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emmyrosee · 1 year

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You’ve been… needy, today.

Normally, Kiyoomi is immune to it, if anything, he embraces your clingiest of affections and he takes them with ease, but today, for some reason, you’re nuzzling and nudging at him with every little thing, your eyes curved into a sad pout every time he looks down at you.

It seems like you’re insatiable, you’re on a craving for a fix you can’t seem to get, and he’s fairly certain you’ve almost cried at him a few times for that little bit of affection you can’t seem to get enough of, and normally Kiyoomi can read you like a novel, front to back.

Today, it’s almost like you’re a different person- no longer able to voice their needs, but plead for him to figure it out. Someone who doesn't seem to trust him, but still eggs for assurance and validation.

And he doesn't know why, but he can't pinpoint it this time.

He's exhausted every avenue, he's does everything he can think of, every question he could ask has either given him no answer or another needy little choke in your answer. He doesn't know, okay, he's trying, but he doesn't want to just ask you point blank because there's a part of him that feels like he should know.

There's also a glimmer in your eyes that tells him that he should figure it out.

Finally, for whatever reason, you stop.

Now, you're creating distance, and he hates this even more than you trying to crawl into his skin.

At least then, you still wanted him.

"I'm going to shower."

Your voice cuts him out of his detecting, snapping him from his thoughts as he nods encouraging at you. If he didn't feel like it would end in a fight, he'd cheesily ask if you wanted him to join you, but the question dies when you spin on your heel to leave him in the bedroom, alone.

He needs to know. He has to figure it out.

There's a buzzing of his phone that snaps him out of his pity party, and enthusiastic text from Hinata about the new jersey designs. Something about how they need sizing and promo pictures, and they should all get together to plan.

At this point, Hinata couldv'e texted him about anything on the planet and he would've gone. In his head, he weighs his options of staying here and leaving the jersey talk for tomorrow.

Or leaving, and letting you both have some time apart to sort out your feelings.

He's barely able to think on it before his feet force him to get up and make his way to the bathroom, popping open the door to call to you.

He just hopes this works.

"Baby, I'll be back!" He calls, voice above the rushing water.

"Wait- what?" You call back.

"Hinata needs to steal me for a while to talk about our new jerseys, I should be back in a few hours."

"Kiyoomi-"

"I love you!" He says, interrupting you before closing the door and making his way out of the house. He hopes that some distance may calm whatever it is inside of you,

By the time he comes home, he's surprised to see the lights turned on.

Typically Kiyoomi can come home at any hour and find you in bed, asleep, clinging to his pillow, but tonight, it seems you either forgot to shut everything down, or you're still awake.

Maybe if you're awake, you'll be able to sort out whatever happened today before going to bed.

When he walks in, the house is quiet. Scarily quiet.

"Nice of you to show up."

Yeah. You're up. And you sound bored.

The house is still active, but rather than make a dash for him to leap into his arms for affection, you're instead on the couch, eyes heavy and face sad.

After a whole day of trying to cling to him and his every move, now you're willing to be sedate?

He sighs and walks to meet you in the living room, and whatever angry look you try to pull gets demolished by the wobbling of your lip. “What’re you still doing awake?”

You turn to look up at him sadly, tears swollen in your waterline as you blink at him expectantly. “I missed you.”

He smiles at your words before shrugging off his jacket and folding it over in his arms, “I missed you too, baby. How was your night?”

“Quiet.” Your lips twitch as if you want to say more, but no other words fall from your lips. He gives you a small chuckle and scratched the back of his head.

“That’s… exciting,” he offers. You shrug. The tenseness in the room makes him want to throw up, he’s not used to this coldness from you- typically, you’re throwing yourself at him, especially with how you were acting earlier, but now you seem like you couldn’t care less about him. "Did you do anything?"

"Nope."

"Oh..."

"Where did you go?"

He shrugs, "Hinata and Bokuto wanted to talk about the new jerseys and the plan for practice tomorrow; then we got dinner and had some drinks."

"And you didn't think to text me? Not once?"

Chills run up his spine as your question comes with an emotioned voice crack, "I... I guess it slipped my mind... I'm sorry."

"Mm."

He swallows thickly, but his pounding head desperately wants to call it a night. “Why don’t we go to bed, baby?”

“You go ahead, im gonna get some water.”

He smiles and nods as he makes haste to the bedroom, happy facade dropping once his back is towards you. All he wants right now is to curl up next to you and knock the rest if the day away, praying that you're in a similar headspace.

He all but tears off the clothes on his back, dressing into far more comfortable wear as he goes to wash his face. Usually, you're right next to him, butting your head against him, nudging him to the side so you can join him, or youre sitting on the closed toilet seat just to watch him.

You seemingly have no interest in doing that tonight.

By the time Kiyoomi's done, his stomach churns as you're still not in bed, surely it hasn't taken you more than two minutes to get some water, and with an exhausted, and almost annoyed groan, he shuffles back down the hall to see you.

You... you haven't moved.

“Hey,” he mumbles, rubbing his eye. “How come you’re out here? I thought we were going to bed?”

“You didn’t kiss me today.”

He didn’t?

