#i just want someone to choose me and never stop choosing me and never think im asking too much.

[librababe99]

request: jason todd and reader are babysitting (damian, a random child, you choose) and someone confuses both of you as parents and jason is struck by how much he doesn’t hate being mistaken for the father of your child.

Hi anon! Honestly this is such a cute idea🥹 lucky for you I was able to whip up something....

Title: Unspoken Bonds summary: Jason, reader, and Damian, spend a day at the Gotham Aviary, indulging Damian's fascination with birds of prey. As they bond, a passing stranger comments on how cute their "family" looks, unknowingly sparking something deep within Jason. wc: 1.1K

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows of Wayne Manor, casting a golden glow over the grand living room. You were sitting on the couch, waiting for Jason to finish lacing up his boots while Damian stood near the door, arms crossed with his usual impatient glare.

“I still don’t understand why I need the two of you to accompany me,” Damian grumbled. “I’m perfectly capable of going alone.”

Jason chuckled as he straightened up, meeting Damian’s glare with a teasing smirk. “Oh, I’m sure you are, demon spawn. But if you want to keep Alfred from locking down the Batcave after the last time you snuck out, you’ll play along.”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms tighter. “That was your fault. If you hadn’t—”

“Okay, enough,” you interrupted, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Let’s just enjoy the day, alright? We’re taking you somewhere you’ve wanted to go, Damian. Be happy.”

The teen gave you a skeptical glance, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. You had planned a surprise for him, and despite his stubbornness, Damian’s love for adventure always won out in the end.

After a short drive into Gotham, the three of you arrived at the Gotham Aviary, a hidden gem in the city—a large sanctuary home to all kinds of birds of prey. Damian’s eyes lit up the moment he stepped out of the car. He’d been talking about visiting this place for months now, and even though he’d never admit it, he was thrilled.

“Impressed?” you asked with a grin.

Damian looked away, trying to mask his excitement. “It’s acceptable.”

You exchanged a knowing look with Jason, who just shook his head with a laugh. “He’ll be bouncing off the walls in no time,” Jason whispered to you, and you playfully nudged him as the three of you made your way inside.

The hours passed peacefully. Damian immersed himself in learning about the birds, engaging in long conversations with the caretakers and volunteers about falconry and raptor behaviors. Jason stayed by your side, his hand occasionally brushing against yours, a quiet smile always playing on his lips as he watched Damien be... well, Damian.

“I think he’s actually enjoying himself,” Jason mused quietly as Damien watched a golden eagle take flight.

“Of course, he is,” you replied, leaning into Jason a little. “He may act tough, but he’s still a kid.”

Jason hummed in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist as the two of you stood there in a comfortable silence, watching Damian.

As the three of you left the aviary later in the afternoon, the sun beginning to set, you passed a family with a young child in tow. The mother, smiling brightly, looked over at the three of you and said, “Oh, you have such a cute family! Reminds me of my own when we first came here.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard, but before you could respond, Jason froze beside you. He didn't say anything, but you felt his grip on your hand tighten, the tension in his body suddenly palpable.

The woman continued on her way, none the wiser to the storm of emotions that her innocent comment had stirred.

Jason didn’t speak for a few moments, but you could tell something had shifted. His usually calm and teasing demeanor had faded into something more serious, his expression distant. Damian, thankfully, was already distracted with something else and hadn’t noticed.

“Jay?” you asked softly, stopping and turning to face him. “You okay?”

Jason’s gaze lingered on the sidewalk for a second longer before he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine, babe. It’s just... what that woman said.”

You tilted your head, gently encouraging him to continue.

“The whole... family thing,” Jason said, his voice unusually quiet. “It just... caught me off guard, I guess. I never really thought about it before. Having... a family.”

The weight of his words settled between you both, and you could see the vulnerability behind his eyes, something Jason rarely let anyone see. For all the bravado and snark he carried, there were parts of him—damaged, fragile parts—that still grappled with his past, his death, and his complex relationship with Bruce.

You reached out and cupped his cheek, thumb gently tracing his skin. “What are you feeling, Jay?” you asked softly, knowing better than to push him too hard.

