, requesting a video call. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you hit the accept button and wave hello as Tetsuou’s face appears on the screen. He holds a can of beer as a greeting and leans forward. His eyes look glassy.

“(Y/n)..” His voice trails off before slowly continuing, “—how are you?”

You don’t notice his tone from the high you’re still feeling from the day so you beam at him, “I’m good! Atsumu and I are really hitting it off! You’d love him Tetsu!”

He stares at you through the webcam and then he sighs deep. Finally catching a drift of the atmosphere he’s giving off, you watch him crack another beer open and slowly speak, “You okay? Did something happen?”

He sets the can down at the table in front of him and places his face in his hands. You notice the new ink around his forearms. “I miss you, (y/n).”

“I’ll be home next week, Tetsu,” you say

“I—“ he pauses to look up at you with glassy eyes, “I think we should give us a try.”

Your heart clenches. “Tetsurou, you’re drunk. We can talk when I get home.” He shakes his head, and his movement is a little sluggish, so you continue to speak before he could, “I saw the photo your ex posted earlier. You’re still not okay, Tetsu.”

He leans back to his chair with a little force, “And suddenly you are? After being in love with me for eight years, (y/n), you expect me to believe that you’re suddenly okay? Bullshit.”

Your face grimaces, and you feel anger bubble up, the emotion seeping into your words, “I don’t think you’re ever going to go away, Tetsurou. For years I watched you fall in and out of love with someone who was never me. I’m not suddenly okay but I accepted that this—“ you pause to gesture between the two of you, “—isn’t going to happen and I’m moving on. I watched you when you were at your happiest and I deserve that too, Tetsu. I deserve to be at my happiest whether it be by myself or with Atsu-“

“We can try, (y/n),” he cuts you off softly.

“But I don’t deserve someone who isn’t sure about me,” you reply.

And maybe it’s the liquid confidence that riles him up, but he suddenly straightens his back and looks at you with the same glare you stare at him with, “And are you sure about Atsumu? You told me none of us are saints, (y/n), you’re not better off than I am here.”

You open your mouth, but the silence remains; the atmosphere suddenly heavy.

Then Tetsurou slumps before he he speaks, “(Y/n), I—“

“It’s okay, Kuroo,” you watch as he winces at his surname, “It’s late and I really want to get some sleep. You should too. Take care.”

You catch the last second of him parting his lips at an attempt to reply before you promptly ended the call and shut off your laptop.

His words ring in your ear the entire night, and you think of Atsumu the entire night. You watch the second hand of the clock on your bedside table tick slowly. Your hand comes to rest against your eyes as you try to let sleep pull you in.

You think of Tetsurou who looked at you with glassy eyes that told you all the reasons why his heart was still hurting, then you think of Atsumu—of how the sunset looked better reflected in his eyes than it did painted across the sky.

“I really hope this is something good,” you echo your words from earlier as you let sleep finally succumb into slumber.

The night before your flight, Atsumu seats you outside for a bonfire, with the same blankets, snacks, and hoodie fitted around you. The first few hours he jokes about little stories that happened throughout his life and listens patiently when you’d share a snippet of yours.

At this point, you weren’t sure where the two of you stood. You look at him from the corner of your eye as he blows against an extremely burnt marshmallow before sheepishly offering the stick to you.

“When we’re back in Japan I’m lettin’ ya taste ‘Samu’s cookin’ to make up for this I swear.”

You lean your head against his arm and blow on the charred marshmallow, “Have you decided when you’re coming back?”

“Yes, but I’m not tellin ya,” Atsumu chuckles.

“What!” You exclaim, suddenly sitting up, “You already have a ticket?”

“That’s also a secret, doll.”

You sigh and move to lightly punch his shoulder, but instead, he catches your hand midway and envelops it in his own. Atsumu looks at the tattoo on your wrist peeking out, so tentatively, he pushes down the sleeve and looks at it.

“Baby’s breath means eternal love, right?” he asks, voice hushed.