“What do you mean?” He asks, stalking over to the couch. You shuffle over to make room for him, but your eyes never meet his. “I kissed you so many times today, baby.”

“No,” you snip. “You didn’t. I know, because I’m so used to you giving me kisses.”

“I’m... I'm sorry, I guess I just-“

“And you barely hugged me, either,” you sniffle. His brows furrow and instinctively, he tosses an arm around your shoulder to try and calm you down. “Any time I’d reach for you, you’d look at me like I was some nuisance, and make me feel bad for needing the affection.”

“Of course you’re not a nuisance!” He says, rocking you both. “God, fuck baby, I’m sorry, I thought you just needed some more attention than usual and I just-“

“I’m not done.”

A wave of nervousness shudders down his spine, but he pulls back slightly to give you your room to piece together your thoughts. Had he really been that neglectful today?

“You didn’t even eat dinner with me; you went out with the boys. I was in the shower, I didn’t even get a kiss goodbye- you called out a quick ‘love you!’ and went off doing whatever it was you did tonight. You didn’t call, and you didn’t text, and I was home alone, thinking that I did something wrong.”

"No wonder you’re upset- I’m sorry, baby. Whatever I did today wasn’t a reflection of how much I love you; I just got a little busy, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

You completely deflate. God, what has he done?

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he says sweetly, planting a kiss to your temple. “I never, ever wanted to hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry I did.”

You’re quiet. There’s a strange feeling of dread in the air. The longer you pause, the more he feels the anxiety settling in the pit of his soul.

"You really don't know why I'm mad...?"

He chokes on his own breath, "I... I didn't know you were mad..."

You hiccup in sadness, and he feels like he can't breathe.

The clock on the tv changes to 23:59, and you sigh sadly.

“Happy anniversary.”

You stand up without a word, letting Kiyoomi’s head fall forward along with his jaw. He looks at you in absolute terror, all while you face away from him, hugging yourself in an attempt to comfort yourself.

Oh, God.

The room is shrouded in suffocating silence, smothering anything Kiyoomi could say before he could even think of the words. Dark eyes dart over your frame. He feels sick, he could throw up on this rug right now, if he had anything to even puke up. Your shoulders heave, and he’d rather chew on broken glass covered alcohol before ever wanting him and his neglect to be the reason for your distress.

“I forgot,” he blurts.

No shit.

“I know you did.”

“How… could I forget?”

“You tell me.”

“I-I-I-I set so many reminders, how did I…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you snip, turning on your heel to stalk back down the hallway to your bedroom. “You forgot. And the day is over. It doesn’t matter.”

It does, he wants to argue. It matters, because you matter to him, and he abandoned you on a night that is so sacred to him, the day you crashed into his life and made him realize that whatever he was doing that put you on the road to him, was exactly where he wants to be.

He looks down at the clock on his iPhone, as it creeps over the 45 second mark, and he darts down the hallway. He runs like he’s being chased, like he’s on fire, and you can’t hide your noise of surprise when he bursts into your bedroom and tosses gangly arms around you and plants kisses all over your face.

He holds you so tight you could pop, and he sponges all the kisses he can over your neck and cheeks, and he hears you trying to fight back a giggle, and it only eggs him on to continue.

“I love you,” he pants. “I love you, I love you so much, every day I’m grateful for whatever being is watching us for putting me on the road to you. I don’t know who I worshipped right to be here, but I’ll be damned if I let my own stupidity sabotage that.”

“Kiyoomi,” you say, voice delicate and trying to stop itself from breaking. “You forgot. I just wanted... I wanted you to show up. You couldn't even give me that."

Now it's his turn for his lip to wobble.

You sniff sharply, "just forget about everything, I don’t care anymore.”

“But I care-“

“Clearly, you don’t,” you snap, trying to squeeze out of his grip. “I don’t have the energy for this right now. Let’s just go to bed.

“I’m not about to let this go.”

“Neither am I, but my demons need to rest.” Your eyes dart at his alarm clock, “yours too, apparently. Tomorrow you’re getting sized for jerseys- hopefully you didn’t forget that other important thing.”

Your words sting him sharply, even if he deserves every single one of them. He reels back slightly, gnawing at his lip as he tries to think of ways to fix this, fix the way you’re looking at him and feeling, fix the clear hole he’s singed into your heart.

You curl up into your side of the bed, pulling the blankets high, and he doesn’t know how long he does it, but he just stares at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to scream at him, or cry, or do something that he should feel even more shitty for.

But it doesn’t happen.

You sniffle a few times, shuffle once or twice, and he doesn’t know just how long he’s been standing there until your breathing turns rhythmic and peaceful for the first time today. Your shoulders rise and fall, back facing away from him and god, he feels like such a loser about to lose the greatest thing that's ever happened to him.

Probably because he is.

You're going to leave him. You're going to see just how much he takes you for granted, how much more you're worthy of and how much more love anyone can give you- even if you still wanted to stay in the jackals, and he wouldn't blame you for shifting your love to someone like Hinata or Meian for a second.

A cold breeze smacks Kiyoomi in the face as, at some point in his spiraling, he ends up outside, keys jingling in hands and hoodie pulled messily on top of his head. His legs seem to know where he's going, even if he doesnt.