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch as if grounding himself. When he opened them again, his expression was calmer, but his emotions were still raw. “It’s not that I’m scared of it. I’m not freaked out about the idea of having a family with you.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s... more like, I didn’t know how much I wanted that. Until now.”

Your breath caught slightly at his admission. Jason wasn’t someone who easily allowed himself to be vulnerable. His life had been filled with pain and loss, and the idea of stability—of a family—was something that had always seemed out of reach for him. But now, in this quiet moment, he was letting himself feel it. The possibility. The hope.

You smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. “You’d be a great dad, you know that, right?”

Jason let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, his lips brushing your forehead as he held you close. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath his jacket, his breath warm against your skin.

Damian, noticing you two lagging behind, turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Are you two seriously having a moment right now?”

Jason chuckled, releasing you but keeping his arm draped over your shoulders. “Relax, demon spawn. Just figuring out if you’d make a good big brother one day.”

Damian’s eyes widened, and he scowled. “Tt, not even funny.”

You laughed, ruffling Damian’s hair as you caught up with him. “You’d be a great big brother, too, Damian. Imagine all the little bird lessons you could teach.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it, a tiny smirk playing at his lips as the three of you made your way back to the car.

As you drove home, the quiet of the evening settled over you all. Jason’s hand found yours again, giving it a gentle squeeze. You glanced over at him and saw a new warmth in his gaze—one that promised something deeper, more enduring. A future neither of you had quite imagined before.

And for the first time, Jason allowed himself to feel something other than fear when he thought about that future. Instead, he felt hope.

[pitchsidestories]

all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!”, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.  

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

[hiraethwa]

to be loved is to be known

one; you are not meant for me // but the heart wants what it wants

<the collection — to be loved is to be known>

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, one-sided pining, blasphemy, currently married!reader, fluff if you squint (no adultery)

wc.4.2k

featured track. the 6th summer by PLAVE

my heart knew it was you from the moment we met. but you were never mine to begin with.

kageyama tobio is a logical person. his teammates would describe him as a mechanically precise monster who can effectively deconstruct opponent plays and use his insights to counter strategize their own attacks. a highly rationale driven individual, known to be impassive off court. 

in his high school years, he has watched his senpais yearn after their manager, even hinata, falling for a classmate in their third year, the relationship ending in tears when they broke it off because hinata was leaving to brazil. he has seen love take precedent and how it always seem to break the hearts of those involved. 

but he never understood why someone would put so much of themselves on line to love someone who could choose to walk away at any point in time. 

unlike most people’s beliefs, kageyama isn’t heartless, or emotionless, or indifferent to love. after all, he loves volleyball just fine. it’s just—he figures, why love someone, when they always leave you behind, whether voluntarily or otherwise?—why love someone, when he can choose to devote himself to volleyball which will never abandon him?

and then you came into the picture, wholly unaccounted for. a fellow setter, a true rival, and he found himself wanting to fly with you. someone who understands his pivotal role in his team’s offense, the control tower, as he had once said to hinata. someone who obsesses over every little detail as he does.

at first, he had attributed the feeling of recognition to meeting a true rival in you as a fellow setter. that feeling that he had yearned for as a middle schooler watching the senpai he looked up to, oikawa-san, serve and set like a god. the connection he missed due to rivalry, and the connections he severed unknowingly to be the team that stays on the court the longest. 

it couldn’t have been love, because if it was, then he would also be in love with hinata like everyone keeps saying. besides, why would he fall for someone who is in a relationship?

it would be immoral to fall for you, he reasons, you are dating kuroo-san.

he quickly learns that despite the warm demeanor you have when it comes to volleyball, you keep everyone at an arm’s length outside of it. he notices the line you draw between your professional career and your personal life, and he is careful to stay on the right side. 

he allows you to set the boundaries that you are comfortable with, keeping to the practice meets that became a monthly routine where you exchange your latest updates on your plays and offer pointers on improving, dissecting each other’s games that quickly spilled over into its own afternoon meetups over coffee. 

slowly but surely, it turns from a fan and her idolized player into two equals analyzing and plotting improvements for their next game strategies. 

of course, kageyama shares the admiration that comes from picking your brain on his weekly calls with hinata. 

