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youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 10 months

Text

Don't Let Me Go (Part 2)

Words: 5921

Warnings: language, talk of alcohol/alcohol consumption, regret, Leon being a dick but for a kinda good reason, maybe ooc characters and probably bad writing

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This also was originally written for my OC Tiffany (Whose info on her/original story will eventually be available on this account @imnotobsessedwfictionalchracters )

Leon and Hunnigan are PROBABLY OOC (as I suck at not being able to keep them from being OOC)

Actually find it fucking insane how long this thing is all together

This is it in multi-part form: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

This is it in one part form

Reader and Leon are partners with their job (have been since 2004/2005) and is insinuated to be around the same height as Leon

Not Proof-read and I think it can be seen every once and a while (I know you can see where my brain couldn't function how to write the scene so I just guessed and hoped for the best)

Can be read as its own story or as a sequel to You’re About To Lose The Best Damn Thing You’ve Ever Had

Losely has themes from the songs Never Say Never by The Fray, No Surprises by Radiohead, Afterglow by Taylor Swift, and Look After You by The Fray

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

Leon’s POV

Leon, who had only been there because he was going over a report with Hunnigan, head snapped over towards Hunnigan the moment that Y/N ended the call. Worry spread through his body as they were unable to contact her back. He felt his knee unconsciously bouncing up and down as the computer kept beeping. He knew that he technically had no reason to be worried. Now, thanks to his own doing, all she was to him was another Agent. Not his partner. Not his girlfriend. Not even his friend. (Of course he didn’t know that the last part was all on his own)

“Why is it doing that? Why can’t you get back to her?”

“She blocked me from calling. Which means one of two things; she needed no distractions or she had to go semi-dark. I’m trying the other 4 members of her team and if they don’t respond, it means that they had to go dark too.”

Leon bit the inside of his cheek. He knew that the team originally consisted of 7 plus Y/N/N. The original 3 BSAA and 3 STRATCOM had been reduced to 1 BSAA and 2 of their own.

If he was going to be honest, Leon didn’t care about the team, he just cared about Y/N and if she was okay. He hadn’t meant to do what he did then just disappear. He meant to break up and let her be for a few days, a week tops, then talk to her. But then he got called in and had to leave immediately. He knew from Claire and Hunnigan both that she didn’t understand why it happened or what caused it. Which he knew was his own doing. He should have told her. He shouldn’t have just said that they weren’t gonna work out. Especially since on their previous mission together they had a run in with Ada.

But that wasn’t why he did it. No. It was because Stacey had been that person who they thought walked in. And as they had exited the training room, had messaged Leon to remind him that fraternizing with your partner was against the rules. He knew he should have just told Y/N why he was doing it, why he pulled away and why he treated her like shit for so long. But he couldn’t. He was scared that if he had, she would have argued with him and said it was fine. That they would figure it out together. It’s how she was and he knew it was.

Of course, he still felt horrible for what happened on New Years, he shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up just to crush them the following days. He shouldn’t have treated her the way that Ada would treat him. Shouldn’t have done something that would make her feel like he was using her in the moment because he needed something just to hurt her later.

----

December 31st of 2008/January 1st of 2009

Leon had gotten to her apartment earlier that day to help Y/N put up the decorations. But the entire time all that he had said to her was when he asked her to hand him something or made a comment about getting a drink or going to the bathroom. And then once Chris had arrived, surprisingly being the first, he had gone to talk to him. He had seen her leave from the corner of his eye, knowing she was changing out of the pajamas she had been in all day.

He had no idea what she was going to come out in, but as she came back from her bedroom, a glass of champagne having already been downed, he knew it would be hard to keep himself under control. He noticed that she was wearing that top she had not-so-secretly bought a few weeks ago. Or at least he assumed it was. He had never seen the one she was wearing and he knew she hadn’t worn that one top yet. It was paired with her stupid jeans that fit her perfectly and those stupid heels that he loved on her because for some reason it always turned him on when she was practically a head taller than him. He saw her necklace was the one he bought her for their first anniversary in 2007. The rings were the ones she always wore and he noted that she wore the bracelet that she had owned since highschool on her right wrist, opposite of the watch he got her back in 2006 after her previous one got destroyed on a mission. Thankfully it was her birthday too so he didn’t have to deal with her arguing too much so he could argue that it was a gift for her birthday and she couldn’t turn it away.

He remembered how she kept saying he didn’t have to and that it must’ve cost a fortune. He had just shrugged it off and said he knew she needed one and he thought she liked that one. And even now, over 2 years later, he still hasn't disclosed the price of it. Something he’d never do because he knew she’d give it back and feel horrible about it. Knowing the only reason she had accepted the necklace was because it was their anniversary and she had gotten him something he knew was expensive as hell.

But even then, he didn’t talk to her. He didn’t go near her. Even as the rest of the group got there. He occupied himself with drinking and talking with people. Even as he saw the look of desperation on her face as she talked to Jess and Claire. Even as he watched her walk back to her room with a face full of complete defeat written all over her face.

No. he stayed talking with Chris and her brother Joe while he knew she was likely standing in the bathroom that connected to her bedroom. While he knew that she was probably doing anything to distract herself from how he had been ignoring her. He knew she could hear him talking and laughing with them. He knew that it seemed like he was happier with everyone except for her. But he wasn’t. He hated this. Hated this hell he had created by not doing it already. This hell he had created for both of them where he knew she was feeling like a deflated balloon that he didn’t want anymore. When that was the complete opposite of what was true. God did he want her. God did he not want to have to hurt her this way. All he wanted to do was hold her and tell her it would be okay.

Let her convince him that Stacey wouldn’t out their relationship and they would figure it out.

He got pulled out from the conversation when he heard a faint sound of something crashing in the back. He wasn’t sure if others had heard and chose to ignore it, or if it was just him who did since he was the closest to the hall. He stood and excused himself saying that he was gonna go check on her since they hadn’t seen her in a bit.

When he got to the back of the apartment, he looked in and saw that it had just been the cup that held their toothbrushes and pastes. He watched as she leaned down and grabbed the fallen contents. He realized that she didn’t even notice him there until she jumped as he laid a soft knock on the door.

He laughed softly, like he always did when she did this. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” As she placed the cup back where it went, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The jolt from her didn’t go unnoticed and his face went from one of playfulness to concern. “Hey, you okay?”

She nodded silently, and he saw that she was trying to keep her breathing steady. “Yeah. Sorry. I think I’m just getting tired. My body isn’t used to not having to be on edge 24/7.”

He knew she was lying. He could tell it in her voice. But he still cracked a small smile in an attempt to calm her down. “Can’t disagree with you there. But you seem genuinely freaked, like after a mission.” The smile switched to one of concern, “Are you sure that you’re okay?”

She nodded and turned to him, giving him a smile of her own. “Yeah. I am Lee. Promise.” Lee, the nickname she gave him after their first mission together when she got a concussion. He remembered that his name kept blanking on her (as did most people) so she just referred to him as Lee as it was all she could remember and it had stuck. He noticed as she looked down at her watch before looking back at him, “Hey, it’s 11:59, we should get back in there.”

He was about to go to move some hair from her face, but stopped before he even reached his hand. He knew it would leave her even more confused when he broke it off. He knew it would make it harder for him if he continued to act like a boyfriend. So he kept on telling himself that he was being a friend. Friends treat friends this way. He could still be this way with her even when he calls quits to save her reputation. “Are you sure? It seemed like you had left for a reason.”

He knew from the look on her face that he was the reason and it hurt. At first it was because he hated that he was treating her like this, leading her on. But then it was because he couldn’t feel that way. He had to pull away from her so it would hurt less when he broke it. But he felt his resolve falling and knew it was close to breaking.

“Yeah. I’m perfectly fine. I just needed to get away for a moment. You know how I am.”

He knew it was a lie. He knew she lied about something he wouldn’t call her out about. He studied her face and saw that she was doing everything to show she wasn’t lying. He knew she knew he was doing this. But he said nothing. He didn’t put her on the spot. Call her out. He just let her do it. Especially as everyone in her living room began to count down.

However, neither of them moved as their friends began down from 10. This was the closest he had been to her since Christmas. It was taking everything in him not to kiss her. Everything in him to not grab her face and pull it to his. But that entire work he was putting in was thrown out of the window the moment she brought her hand up and brushed some hair out of his face. And as she leaned in to him when their friends reached one, his thoughts to push her away were thrown out the window. As she placed a kiss on his lips. He heard nothing as he felt her softer lips on his own chapped ones.

As she pulled her lips away from his, any control that had been left there disappeared as his hands on her cheeks and he slammed his back onto hers. The moment she let out a tiny gasp, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. He felt her arms wrap around his neck as he began moving them to the sink. Only stopping when the back of her legs met her sink.

He pulled away for a moment, just to bring his lips down to her neck. And between kisses he asked a question that plagued him since he saw her come out in it. “Is this...a new...top?” He heard her humming in response, eliciting a small chuckle from him. “Is that a yes baby?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was soft and breathy, just above a whisper and he held back a groan when she did.

“I like it. You should wear it more.” He carefully moved her arms up so he could pull it off. His lips lingered on her collarbone, close to the center by her sternum, as he breathed in her perfume. It was a warmer one, a mix of vanilla and spice. He recognized it as the one he bought her back when she dragged him into Victoria Secrets when they were having a sale. He remembered her arguing with her that she wanted to buy it so they agreed that he’d buy her that and she could buy him whatever cologne he wanted. Which just happened to be the one he was wearing tonight.

His lips continued down her body as he got other noises from her. He only stopped when he heard a gasp, immediately pulling his lips away from her. His eyes looked over to see Y/N's sister-in-law standing there with a hand over her mouth.

“Shit, I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve known what you two were doing when you didn’t respond. Fuck, I’m sorry. Um, Joe and I are heading out. I don’t wanna overwork my sister too much by watching the kids after she had a long week. But we had fun. I’ll see you later.”

He stood as he watched Jessica leave the room and felt Y/N/N's head fall on his shoulder. He listened as she ranted about how embarrassed she was by what just happened. How she had been hidden for nearly 30 minutes and then someone came to find her, just to see her making out with her boyfriend. So fucking embarrassing.

He laughed lightly and joked, “At least we were just making out and not actually having sex.”