His legs take him everywhere that could possibly be open right now, there's no store with a three mile radius that he hasn't bought out between candy, chocolates, a few stuffed bears you'll adore, and three or four types of pizzas and sushi dishes each.

He doesn't care about the strange looks the cashiers and other patrons give him. He cares about trying to remember if you prefer sour or normal gummy bears. He cares about remembering if you like plain pizza or toppings.

He also cares about the way this pillow won't sit the hell up.

He cares immensely about the way the chairs from the island in the kitchen have no grip to them, and refuse to keep the blankets strewn across them up.

And fuck the knitted blanket draped over the lamp and top of the couch, because it refuses to stay the hell up and he's had to make at least four mad dashes to catch the falling object.

The fifth, naturally, crashes to the floor, and he can only sigh in defeat as he continues to fix the fort for the nth time.

"I'm armed," your voice yells from down the hall.

He chuckles, "no you're not."

You groan in annoyance before padding down the hall, and he turns his head to acknowledge your exhausted arrival.

“What’re you doing, Kiyoomi?” You ask, knuckling your eye. “It’s one in the morning.”

“It’s 12:23 pm on the east coast in America.”

You cock a brow, and he blinks simply before turning back to his blanket fort. He feels your eyes boring into his skull, but he ignores it. He’s busy.

“Uhm… thank you for the fun fact?”

“It’s 1:23 yesterday.”

“…and?”

“Komori is on the east coast,” he says easily, tongue poking out in focus. “Somewhere, I don’t really know where, I don’t know American geography. Which basically means a part of me is on the United States east coast. So, by the transitive property-“ he stands up and presents the messily made fort. “We still get to celebrate our anniversary.”

You smile sadly at his efforts but your bottom lip wobbles all the same, “kiyoomi, you forgot. Just drop it, okay?”

“No.”

“Kiyoomi, I’m tired-“

“I bought us some pizza,” he interrupts, lifting the reusable bags positively stuffed to the brim with other treats. “And i got those sour candies you like for some reason, but I picked aside all the ones you hate so you can just eat them in confidence-“

Your eyes glimmer in slight excitement.

“And-And-And I’ve got our favorite movies queued up, ready to go, but there’s a new playlist filled with love songs that I found-“

“Kiyoomi-“

“And god we haven’t danced around in months, do you remember the last time we danced? It was like… well, months.”

You giggle, and he brightens at the sound. He takes a soft sigh to calm down, “and I just… I know how bad I am at showing it.” He stands up and makes his way towards you, and when he cups your cheek in his hand and you mewl at him, he could cry from that alone. “But you are the only thing that matters. My only exception to any rule I could make. And I couldn’t give you the bare minimum, on the second most important day to do it.”

“Second?”

“If I forget your birthday, I need you to leave me,” he chuckles nervously. You slowly walk up to him as if timid and unsure, and when he opens an arm to ease you into a hug, he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as he squeezes you close. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I know,” you assure. There’s a comforting silence between you both, your cheek nuzzled into the dip of his sternum before you hum.

“Can I go with you to size jerseys tomorrow?”

“I’m not going to get my jersey sized tomorrow,” he says without missing a beat. You tense up in his arms, and before you can protest, he shushes you and cups the back of your head to keep you close. “They will live for one day without me. It takes four minutes tops. They will get over it.”

“But-“

“No buts,” he says, pulling back and looking down at you.

“But-“

“No.” He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss to shut you up, soft and familiar but just enough to keep you calm for him. You purr into the kiss and let your hands wander around his torso, fingers fisting the fabric of his night shirt tightly.

The fingers on your head gently fists the hair at the nape of your neck to keep you grounded for him, and the whimper you pant against him has him in euphoria.

“Thank you,” you sigh against his teeth. He shakes his head before pulling back slightly.

“Don’t thank me… not when I made you feel anything less than the love of my life.”

You chuckle and gently tug the waistband of his sweats. “I know you’re trying to make up for it, now.”

“You do?”

“How many men are gonna stay up, figure out the time zones in America and pick sour grape from my bag of candy just to try and fix a forgotten anniversary?”

He laughs and pulls you in for another hug, one tight and secure and as close as he can get you to snap any broken pieces together.

“I really am trying… I promise.”

“I know you are.”

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occamstfs · 7 months

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No Need to Pledge, Just Drink.

Thanks for the Warm Response! Here's a shorter piece - Occam

It’s definitely not normal that they invited me to this party. It was a direct invite too, obviously. I wouldn’t show up unless someone explicitly asked. From what I understand frat parties don’t usually have a guest list, but I am not one to just wander in.

Judging by how unpleasant this is so far I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have accepted Derek’s invitation at all. I start to look around for the nearest exits which is when Derek finally shows his face, approaching me with two drinks in hand.

“Sup bruh! I’m so stoked you could make it! This party is gonna be absolutely killer soon so I hope you can stick around!”

“Ah, well I was-”

“I brought you a little drink broski! I know shit like this isn’t your cup of tea so I figured you’d take the assist, this stuff’ll loosen you right up.”

I take the cup from him and just avoid wretching from fumes of alcohol coming from the cup now in my hand. I assumed it was just a beer but it looks like some horrible mixed drink.