“I’m surprised a big, buff, man like you knows,” you reply.

“Oi, big buff men can be sentimental too,” Atsumu quips.

“(Y/n),” he begins then looks at you in a way that suddenly has your stomach churning, “Should we give us a go at this?”

He asks the same question as Tetsurou did a few nights back and your head is swimming. Tetsurou’s words muddle the thoughts in your head as you turn to face Atsumu who is looking at you with eyes that always held the same softness that remained unchanged from two months ago.

Is this even fair for Atsumu? is the thought that you circle around.

“I don’t want to give you only half of me, ‘Tsumu,” you cradle his cheek in your palm and your heart stirs when he leans in.

“You’re too good for me,” you confess.

He closes his eyes and you find yourself missing the dancing specks of scarlet flames reflected in his orbs.

“You’re killin’ me, doll,” he sighs, his face still warm against your palm. Atsumu’s hand trails up and cups your hand that’s still flush against his cheek.

“Is this the part where we say we’re the right people who met at the wrong time?” he jokes quietly. Atsumu looks at you with a smile contrasting against the somber expression in his face, and you feel your heart clench.

Your thoughts momentarily flicker back to the night you talked to Tetsurou in your balcony some months ago and remember the feeling of déjà vu hinting that you were heading in the right direction with your decision.

Staring back at him, you look at your own reflection in darkened pools of brown and don’t feel déjà vu’s familiar push. Atsumu’s other hand trails up your face and his thumb rubs against your cheek. You stay silent when he sighs again and your heart clenches in the way that hurts, and your brain scrambles for a reason why.

Atsumu angles your hand in a way that lets him press a kiss to the tattoo on your wrist. “Hope ya heal in time, (y/n).”

You’re still quiet, thoughts still muddled as your rationality wrestles to string words to convey to Atsumu. “We can stay in contact, ‘Tsumu. I still want you to be in my life,” you slowly say.

“I don’t wanna be hurtin’ you while you’re still tryin’ to find yourself,” he says, and you nod. Déjà vu never comes and your heart still aches.

And your heart remains heavy as the two of you stand up to retreat for the night. Against the door of your room you look at him and press a kiss on his cheek. He smiles at you.

“Well, I guess,” you initiate, “see you around?”

He smiles and crosses the short distance between the two of you, then presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “If the universe wills it, doll.”

The feeling of déjà vu is absent for the rest of the night.

After the first few days of your arrival back in Japan, you stay in your apartment cursing the winter. This particular winter was a little harsh for Tokyo and the sudden temperature change you needed to adjust to didn’t help with your traitor immune system. Kenma had waited for you at the arrival area of the airport instead of Tetsurou that day. Then again, you weren’t complaining—you didn’t have any plans to talk to him immediately after coming back home.

You didn’t need to report back to your job until the next week so the first few days, you loitered around your apartment mindlessly passing the time. Some mornings, you’d drag a chair by the balcony and sip your morning coffee. The snow accumulating on the rails and the gloomy morning light was a far cry from the little island you explored with Atsumu back in the Philippines, but your thoughts still ghosted around him from time to time.

The morning you left for the airport, he slept in, but that didn’t stop you from leaving a sticky note in his front door with your contact details neatly printed in the paper. Throughout your day, your eyes constantly flickered to sneak glimpses at your phone’s notification bar, but there was never an unknown number. So you sighed, and instead scrolled through the photos you managed to capture with him. The image of Atsumu stared back at you through the screen, expression beaming with unfiltered happiness and you find yourself smiling along every time.

A knock on your door one morning brings you out of your haze. Before you could look through the peep hole, another knock comes and then a voice, “Ah, (y/n), I think you’re home now,” your hand on the door knob loosens, “It’s Tetsurou. Can we please talk?”

You must have stayed quiet too long because he speaks again, “I got you donuts.”

And you sigh, because he’s right, the two of you need to talk. But you still tell yourself you’re only opening the door because it’s six in the morning and you can’t be bothered to make breakfast so the donuts are the only reason you’re letting him in.