“i don’t know how i didn’t think of that before oumae-san suggested it—” he stops himself as he catches hinata giving him a look of sympathy, snapping at the older boy, “what?”

“kageyama, do you know how many times i have heard you talk about oumae-san in the past months?”

“huh? why would i be keeping count?” he frowns at him through the screen.

hinata nods in pity, “exactly. i don’t know either because you are constantly saying oumae-san this, oumae-san that.”

kageyama averts his eyes from his friend, feeling the tips of his ears warming under his inspection. “i don’t talk about her that much.” it comes out in an unconvincing mumble.

“you know i would support you no matter what you do, but oumae-san is getting married to kuroo-san soon. i don’t think it’s good for you to keep pining after a soon-to-be married woman.”

he wishes he could snipe the orange haired boy through the screen, only because he is right. he drags a hand over his face in frustration. damn him, he knows that he is falling for you, but he is utterly helpless in stopping himself. 

you’re a dreamy sunny day that he wishes to bask in forever. too bad kageyama is the snow storm that sweeps through winter. 

kageyama tobio well knows that he is truly hopeless from the moment he realized that he fell for you, the mind behind the name. 

he is in love with the way your mind works to find counters against your opponent’s defense and open up a path for your team’s attacks. the way you find just the perfect moment to do a setter dump, catching the other team unaware. the way you dissect and analyze plays calmly during timeouts. the way you listen intently to him when he speaks.

the worst part is that you are not even trying to make him fall for you. you are just being your perfectly normal self, keeping all your interactions at a respectful and professional level—probably more professional than respectful at this point, since you would give him shit for his unforced errors. (actually, he also likes that you keep him accountable, unlike most people who would brush them off as mistakes that happen sometimes.)

that gods-forsaken line between your professional and personal lives now more solid than before as a married woman. 

and yet, he had fallen for you without even trying. 

he had tried to follow hinata’s advice to move on from you, to quote him directly—“stop putting her on a pedestal. she’s only human, she is bound to have something that irks you.”

he tried, really, to find your faults in your interactions. the tiny crease between your eyebrows as you think hard about the game you are exchanging analysis on, the small pout on your lips as you work through possible counterattacks. your dry reply when he says something dumb, or the excitement in your eyes when recounting a strategy (that you both came up with together) that worked. 

it’s not working. in fact, it’s achieving quite the opposite of moving on from you.

he curses hinata shoyo for his shit advice as he watches your practice match against france from the vip section in the stands. something feels off, he thinks, finding that you are not landing evenly on both feet when you set to your spikers. 

he realizes a moment too late that you are heavily favoring your left foot over the other just as you land awkwardly on your ankle—your shrill yelp sounding from the court. 

kageyama jumps to his feet worriedly, hands gripping the back of the seat in front of him as he peers over to you. he reminds himself that he is just another professional acquaintance of yours, forcing himself to take a seat as your coach and teammates rush over to you. 

you don’t play for the rest of the game. 

later that night, upon finding no news from any media outlets about the severity of your injury after scouring the internet, he starts typing out a message to you—how are you doing?

no, that won’t do, he shakes his head, deleting the small letters on his phone before typing out another message—is your ankle alright?

he pauses for a few moments, wondering if he would be crossing a boundary to inquire about your wellbeing. i probably shouldn’t, he decides against it for the better, choosing to believe (or hope) that no news is good news. 

he erases the message to your number, letting the device fall next to him as he puts his arm over his forehead. fuck, what am i doing? 

you have a loving husband to go home to, who will take good care of you. there’s no place for someone as removed as him to be worrying after you.

after all, gods are meant to be worshiped from a distance, and you would fit right in next to the ones who torment him so. 

to his dismay, his delusions of relief only lasted a few days. 

kageyama tobio knows something is wrong the moment he finds the court empty on the third friday of the month. the court that you live and breathe on. the court that he always finds you practicing your serves while waiting for him. 

his heart catches in his throat as he rings your number, holding his breath as he desperately hopes that you are okay. 

you pick up on the seventh ring. “kageyama-san? ah, sorry. i forgot to tell you that i won’t be able to make it to practice today.”

