#Anyway reblogs much appreciated because this took too damn long

[hrokkall]

The Martyrdom of Saint Gabriel

[forsworned]

ok, but hear me out. Poly!tf141 on undercover mission. Reader is dressed up, think very club type attire or so. Paired think of the audio "favorite" by Isabel Larosa 👀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfavorite ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ okokokokokokokok i finally finished anon im sorry it took me so long, i was trying to make sure it made as much sense as possible but its a fucknnn wrapppppp , i hope u like it ;-; reblogs & comments are appreciated!!

꒰warning(s) heavily suggested polyship, alcohol abuse, violence, titty bar???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Pulsating rhythms of the club thudded against their tightened sternums as they impatiently waited for her appearance. On one side, Kyle and Price sat on hightops, sipping slowly at their top shelf whiskey's. Price sucked his teeth at that. Damn them all to hell for their overpriced liquor.

Kyle chuckled from behind the rim of his glass at his Captain's displeasure.

"Fuckin' tossers. All o'em." Price's mood was quite piqued already. This mission for sure was going to get him diagnosed with hypertension.

"Relax, boss. She can handle it." Kyle's voice is smoother than the fine, fiery amber liquid they were downing. Price could admit that it was damn good whiskey.

"Not talkin' 'bout the duck." He retorted, finishing his glass and pushing it away from him. He teased the end of his stache between his fingers.

Kyle simpered at him. "Oh yeah? 'Suppose y'talkin' 'bout the whiskey then."

Price's icy blues peered up at his Sergeant's honey gaze, a half smirk curled up on his lips now.

"Damn good whiskey."

Kyle and Price both chuckled at that. Clearly they were both on edge and neither of them were willing to admit to that. It wasn't easy knowing that she was compromising all of herself for the sake of a mission while they sat their twiddling their thumbs like a bunch of sods.

"'re y'two gonna keep actin' like a pair of plonkers, or y'gonna do wha' y'were assigned to do 'n' keep watch?" Simon's rasping voice was heard over the comms.

Johnny snickered from his seat at the bar." Ahh, give 'em some slack, L.t.. It ain't easy watchin' oor wifie shake 'er ass in fron' of a bunch of--"

"I can hear you, y'know?" Her voice like a dream (the prettiest girl they've ever seeennn), pulling them out of their squabbling.

"There she is." Johnny's murmured, glancing over at her figure appearing between throngs of men. The bright strobe lights casting shadows over her form, highlighting her curves. Every stride more enchanting than the next as she bounced through the crowd so effortlessly. She balanced two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Glenfiddich on a slim black tray as she approached her two teammates.

Did their eyes deceive them, or was she really wearing that?

"On the house, boys." Her tone is ribbing, playful with a hint of a gentle chide. The curve of her red painted lips, and the feline-like eyeliner that cascaded over her tightlined eyes made her that much alluring. Their eyes traveled down her frame, carefully analyzing the black bodycon dress that fit her like a second skin.

The outfit was undeniably slutty. Black strings wrapping around her chest and over her shoulders. The neckline was low, revealing her cleavage while the length of the skirt just barely brushed against her ass. Their eyes stopping at the thigh-high black, latex boots she was wearing.

How long had she been hiding these outfits from them, they didn't know. And knowing her, she would never tell.

"On th' house, you say?" Kyle's gaze heavy on her. "Says who?"

She tilted her head to the side with an impish grin. "Says me."

Price's mouth seemed to have been full of cotton because he couldn't even manage a word. That satisfied her. "Enjoy, boys."

She sauntered off to the next set of patrons, and Price had to readjust himself for a moment as he shook his head with an incredulous look.

"Trousers gettin' too tight?" Simon jested over the comms. That earned a few chuckles.

"Where'd she get tha' lil thing anyways?" Price attempted to derail Simon's taunting.

Johnny's eyes never left her form from the moment she stepped out on the floor. She was working her magic with all the patrons, speaking the native language while he listened in on how it rolled off her tongue like it was her own as their haughty eyes undressed her—it was enough to make his skin crawl. "No idea, but 's makin' me kinda jealous."

"Ditto." Kyle shook his head as he poured his Captain and himself another drink.

"Le's get this shit over with." Price picked up his glass, clinking it against Kyle's before they both downed it with ease.

And boy was it not fun for any of them. Johnny's job really had to be the comedic relief for the night because the way that their collective blood pressure was raising right now was enough to send them into cardiac arrest.