She groaned and buried her head in his chest, “I did not just say that out loud, did I?”

He missed the top of her head, “It’s okay.” He pulled away before leaning down to grab her shirt from where he had thrown it on the floor and handed it to her. After she slipped it on, he kissed her lips again. “You know I love you, right?”

She smiled and looked into his blue eyes, “Yeah, ‘course I do.”

“Good.”

This was going to hurt when he finally did it.

Leon knew that she wasn’t asleep as she laid by him. But he stayed quiet. He knew tonight would haunt him. He was supposed to be pushing her away. Not drawing her back in and making her feel better while he was just going to hurt her in the end.

----

January 3rd of 2009

He knew she was hurt. He knew she was trying not to cry. Leon knew how mad and confused she was. He knew. He knew her too well. He knew that she understood none of it. Even after he explained. He knew that she saw him as the one for her because he knew she was the one for him. But he could stop. He had to end them so neither...no so she didn’t get her reputation ruined. He refused to let anyone think that the only reason she gets chosen for assignments is because they’re together. He refused to let anyone think of her as anything but the fucking amazing and talented agent she was.

He had promised her back years ago that he would never hurt her. That he would never be the one to break her heart. That he would be there by her side no matter what. But then here he was, breaking her heart and about to leave her.

In the end, all that he could say was, “I’m sorry.” And “You don’t deserve this.” He reached to grab her hand in an attempt to comfort her, but she jerked it away. Which he understood. He deserved it. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved better than him. “You deserve better than this. Than me. Than our fucked up situation.”

“But Leon, I like it. I love you. I don’t care about the secrets and the lies. I just want you. Leon, please.”

“I can’t.” He stressed, he still hadn’t said what Hunnigan had told him when he asked what would happen. That was why he was doing this. He had to protect her.

“Can’t what?” Her voice was stretched, he knew she was trying not to cry.

For a brief second, he thought that he shouldn’t do it, but as he saw her face, saw as she was breaking, he decided to do it. “Can’t ask you to possibly give up your job because someone found out! Watch as you have to get reassigned because Hunnigan already confirmed that it would be you. Watch as your life completely changes just so you can be with me!” He ran a hand through his hair, “That’s why we’re done, Y/N/N. Why we have to be. Both in this relationship and in our partnership for work. I already sent in the request for a new partner.” He hadn’t said that last part to her yet. But it was true. He did it yesterday. After she had left the office for the day.

“Leon.”

He ignored her as he walked to her door, he was planning on just leaving, saying nothing else. But as his hand reached for the knob, he stopped, “I’m really sorry Y/N/N. Truly, deeply, sorry.”

He walked out after that. But he didn’t go far. He stayed there in the long hall. He brought a hand up to his mouth to stiffen the sobs that were threatening to fall. He felt his chest tighten as he heard her scream and a crash. He knew she was angry and upset. He knew she was blaming herself. And it took everything in him to not open the door and agree with her that they’d figure this out. That they’d find a loophole. That they’d be alright.

----

February 18th of 2009

He shook his head, trying to forget that last time he saw her. Instead, he became hyper focused on Hunnigan trying to contact anyone on her team. The difference between her and them was with them, it called, but no one answered. He felt himself picking at the calluses on his hands, a bad habit that she always noticed. A habit that whenever she saw, she would take his hands into hers and hold them. He ran a hand through his hair as the nerves built up again when it went off that she disconnected herself from being able to be contacted.

He hadn’t even noticed Hunnigan talking to someone through her mic set until she said: “Do you want me to assume her and her team are dead, sir?” He snapped his head to her. What did she mean by that? Why would they assume that Y/N was dead? She just went dark. Since when has it been the procedure to assume death when gone dark. “Of course sir, I’ll keep watch and will let Agent Kennedy know.” Leon narrowed his eyes at Hunnigan as she turned to him. “They want me to keep an eye out for if she pings a location in the next 48 hours. If not, then you’re being deployed to finish the mission and if you come in contact with her, call for an evac for her. But shoot to kill if she’s been bitten.”

Leon looked away from Hunnigan. He wasn’t sure if he could do that. Shoot to kill Y/N. Personal feelings aside, they had been partners since she joined back in 2004. Since right after he got back from Spain. Hell, she would’ve been with him if she hadn't had to get her appendix taken out and miss training causing her start date to be pushed back to where it was around 48 hours before he got back from Spain with Ashley. He had known her for 4, going on 5 years now. How could he shoot her, even if it was for the greater good? He felt his chest tighten and--

“Leon? Do you understand?”

He looked back at Hunnigan and nodded silently before getting up to leave the room. He couldn’t be there anymore. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He practically ran through the halls, not caring who looked at him. Only able to catch his breath when the cold February air hit his skin. He heaved, his hands on his knees and he leaned forward. He couldn’t do it. He knew he wouldn't be able to do it. He knew that he would get in trouble. But he would rather get in trouble for not doing his job than have to shoot her.

He just prayed that she pinged to prove she was alive. And that if he ever got sent in, he would find her. Alive or dead but not bitten. Not turned. He’d rather find her already dead than have to do it himself. He would never be able to live if he broke her heart and then killed her.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he would be able to live with himself if he broke her heart and then found her dead.

--------

February 28th of 2009

36 hours after she went dark they received the first ping. 11 days had passed since and they had gotten 8 more pings. Leon was at his desk, waiting for Hunnigan to tell him they got the next ping. But as the sun went further and further down, they still had got nothing. He kept telling himself that she was okay. That maybe she just forgot or wasn’t somewhere where she could.

He kept telling himself that it was okay and she was alive. That he had no reason to worry. That she would make it back to them alive.

--------

March 2nd of 2009

Leon looked out the window of the helicopter he was on. 4 days had passed since her last ping. Since they last heard of her being alive. They had sent him in the early hours of the morning to go finish the job and find her. They told him to not have hope she’d be found alive. The cold was horrid and she was supposed to be back by now. It was doubtful she’d have enough heat stored to survive.

But he ignored them. He ignored their warnings and pushed them away as he climbed down and off the heli and walked the remaining mile to the village her team were meant to be staying at.

It took him almost no time to find the abandoned snow-mobiles they had ridden to get there. Took him almost no time to walk into the small place they were staying to find the rest of her team all dead. But still, there was no sign of her. No sign that she had even been there recently. He told Hunnigan and she responded that she’d send someone once they found Y/N. As he exited the house, he grabbed the keys to be able to use one of the vehicles.

He drove through the town until he reached the point where she had gone dark at. It was by a larger building that stood out compared to the rest. But that wasn’t where she had left at. She had left off in a small home by it. He walked in and looked around, finding her tracker and communication devices in a box that had been covered in snow. A few of the windows had been shot through, he assumed it was from her. He walked up the stairs and saw that there was no way out from there. If she had been in there, she had left the same way she went in.

He walked out of the house and was about to get back on the snowmobile, to head to her last pinged location, but he realized that it was inside the large building and he would have to walk it. The sun was going down as the time passed 6 PM as he jumped the fence and ran around trying to find her, shooting those infected that got in his way. Which he was surprised wasn’t that many. He had expected more to be there, but it was like someone had already gone through and killed most of them.

He ignored the fatigue that grew as he ran closer and the sky got darker. Or at least he assumed it did, there were practically no windows in this place so all he had was his watch to tell the time. He ignored the gnawing feeling he had that he was going to find her dead. That he came all the way to bring her home alive that he’d have to do it dead. That he kept telling himself that she’d be alright and he could apologize. He could tell her what Hunnigan told him when he got back. So he could apologize and let her scream and yell and choose what to do.

So he could know if there ever would be a possibility that they could have made it. That they could have done more if he hadn’t let the possibility of what could've happened take control of his life.

As he grew closer and closer to where she had last pinged, he felt his heart drop further and further into his stomach as he saw more and more blood covering the floor. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t hers. It was someone else's. And he wasn’t entirely wrong as he grew closer. A body laid on the ground, he could tell the blood wasn’t even an entire week old so it had to be from around her last ping. He placed his boot at the dead and grimaced as he recognized him as the guy from last summer.

That told him why she went dark.

He kneeled by the body, looking for what caused the bleeding, finding a few bullet holes. They weren’t accurate and he could tell that whoever shot them had a shaky hand. Making him doubt it was Y/N. One thing he knew he could always count on was her steady aim. Rarely would she hit a target in the wrong spot on accident. It was always on purpose. But, he knew the bullet holes. It was with a Lightning Hawk. It was like how he always had his Matilda, she always had a Lightning Hawk on her.

He stood up and continued on, looking down at the small device to see how much further and realized that it was to his left. He turned and saw a door drawn shut. He put the device away and grabbed his gun out from its holster and carefully opened the door. He swiftly turned to walk further in, something that at first seemed futile as he didn’t see her. But as he walked further in and looked around, he saw remnants of her having previously been there.

He kneeled by her clicker that had been pinging her location when she told it to was on the floor with some of the layers she had been wearing when the mission started. But what scared him was that there was a bandage covered in blood that looked like it had been sitting there for a few days. If it was her blood like he thought, that would explain why it looked like someone had shot the guy shakily and unsure. And so that nausea grew as the gnawing feeling that she was dead came back to him.

He shook his head of those thoughts and got up, looking around the room more. As his eyes scanned, he saw that there was a trail of blood that led to one of the walls. When he got closer, he saw the faint marks of what he assumed had been someone moving the cement. He put the flashlight between his teeth and holstered his gun as he began to touch around, trying to find a weak point in the wall. When he did, he pushed in until it started moving. Once it was opened enough for him to slip through, he grabbed the flashlight from his mouth and upholstered the gun.

He pointed the gun forward and slipped through the crack, he walked with cautious footing. He still found it rather suspicious that he hadn’t had to deal with much since he had gotten there. His senses were on high alert, feeling like there was a possibility of him getting attacked at any point. He walked down the dimly lit room, turning the flash on and off so for the case of someone watching him, there was a possibility of him throwing them off.

But any want to not get caught and have the element of surprise immediately left his body when he heard gunshots down the end of the hall. He ran as fast as he could and slammed the door open, gun ready to shoot. But when he got there, he saw that Dr. Lewis was already bleeding out on the floor, but still reaching for her own gun. As he approached the woman, he looked around and saw Y/N laying on her stomach, gun on her non-dominant side, in a corner. And as much as he wanted to check on her first, he ran over to the doctor and kicked her gun as far away from her as possible.