“It’s Everclear and Hawaiian Punch bro! As soon as you get past the first taste you barely notice the burn!”

He continues to stand there as I fail to brainstorm a way out of at least trying this. I see a potted plant across the room and know my next move. I’ll give the drink one chance to get Derek off my back and dump it as soon as he turns his.

It’s honestly not as bad as I thought it would be, it doesn’t even seem alcoholic actually? It’s just sweet? Almost to a sickly degree. I don’t really taste the punch either, it's just…

I start to take another sip before noticing that impossibly, my cup is already empty. I only took a sip though? Something, something is not right. I start to freeze up before Derek starts shaking me, his hand holding a second cup of the punch high above his head shouting, “Brooo! You just demolished that! Fuck! I’ve gotta see that again!” He shoves the second cup into my hand and begins to push his way back towards the punch bowl “Everyone outta the way! This nerd has got to have more to drink!”

I watch him longer than I should have, dumbfounded holding this drink that I didn’t want. Don’t want? My vision gets blurry as I watch him maneuver his massive body through the crowd. Woah, I guess this is what alcohol does? I feel myself start to grin watching him struggle to fill a two-liter with whatever that punch is. Jungle juice? Oh Shit? Is he bringing that to me?

The DJ switches playlists and I feel excitement quickly start to build in my chest. I fuckin’ love this song! I start to inch towards the crowd before I’m elbowed in the face and my glasses fall directly into my cup.

“Hey dude! I need those to fuc- I need those to see” I instinctively shout as I look to see my glasses just peeking out of my cup. Before picking them out though, I notice that my vision is actually better now? Which briefly starts to set my veins afire once more, why have I been going to a fucking optometrist for years I start to think, clenching my jaw before I look closer into my cup.

This alcohol must really be getting to me or Derek is pulling another prank on me or something. My hair looks so stupid up like that. I start to move my hand to fix it before seeing my arm reflected.

Or is that even my arm? It shouldn’t be? It’s the size of my head. I shouldn't be able to life something that size if I wanted to. I need to get some fresh air, or just some quiet space. I need to get out. I need-

“Party king coming through! Sorry bro I couldn’t get the bottle to fuckin work so I hope two more cups will do” I see two cups clenched in massive hairy, may as well be, paws starting to pass back through the dance floor. My own hand flexes and I drop my drink, spilling it all over my shoes as I bolt to find a bathroom. Cheers of “Party Foul” ring out as I dash, completely ditching my glasses without a second thought.

I weasel my way through the crowd feeling less agile than usual. Finding it much easier to shove these pipsqueaks out of the way than to squeeze between them before I find peace in the second floor restroom, miraculously without a line outside. I don’t question why I suddenly know the layout of this house as I slam the door and take a deep breath. Music still comes through the door as I reach for the light and prepare to look in the mirror.

The haircut was the least of my concerns. I look like a beast as I start to hyperventilate. I feel the music outside the room quicken matching my heartbeat, my newly 20/20 eyes stare into themselves as they turn from blue to a deep brown and visibly lose acuity. I feel my biceps pressing against the sleeves of my t-shirt narrowly avoiding a deliberate flex to rip the shirt apart.

I notice a stink other than jungle juice coming up from my feet as I feel them beginning to push against the tongue of my shoe. I collapse to the floor and quickly struggle to untie my laces before squeezing my feet out. Immediately apparent are drastically rattier socks than I remember putting on to get ready for this party. Full of holes and stains, I dread knowing whose socks these are and what is happening before recognizing them as my own. Or really they could be any of my bros socks but who cares.

As soon as this thought pushes its way into my head a pit drops into my stomach. I am an only child, I don’t have any bros, or well, I have a house full of bros now right? Getting up off the floor I again glance into the mirror. My jaw is wider, my stubble itches but just like it always does, right? I put my face in my hands creating enough strain in my small shirt to force a tear down the back. Why am I wearing such tiny tiny clothes anyway? Must be Derek hazing me again huh. I think holding in a guffaw, I wonder how he got me in these?

I tear the rest of my shirt away before doing the same to my pants which is when I learn that I have apparently been going commando this whole time. Now free of these nerdy-ass clothes I flex in the mirror. Pecs popping like always, my bros always say the hair hides my pump but who cares bro I want to look like a man. I briefly shake my cock at myself in the mirror smirking and see laid out behind me are a change of clothes that Derek must have laid out for me.

There are a pair of slides, some athletic shorts and a massive stringer that says “Party Prince” Bro! He must have made us matching shirts!

I quickly start to change to match with my Bro and see cologne on the counter. I’m sure bro won't mind if I use it. Each spritz I feel myself fill out my tank even more, veins beginning to peak out down my arms and my package becomes even harder to miss in my shorts. I do a few more poses in the mirror before hearing a knock at the bathroom door.

“Bro you in there? The party’s dying without you bro!”

Hearing my big bros’ cry for help I get my head in the game. I’ve got to bring it tonight. I kick the locked door open, completely shattering the door frame as I cry out- “Who’s ready to drink tonight,” tossing the awaiting cup of jungle juice into the air over the crowd.

#male tf #masculinization #jockification #mental change #muscle tf

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threewaysdivided · 1 year

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New Desktop Dash, No Bueno

Okay so, new dash layout on desktop.