“it’s fine, kuroo-san. i was at your match on sunday. are you doing alright?” you both stubbornly stick to using formalities when addressing each other—kuroo-san to remind himself that you are so far beyond his reach that he can just forget about it. (he doesn’t.)

“oh, that? i’m fine,” kageyama breathes out a sigh of relief from hearing your words. relief that comes too soon, as it is quickly followed by your strangled yelp coming from the other end.

“that didn’t sound like you are fine.” he realizes you must be saying that just to keep him from worrying, any rational thought flying out of his mind. 

he had seen kuroo-san, your husband in passing at work just this morning, but if you’re injured, and still stubbornly moving around, or worse, even keeping it from your own husband—“send me your address, i’ll be over soon.”

kageyama ends up having to call in the team physician to look at your horribly swollen ankle, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep himself in line. the tips of his fingers twitch every so often when you wince at her touch as she inspects your ankle. 

he tells himself that you are so, so strictly off limits. 

though, he makes the mistake of asking about kuroo-san, your husband. he wishes that the words never left his lips as his eyes catch the microexpression that betrays your emotions. you quickly brushes off his question with a joke, as if you have had plenty of practice.

he barely keeps that haze of anger in check as he calls your husband after excusing himself for the night and wishing you a speedy recovery, not allowing himself to ponder on the ‘what could have been’s—of how he would never put work above you, especially if you’re hurt.

he politely explains your situation to your husband, and yet kuroo has the audacity to sound offended at his request to spend more time taking care of you in your condition as an outsider.

“she’s my wife, i know how to take care of her.”

then act like it. kageyama bites back the retort, knowing that it wouldn’t help matters—that it might actually add to your burden instead of easing it. 

he bristles when kuroo tells him that he has to go finish up some work before he could leave, mystified as to why kuroo would ever put work above you. 

kageyama pockets his phone and lets his arm hang lax by his side, shaking his head at himself. it’s not his place to worry over you, much less tell kuroo how to be a husband. 

the gods have judged him, and deemed him unworthy of you. 

kageyama tobio knows your serve routine by heart. a tuck of your hair over your left ear, then your right, followed by a swish of your ponytail to confirm that it is holding securely. fingers smoothing over the hem of your jersey. your left hand outstretched with the ball in front of you, you would lick over your top lip, teeth catching your bottom lip before you launch the ball upwards and forwards, body coiling into a spring that shoots the ball out across the net.

he knows the extra time you take to warm up your right wrist due to a prior injury. the overly bubbly personality that you hide behind when you are upset or disappointed. the modest smile that is dazzling (he swears that you really do sparkle when you smile like that), not because you’re pulling your charm out, but because you are not. 

your unpretentious smile that comes from the heart still guts him each time becoming less common, to his disappointment. and gods, does he try to coax that smile from you when he sees you, would give you the entire universe with all the planets and stars in it if he could, just to see the unfiltered crooked smile from you. the one you claim to hate because it reveals the singular dimple on your cheek. 

he also knows that you love flowers, deduced from the bouquet of peonies on your lockscreen and the different floral arrangements that you post to your social media each week. and your order at the coffee shop that you get without fail—latte with lavender and honey instead of simple syrup.

he knows all the details he picked up from his observations in the time he has known you, details that he absolutely adore, while being hyper cognizant of the line drawn between you. 

he knows, lives at the edge of that boundary drawn by you, enforced by him. his iron grip on his own actions to hold the line, keeping his desires as they are—a daydream of a world where the gods favored him. 

kageyama knows this all too well. 

and because of that, he knows something is not right when your contact lights up his phone screen with an incoming call on a friday night. 

your number is saved under kuroo y/n, a reminder of where he stands in your life. he addresses you as kuroo-san, another constant reminder to stand firm on his side of the line. 

he hesitates, but his index finger swipes across the screen, accepting your call before his logical side could stop it.

your voice crackles across the line before he could get a word in. “you finally picked up!” 

he could just picture the pout on your face (that also appears during practices when you mess up), but it was the childish whimsy that accompanies your slurred words that dusts his cheeks in pink—the intimacy in your tone that he suspects is not meant for his ears.