He kept his gun up and stood over Lewis, the barrel of the gun pointed at her head, daring her to do something. But all she did was laugh before coughing up blood. “You...you really think this...this will be...be the e-end? You...you killing me? Think it...it will bring that little b-bitch ba-ack.”

He knew he was supposed to bring her in alive. So they could question her. But Leon just couldn’t. He knew she had been experimenting on children more than she ever had with adults. The information Y/N had found and sent in before she went dark proved it. And something, some part of him, felt like no one who did that to kids could live. Maybe it was his belief that he still was doing this for Sherry. He knew she was an adult now and that she doesn’t need his protection anymore, but it didn’t stop him from making it his main reason.

With his gun still smoking, and Lewis’s eyes going blank with death, he pulled it down. “Still stops you.” He looked up when he heard the sound of an alarm going off and his vision was encased in red. He should have known that killing the head would do this, but he didn’t give a shit. All he cared about was saving her. He ignored the blaring alarm and robotic voice saying that the building will self-destruct in 10 minutes.

He turned to run back to where Y/N was lying. As he got closer to her, he could see she was slipping in and out of consciousness. When he reached her, he placed a gentle finger where her pulse would be, he knew he should have kept his eyes trained on Lewis, in case she turned herself into something, but he didn’t. His eyes were trained on Y/N. She was covered in sweat and blood, hair clinging onto her. Her breathing was labored and she barely was able to keep her eyes open. He turned her to her back and immediately saw what the reason for the bleeding was.

A large gash that went down her sternum. There was dried blood all around it and he saw that shittily done bandage that had moved. It was surely infected and was probably the reason for her sweat. He grabbed his device to call Hunnigan and requested a medical evac. He found Y/N and she was alive. They were in the building, but he was going to try and get her outside. Hunnigan informed him that she already sent one the moment he said the rest of the team was dead and they were 5 minutes out.

The moment the call ended, he gently moved one of Y/N 's arms around his neck before putting his arms under her body. Placing one securely under her knees and the other behind her back and under her other arm. He heard her groan in pain as he started to carry her out. Trying to figure out how to get to the roof.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N/N.”

“Leon?” Her voice was hoarse, barely there.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. I got you. Medic is 5 minutes out, okay? I’m gonna get you out. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Leon, please, just let me go.”

He shook his head, “No. I’m not doing that. I’m not letting you go. Not anytime soon.”

“But it hurts.”

He looked down at her and saw her eyes were closing again, “I know. I know it does. But I need you to keep your eyes open for me, alright? I know it’s gonna be hard, but I need you to do that.”

“But it feels better that way.”

He kicked a door open that led to stairs, “I know it does Y/N/N/N, I know. But I really need you to keep them open. Just until the evac gets here. Once they get us, you’ll be alright. You can close your eyes. Just keep them open till then.” Y/N/N/N. A nickname he came up with once when they were both drunk and abnormally clingy to one another. A nickname that he only used around her when he was close to breaking.

But she nodded, “Okay, I’ll try.”

He smiled down at her, “Good, try.”

He knew if she wasn’t injured and delirious, she would be yelling and screaming at him. So a part of him was happy she was, but most of him was scared that they medic wouldn’t get here in time and they would be fucked. That the team wouldn’t get there and he would lose her. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t lose her. Not yet. Not now. Not when he had so much apologizing to do.

So when he made it out of the maze of a building, he let out a breath of relief when he saw the helicopter landing. Never in his life did he think he’d be so grateful that living Agents were top priority. That they’d rather lose the dead bodies and explain to the families that there was no body than possibly lose someone that could still be of use to them. Of course, he knew there was also the likelihood that they had sent two helicopters.

As he got to the Helicopter, he passed her body to one of the Agents in it before jumping in himself. And as they flew off, he helped close the door that he had jumped in from. For a moment, he stared at the window to see the sun coming up in the distance as the building exploded. But only after a second, he turned back to see the two medics already hooking Y/N up and getting her the help she needed.

He slumped down into one of the small chairs, leaning his head against the cool metal and silently watched as they flew to a hospital in Vancouver that was used to STRATCOM and the BSAA.

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94erz · 8 months

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Morning tangent 'cause I hate algorithms.

Started my day seeing an ARMY Tweet forced onto my For You page all because they mentioned something else I'm interested in via my main account and now I'm thoroughly convinced k-pop makes people miserable. Like genuinely insufferable.

''Concerts are ruined for me now, Western artists don't have lightsticks, their fans don't do freebies, and what do you mean I have to sit through opening acts?'' like do these people just genuinely hate music? Serious question.

Some of the best acts I've seen live have been opening acts, it gives you an opportunity to discover an artist you otherwise might not have come into contact with. One of the best examples for me was seeing Hozier and Little Green Cars opening for him, they were fucking incredible! They opened their set with a full acapella version of one of their songs and it left such a huge impact I went home and bought their whole album. I still listen to it to this day! So like, what the fuck. Maybe people should try opening their minds a bit and let themselves enjoy new shit, it really does wonders.

Another thing they bitched about are the ''lack of freebies'' while going on about how they went and saw the Jonas Brothers whose fans ''didn't do freebies'' which is just factually wrong. Their fans do in fact make freebies, and we know this because fans will give them out to the brothers' wives and children too, not just other fans. Kevin's wife LITERALLY 3 DAYS AGO posted her freebie bracelet she got for her birthday, and that's on top of all the ones their daughters get, and plenty of other family members posting when they get freebies too...so like, it's not even true that Western artists fans don't do freebies. This person really had the audacity to try and paint a fandom as ''boring'' simply because they didn't get an experience they didn't even try to find because they closed themselves off to thinking other artists and their fans are worse compared to the group they stan. What an asshole. What an asshole way to live life.

They also complained about dancing, like bitch go and see a dancing artist then, plenty of pop artists dance, if you go to see a band that has never danced at their shows you're not going to suddenly get dancing. Just like I wouldn't go and see BTS and suddenly expect them to play instruments. If they have never presented themselves as that type of artist, why the fuck would I expect otherwise?

They also complained about not getting ending ments...and like no shit, normal people go to music shows to hear music, no one should actually need a show with an hour of music cut in order to place a whole speech there instead. Plenty of artists break throughout their shows to talk with fans and engage with their audience, they just don't do it for half the damn concert like k-pop artists do. It's not a flex like k-pop fans think it is to know they get less songs because they have to account for time to keep the parasocial dependency alive.

And I hate lightsticks, personal hot take I guess, but they were annoying when I saw Hoseok at Lolla. People had them on the entire night, waving them and blocking people's view behind them. They were honestly the worst part of the night, there's not a single video I could take without them blocking my camera at multiple points.

End rant. I just really can't stand these people. I can't imagine being invited to a concert with a friend or family member and my only take away are all the ways I now think the concert-going experience outside of k-pop is just 'the worst experience' that 'concerts are ruined for me now!' because I let myself be closed off to it. Tickets wasted on someone when an actual fan could have gone and had an amazing time. Miserable.

#Sab talks BTS stuff #the brain washing is doing wonders #anyway will be blocking accounts on main if I see little 7's 'cause I deleted my other account for a REASON goddamn it

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transmascrage · 2 years

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julia serano was a bad example to use in your 4 whole paragraph response bc she literally is a transandrophobe and you can find plenty of evidence of that in her writings. but that doesn't stop me from using the word transmisogyny because i also never said not to use the words saint has coined. i never even said i don't believe in transandrophobia. all i said is that saint is a lesbophobic racist sack of garbage because he is. like i don't know how to tell you how unhinged you came off there but chastising me for "giving snarky responses" when you were talking to yourself is unwell person type behaviour. deciding to ignore and simply "disagree" that it's wrong for a man to openly fantasize about raping lesbian women is deranged. people should be aware of hymn whether you are or not. i think his contribution of the word transandrophobia is useful and we should keep using it, but i also know that even a broken clock is right twice a day. he's a dangerous person with dangerous ideas and he shouldn't be promoted as some martyr who people only hate because he's ~☆such a good activist uwu☆~. at the end of the day he is another man who wants to rape women, another non-Black person who shamelessly appropriates Black culture, another "she just needs a good fuck!" brand lesbophobe, another "everyone is bi!" flavour homophobe... the list goes on and on and on. get a clue, or a better soapbox. p.s. i can't "just block" saint (or his alt account/#1 fanboy nothorses lmao) to be rid of hymn; losers like you will still be out here praising hymn day in and day out like he pays your damn light bill.

It's true that you never said anything about transandrophobia, sorry for assuming, usually people use the two arguments hand-in-hand.

So here's the thing. I was "talking to myself" because you're on anon. You wanna be a big kid and come off and argue with me without hiding? We can talk about this in a conversation if you want.

Second. I'm not going to explain why having "problematic kinks" is not something to chastise people over, because so many others have explained it already. The base, the very core of kink is consent.

That's why it doesn't make sense to me to harass someone over their kink, who they perform consensually, on their private blog.

He wasn't going onto random people's blogs and misgendering or leaving inappropriate messages. His blog was password protected for a reason.

It's like if someone was doing kinky shit in their bedroom, someone barged in and went: "Oh my god, what's wrong with you?? Why are you pushing your kinks onto me?"

It's true that he's a man, but he's not a cis man. We're not talking about a cishet man who gets off to the idea of "turning lesbians straight". Transmascs have, surprise surprise, different experiences than cis men!

How do you know Saint didn't identify as a lesbian before and developed this kink as a coping mechanism? I don't, because I don't know hymn. And he's not obligated to tell anyone jack shit.

I can't stress it enough that you don't know what I'm into, or why I developed certain kinks.

If it bothers you that I'm defending hymn, block me and blacklist our tags. Or maybe stop bringing up this subject. We literally only talk about it because you keep mentioning it.

Also, you opened your first anon message with: "Why are you telling people to block someone who's calling out Saint?" but he wasn't, he reblogged something and reached so hard to find a reason to "incriminate" two other people. This isn't about Saint.