As seems to be a common reaction: not a fan.

Let's talk about some of the issues:

1. Really visually cluttered

The new sidebar crowds out the dashboard content and the bright blue popup notifications (now at the side AND top) and create-post bar pull your eyes in different directions. There is no space for the eye to rest on anymore - it's all noise. The end result is that everything flattens - there's no focal point anymore.

It's also pretty overwhelming - even for someone like me - so I can't imagine it would be very user-friendly to someone who was photosensitive or struggled with visual overload (especially when paired with the high-contrast 'true blue' default site palette and animated icons for the changes-on-tumblr/staff-picks/trending buttons).

2. The activity pop-up now covers dashboard content

This is really bad from a usability standpoint. In the old layout the activity pop-up used to drop down over the recommended blogs sidebar. Now it actively gets in the way of looking at core content. The dash is why we are here, burying it like this is baffling.

The search bar now drops down over the recommended blogs banner instead, but where the old design had non-critical space on each side of the dashboard to visually allow both features to pop in, this new layout is way worse for efficiency. And for what? Having a rarely-used former drop-down menu now permanently active? The old banner with quick-links for the key use-features (notes, messages, askbox) made much more design sense.

It also means that the activity pop-up gets now completely covered by the blog pop-up that opens when you click the notification, so double demerit there. 0/10.

3. It's harder to navigate to the activity page, and the new page-stretch means you can't see new notes without scrolling down

That first bit is kind of a nitpick but cramming the 'See everything' link down at the bottom of a browser window isn't a great navigation choice. (Again, the visual signifiers and eye-direction in this new design are incredibly poor.)

That the main activity page now requires you to scroll to even see the top note due to the new display ratio is really egregious. It makes another key site feature just slightly less convenient and accessible in a very irritating way. Bad choice.

4. The new ratio pushes the Radar and Main Sponsored slot completely off-screen

This one is directed the tumblr staff: that's also a bad choice, guys. That's your main ad-slot for people loading into Tumblr so hiding it is going to hurt both your ad-impressions and your ability to promote the ad-free option. The new layout ratio also means that the in-dash ads are going to be a lot more invasively screen-filling - and let's be real most users will either add-block or leave before purchasing ad-free. I have no idea what the new layout is trying to achieve but if ad optimisation is the goal then this ain't it, chief.

To be honest I cannot comprehend the rationale for this change. I guess it's visually a bit more like Twitter... but that site is currently being demolished from the inside by poor management decisions so maybe it's not the best aesthetic to be aping.

Well then, what do?

Okay so, new dash bad. And so, in true Tumblr spirit: we complain. However, to get results we must deploy the art of kvetching productively.

If you want the old dash back (or at least, a better new-dash design that corrects some of these big weaknesses) what you should do is head over to https://www.tumblr.com/support and lodge a feedback ticket pointing out the problems. The more users who do that, the more likely you are to see an effective response.

Remember, tagging @staff and @support in posts won't fix this. There's no guarantee they'll see it among the notes barrage.

Also: please don't be rude or abusive when you lodge tickets. Whoever is manning those blogs and inboxes probably isn't the person who forced through this change. Save an intern, be polite.

Go forth in disgruntlement to keep this hellhole a hellhome.

#tumblr #tumblr problems #new dashboard #yes it's bad #but there is a way #I've already lodged tickets about it

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narraboths · 11 months

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i'd like to think you could just walk into a diner in national city and see supergirl (costume and all, no fucks given) and lena luthor making out like teenagers in a corner booth

[Ao3]

The first time Supergirl comes to The Intergalactic, she’s thrown straight through its glass doors by a giant space lizard.

It’s really not how Ellie imagined meeting the city’s superhero. It’s not that she thought she’d actually ever meet Supergirl, least of all at work. Tucked away in a side-street near National City University and surviving in a cramped space, with minimal staff, and decor left from the beginning of the Space Age, The Intergalactic mostly sees harried college students and late-night party-goers in need of some fuel. Alien attacks and billowing capes are usually not on the menu.

She has no time to be disappointed by the circumstances of their chance meeting, though. She cannot feel anything beyond absolute terror, really, given the giant space lizard that just made the Girl of Steel demolish their sleepy burger joint’s entrance.

But then, Supergirl climbs back to her feet as she always does, shoulders squared, arms raised, ready to fight. She winces a little at the damage, shooting an apologetic smile towards Ellie before she’d fly up up and away, dragging the lizard into the sky with her. The sight of it is so fucking cool that for a second, Ellie is even distracted from the absolute wreckage around her.

(Then, her shoes almost catch fire and she’s brought back to the cold, hard, rubble-covered ground of reality.)

Later, when the news reports are loud with praise for another successful Super-save, and Ellie has managed to sweep up most of the broken glass and endured a hysterical call from her boss, Supergirl touches down in front of their doors again.

“Hello,” she waves with a little smile. She still has soot marks on her face, but she stands tall, impossibly dashing. “I’m very sorry for the commotion,” she says, before Ellie could even process the fact that the hero of National City is at her doorstep, again, engaging with her in casual conversation. “I just wanted to check in and see if everyone here was alright.”