Tetsurou sits on the opposite side of the dining table gripping the handle of his mug with one hand before he clears his throat and looks at you, “I’m sorry.”

“Tetsurou,” you begin, “You’re someone that I don’t think will ever leave my system.” His eyes are a little clearer now that you return his stare. “You’re still the person who grew up with me even if time difference existed you know. You’ve had so many roles in my life and that’s never going to change.”

He looks at you, suddenly looking like a teenager again. His golden eyes stare at you and gleam of something unspoken. “I think somewhere along the years I really did fall in love with you, (y/n). And it just sucks how we never met at the same page. I really do love you, (y/n).”

“Maybe in the next life, Tetsu,” you say suddenly choked up. “We both deserve-“

“A fresh start.” He cuts you off, smiling. “A fresh start.” You affirm.

Before you knew it, Tetsurou rolls his sleeve to his elbows and angles his arm showing you a small outline of the sun peeking out behind some buildings. You look at him just in time for his explanation, “It’s not as sentimental as your baby’s breath tattoo, but sunrises remind me of you.”

You feel your eyes water when you look at the amber of his eyes growing glassier, “You got a tattoo that reminds you of me?”

“You’ve always been a constant in my life, (y/n). I shared so many sunrises with you. And I mean it when I say that I want you to find what makes you happy.” He tells you as you smile and lean forward, tracing the lining of his tattoo. The moment feels a little like déjà vu that doesn’t disappear when Tetsurou speaking again, “I love you enough to realize that kind of happiness won’t be with me, (y/n).”

He looks at you and everything feels so familiar. You choke out a sob that sounded a little like a laugh and Tetsurou does the same.

“You’re never getting rid of me, you lunatic,” you say, and Tetsurou laughs—eyes glassy from the pricks of tears fighting to slide down his cheeks. “We’re okay, right?” He asks you. And you nod, because your heart constricts in a way that doesn’t hurt, the knot in your stomach gone and Tetsurou looking so beautiful from the morning light that filtered in feels so familiar.

“Always, Tetsu.”

And after some moments of comfortable silence, he looks to the window on his left saying, “So, surfer dude slash volleyball player, huh? I think you got a type going on, (y/n).”

You roll your eyes and finally grab a donut from the box. “Yeah.”

Tetsurou chuckles, “Tell me about him. He’s the first guy who makes you look dopey in love.” So you smile and look out the window thinking about the boy who spoke of the little moments and showed you worlds under the sun and feel your heart mellow to a gentle beat, “He’s something good.”

Atsumu’s number doesn’t show up on your phone for the next month, but you try to keep yourself from doing your own research, or as Tetsurou pointed out, stalking, for his presence in social media. If he didn’t want to be found, you’d just leave him to it.

Tetsurou sits across from you at the arrival gate in Haneda airport later that month, scrolling through his phone and mumbling curses because Bokuto, his friend, had told him the wrong time for his arrival and won’t be arriving until a few hours later. Instead of driving back home, wasting gas, and sitting through traffic, you suggest to pass the time at a café instead.

“I swear to god, (y/n), remind me to end my friendship with him the second he lands,” Tetsurou huffs from across you.

“You’re being dramatic again,” You roll your eyes, laughing.

“He’s gonna be here in a bit,” you pause and stand up, grabbing your phone, “I’ll go check the board so stay here.”

“Since you left your wallet here, I’m treating myself to another frapp, thanks (y/n)!” you hear him call from behind you, so you turn to flick him off as you keep walking.

Looking at the board above the gate, your eyes scan to look for information regarding Bokuto’s flight. Under said flight, you smile looking at SIARGAO listed within the board. Briefly, your thought wonders off to Atsumu; you hoped he was doing well.

A flow of people begin to trail out of the gate and into the lobby. Assuming that it must be from Bokuto’s flight, you stand on your tip toes from your little corner to look for the telltale monochromatic palette of his hair.