“i miss you,” you admit softly, sadly, in a tone that makes his heart clench in pain. as much as he would like to give you comfort, anything you ask him for, really, he knows he’s not the one you’re really looking for. 

“yuki, give that back!” you complain, sounding further away from your phone. another female voice comes into the call, “no, is that kuroo tetsuro? that asshole!” 

kageyama thinks he should say something to clear up the situation, but the words die in his throat—what could he say, really?

“wait, what? kageyama?” the other female mumbles to herself, and kageyama assumes that whoever that yuki is returns the phone to you as your sweet voice calls out to him again. 

“are you done with work yet? you’ve been so busy again lately…” you trail off, “do you think we will go see the cherry blossoms outside of tokyo next year? you promised we would this year, but something came up with your work.”

he really doesn’t want to jump to conclusions about your marriage, but he would be lying if your words don’t make him upset on your behalf. it makes his blood boil to even think about his senpai prioritizing work over his wife. from what he witnessed when you were injured, and now this—you begging for his time, it is exceeding hard to believe otherwise. 

why would he choose work over you? he tries not to read too much into the situation, but—if that asshole is really making you live on scraps of his love, why are you still with him? 

oh right, because you love kuroo tetsuro. 

if kageyama was in his shoes, he would never make you ask him for his time. in fact, he would make sure you feel like the most loved person in the entire world. what do you even see in him— 

he shakes himself out of his intrusive thoughts, wondering instead if he made the right decision to give kuroo a push back then; if he just contributed to dragging out your situation rather than helping. he reminds himself that you had looked happier in the following weeks, until now.

he opens his mouth to say something, but your friend beats him to it. “say, you should come pick y/n up! it’s pretty late and she’s so plastered.”

finally, he stumbles to his words. “kuroo-san, i don’t think—”

he isn’t sure if you hear him over the loud music in the background and your friend’s insistence for him to come pick you up. “i’ll send the address to you, please come get her before she drinks herself to death.” 

he wonders if she knows. 

it isn’t long before he pulls up at the address you sent him, parking at a street lot that opened up as he drove by, lucky him. kageyama feels out of place among the partygoers in the club, dressed in sweats and an oversized hoodie over his plain t-shirt. 

he wonders if you would be disappointed to see him instead of your husband. your good for nothing husband who is apparently still at work on a friday night.

kageyama tells himself he shouldn’t feel as crestfallen as he does at that thought. just as he shouldn’t feel the skip in his heartbeat when his eyes land on you, or the urge to pull you into his arms and kiss the top of your head. 

or the protective instinct that kicks in as he gets closer, sensing the exhaustion in your demeanor, wishing to shield you against everything that the world throws at you. 

he really, really shouldn’t feel the relief that floods his veins at the gratitude in your eyes—not disappointment, he notes—and the gentle smile that graces your lips at his approach. that smile that he loves so much, knocking the breath out of him, reflecting on his own features that are normally set in a disinterested scowl. 

gods, is there anything he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on your face?

“tobio, you came.” his name leaving your lips for the first time, as you fling yourself into his arms with such familiarity that he has never seen from you. it takes every inch of his willpower to not crumble to the floor before you, beg you to let him love and worship you for the goddess you are. 

it takes every shred of his resolve to keep the words from overflowing past that cursed line. to keep his features neutral, intercept the storm ripping through his winter from touching your pleasant spring. 

so he holds on to you awkwardly, savoring the rare moment of affection, mumbling into your hair, “you called.”

“mmm, we’re celebrating my birthday! do you want a drink?” he releases you first, letting his arms fall to his sides. you tug him towards the bar before another woman stops you, disapproval set in the lines of her face.

“i let you out of my sight to go to the bathroom for a few minutes, and you’re already making a beeline to the bar.” this must be the yuki on the phone then. her eyes flicker behind you to kageyama. “this is kageyama?” 

“kageyama tobio, nice to meet you.” he manages a stiff nod.