“You just fought with an alien lizard,” Ellie blurts out, and Supergirl shrugs, in a hey, just another day on the job kinda way.

“Dracokardosian, actually. Doesn’t matter,” she adds quickly, then plants her hands on her hips. The Super-pose. It makes her shoulders seem even wider, the fabric of her suit straining against her upper arms. Ellie feels giddy. “Listen, I’ll make sure you’ll be reimbursed for the damage, but can I lend a hand with anything?”

“We’re fine, I think. It’s only the storefront that got hit– that you hit. No great damage, no injuries.” Supergirl smiles with palpable relief, and Ellie feels the need to ramble on, to keep her there, to bask in the glory of the superhero a little longer. The smell of still-hot frying oil wafting from the kitchen gives her the prompt before she’d even think about it. “Would you like a burger?”

Supergirl looks at her with a confused frown.

“Aren’t you guys closed up yet?”

“I mean, it’s not like we can really close right now,” Ellie shrugs, gesturing towards the gaping hole where the diner’s entrance used to be. It earns an amused little snort from Supergirl, just enough of a boost for Ellie to press on, heart beating in her throat. “Plus, you’re the only reason the place is still standing at all and I’d really like to be able to brag about having served Supergirl, like how many places get to do that?“

“Well, there’s this great patisserie on Lamarr Ave,” Supergirl says, forehead crinkling in concentration as she mulls over the answer. “And then my regular Chinese place, and this café in Paris–” She cuts herself off with a grin. “Okay, point taken. I would love one. But mind if I fix your door in the meantime?”

Ellie nods so vehemently that she gives herself a headrush.

“It’s a deal.”

Supergirl touches a hand to her earpiece, speaking low and incomprehensible before she’d speed away again and Ellie saunters off to the kitchen.

Inside, Jay is half-napping over the sink. He wakes from his slumber with dark, bleary eyes and stares in disbelief as Ellie rattles off the order, until she tells him it’s for Supergirl. He laughs first (yeah, and I’m the Virgin Mary), then takes a peek outside where Supergirl now busy welding the new doors using her heat vision, with a swarm of nanites hovering nearby for assistance. She stops for a second to wave at them: Ellie feels her heart fluttering and Jay gets all red and sweaty, rushing back to the kitchen and getting to it with such dedication as if the diner making it into the Michelin Guide depended on it.

By the time he’s done, The Intergalactic is sporting a brand new, shiny pair of doors, and Supergirl is sitting in a booth, excitedly drumming on a table with her fingers. Then, one burger swiftly turns into three, plus six sides of fries, two milkshakes, and some fried onions for good measure, Supergirl wolfing it all down at a speed fitting her superhuman appetite. She still finds the time to entertain Ellie and Jay with details of her fight between bites (his name is Spike, he was just scared), joking around with them with such geniality that makes her seem more like one of the nicer jocks from NCU, not a demigod in a supersuit. She’s sunshine personified. She compliments the food about half a dozen times (Jay blushes so hard that his face ends up looking like a ripe tomato), leaves a tip large enough to foot the bill twice, and even though it’s nearing midnight by the time she steps outside, Ellie feels a heavy pang in her heart to watch her leave. Supergirl smiles and waves them goodbye, and Ellie manages to run outside just as she takes off, yelling after her:

“See you again!”

She thinks she can see Supergirl wink at her before she speeds away.

The second time Supergirl visits the diner, it’s been well over a month since the space lizard incident, and Ellie has honestly given up on ever seeing the Girl of Steel in person again. It’s just past the mid-day rush, the diner mostly emptied out, the staff finally getting a breather. She’s busy cleaning the tables in the back when Lev walks up to her, poking her arm.

“Hey, am I tripping, or is that really Supergirl?”

Ellie turns around at lightning speed, just in time to catch Supergirl leaning against the empty counter with a friendly smile.

"Can I get a booth?” She asks, courteously ignoring the way Lev’s jaw is hanging wide open. “Your burgers smell so fantastic, my mouth has been watering all the way from Metropolis.”

Ellie’s shaking with so much nervous energy that she thinks she might start vibrating like the Flash.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever, I’ll be right with you!”

Supergirl is, well, just super.

Her visits to The Intergalactic are infrequent enough that the place doesn’t get hounded by paps, or Super-fans, or any villain of the week; arriving almost always in off-hours, when the place is almost as empty as the street outside. But her appearances are plenty enough for every single member of the staff to fall head over heels in love with her. She turns out to be just as ridiculously kind and nice as the CatCo fluff pieces would have the public believe: always praising the food, being as courteous with the staff as she is game to take selfies with them. She chats with Lev about their college studies, gives Ellie an air-lift when her car breaks down one night. She makes people smile just by walking through the door.

She’s the best part of the job.

When Supergirl turns up with Lena Luthor at her side one day, Ellie’s already so used to the outlandishness of their superhero regular that she’s only moderately shaken to see the most notorious public figure of National City striding into the diner with her.

She still almost bites down on her tongue and trips over, because holy shit, Lena Luthor is a sight. There’s always a touch of unreal about Supergirl’s appearance – maybe it’s the suit, maybe it’s the knowledge that she’s an alien, maybe it’s the fact that she always looks like she’s glowing from the inside. Her towering physique and artfully drawn features are awing, but they also seem just right for a superhero.