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jstarr86 · 8 months

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HEARTBREAKS DAUGHTER

A/N: This story is already posted over on my WattPad account so you can read this and the continuation over there. Side note if you know how to make a page for this story so I can link each chapter to it please dm me because I know basically nothing for this and am unsure how to do it so if you kno how to add all chapters to one page plz hit ya girl up I’m struggle bussin

Jayla Hickenbottom

Ring Name Jayla Michaels

DoB 8/5/86

Ch. 1

You don't have to do this, you know that right?" I looked up at my godfather smiling

"Yes I know, and I want to."

"You shouldn't have to you should be still on a court."

"Paul, honey leave her alone. I am sure she knows what she is doing." I smiled looking across the desk at Stephanie as she handed me a pen.

"Yeah, listen to your wife, besides basketball didn't work out or did you forget the knee."

"I didn't for-"

"Good, I know you are looking out for me but I will be ok, I promise." I said signing the contract. "Besides we all knew this was in the cards at some point."

"That we did, congratulations." Steph said as she handed me a copy of my contract. "We'll figure something out here soon for you."

"Thank you." I said hugging them both before running out the door. I made my way to costume and to see a lady I had known for what seemed like my whole life. Ms Sandra was a seamstress for the company and a lady I had known most of my life. I ran hopping up on her table causing her to jump and shriek making me laugh.

"Child! Don't you do that again, do you hear me! Scaring the hell out of me, what's wrong with you." she said chuckling at me. I held up the contract smiling at her as she tapped my leg softly.

"Bout time, congratulations." She said hugging me.

"Excuse me." We pulled apart and I looked up at the guy who had walked up to us. My breathe stopping as I got a good look at him. Dear lord he was gorgeous.

"Hello Joseph, how are you today?"

"I'm good Ms. Sandra how are you?"

"Good, here is your vest I just finished, good as new."

"Thank you."

"Later Ms. Sandra." I said standing up.

"Ok honey be easy and I'll start something for you."

"Thank you." I said smiling at both of them before I walked off. I needed to go tell one of my best friends the good news. As I got to the women's locker room I walked in and tapped my friend on her shoulder. As Trin turned she screamed hugging me as I held up my contract. I had met her in Florida years ago when she first signed. I met her working at the performance center and we had instantly clicked.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad to see you."

"Ugh, they'll hire anybody." I sucked my teeth as I pulled away from Trin and turned looking at Nattie. We had never gotten along I guess because of the screw job back in the day involving her uncle and my dad.

"Got an issue?" I challenged looking at her. I was not about to take shit from any person in this company, backstage politics be damned.

"Yeah I do, you shouldn't be here."

"Why's that?"

"Your only here because of your family." I snorted in laughter.

"And you're not, if you weren't part of the Hart family you wouldn't be shit." I said getting back her in face. I was damn near 5'10 so I had to look down and I sure as shit wasn't intimidated by her because I knew I could kick her ass in a ring out of it; didn't matter. I blocked her swing and hit back before I knew it not only were the ladies in the room separating us but so were some of the producers and personel including Paul.

"What the hell is going on!" Steph yelled as I glared at Natalya.

"She swung on me so I beat her ass, apparently she can't get out of the 90's and wants to fight me on some shit neither of us had a damn thing to do with."

"Ok both of you calm your asses down now, I have another incident like this and you're both suspended. Nat you know better. Jayla your first match will be tonight you two are facing each other; and you better keep it professional." As everyone left I jerked away from Trin and stomped back to Ms. Sandra.

"I'm done little lady."

"Thank you." I said looking at my gear. It was black and white and had a broken heart on it that looked like the kind always on my dad's old gear.

I had just hit a double rotation moonsault when the lights went out

and Kane's music came on. I saw Nat get out of the ring but I felt someone grab me. I looked at Kane as he hoisted me up in the air as I kicked my legs trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Sierra, Hotel, Indigo, Echo, Lima, Delta, Shield." I heard from the speakers before I was slammed to the mat, the air flowing out of my lungs.

That shit had hurt more than I thought. Then again I knew Glen kind of worked like Eddie did, stiff. I rolled out of the way to the corner as Kane was beat down and out of the ring. I felt an arm helping me up and as I looked up I met the gorgeous eyes of the guy I had seen earlier with Sandra; only now his hair was down and wet, didn't change the fact he was fucking beautiful. I was a little light headed and he steadied me before helping me out of the ring and lifting me into his arms. His hand on my bare back sending fire through my body. He carried me all the way to the trainers.

"You ok?" I looked to the trainer who had walked up to me.

"Little dizzy." I noticed the guy leave and felt a little sad. After getting checked out I was given some headache pills and sent on my way as I got in the hall I bumped into H.

"You good?"

"Fine, took that bump a little rough just a headache."

"Steph and I need to talk to you next week."

"K."

#wwe roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #the tribal chief

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hayleykiyopioids · 1 year

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oh my good lord i hate my job so much dudes

hello to the 4 real people that follow me, and all the bots i haven't had the energy to block yet! i need like 5 minutes to talk shit about my job, so if that's not your vibe tonight please feel free to just not read this shit because this is the last corner of the internet that's blessed with anonymity and i would like to scream into the ether without consequence <3

so i'm the entire IT department for a shitty little car dealership in Almost The Middle Of Nowhere, USA and like maybe 6 out of the 50 people that work there have more than one single brain cell. there is so much crap in that building that only i know about, and i'm at the end of my Got Damn rope guys.

the GM of this dealership is the dumbest and laziest man in this building, and every 3 months or so he decides to go on some kind of fucking crusade to try and convince everyone else he does something around there. probably every other crusade, i end up a fucking target because he can't comprehend a single thing i do on any given day.

i very seriously need you to understand that i have never received an email from this man that wasn't a paragraph of a run on sentence. i had to teach this man how to upload photos to the vehicle auction site that i don't even have access to. this man does not know a single policy in the building, he has never filled out a single form correctly, and is constantly losing Important Documents with enough sensitive information that someone's whole identity could get stolen! almost every single decision he makes on a given day costs the dealership money and somehow still screws the customers over! but for some fucking reason the owner trusts his word like fucking gospel. this man is going to run the dealership into the ground, and he does not give one single shit

that's all just kind of background info so the actual thing i want to complain about makes some kind of sense. today was the day the GM decided to open up another crusade, and i got caught up in it for pretty much no damn reason.

we have this storage area we call the loft. it's a fairly small second floor type thing, that once upon a time someone built out of plywood and 2x4s. it's ugly, it's dusty, it's probably not even all that safe, and it's a dumping ground for all the crap we don't have space for anywhere else. this space has been a disorganized shit show for the last two and a half years.

well, the parts department is packed at the seams, and the only real solution to this is to put more shelves up in the loft. the GM was up in there, and decided to get pissed at me and the accounting department, and the "marketing" department for not keeping our shit up there organized.

THING IS: THE MESS UP THERE IS NOT OUR FAULT!

half the crap up there belongs to detail and service, and another quarter of it is paperwork that our state requires us to keep paper records of for a number of years before it can be sent to be shredded for customer privacy

half of the IT stuff that the GM found up there can't possibly be pinned on me. a lot of it was up there in unmarked boxes, and has been there since well before I started working here. how are you going to be mad at me for not going through UNMARKED BOXES in a space that is famously everyone's dumping ground?

everything that was in an unmarked box was also special shit from other departments! even if i knew it was there, it would not have been my call to get rid of old credit card readers and check scanners. that shit has never been on me, it's been on the departments who use those things.

the other half of the IT stuff was crap i've been wanting to get rid of for so long! but every time i bring it up, it's "well someone might need that printer so let's hang onto it" "those monitors still work, so let's hang onto them" "lets save that monitor wall mount in case we need it" EVERYTHING i was told to save when it should have gotten tossed has been collecting dust up there for well over 6 months at least.

everything else that the GM was mad about: it was the GM who said to store it in the loft in the first place. AND almost everything that gets put up there gets moved around by anyone and everyone! when shit goes missing or gets put in stupid places, it's never because of the person who's actually supposed to be keeping track of it

so anyway, since the loft is an obvious problem, the GM now has an excuse to nitpick literally every other aspect of the departments he's pissed about now. me, my friend who's the cashier, and the "marketing" department now all of a sudden have to send an email at the end of every fucking day detailing everything that we've done that day. this isn't the first time the GM has made up this stupid little rule, and every other time i've had to do it i get told to stop after about a week or two. that, or i just kind of stop sending them because i know full well that he doesn't read them. i don't think the GM has literally ever read a single email i've sent him.

the worst part about this crap is that i know he doesn't understand a single thing i do in that building, let alone how long any of it takes. one of the time i had to send these stupid emails i was told to include an estimate of how long it took me to do each thing on the list! LIKE WHAT THE FUCK?? and it also doesn't help that 99% of my job is just waiting for something to break so i can go fix it.

the only upside is that i'm a little less than a month out from switching jobs. the dealership hires this other guy to manage the network in the building, just about the only thing i don't have my hands on since i don't have the knowledge yet. he used to be the one they called to fix all their stupid little problems too until they hired me. i'm kind of being handed off to go work for him, and they'll just call me like they used to call him before. i'm also going to be essentially working to build up his company, since up until now he's been a one man operation. me and him work incredibly well together, and i've been doing work for him part time in my off hours for the last 6 months or so.

that god forsaken dealership is going to go under in the next few years if the owner doesn't fire that GM. there's a million and one issues with the way that place gets ran, and the owner doesn't seem to give a single shit. she punishes the small handful of people who actually do their jobs right for all the others' mistakes, and people are already starting to jump ship. i don't think there's a single employee there that doesn't have some kind of issue with either her or the GM or both. and the saddest part of it all is the the owner of that dealership is so fucking smart when she takes her head out of her own ass! she doesn't realize how much she leans on a small handful of people there and how close they all are to quitting.