“tsuda yuki. thanks for coming on a short notice, i appreciate it. she really doesn’t want to leave, and kuroo isn’t picking up.” yuki keeps a firm grip on you, tugging you in the opposite direction—to the exit, narrowing her eyes when you pout at her. 

you seem to have mellowed out since kageyama arrived, the sadness behind your eyes just a tad lighter if the strobing lights weren’t playing tricks on her. oh, whatever works, works. it’s almost two in the morning, and she thanks the gods that you are finally willing to go. 

yuki exchanges a few words with kageyama before they come to a mutual decision to have him drop you home since he has a car and she has to call a cab in the opposite direction of where you live. 

“be good for kageyama, please?” she basically begs you to be on your best behavior as her cab shows up. you’re clinging onto her like your life depends on it.

“we’ll be fine, tsuda-san.” kageyama tries to assure her, but she shoots him a look of disbelief. 

“you don’t know her like i do. she is… really out of hand when she has alcohol in her system. the last time she was this drunk, she tried to—” the cab honks at her to hurry up. “are you sure you got this?”

“yeah, i’ll have her call you when i drop her off.”

tsuda-san is right. kageyama comes to that conclusion after spending 15 minutes trying to get you into the passenger seat and checking that you put your seatbelt on.

he breathes a sigh of relief, focusing on the road ahead as you finally settle down, preoccupied with the buildings and bright lights that pass by in a blur. strangely enough he finds that he didn’t mind it one bit, having his hands full with taking care of a drunk you. he actually found this wild, unchecked side of you endearing.

he gently shakes you awake once he parks the car. it seems like most of the alcoholic effects have worn off during the drive as you lean onto him for support in the elevator, yawning and rubbing your tired eyes. 

your apartment is dark, devoid of life as you enter, kicking your shoes off in the entryway, mumbling a tadaima, mostly to yourself. kageyama would have missed it if he was not following closely behind you, making sure you don’t trip and fall over. 

his heart aches at the thought of you coming home to an empty apartment, your tadaima announcing that you’re home unmet with its other okaeri half from your husband to welcome you back. 

“make yourself at home, tobio,” you curl up on the couch, putting on a travel vlog on the tv on a low volume before dialing yuki’s number, letting her know you’re home safely. 

“hey, why don’t you change into more comfortable clothes? let me get you some painkillers. where is the medicine cabinet?” he nudges your shoulder. you lean back against the headrest, pouting at him again. if only you knew the effect you have on him.

“i’m lazyyy.” 

kageyama attempts to reason with you. “c’mon, you can go to bed right after too.”

“too tired to move.” you cross your arms at him. 

“kuroo-san…” he sighs. 

“why do you always call me that? my name is y/n, you know.”

“y/n, would you please change into pajamas?”

“nope.”

“what can i do to change your mind?”

your grin splits your face from ear to ear. “you could carry me to the room.”

“what—” he rubs the spot between his eyebrows. “okay, fine.”

kageyama scoops you into his arms effortlessly, and can't help but notice how the shape of you fits perfectly against him. your eyelashes flutter close as you rest your head against his shoulder, inhaling deeply and exhaling the spooled stiffness in your frame. 

the fullness in his heart lasts less than a minute. he catches himself staring at you when you meet his gaze, fingers smoothing against his brow as your feet touch the floor. “you’re going to get wrinkles before your time, tobio.”

he scurries back to the living room, leaving it at that. his cheeks are colored again, his back against the shut door of your bedroom, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. 

“stop it.” he mutters, more so at himself than anything, looking through the cabinets in the kitchen for some painkillers, and filling two tall glasses of water for you. he knocks on your door after a few minutes, easing the door open carefully when you tell him he’s clear to enter. 

he hands you the pills in one hand, water glass in the other. “drink up.” 

kageyama notices the melancholy in your eyes resurfacing as you lean back against your pillow on your side, hand outstretched towards the empty half of the queen-sized bed, but he wisely chooses to leave it be. 

you squeeze your eyes shut, turning on your side away from him. “good night, tobio. thanks for coming.”

“of course.” anything for you. kageyama tucks you under the blanket, fingers smoothing over the duvet, itching to run them through your hair. he curls his hand into a fist and shoves it in his pocket before his body betrays him. 