But Lena Luthor is only an ordinary human, and no ordinary human, all-powerful CEO or not, should look like a Greek goddess personified.

Ellie is so engrossed that she doesn’t even notice at first how Supergirl’s hand is resting on the small of Miss Luthor’s back, how they’re standing so close that their shoulders brush together, Lena Luthor leaning just slightly against the hero.

“Quaint,” she murmurs, low and amused, and though there’s nothing unkind about it, Ellie’s suddenly very aware of how pristine she looks in the middle of their greasy little diner. (Shit, her clothes must be worth more than the whole place.) But then, before she could get flustered, Supergirl snorts, bumping Miss Luthor’s shoulder with a grin.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Their rapport is so charming that at first, it doesn’t even register with Ellie how downright smitten Lena Luthor’s smile is in response to Supergirl’s teasing.

Lena Luthor turns out to be super in her own ways. She’s more reserved than Supergirl, more guarded about her appearances, too, but disarmingly nice all the same. The tabloid headlines screaming ice queen and megalomaniac seem more and more ridiculous with every visit – there’s very little that says Mad Luthor about the small, overworked young woman who makes a point of asking about her day and leaves large enough tips that they can refit the whole kitchen with it and fix up the back room.

They keep odd hours those days, though, popping in for early morning coffees, or late, late night snacks. They share a plate more often than not, and the sight of Supergirl stealing a bite off of Lena Luthor’s fork becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence. (In no particular order, so does the following: Lena Luthor’s head resting on Supergirl’s shoulders, eyes fluttered shut; Supergirl leaning forward a little so Lena Luthor can press a goodbye kiss to her cheek before the superhero would fly off with a grin; Lena Luthor wiping some grease from the corner of Supergirl’s mouth with an indescribably fond smile).

It starts feeling like something that’s just meant to be.

Ellie doesn’t know whether it’s their first kiss or not when she witnesses it.

She’d never want to pry, either. It’s only by accident that she sees it happen at all. But she does see it, late one night, when Supergirl and Miss Luthor are huddled together in one of the booths in the back.

They look a little tired now – Supergirl’s cape is half off her shoulder, Lena Luthor’s hair let down and a touch messy, jarringly for her usually so put-together appearance – but sweet, too, as they always do, and utterly enamored. Supergirl’s hand is cradling Lena’s chin, Lena’s hands are buried in her golden mane, their lips pressing together gently, both of them smiling radiantly, lost in their own world. Then Lena presses forward a little, pushing Supergirl against her seat, and Ellie turns away with a burning face and starts scrubbing a table so hard that she risks putting a hole through the damn thing, trying to pretend she didn’t hear the breathless, overjoyed laugh echoing through the empty room.

It is, strictly speaking, not an issue that National City’s power couple has picked your place of work to be their makeout spot. Supergirl’s still the nicest person alive and Miss Luthor’s tipping habits have only grown more generous. They just take the booth that’s the farthest in the back, Ellie tries not to bother them too much, and if someone catches a glimpse of a red cape or a striking jawline, an emphatic glare and Just be cool, man usually does the trick.

Heroes, they’re just like us.

#Anonymous #supercorp #supercorp fic #my fic #anon you've probably literally sent this three years ago and this is what i am like as a person. if ur still out there: hi

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the-travelling-witch · 7 months

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

summary: a siren attack is already unfortunate, but it's worse if it also reveals some truths about your insufferable crew mate

pairing: pirate! hawks x gn! pirate! reader

warnings: just a silly drabble to get back into writing and exorcise some of my hawks brainrot; a little suggestive at the end

general masterlist || bnha masterlist

Getting stuck on the same ship as Takami Keigo was one of life’s most torturous challenges. At least for you. He was obnoxiously arrogant and, much to your chagrin, people flocked to him like seagulls to a forgotten loaf of bread.

Sure, your fellow pirate was quite easy on the eyes and rather charming when he wanted to be; a truth you would only ever admit in the comfort of your own head, lest you inflate his ego even further. Instead, you rather grumbled to yourself, cursing his name for getting to sit pretty in the crow’s nest while you sat on deck and mended a torn net.

“Having fun down there?” If the devil ever spoke to you, you were sure he would mimic the grating lilt of Keigo’s melodic voice. “You know, I’m pretty sure a whale could swim through the holes you’re leaving.”

He was your crew mate, he was an essential part of the expedition, you couldn’t just shoot him down.

“At least one of us is doing their job,” you deadpanned, not even giving him the satisfaction to look up. “You know, I think an island could sneak up on us with how distracted you are.”

“Oh you think you’re distracting me?” Even with your eyes trained on the cords in your hands, you could picture the cocky tilt of his head, a dashing grin playing around his lips. “Is that the kind of effect you want to have on me?”

“You’re the one who’s always coming up to bother me, so if anything you’re the one who’s obsessed with me.” If this conversation went on for any longer, your medic would have to patch up a popped vein on your part.