Grabbing your phone, you hastily press call to Tetsurou’s contact name, to which he answers with a drawled out “Heeelllloo?” along with an exaggerated slurp to the Frappuccino he bought with your card.

You open your mouth to tell him to come over, except that you don’t because standing a few meters in front of you is a familiar blonde.

From the phone in your ear, you hear Tetsurou call your name, so through the haze in your thoughts, you mumble a quick “Never mind.” and hang up. You don’t think Atsumu notices you just yet because he’s pulled his luggage to the side, a little closer to you this time, and pulled out his phone to what you could guess was him texting somebody.

You don’t speak for the first few beats of silence because, holy shit this is fanfiction material—is this actually happening? Eventually he pockets his phone and looks around, before his eyes spots you, who at this point, is still openly gawking at him some distance away.

Then three things happen in succession; first, Atsumu’s eyes widen, second, he blinks really fast, and then finally, third, cracks a smile.

And as soon as his smile pushes the crinkle in his eyes, you feel yourself release the breath you’ve unconsciously held in. He pushes his luggage with him as he walks towards you, hand held up in greeting and the smile still plastered wide on his face.

“Yo,” he says and your heart bursts with your reply that came out a little more breathless than you’d expected, “Hi.”

Tetsurou stands some distance away from the two of you, holding your wallet and his Frappuccino. He spots the blonde mop of head you’re staring at, really you should chill out (he thinks), and immediately recognizes his features as Miya Atsumu, the same guy who’s been a part of your daily margarita selfie for the two months you were in the Philippines.

The bedhead watches you walk towards Atsumu, and he to you before you both met somewhat in the middle, then looks at you, finding himself smile because of how happy you looked. He stands in his spot and can’t help but feel some sort of déjà vu as he stops himself from approaching the two of you. His heart, he realizes, clenches in a way that sort of hurts but sort of doesn’t, but because this is the first time looking at you with a smile so unabashed, he settles with the thought that because he loves you—you deserve nothing short of the happiness you’re feeling now.

And you can’t help but feel the same as Atsumu laughs out a comment about how the universe must really want the two of you together. His arms circle your figure after exchanging a few pleasantries and inside jokes and you smile into the crook of his neck.

“This feels a little like that déjà vu thing ya talked about before, ya know.” He mumbles. And for the brief moment you see Tetsurou’s text on the screen of your phone reading, “whipped.”, you laugh in a way that has you feeling dizzy and light. You feel like you could cry when Atsumu kisses the side of your head, because this moment feels so familiar.

Atsumu feels so familiar. So when you break the embrace and look at the reflection of your watering eyes in the warm pools of his, more than ever, you were sure that this is exactly where the gods meant for you to be.

a/n: *i’m aware there’s no direct flight from haneda/siargao but pls bear w me ;A;

proceed to Epilogue :D

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sanjuno · 3 years

Text

Meta Fic rides again

I'm a little stuck on how to word something in my Nano 2020 project so I decided to take a break by trying to read “Scum Villain’s Self Saving System” again and failed horribly because I got to the part when Binghe comes back and my interest died a quick and messy death for yet a third time. Someone write me a giant pile of gen-fic and LiuShen AUs to heal my heart.

Here, I’ll start us off:

Spite and Fury (or; PEDW is a hive of Scum and Villainy)

So bitter-old-man!Madara dies of old age after he passes his Epic Revenge Plot over into Obito’s keeping, and the Sage’s knockoff-brand cycle-of-transmigration peels Indra’s chakra out of Madara’s soul - which results in dying!Madara having a screaming ragefit that sends his spirit-and-chakra careening through the void between worlds

At which point shattered-and-fragmenting-more!Madara gets into an altercation with the System and since the System is a little bitch it tosses Madara into the worst possible Fate it can think of (see: PEDW)

Transmigration bullshit and Sharingan fuckery smash into each other in a gigantic clusterfuck of asspulls

Madara is missing bits because Indra’s imprint got ripped out

The Shen Jiu base soul is missing bits because torture and previous abuse of his character by the System