#i could go on and on and on my dudes!#i've been there for 2 and a half years #and it was getting better and better until the last december everything took a fucking nose dive #if even one person wants me to i'll post the emails from today low key #they're funny when you forget that this man is supposedly in charge of a whole car dealership lmfao #i know for a fact none of those jamokes even know what tumblr is anyway so im not afraid to get caught talking shit tbh #anyway thanks for listening #vent post #long post #i hate having a job #:)

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deepfriedseagullfeet · 1 year

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also ive been trying to get to the root of my CONSTANT art block. like i want to create things as a career! but oh the misery......consistency is my enemy........i get so burnt out so easily and so i only draw things a few days out of the month and thats No Good!!!! i want to work out how to build better drawing HABITS instead of just getting mad that im not drawing. i found a few articles online that are helping me re-assess my art habits and that give good tips on avoiding burnout and art block. so im hoping i can actually stick to some kind of plan or habit tracker to keep me accountable so i can draw ALL THE THINGS

besides drawing habits i also am not sure on how to proceed with making things?? like i want to focus on my etsy shop and make all this new merch. but also id love to post smaller, easier youtube videos so i can push myself to make content instead of trying to do these big projects. but ALSO i want to make music content on tiktok (cause i dont want youtube to get salty at me when i talk about my favorite music) but it might be hard to juggle both youtube and tiktok where im making different content for both, as WELL as working on my shop. and on top of all that i want to draw more often, and draw more interesting stuff like comics. i want to draw comics with my ego boys so badly. i also havent drawn porn in awhile. i should do that too. because my art is probably the most important thing to me that i create and i want people to see my stuff!! so how does one juggle like 4 different things at the same time. who is severely tired all the time and also works full time in retail.

idk, just some thoughts. i have a list of current things i need to finish that ive been working on, including month-old drawing requests and actually picking up writing my ego iceberg. i actually havent been thinking a ton about my egos this past month so motivation to talk about them has been LOW. but ive been talking about the damn thing for months now and i want to make progress one way or another!!!!

i think time blocking and habit tracking are a good place to start, i just need to find some kind of solution to keep my art creation in check. i do be needing some discipline if i ever want to be successful within the next few years lol

#so thats kinda where im at!!! i want to find a way to keep myself in check for all my things #i have soooo many ideas for things but i really need to narrow it all down #to achievable and bite sized goals that can get me to where i want to be artistically #sorry for this long rant i just feel like i havent been posting my shit lately haha #i need to catch yall up on things goin on in ole seagull's brain

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 3 years

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The Dock

A/N: So I’m writing for Bucky now...☺️ I wrote this for @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge but also not? I’ve had the idea in my head for a while now so I thought I’d participate! I included the prompt, but it’s not so much the plot of the story so much as just part of it. Anyways, happy reading!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a long time of mutual pinning, a night on the dock helps you and Bucky finally confess your feelings for each other

Word count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets catcalled, violence, excessive usage of the middle finger

Prompt: Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]

---

You awoke to your head bobbing on the car window and the sound of crunching gravel as the car pulled into the driveway of Tony’s lake house. Your neck ached from leaning over in a strange position for so long and you groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

Bucky grinned from the seat beside you. “Sleep well?” he asked, nudging your calf with his foot. “You got a little drool there.”

“Oh, shut up.” You stuck your middle finger up in his direction. “I slept very well, actually. Thank you for asking.”

“I can tell.” You lifted up your other hand to flip him off again, causing him to chuckle. “Ooh, two middle fingers. I’m really scared now.”

The two of you were too busy teasing each other to realize that the car had stopped and Sam and Natasha had already gotten out of it. A knock on the window your head was resting on made you turn around, seeing Sam’s face a little too close for your liking.

“Are you two gonna stop flirting and help us with the bags or should I let you bake in the car?” he asked. With a roll of your eyes, you opened the car door, making sure to bump Sam in the process. Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks, glad that you weren’t looking over towards him to see it. “I’m taking this silence to mean that you do want to roast in the car.”

“Sam, would you shut up?” you laughed, casually sticking a middle finger up behind your back as you walked past him to the trunk.

“You and these middle fingers today,” Sam muttered.

“I have another one if you’d like to see it.” You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder.

“I’m good.” He picked up his bag from the ground before heading towards the house, which the rest of the team was already situated in. You went to grab your suitcase but Bucky swatted your hand away, grabbing it himself and closing the trunk.

“I got it,” he insisted like the true gentleman he was. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“Why thank you, good sir.” You bumped his shoulder with your own and walked ahead, jumping up the three steps to the porch and opening the door.

“All in a day’s work.” He lifted the suitcases up the steps with ease and slipped past you to get inside. The feeling of air conditioning inside the cabin was a major relief from the heat outside.

“Glad to see the lovebirds finally showed up,” Tony said once you and Bucky were completely inside the cabin.

“You better watch out, Tony. Y/N’s got middle fingers for days over there.”

“Shut up, Sam!”

A chorus of laughter rang out throughout the cabin and you made sure to shoulder check Sam as you passed him to get to the kitchen.

---

“Okay, I have the perfect plan to get you and Barnes together this weekend,’ Natasha said as she pulled out clothes from her suitcase. You two were sharing a room for the week and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not. You loved Nat to death but lately she had been trying especially hard to get you to make a move on Bucky and it was only slightly annoying.

“The perfect plan, huh? Even more perfect than the last perfect plan?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to account for the fact you both have a tendency to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning last time. I promise it’s foolproof this time.”

“Well then, let’s hear it.”

“Alright. Before you got in here--you know, when you were busy flirting with Bucky.” She winked, to which you rolled your eyes. “Well Tony was talking about taking the boat out and going tubing. So what we have to do is get you and Bucky to go on the tube together. Tony’s a crazy driver so you’ll get thrown off pretty fast. Bucky will get so worried he’ll just have to confess his love to you.”

“Two issues.” You pointed a finger at her. “One, how am I going to get Bucky on a tube? It will be hard enough to get him on the boat alone. Two,” You held up another finger. “why would he confess his love at that very moment? That’s insane.”

“One,” She grabbed one of your fingers and put it down. “he’s whipped for you. I guarantee that if you ask, he’ll do it without a second thought.”

“Sure he would,” you scoffed.

“Uh, I know he would.” She gave you a knowing smirk. “Two, he gets worried about you all the time and I’ve seen him get close to confessing every time. We just gotta push him over the edge.”

“Bucky getting protective is just him being my best friend. He used to be just like that with Steve too.” You put your arm down, shuffling over to your own bed to take some clothes out of the blue suitcase on top of it.

“No, it’s definitely more than best friend love.” She moved to sit down on your bed.

“Either way, it usually ends in some kind of fight and I’d like to avoid that this weekend.”

“Who’s he gonna fight? Tony?”

“I mean, you never know.” It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I can’t wait to get back and shove these things in my mouth,” you said with a grin as you exited the bakery behind Bucky, a bag of donut holes in your hand.

“Gee, really? It’s almost like you haven’t been talking about it for the past three days,” Bucky chuckled, reaching for the bag.

You pulled the bag away from him with a fake scoff. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister. We have to wait until we get back. The anticipation makes them taste better.”

“You’re insufferable.” He elbowed your side and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Damn, you looking fine over there, mama!”

You took in a sharp breath. It wasn’t all that uncommon for you to get cat called while out and about. You were in New York City, for fucks sake. That didn’t mean that it made you feel any less uncomfortable, though.

As much as it stung, you didn’t want to start anything. You stared straight ahead and prayed Bucky didn’t hear it. Much to your dismay though, he stiffened next to you, subtly glancing back to see who was talking to you in such a vulgar way. Damn that supersoldier enhanced hearing.

“Hey, sweetcheeks!” You felt a tug on your shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You huffed, shaking the harsh grip off your shoulder and picking up the pace. You expected Bucky to keep going with you so you continued walking, frowning when you noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore.

“Listen here, you little shit,” Bucky seethed, stepping in front of the man and blocking you from his sight. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave her, and every other woman you ever lay your beady little eyes on, alone.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” the man smirked. “She need her boyfriend to defend her?”

Bucky stepped closer, crossing his arms and giving the famous ‘Bucky stare.’ “Doesn’t matter who I am. You better back the fuck away before I make you life hell.”

A few onlookers started lingering around, some with their phones out and recording the scene, almost as if they wanted to see a fight break out between the two men. ‘Winter Soldier vs Everyday Pedestrian was sure to be trending somewhere soon enough.

“Buck,” you said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and ignoring the obvious stares you were receiving, most notably from the man whose face Bucky was ready to punch in. “Let’s just go.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide if he should let it go or punch the living daylights out of the guy. He let out a soft sigh after a moment, relaxing into your grip. With one last look at the man, he turned around and placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward.

“Aye, it’s all good. I’m sure I’ll see that tight ass ‘round here soon anyways.”

That was the last straw for Bucky. He growled with a ferocity you hadn’t heard before and whipped around, not even hesitating to use his metal arm to punch the guy. The crowd gasped, more bringing their phones out to capture what was sure to be a great fight.

“What the fuck was-” Bucky grabbed him by his collar, pushing him up again the exposed brick of a restaurant.

“There’s plenty more where that came from and, judging by the way you’re looking at me, I bet you don’t want to see it. So do the rest of humanity a favor and fuck off.” He let go of the man’s collar and stepped back, unclenching his fist and pivoting back towards you. “Come on, doll.”

You shook the shock off your face and fell into step next to him. His arm warped around you, pulling you into his side. You could feel the fumes radiating off of him as you walked back to the tower, choosing to stay quiet as you let him cool off.

You paused once you reached the entrance of the tower. Tony probably already knew about what happened and he sure wasn’t going to be happy about it. Bucky’s media presence hadn’t necessarily been bad lately, but it wasn’t perfect either. The public was still wary. To many, the Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier were still the same person.

Things definitely felt off when you entered. You got the side eye from a few people in the elevator and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fight fiasco or because of how tightly Bucky was holding you to his side.

“Want to eat these in my room?” you asked once you stepped off the elevator.

“Sounds good.” His voice was distant as his eyes searched the room.

“Mr. Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice startled the two of you, making you drop the donut holes. “Mr. Stark has requested to see you in his office.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll be there in a few.” He picked up the bag and handed it back to you. “Apparently, I have business to attend to.”

You simply nodded. He went in the other direction towards Tony’s office pausing at the door before knocking. You sent him a thumbs up before he went in, but he didn’t look back at you to see it. You retreated to your room, placing your wallet on the dresser and popping a donut hole in your mouth.

“Maybe I should get a plate,” you wondered aloud. You needed to grab your water bottle anyways. Might as well make the trip. You put the donut holes on your bed and started making your way to the kitchen.

“She’s perfectly capable of handling herself, you know.” You couldn’t help but stop as you heard Tony’s voice through the door of his office.