“happy belated birthday, kuroo-san.” he whispers into the darkness, leaving the full glass of water by your bed, and quietly closes the door behind him. he turns off all the lights in your apartment and washes up the other glass, fighting the strong urge to check on you when he hears a muffled whimper coming from your bedroom. 

you probably don’t want him to see you like that. 

he forces his feet out the front door. and a smile onto his face the next day when he sees you with puffy eyes and no memories of the night before. 

he really, really wishes he met you first. 

kageyama tobio curses the gods that put him on this trajectory. 

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @hiraethwrote @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity (open! askbox for taglist)

a/n. the pining, the heartache, the devotion; kageyama you will be loved </3 y'all i love him so MUCH i actually don't have the words to describe it... tobio brainrot all day every day <33 please expect slow updates!

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

[werewolfsister]

PSA: COMIC DRAMA

I've been slowly receiving critical, entitled, and passive-aggressive messages about the way I've been writing my comic! I wanted to address this behavior.

That being said, the majority of my readers have been nothing but positive! And when they spot a problem, they're kind about it. I really appreciate this; thank you to those who choose to be civil.

I'm making this post to address some issues, complaints, and questions I've seen. Let's take a look & see what we can discuss!

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

🦈-> I want you to use my character in your comic, but you're not using them! Sometimes, a character doesn't quite fit my vision for the comic-- even when they're designs that I love! I really do try to use as many people's characters as possible. I think it adds to the world & makes the comic feel more full of life! But I can't accommodate everyone's desires.

🐟->You're using my character in your comic, but you're not giving them enough screen time! Similar to the above issue, sometimes I don't think focusing on a particular character for any longer will serve the story well. Ultimately, I have final say on what happens in the comic. My advice is, if you feel your character isn't appearing enough, make your own content! Draw, write, craft, etc like I mention farther down below!

🐠->You said you were going to use my diplomat/character(s), but you only drew them in 1-2 panels. Why aren't you using them more? Similar to the points above! I was never planning on going into a TON of depth with the diplomats-- the comic focus also drastically changed, as I mention below.

🐡->You're using characters in the story that I don't like! Ahh that is too bad, but! In that case, you can always take a break from the comic & come back later to check if the characters are no longer being used, or maybe stop reading the comic altogether. However! If you have concerns with how the character is portrayed because of legitimate sexual/violence/illicit/illegal issues, then that's another issue entirely and you should let me know.

🪼->I thought this story was about rescuing Kenne, but now she's not even in the comic! I don't like the way this story is going! This is a big issue some people are having and I completely understand. There's been a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't explained, which must be generating a lot of confusion. Originally, @kenneduck and I were collaborating closely on this comic. Recently, the dynamic shifted, and we're now working on the comic separately. @kenneduck is now responsible for the part of the story that heavily features her characters, i.e. Princess Kenne's perspective of the rescue, her rescue effort, and what's happening in the Domain of the Luminous trench. I am now working on a different angle of the story-- the diplomatic efforts of Zora's Domain in their attempt to negotiate for Princess Kenne's return. So, the story is still the same... the focuses have just changed and split!

🦑->You reblogged my fan art and/or linked it in your comic directory-- does that make my content canon? Oooh, this is actually kind of a tough one! Normally, if something is in the comic directory, I consider it to be canon to the story. So, if you've drawn something, and I add it to my directory for a comic chapter, I'll consider it to have happened in real time. THERE'S AN EXCEPTION! And it may be confusing, so I'm genuinely sorry! If you have drawn something where you are heavily modifying someone else's character--this means cosmetic changes, giving the character children/spouses/family, killing the character, altering their personality-- WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION, then I cannot accept that as canon. It's still fantastic that you drew/wrote/created something and I will probably put it in the MISCELLANEOUS section of the comic directory. I'VE MADE MISTAKES ON THIS! So, I've since updated the directory. And, sorry for all confusion on this issue! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐳->I want to collaborate with you on your comic, can I do that? That's awesome! Maybe in the future, but right now I'm not taking on any more partners. Maybe you can make your own separate additions, with your character(s) like I mention below!