The resulting villain amalgamation is Not Pleased

Instead of landing in the divergence point chosen by the System - aka the Qi deviation fever shortly after Binghe arrives at Cang Qiong Sect – we instead have the jigsaw puzzle mashup of Mads-and-Jiu land in baby-slave Jiu’s body

The good news is Madara and Jiu stop fragmenting because they end up woven together - they’re stuck together as an almost-single person only with two different sets of memories

Character exploration is going to be an EVENT

Also the Madara part of them is really happy with the silky smooth hair

Also Yue “lets-Binghe-kill-him-because-he-thinks-Shen-Jiu-is-dead” Qi is cast is a much better light when compared to Senju “stabs-his-sworn-brother-in-the-back” Hashirama

So Mads-Jiu plays it close to canon for the first few years - the only real difference is that he tags his Jiejie with a tracking seal for after he escapes from slavery - he’s not leaving his ability to find her again up to chance or developing a reputation as a whoremonger if he can help it

When he gets bought by the Qiu is when Mads-Jiu starts being a manipulative little shit like we all know he is

Xanatos-pileup-or-bust!Mads-Jiu basically lets Yue Qi escape alone because he NEEDS Yue Qi to become Cang Qiong Sect Leader for his long-term plans to work properly

So Mads-Jiu warns Yue Qi that if he has to be CAREFUL because cultivating is dangerous and if Yue Qi comes back missing any pieces then Jiu will cut the EXACT SAME BITS OFF HIMSELF

And so Yue Qi is EXTREMELY safety conscious and the life eating sword drama is avoided entirely

Of course he’s also taking longer to reach his initial strength levels than in canon because he isn’t rushing

So there’s nothing like Yue Qi showing up early to trigger a plot divergence alert in the System

</mwahahaha>

Mads-Jiu is more pragmatic regarding Qiu Haitang’s so-called innocence this time around - and so he arranges for her to catch the Creeper Qiu bro abusing and assaulting Shen Jiu

Haitang is HORRIFIED AND DISGUSTED to see what her brother is doing to her fiancé and also TERRIFIED by the fact that he talks the entire time about how sweet it’s going to be when it’s HAITANG under him

The Qiu burn on schedule but Haitang kills her fair share - double Qi deviations FTW!

The system does not notice such a minor change in the background events - Jiu kills the Qiu, burns down their house, and Haitang survives the fire with vengeance raging in her heart

Mads-Jiu kills the demonic creeper that was hanging around because ew no and also keep your hands of Haitang

Again, it’s too close to canon for the System to notice - Jiu killed him in defense of a “childhood friend” so hahaha again

Instead of being used as a stalking horse by an evil master Mads-Jiu runs off with Haitang to track down and rescue his Jiejie

Shenanigans ensue

Afterwards Mads-Jiu “has an idea to help find Qi-ge” by asking around for him at the Immortal Alliance Conference

Of course there are more shenanigans and Yue Qi saves all three by claiming that they’re Cang Qiong disciples - so of course he drags all 3 of them back with him and wibbles at the current Sect Leader until he lets them all join

Still (mostly) following canon! Ha! So no “punishment” events get triggered in the System (which is mostly dormant because the Protagonist isn’t born yet XP)

Qiu Haitang was supposed to join a Sect! Jiejie got sold on schedule! Shen Jiu killed the Qiu and his “first master”! Yue pesters his Shizun into letting his sibling(s) join the Sect in an unorthodox fashion!