“But she shouldn’t have to.” Bucky sounded stressed and you could only imagine the hell Tony was reigning on him. “Her ignoring him wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t want to beat the guy up but he was harassing her and it needed to stop.”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with any particular feelings you have for her, right?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

“Tony-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Barnes. You know how the public sees you. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.”

“That guy harassed her! I couldn’t stand there and just let it happen!” God, you wanted to give him a hug so bad right now.

“I don’t care what it was, Bucky. Having heart eyes for Y/N doesn’t mean-” You took that as your cue to leave. You grabbed a plate and two water bottles from the kitchen and made sure to take the long way around to your room in order to avoid whatever was going on between the two of them.

Bucky showed up a half hour later, plopping down next to you on your bed with a little more space than usual.

“I’m just saying, it could work.” Nat got off your bed. “The cookout’s starting soon. Put on something cute.” She was gone before you could respond, leaving you to look for an outfit that would, as Nat liked to say, “knock Bucky off his ass.”

---

“Ooh, Y/N, looking to impress someone?” Sam called out as you walked out into the backyard. It seemed that most everyone else was already out there, helping make dinner or sitting on the dock.

You stuck up your middle finger in reply, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Oh stop it, Sam,” Wanda said as she walked towards you. “You look amazing!”

“Aww, thank you! You look absolutely stunning yourself.” Wanda reached out her hand and nodded towards the dock, urging you to come with her and join the group. You grabbed it and let her drag you down there, giving a small wave to Bucky as you passed him near the grill.

Bucky waved back, a grin spanning the expanse of his face at the sight of you. He kept his gaze on you as you made your way down to the dock, not even realizing just how intently he was staring.

“Someone’s staring at you,” Nat said with a suggestive smirk once you were close enough to the dock.

“He has a starting problem. We all know that,” you argued, sitting down across from her.

“I don’t know. He looks like he wants nothing more than to-”

“Nat, I love you, but please shut up.” She raised her hands up in the defense and Wanda giggled.

“I’m just saying.”

“You okay over there?” Steve shifted his focus from the burgers to his 100-year-old friend for a second, of course noticing the sudden silence that ensued the second you entered Bucky’s line of vision. “Buck?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s head turned sharply in Steve’s direction.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” A shy smile.

“Are you going to ask her out soon?” He flipped some burgers over and pulled the lid of the grill closed.

“I’m getting to it, yeesh,” Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what you’ve been saying since forever.”

“And it’s what I��ll keep saying every time you pester me about it.”

“Well if you don’t make a move soon, maybe I’ll swoop in-”

“Nope! You will not do that.” He nudged Steve in the shoulder and started making his way to the dock. “You absolutely will not do that.”

Soon. He was going to do it soon.

---

“Who’s next?” Tony called from the driver’s seat of the boat. You handed Sam a towel as he got back on the boat, drenched from flying off the tube a second earlier.

“You should go with Bucky.” Wanda nudged you with a teasing smile. You glanced over to the man in question, seeing him sitting next to Steve. He wore a t-shirt and swim shorts with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, and he looked damn good.

“I’ll go,” you announced, standing up and taking your t-shirt off, leaving you in your favorite swimsuit and a pair of shorts. You handed Wanda the shirt so it wouldn’t get wet. “Anyone wanna go with me?” Wanda jabbed your leg and gave you a playful glare.

“Go with her,” Steve muttered to Bucky, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky sighed. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that his best friend just needed a little push.

“Bucky will go with you,” Steve said a bit louder than necessary. Bucky groaned quietly at his friend, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his seat. He made sure to give Steve a certain look before making his way towards the back of the boat. You both grabbed your life jackets and started securing them as Sam moved out of your way.

“Cyborg!” Tony called out. “You going to take your shirt off?”

You felt Nat snort as she helped you off of the back of the boat and onto the tube. “Yeah, Bucky. Why don’t you show off your muscles for your girlfriend here.”

“Nat!” You paused for a second to look back at her with fake betrayal.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He snapped the last clasp on the life vest and checked to make sure you were all the way on the tube so he could start getting on.

“Oh, come on, Buckaroo!” Sam laughed. He started a chant of “take it off” with the rest of the team (even you, though you’d never admit it).

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled, hastily taking off the life jacket and shirt. He threw the shirt to the middle of the boat and resecured the lifevest, ignoring Nat’s hand offered out for help as he climbed on the tube. His famous Bucky glare melted off his face the second he saw your bright smile and he found himself smiling too.

“I don’t know how well this is going to go but it’s gonna be fun,” you said as he grabbed onto the handles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony’s a crazy driver and we’ve never been able to get you on a tube before. I’m betting you’ll fly off in the first three minutes.”

The tube jerked forwards before Bucky could say anything else. You started picking up speed quickly and soon enough, Bucky was holding the handles with a death grip. You ended up being right and about two minutes in, you hit a wave that threw him off.

“Are you okay?” you asked in between laughs as he struggled to get back on.

“Yeah,” he muttered, a hint of annoyance on his face. You threw a thumbs up to Tony, who nodded and started moving again. “It’s like he’s trying to throw us off.”

“Well half the fun is falling off.”

“You people have strange ways of entertaining yourselves on Sunday afternoons.”

“What would you suggest we rather do then?”

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve giving myself whiplash for ‘fun.’”

“You’re such an old man.” You let go of a handle to smack his arm. Of course, at that exact moment, you hit a wave strong enough to throw both of you off. You shrieked as you flew off of the tube before smacking the water. Whether it was the lack of paying attention or a scheme by Nat and Steve, the boat kept going, leaving the two of you floating in the middle of the lake by yourselves.

“Where are they going?” You furrowed your eyebrows, though a grin was still evident on your face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky ignored your question as he swam over to you, worriedly grabbing your face and checking for injury.

“Buck, I’m fine,” you said, though you didn’t do anything to stop his injury check. He sighed and looked towards the direction the boat went. It seemed that they were already long gone.

“That shriek had me worried there for a second, doll.” His hands dropped from your cheeks and you found yourself missing his touch.

“No need to worry. I’m all good over here.”

“Good.”

A lull of conversation fell over the two of you as you treaded water. You slowly moved closer, noses almost touching when Bucky glanced down to your lips. You nodded. I want this too.

His lips brushed over yours: eyes closed and hands dipping under the water to grab your waist.

“There you are!” you heard Sam’s voice shout. You quickly separated, looking awkwardly down at the water as you tried to focus on anything but each other. “Thought we lost you. Didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.” He smirked at Bucky.

This time, it was Bucky flipping him off.

---

You tried to be quiet as possible as you tiptoed through the hallway, hoping that you wouldn’t step on any particularly squeaky floorboards in the dark. You started opening drawers once you made it to the kitchen in search of a flashlight. Did Tony even own basic technology like that?

“What are you doing, doll?” A soft voice broke you from your thoughts. A pair of blue eyes stared back at you.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Oh, okay.”

“You look like a deer in headlights.” His lips turned into an almost smile. “Are you running away?”

“Just down to the dock. Need to clear my mind.” Nightmares.

He nodded. An unspoken understanding. Maybe that’s what made you such great friends.

“Mind if I join?”

“Sure.” You finally found a flashlight and grabbed it, sliding the drawer shut with your hip. You slid the glass door to the porch open, leaving Bucky to follow you out.

Warmth surrounded you as you made your way to the dock. The humidity was atrocious during the day but at night, it was somehow comforting. The buzzing of bugs in the surrounding woods brought you a level of peace that the hum of air conditioning inside couldn’t. You sat down at the edge of the dock, dipping your toes in the cool lakewater.

Bucky sat down next to you a moment later. Your silence contrasted with that of the busy summer night, but it was comfortable. Nothing needed to be said; the presence of each other was more than enough.

“You know,” he started, his gaze not leaving the shoreline across the way. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

You glanced over to him for a second, taking subtle notice of his features when his guard was down. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored yours, yet he looked relaxed.

“And what if I don’t?” The slight stain of your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His head turned to meet you eyes. The soft upturn of your lips and content sigh told him that was the right answer. Your hand inched closer to his, your pinkies brushing on the splintered wood of the dock.

“How do you always know what to say?” Your gaze followed his across the lake, catching sight of a few deer grazing on the grass at the edge of the woods.

“I guess being alive for 106 years has to give me some kind of wisdom, right?”

You snorted, breaking the quiet atmosphere the two of you had created for the first time that night.

“I dunno. You’re still kind of a dumbass.”

“And you're still kind of a smartass, so where does that get us?” A grin spread across his face and there was no sight you loved more.

“God, I love seeing you smile.” A blush coated his cheeks at your words and he prayed you couldn’t see it in the dark of the night.

Your hands inched closer for a second time that night. A metal hand reached across to grab yours, his other arm going around your waist to pull you closer. Your head rested beneath his chin as he rubbed circles into your side.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.

“For what?”

“Your face.”

His chest rumbled with laughter and he squeezed you just the slightest bit tighter. “Glad I could be of service, doll.”

“Seriously, though . . .Thank you for being around. I know we joke around a lot but it really means a lot that you’re willing to sit out here with me.”

“I mean, technically, it was more of me inviting myself than putting myself through the torture of sitting here with you.”

You pulled away from his chest, shifting yourself so you could look at him better. “For real, Buck.” You put your hands on his cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Just do it, Bucky. Now’s the time.

He let out a breath as he smiled, looking anywhere but in your eyes as he contemplated what to do next. The hand not holding your waist came to brush back a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked shocked for a moment, leaving him to wonder if he’d been reading it wrong all along. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I thought that-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck as his grabbed your hips. It was everything you needed and yet it still wasn’t enough.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen,” you breathed once you pulled away. This grin on your face mirrored his as he pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“Actually . . . I think I might.” He dipped back in for another kiss, this one a bit softer than the first, but just as passionate.

A sudden breeze swept through the night and you shivered. It would have been a relief from the heat if you weren’t already having chills due to the man in front of you.

“Let’s get you back inside, doll.”

You were reluctant to let go of him. The moment you’d been waiting for for so long finally happened and you felt yourself scared to be too far from him.

You shifted your weight back so he could get up, not realizing just how close to the edge of the dock you were. Bucky let go of your hips before you could warm him and you felt yourself falling backwards in slow motion. A small yelp left your lips and Bucky’s attempt to save you was futile as your hands slipped through his.