🐙>I want to make fan art, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it. This was originally meant to be a very interactive comic, so draw/write/create away!!!

🦀->I want to draw my character(s) doing something in the world of your comic, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it! Like I mentioned above, however, I may or may not deem it canon to the events of the comic. But even if I don't, I'll add it to the MISCELLANEOUS section of my comic directory! ...as long as you don't alterate someone's character without permission! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐬->I want to make a character based on a Domain you created/idea you drew/etc., can I do that? Of course! Go for it. I love seeing what people make!

I know this is a lot of text, but it's better to be comprehensive! Please, keep in mind, I'm just one hobby artist making a comic for fun, with the spirit of interactivity and collaboration in mind. But it's impossible to keep that spirit going when people feel entitled and demand things of me that I am not obligated to give.

I queue out my pages several weeks in advance with the help of the people I'm working with, so what you see in the comic is the product of a lot of thought and work. You're getting something for free here, y'all. It ain't so serious!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading this! And for reading the comic! Peace out ✌️

[moronkyne]

If I see someone yuck someone else’s unproblematic yum I’m gonna go crazy

Just because someone posts about something that isn’t probable doesn’t mean you have to go out of your way to say something negative about it.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to be negative.” Think about what you said. If someone posts something that isn’t morally wrong, problematic, and/or won’t truly affect you and you still choose to bring you opinion, an opposing opinion, to a space where it was never asked for…it sounds like you’re being pretty negative to me.

But again, that’s just my opinion. It’s not like it’s common sense or whatever. (Ahem sarcasm)

Go ahead. If you say you want to see a character play a game that acquires character customization then say it. If you want an audio that caters towards a specific group of people then say it. It doesn’t matter if it’s not probable, it’s what you want. So wear that shit like a badge, bro.

We’re on a goddamn social media app, stop trying to trash other peoples (unproblematic) takes. Ofc people aren’t gonna always agree with you. If it annoys you then here’s some advice.

Ignore, scroll.

Okay thanks for coming to my Tedtalk.

[manmilkers]

We are supposed to believe, Armand, capable of controlling a theatre of +100 people without breaking a sweat or any visible strain, stopping time, mind wiping other vamps, able to withstand sunlight, wasn't capable of stopping Santiago, who is removing what Armand's perceives as his one obstacle to Louis, Claudia, and Madeline, a vampire Armand did not want made? But Lestat, who goes off script to align himself with the accused and speak in the defendants favor and who cannot control a dozen inebriated soldiers without bursting blood vessels and bleeding from the ears and not being able to stand upright after and is +2 centuries younger/less powerful than their leader had the more active role in the orchestrating/controlling the lynch mob- trial? There is an obvious difference in power here that belies the narrative being spun as well as onscreen actions being taken by each of them, that Lestat showed up for vengeance and Armand “could not prevent it” 🙄, as well as a disparity in what we know these characters motivations are. Both of these people have an obvious pattern of taking fairly extreme measures when they perceive Louis as spurning them for someone/thing else or being more taken with another. Only one of them has ever forcibly forbade Claudia from leaving Louis and the other had control of the coven that killed her.

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in

[triglycercule]

thinking about mtt literally physically dragging eachother down and being restrained to eachother because theyre genuinely that fucking ass for eachother but then it means i'd have to decide which of them to humiliate by putting a collar on them. and i can't choose. if they dont all equally suffer than whats the point man 🙁🙁🙁

[braceletofteeth]

Support verb.

1. to uphold or defend as valid or right;

2. to encourage, comfort, help, etc., under trial or affliction.

[koko2unite]

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[tardis--dreams]

Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes

[mildcicada]

[no-one-hears-me]

I feel sad about a lot of different things rn and it feels kinda helpless

[infizero]

im genuinely going to be INSUFFERABLE when chapters 3 and 4 come out like you have no idea.

[dirt-str1der]

Btw shinada is by far one of my favorite yakuza character, i think he is one of the very few characters that got an actual decent closure

Yeah ...... it didnt un-ruin his life but like it was satisfying at least .... but his whole story arc was crazy (in a good way) like god ...