“Ah there is that wishful thinking again,” he laughed and this time you glared up at his silhouette standing out against the blinding sun. As always, he wore loose beige pants and the top buttons of his black shirt were undone, showing more of his toned chest than you needed to see. His black boots were propped up against the nest’s railing and the crimson head scarf fluttering in the breeze matched the earring dangling from his left lobe.

Just as you were about to retort, another shadow against the sun caught your attention. Drawing your pistol, you undid the safety, alerting the rest of the crew that there was something coming.

But before you could see what exactly was approaching, you suddenly lost your balance as the ship developed a heavy list. Grabbing onto the mast of the crow’s nest, you managed to steady yourself, yet the impact knocked the revolver from your grip. As you looked up, the first thing you saw was the massive cliffs your ship was heading towards, sharp rocks littering the waters, waiting to demolish its wooden bottom.

Then your eyes locked on to the crew’s navigator, whose head lulled from one side to the other as he firmly steered you towards your demise. Next to him, holding his attention, was a beautiful woman sweetly tracing a finger along his jaw as she sang to him. As a feather drifted past your eyes, it suddenly hit you what -or who- exactly you were dealing with.

“Cover your ears!” You shouted to no one in particular as you scrambled for the wax you had stuffed into your pocket. With your hearing muffled, your own heartbeat raced in your ears as you dove for your pistol and breathlessly aimed for the siren attached to your navigator, who by now was half way towards the ship’s railing, his feet dragging underneath him as the woman lured him further towards the water.

You weren’t sure if your bullet was enough to actually kill the siren but upon impact it dissolved into a burst of feathers and released its hold on your crew mate, who dazedly blinked as he tried to regain his senses.

The next few minutes were a blur of talons, feathers and pulling your crew back from the ship’s edge, even tying some of them to the masts to make sure they wouldn’t try to kill themselves again.

Soon enough, however, you were out of bullets and you reluctantly drew the dagger previously secured to your thigh, scanning the area for more sirens when someone tapped your shoulder. Whirling around you slashed your dagger in an arc around you, only to find Keigo standing in front of you, holding up his hands innocently. There was an easy going smile on his face as he said something you couldn’t understand, so you removed one of the wax beads restricting your hearing.

And that was your mistake.

Only a few heartbeats after his velvety voice reached your ears, your dagger clattered onto the deck as Keigo reached out to unplug your other ear as well, his fingers grazing your cheek with nails much sharper than you expected. You wondered if his lips would be as plush as you imagined them to be or if his hair would be as soft as it looked when you buried your fingers in it.

His amber eyes were trained entirely on you as he gave you a coy gaze, inviting you to take another step towards him, to find out for yourself, to sate your curiosity. Likewise, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him either as your feet followed his graceful movements, the light reflecting of his golden hair like a halo, the crimson wings on his back completing his angelic appearance—

Then, Keigo dissolved into a burst of those same scarlet feathers as two sharp swords sliced through his torso. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it when the same face came back into view again.

With full force, the noise of the ship reached you again and you staggered backwards at the sudden onslaught of stimuli. Around you, the crew was running around, untying people and frantically steering the ship back onto the right course as you raced to regain your bearings, disoriented by the orders being bellowed around you.

“That should be the last of them,” Keigo ripped you from your daze, his voice clearer as the sea as he sheathed his swords again. “Nasty creatures, those sirens. Though I guess this one was a handsome fellow, considering you were dazedly mumbling my name on your way overboard.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line when your brain caught up to your current situation. Perhaps the siren had been taken care off, yet you were still tempted to throw yourself head first over the railing. Justifiably so, you thought when your eyes darted to the man’s face long enough to confirm the self-satisfied expression he was wearing.

“I am quite flattered really,” he mused, one hand reaching out to tilt your face up so you’d meet his eyes as he stepped closer to you. For a split-second, the thought that it was still a siren in front of you crossed your mind. “To think that a siren would choose to wear my face in an effort to seduce you… now isn’t that quite the compliment?”

“Just… shut up and let me die in peace, would you?” You rolled your eyes, ready to retreat into your little cabin and try to grapple with your near-death experience, this confrontation included. If only the rocky spikes had ripped open the bottom of the ship, you could sink to the sea floor in quiet solitude.

“No no no, why would you do that when you can stay right here with me? C’mon just see it as my reward for saving your precious life, treasure.” He sent you a cheeky wink, drawing your attention to the sharp slant of his eyes and your heart, the treacherous thing, skipped a beat.

“Is your idea of a reward torturing me further? Or what could you possibly get out of this?” Your shoulders sacked with your sigh, resigning to your defeat.

“What I’m getting out of this? It’s quite obvious isn’t it?” Slinging an arm around your hanging shoulders, Keigo pulled you flush to his side. Warmth and the scent of salt mixed with something woodsy radiated off of him and you could admit this wasn’t the worst position to be in. “Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company.”

“That is hard to believe, you’re right.” You cocked your head in suspicion. “Normally you do everything to get under my skin, so what changed?”

“Hmm, I wonder why that is,” Keigo’s melodic timbre lilted before transitioning into his typical pearly laughter. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leant down so his lips were dangerously close to your ear, his voice dropping low. “You know, you weren’t the only one visited by a siren. As tempting as that version of you looked, I must say I prefer the real deal.

“Do you think I could get you to sing for me as well?”

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