“Cold, cold, cold!” you chanted once you surfaced, barely hearing yourself over how loud Bucky was laughing.

“Are you okay?” he choked out in between his laughter, kneeling at the edge of the dock and holding his hand out towards you. You grabbed his hand with a glare.

“I have half a mind to yank you in here with me.” His eyes widened at your words.

“Don’t you dare!” You tugged his arm lightly, just enough to get his face closer to yours.

“I guess I can spare you. Just this one time.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling yourself up onto the dock. “But I think I deserve a hug for my troubles.”

“Can’t deny my girlfriend that, now can I?” He pulled you into a hug, cradling your head on his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I’m your girlfriend, huh? Damn, we’re moving fast! Do you have the wedding planned already?”

“Oh please. I think we all know we’ve basically been dating for a while now.”

“Perhaps.” The two of you stayed in that position for a moment longer before another breeze came. “Should we go in now that we’re both wet and cold?”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, doll.” Keeping an arm around each other, you slowly made your way back to the cabin, already making plans for a proper date once the trip was over.

---

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hrwinter · 4 years

Note

the emergency room fic snippet took me out hgjgjghfh

Kara's not sure if it's the recently waking up from anesthesia or if she really is witnessing the most gorgeous creature to ever grace this planet seated, cross-legged in the outpatient waiting room.

"Hi!" she finds herself sitting right next to the woman and practically shouting directly into her face.

Smooth, Danvers, she thinks. What can she say, she's always had game.

The woman stares back at Kara's suddenly very close proximity, doe eyed, irises round and the most tantalizing shade of sea foam green Kara's ever seen.

"Did you just—" Kara points inelegantly back at the door a nurse had just ushered her through, "have a surgery?"

The woman eyes her, a little wary, before replying.

"An endoscopy."

Kara gasps, reaching for the woman's hands (a little cold) and holding them in her overly warm ones. She rubs them together in an effort to bring heat into the stranger's fingers. The woman simply continues to stare, perplexed.

"Me too! Did yours go well? What are you in for?"

"You're very friendly," the woman states bluntly.

"Oh, sorry," Kara pulls her hands away. "I'm Kara."

"Lena," the woman says, still a little stiff but a small smile forming at the corner of her mouth.

Kara makes a conscientious effort to keep her hands in her lap like an overeager child as she waits for Lena to answer.

"And I have an ulcer, they think," Lena says, touching delicately at her stomach. "Too much coffee and working, not enough eating."

Kara winces. "Those are painful, right?"

Lena nods. "What about you?"

"I ate four mega sized bags of candy corn."

The face Lena pulls is one of total, abject disgust.

"Candy corn? Why?"

"It was a Halloween dare from my sister," Kara shrugs. "My stomach hasn't been the same since."

"I should think not."

Kara laughs at the woman's impeccable diction, like she could be one of those reading voice models. Or a librarian. A sexy librarian.

"Honestly right now I feel more woozy from the anesthesia."

"Me too," Lena agrees, staring down at her hands and flexing them open and closed. Such lovely hands. Big, Kara thinks.

She's not sure how long they both stare down at Lena's hands, Kara's elbow bent on Lena's armrest, holding her chin in her palm, before she thinks to add,

"Can you believe they warned us not to gamble? Or buy a car? Isn't that crazy?”

"Completely."

"Although," Kara adds with an unnoticed slur to her words, her voice sing song pitching up and down. “If I could buy any car right now, I'd totally buy one of those sports cars with the butterfly doors."

"Like a McLaren?"

"Sure."

"My friend Bruce has one. I think I've seen it in his garage."

"Damn, is he rich?"

“I’m rich too,” Lena holds out her hands as if she's dropping invisible dollar bills all over the waiting room floor.

“But I'm boring," she says with a slump of her shoulders. "I always use a town car. My driver's name is George."

"George," Kara echoes. "Why do guys always get to be so flashy? You should get yourself a sports car for, like, female empowerment and stuff."

"You're right," Lena agrees with an unsteady nod of her head. "It's not fair. Let’s go buy one.”

Kara swoons closer, heavily encroaching over the boundary between their two respective chairs. The space between them is nearly nonexistent. The anesthesia side effects are definitely feeling more present.

“I think you’re my soulmate," Kara says, entirely uncensored.

Lena locks eyes with her for one boundless moment before she shakes her head hard, like a puppy trying to shake out wet fur.

"No, you wouldn't like me if you knew me. I am so scary," Lena tells Kara with such sincere earnestness, head bowed towards her. "Like so scary. I’m a CEO."

"That's cool!" Kara cheers, and before she can stop herself she's holding Lena's hands again. "And there's no way you're scary. You’re so nice and soft," she rubs Lena's fingers.

Kara's not quite sure what happens next. Lena sort of pulls at her hands, an unspoken invitation, and Kara's already halfway out of her seat, and it just makes… sense for her to fully get into Lena's lap.

The waiting room chair is perfectly sized for the both of them. Lena's hands anchor Kara, squeezing at her backside. It's heaven.

"You smell good," Lena comments dreamily, leaning forward to inhale at Kara's neck. Then suddenly she jumps back, jostling Kara in her lap.

"Oh my god, I’m gay!"

Kara stares at her, hypnotized by the river of small blue veins at Lena's temple and forehead.

"Oh," she starts. "Did you just… realize?"

"Yes—" Lena half shouts, then, "I mean no, I just had to tell you. So, be careful."

Kara laughs, wrapping her arms around Lena's neck. She massages her fingers into Lena's shoulders, and Lena sighs, reluctantly relaxing by degrees. Kara smiles, goofy.

"With what? Your feelings? Anyways, I’m bi."

"Oh." Lena mirrors Kara's words. "Are you single?"

"Give me your number," Kara replies in lieu of an answer.

They both scramble for their phones, Kara reaching into her back pocket and Lena fishing into an expensive looking hand bag. Kara sits backs on Lena's thighs and proceeds to ignore several texts from her sister. And what should be a simple swap of phone numbers becomes an impromptu photo shoot with lots of giggling and vaguely inappropriate touching.

"What is going on here?"

Kara pivots in Lena's lap, recognizing the voice of her sister coming from the open doorway.

"Alex?"

Lena's head has snapped to the door, too, eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?" she says with a squeeze of Kara's hips.

Alex's eyebrow raises, challenging.

"Who are you?"

Kara might actually hear Lena growl then.

"Lena?" another voice joins them.

Alex swivels to look at a woman just over her shoulder, tall and stately with legs for days. She has curly brown hair and soft, bedroom eyes.

"Who are you?" Kara finds her own voice grumbling.

"Sam!" Lena glows.

Who is Sam?!

Sam's eyes rove over the pair of them, and she raises a hand to her mouth to cover a smile. Kara reluctantly extricates herself from Lena's lap, standing but keeping hold of her hand.

"Um, Kar," Alex says, eyebrows threading closer and closer together by the second. "We have to go, so maybe let go of the stranger's hand."

"She's not a stranger, this is Lena!" Kara announces. "And I want her to come with us."

Sam snorts.

"What? No, Kara, we're going home," Alex takes a step into the room, and Lena squeezes Kara's hand possessively. "You need to get some sleep and recover."

"You, too, Lena," Sam intones, still lingering in the doorway.

"No!" Lena practically shouts, standing too. "I feel fine. We’re going to buy a car, actually."

Alex's jaw drops open.

"No, honey," Sam steps toward the pair of them then.

"Honey?" Kara asks, back bowing.

"Down girl," Sam quips in her direction. "We’re just friends."

"No, I’m your boss," Lena snaps at Sam, pointing, but it's as threatening as a five year old making demands about bathtime. "I tell you what to do."

Kara giggles.

"See, I’m mean," Lena gloats to Kara.

"No."

"Oh my god," Alex pinches the bridge of her nose. "This is a fucking mess, we're leaving. Now."

Kara stands taller at the warning nature of Alex's tone, and what follows is an absolute spectacle. It involves Alex chasing Kara around the room, Sam laughing loudly, and Lena threatening her and the entire hospital staff. It ends with Alex rough housing Kara inside of her Tahoe with threats of 'you owe me for life' and 'I can't fucking believe you." But Kara doesn't hear any of it, asleep by the time Alex gets into the driver's seat.

---

The next day, Kara wakes up late. There's a gloomy dark space where her memory of the day before should be, but she can't worry about that now. Instead, she groggily makes her way outside of her room, in search of the delicious coffee smell emanating from the kitchen. Alex stands there at her island, a sentinel, as if she's been up all night and waiting for this moment.

"How are we feeling today?" she asks neutrally.

"Terrible," Kara pours herself a cup of coffee.

"So…" her sister trails off, drumming her fingers, and Kara gets the distinct impression she's not going to like what comes out of her mouth next.

"Remember when you mounted Lena Luthor in the waiting room?"

Kara gapes at her.

"What? No, I didn’t. And who?"

"Lena Luthor," her sister repeats. "You were full on in her lap."

"You're lying," Kara splays herself over the couch. "I don't—remember anything. And Lena Luthor? The tech mogul?"

Alex ignores her.

"I had to take away your phone, and then you threw up in the shower. You don't remember that?"

"I was under anesthesia. I can't be held accountable for my actions," Kara shoves a pillow over her face, hoping it will block out the sound of her sister's voice.

"You're telling me you don't remember this woman?"

There's a slap of paper on her coffee table. Kara moves the pillow away, cracking open one eye to gaze down at the cover of a Popular Mechanics magazine. It's graced by a woman with gorgeous black hair with eyes an endless emerald green. She looks familiar, but Kara's not going to let her sister pull her chain today.

"Stop messing with me, Alex, it's not funny."

Alex glares back at her. "You really don't remember."

Kara grumbles and places the pillow back over her face.

"Check your texts," Alex lobs Kara's phone, and it hits her square in the stomach.

"Ow!" she shouts, chucking the pillow at Alex who dodges it easily. She sips at her coffee smugly.

Kara unlocks her phone, eyebrows furrowing, and reads her last text.

"OH MY GOD!"

"When we came back to your apartment," Alex continues, enjoying herself too much. "You kept trying to make out with your fern plant. You kept calling it Lena."

"STOP!"

"You tried to eat a frozen pizza."

"SHUT UP!"