But the devil is in the details

And the devil’s name is Uchiha Madara

Jiejie ends up as Peak Lord for Talisman Peak because magic and seals saved her before

Haitang ends up Peak Lord for Hidden Peak because she refuses to be caught unawares by a dangerous secret ever again... also because she’s a mean sneaky bitch and owns it

Having more than one sibling for the Sect Leader to blatantly favour means less wholesale resentment directed at Mads-Jiu as well

However the Jiu part of them has memories from PIDW and also SVSSS - so he knows that shit is going to get horrible once Su Xiyan gets knocked up

Obviously the answer is to seduce all of his fellow peak lords into a glorious polyamorous clusterfuck so as to promote skinship and pack bonding and harmony among the sect leadership

(It worked for PIDW Binghe with his wives and SVSSS Shen Yuan with getting Bing-mei to chill his tits after all and nobody can trip you into bed quite like a shinobi)

And so Cang Qiong’s family aesthetics get rocked so hard that instead of panting after his Shizun baby disciple Binghe decides to seduce his peers...

... and his rivals

... and other sect’s disciples

... and the occasional demon

Mads-Jiu is really proud of his baby demon lord but makes sure not to single Binghe out - instead every Qing Jing disciple gets rewarded and punished at the same time

It promotes bonding! And teamwork!

And prevents the utter destruction of Mads-Jiu’s chrysanthemum via oversized demonic pillar!

There is totally going to be an extra where Mads-Jiu realizes that the average size of a male cultivators pillar is DANGEROUSLY EXCESSIVE

NOBODY NEEDS THAT MUCH PILLAR

Even HIS pillar hasn’t escaped the curse

BIGGER IS NOT BETTER!

How the fuck is he supposed to fight if he can’t even wear pants comfortably!?!?

(No wait come back Mu-shidi this shixiong is sorry it wasn’t mockery it was a perfectly reasonable tantrum that was a long time coming now stop sulking your dick is very pretty let shixiong make it up to you~)

And at some point there will be a wild Bing-ge who appears to cause trouble with a mirror that’s intended to temporarily transform people into the form of their last life - he aims it at the native Bingbing to get him out of the way so he can steal the “nice” Shizun

It would have been Pom time for Bingbing but Mads-Jiu pushes him out of the way

And cue giant explosion of dark Qi as a bonus expansion pack of Madara’s 10-tail Jinchuriki time with powers-and-memories gets downloaded into Mads-Jiu

Mads-Jiu the “Heavenly Demon Demi God” drops several mountains worth of flaming meteor rock on the invaders and then goes on a giant flaming skeleton rampage against Bing-ge

... Bing-ge has changed his mind he doesn’t want this Shizun take him back and oh gods the shrieking

How does he shriek so loud? Doesn’t he need to breathe?

... ok so Shizun breathes fire that’s good to know

Whelps time to bravely run away

And then the amassed sects need to figure out how to calm down the rampaging hell beast

The youngest Qing Jing disciple is brought out and told to cry for Shizun

Actually-a-broody-hen!Mads-Jiu whips around and starts fussing over his baby student

Because baby why are you crying stop it tell Shizun who hurt you and he will BURN THEM TO ASH

The last bit I have an idea for involves Mads-Jiu getting yanked though dimensions because Edo Tensei where he instantly twigs to what is going on and pushes the “righteous cultivator” skin to maximum strength

He shoves all the baby ninja behind him and keeps barrier spamming the zombie army - because ew no stay away from the children resentful corpses

Zetsu is included in the zombie army shall not pass smack down

Zombie!Tobirama is appalled because wut? Wasn’t this supposed to be Madara’s zombie? What is happening?

And I dunno something where he “notices” the resentful energy surrounding Danzo because stealing the eyes of the people you murdered is bad karma

So Mads-Jiu does a spirit thing and the ghosts of the Uchiha rips Danzo apart while screaming about his guilt in full view of the entire Village

And then Mads-Jiu goes home because filial little Bingbing came to get him and he’s not enjoying upending the shinobi social order nope not at all whom exactly do you take him for?

... Yes he’s done and ready to go back to his spouses now he’s sure the ninja have all learned better than to raise living corpses now anyway

The end

=/=

#Sanjuno's ficwork #fic I haven't written yet #Spite and Fury #PEDW is a hive of SCUM and VILLIANY #Madara and Jiu are sharing a body #System done fucked that revenge plot up #Villain Team Up cranked to 111 #sanjuno's metafic #NRT x SVSSS

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