#supercorp #hr’s askhole #supergirl #Lena Luthor #Kara Danvers #ficlet #fanfic #loosely based on an experience I had with a fellow gay man in the post op waiting room

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felswritingfire · 3 years

Text

April Brain Rot #10

Prompts:

36. Hatred

14. "I'm screwed."

18. “I swear, if anyone lays a hand on you, I’ll cut their arm off.”

Floyd Leech x Reader

Summery: Sometimes working customer service sucks ass- especially when creeps keep catcalling you and no one's saying anything. Good thing you have your boyfriend to come in and beat the shit out of people just in the nick of time.

TW: Incel behavior; Creeps; Cat Calling; Uncomfortable Situations; Blood; Violence; Fist Fighting; Pinning Down (Not in a good way)

Word Count: 1,152

A note from Fel: SO, TO START OFF- THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE????? Y'ALL ARE SO DAMN SWEET, THANK YOU!!!!! But y'all are gonna turn me into a full blow slut if you keep complimenting me. Also! For those who sent in requests- rest assured they are saftly sitting in my ask box, I'm just gonna save them for after April Brain Rot so I can make sure that I have everything in order lmao. (And that person who requested more Mafia Au??? I love you- much kisses~). ALSO SINCE I WANT TO GUSH ABOUT MY GF TOO- she liked this one and I'm happy she did, I got worried that everything felt rushed, so hopefully, y'all think it's up to par too! Sorry for rambling: enjoy!

Occasionally you would work at the Mostro Lounge to make some extra cash and occasionally you would get one of… the less unsavory customers who would bother you. But, usually, your boyfriend was there to run them off.

Unfortunately, at this point in time, Floyd was out with Jade and Azul (surprisingly) hunting down a customer to give them a “nice squeeze” (as Floyd likes to put it). So, you were on your own with this guy (and his cronies, ugh).

You breathe a sigh through your nose, feeling your blood boiling as your grip on your writing pad turns knuckle white as he makes another wolf call at you. The high pitched whistle cutting through the order of the customer that you were trying to get for the third time. “Hey, baby, why don’t you come back over here and talk to some real men?” This one’s voice is loud and nauseating and you have a sudden urge to throw the note pad at him and his cackling friends.

The Pomfiore student in front of you frowns and you’re almost afraid that they're going to get out of their seat and you were going to have to break up a fight. He sighs through his nose, repeating his order and you lean closer to him and tell him you’ll give him a discount. He smiles at you.

“Damn, look at that ass!” Another one yells, an awful voice crack breaking into his words. Despite it, he high fives the others like he had just said the best thing in the history of Twisted Wonderland.

You suck in another breath, shutting your eyes in barely contained fury.

“I’ll be back with your order, sir.”

He nods. “Hang in there.”

You smile at him, an inkling of annoyance straining at the back of your mind. I wouldn’t have to hang in there if one of you would do something. Or I could kill people.

Though… you glance at the group as you pass the order to the cooks in the kitchen: the three boys who were giggling amongst each other weren’t much to look at (thin, small- you could take them out if you really needed to thanks to getting out of Floyd’s hold so many times). The one that was worrying you was the one that was eyeing you like a piece of meat. The guy was big, almost as broad chested as the twins and just shy of being as tall as them; sharp toothed and slit pupils. You were almost inclined to believe that he stole that uniform from Diasomnia if his ears weren’t pointed.

Malleus would never stand for how they were acting.

I’ll have to talk to him. You huff, balancing the new tray of food on your shoulder and hand, making your way to the table that seats three Heartslabyul students, they eyed the rowdy group nervously and urged you to go around the side furthest from him. Which wasn’t very far, it was a booth right next to theirs. They take their order gratefully.

“Hey, what about us, pretty bird?” The guy finally called out to you, his voice ridiculously deep.

You want to hurl.

You plaster on the best smile you could despite the fury growing at the bottom of your gut and turn your attention to their booth. “Do you need something, sir?”

“Yeah.” He says, leaning on his elbows as he loosely holds the menu between his pointer finger and thumb. “A date. Me. You. This Saturday.”

This mother-

“I’m sorry, sir. That isn’t on the menu.”

“No one says no to me.”

His eyebrows raised before one of the guys piped up. “Do you not have any taste? Kylan’s one of the top students in Daisomnia- anyone would want to go on a date with him-”

“Well, then, he should go and find that ‘anyone’.” You're proud of the fact that you kept your smile on your face while addressing them. Even prouder of the gawking faces of the customers. What you didn’t account for was the darkening look on Kylan’s face as his blue eyes seemed to glow in a white rage.

“Well, I just did.”

God, Azul was going to have your head. Or maybe not. He had a soft spot for you. And this guy was an ass.

His hand shot out to wrap around your arm (a few cries from the other tables breaking through the adrenaline rush in your mind), yanking you to him until your noses almost brushed and you could smell the overpowering scent of his cologne. “No one-” the grip tightened and you winced- “says no to me.”

“L…” You gulped, trying to will your voice from wavering as you continue. “Let me go.”

“No one-”

“I don’t care if no one says no to you!” You snap, trying to tug your arm away from him despite his grip steadily growing tighter. “I said no! I have a boyfriend already who’s ten times better than you can ever hope to be- so let me fucking go!”

You shriek as your world whirls before your back makes contact with the table. Dishes breaking underneath your spine and one thought shines through as hands dart to hold you down and a chorus of yells and frantic movements sound from around you: I’m screwed.

And suddenly the Daisomnia student is yanked off of you and everything swells to a whole new kind of chaos as cheers blurred together with the sound of fists hitting skin rings out. You sit up (the three other boys having ran off) and look down to see Floyd throttling the fae- his fist a blur as he keeps colliding with his face. Kylan having no time to move aside from twitch at the sheer impacts of the hits.

More and more red specks flew into the air with every hit.

Jade frantically began to claw at Floyd’s clothes to pull him off of the fae, Azul rushing to help. They finally got him off of the barely moving student; he still strained against them to jump back on him until Azul whispered something in his ear and in that moment his eyes were on your dazed form.

Jade and Azul let him go and he rushed over to you. His hands immediately touch your face, his eyes round as he looks over you. He pulls you into a hug, shivering and mumbling mildly concerning things: “I’ll kill him.” and “I swear, if anyone lays a hand on you, I’ll cut their arm off.”

“Floyd-” you whisper- “Floyd. I’m ok.” You squeeze him back as hard you can.

He suddenly bursts out laughing, squeezing you back. “Your squeezes are so soft, Angelfish!”

You sigh into his shoulder, basking in his presence, blocking out the angry yells of Azul as he scolds and threatens the group behind you.

You’re happy that Floyd was back.

Thank you for reading!

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excalibursbane · 3 years

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okay! it's hard coming up with something with no base point, so I'm sorry for the late reply!! but maybe platonic!cc!BenchTrio x streamer!reader who always makes jokes out of hate and stuff? like hate doesn't get to them and they make it a joke!

"idk I just think y/n should do [thing] more n [thing] less :/" "I think you should stop watching if it bothers you that much 💃"

"just unsubbed to y/n, feeling good" "just fucked your mom, feeling good"

type of thing yk :) (if another blog does something similar they aren't stealing dw! I just like this idea and might write a bit too, but I'm on a writing break for me n my friend's bday!)

sorry it's kinda specific ;;; - slime anon

Hey that’s okay!! Don’t be sorry ^^ this sounds fun hehe I kinda ran out of ideas on this?? but hey it's pretty damn funny if i do say so myself, enjoy ^^

Something kinda funny I realized while writing this: my computer likes to correct Ranboo to Rainbow.

Pairing: cc!BenchTrio x streamer!reader (platonic) Type: Fluff ig? Warning: slight coarse language, mild streamer hate

“Oh, another dono! Thank you for the twenty, kind stranger!” The dono read off a kind message as you placed a few more blocks, towering up to start the roof of your house. Then a highlighted message in chat popped up, you turned and read it aloud:

“Hey maybe you should swear less there’s probably kids watching this- They can watch what they want, maybe you should take it up the ass less since you’ve clearly stuck your head up there trying to figure out what all you’ve lost.” With a smug grin on your face, you heard the two British streamers you were on call with lose their minds with Ranboo chuckling in the background.

“Oh that was good!! That was really good, y/n!” Tubbo exclaimed. You grinned, listening to Tommy absolutely lose his mind on his end. Even with the mask and glasses on, you could tell that Ranboo was grinning as well. You chuckled, flipping off the camera in the direction of your chat.

“Thanks Tubbo, I’m honestly used to it by now.” You shrugged it off, determined to keep playing. Hate didn’t shake you anymore, there were always some people every stream. They could easily be banned, no big deal. Finishing the roof, you hopped off and destroyed the cobble tower you’d made, walking around to the front and admiring the view. “Hey chat, what do you think? I think it looks pretty good.” Tommy and Tubbo nodded in agreement, with Tommy praising the roof, a nice A-frame built with stairs.

“Looks good, y/n! Better than I could do.” Ranboo commented, chuckling at his own comment. You scoffed at him playfully, remembering some of his past builds.

“Oh that’s bullshit and you know it.” Ranboo snickered in return and put his hands up in an “I surrender” gesture.

Several minutes later and two more cabins built, you noticed your chat spamming something.

“Whoa hey, what’s going on??” You asked, scrolling up to see what’d happened. Another highlighted message from someone with a very similar account name to the last hater had sent something. You read it and smirked, laughing softly. “I’m gonna read this out loud here… ‘Just reported all y/n’s streams for nudity, feeling good’” You tried to contain yourself, then burst out laughing louder than you think you ever had on stream before. “You reported me for nudity of all things? Well shit I think the mods or whoever has to watch all that’s gonna love my content. I should be reporting your mother for nudity though seeing as she’s the one who showed me her tits last night.”

Chat exploded. Ranboo, Tommy and Tubbo absolutely lost their minds as you sat, grinning like royalty. You turned to the camera, a smug grin on your face, and clicked the person’s username, slamming down the ban hammer. “I do this all the time guys, not a big deal.” You snickered, watching everyone spam emoji walls and “POG” over and over again, turning back to your monitor to help Tommy with his house. “No big deal, just another day on the SMP.”

#slime anon #slime anon my beloved #beeduo #benchtrio #bench trio #allium duo #disc duo #streamer!reader #bench trio fanfiction #bench trio fluff

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

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