Simon sat in the control room with his gun in his holster, knife in his left hand as he observed every individual body in the room. The mangled body to his left, slumped on the floor for the night as he flitted through multiple CCTV to track her movements and get an idea on the deal that was about to happen.

The mission? It involved an international weapons deal between the Mexican cartel and an arms manufacturer from Russia. They had to infiltrate the club that the cartel owned and [name]--very, very much to their dismay--was the bait.

Kyle, to no one's surprise, was the first one to break the silence.

"The boys are gettin' restless." Kyle eyed the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute as more and more people came in for some late night fun. The cartel member's body language indicated that they were getting restless.

Price was already on edge. His fingers were gripping the Mexican Pine wood of the hightop table. Every second that went by felt like an eternity as he watched her shake her hips up against one of the cartel members and laughed as a bottle of vodka was passed around between them.

Simon grunted, watching more individuals come in. "Gonna be a bloodbath."

Johnny stayed quiet, but his brows were furrowed with worry. His baby blues watched her as she took a shot with one of the cartel members in an attempt to be flirty while he pressed a hand against the small of her back. Johnny couldn't hide the way his face contorted in disgust.

"Quit bouncin' y'leg, Johnny." Simon warned. In an instant, Johnny's actions are halted like a guard dog on command. He sucked his teeth.

Price's jaw ticked when he laid his icy glare on her taking another shot and laughed coquettishly while the cartel member's hand went up her skirt. "For Christ's sake."

Kyle gave his Captain a sympathetic grin. It was hard being the only one under control.

"Le's have another." He sighed, pouring them both another drink in a weary attempt to calm their nerves. Well, really Price's nerves.

As the night drew on, the club gained more traction. Her movements becoming more risqué as she allowed the men to grope her and squeeze her.

"Gonna lose my bloody shite here." Price muttered, the way they tried to get under her skirt as she laughed it off, her back pressed up against one of their bodies. She was good. He had to give her that much.

Simon turned his attention away from the screen, taking notice of the slight beads of sweat dripping down Price's temples.

He was sweating now too. To be so comfortable with these bastards as she played them like a fiddle. Price's heart was thudding in his ears. He couldn't breathe.

"Gimme an update on somethin', anythin', Simon." Price was practically pleading at this point. A small edge to his voice as he spoke with neediness, referring to the deal that was suppose to be made tonight.

Simon let out an exasperated huff as he kept his eyes on the group, laughing and sharing drinks.

"Still nothin' yet." Simon grunted, scrolling through several camera angles. A cigarette was pinched between his lips, and he pulled from it as he turned to look over at Price. It had been two hours of Price stewing in his seat with nothing to show for.

"She sure as hell ain't making it easy..." Price mumbled, running a hand over the back of his neck.

Kyle was observing the situation with a smirk. "Sure as hell not..." His mouth kicked up at the corner. She was being very provocative with them, trying to get them off their game.

"She's doin' a'ight for herself, ain't she, boss?" Kyle asked while Price remained stilled, almost intentionally provoking him a bit, which in its own respect was quite cruel to do but he couldn't help himself. The Captain was seething in silence, a small twitch on his mouth being the only indication that he had heard what his Sergeant had said.

Simon leaned his cheek against the cold wall of the control room, watching her play the men like a puppet master. Her words and touches were calculated.

He took another drag from his cigarette, trying to keep his nerves calm as Price felt like he was wasting away on his seat. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips and he silently thanked the cartel for installing such HD quality cameras so that he could at least savor this moment.

Three hours in, and there was no sign of the deal being made. Simon wondered if they all wasted their time being her back up.

"She might a'well be dancin' in a stripper's club," Price grunted, his back still stiff as he remained seated.

Simon bit back a laugh. "T’be fair, it is a titty club."

"Shut the 'ell up, Simon." Price turned over as his head pounded in tandem with his heartbeat. His jaw was clenched tight, blood boiling in his veins. "That does not change the fact that she is bein' taken advantage of."

"Right..." Simon muttered, taking another puff from his cigarette with a side-eyed smirk.

"Jus' wait until we have a debrief for this mission, you cocky bastard." Price grunted. It was an empty threat. Like the way a father would reprimand his naughty kids.

Kyle and Johnny could be heard chuckling over the comms and that seemed to alleviate the tense mood once again.

It wasn't until Simon noticed the shift in body language that sent his senses into overdrive. An instinct that he never ignored as he carefully analyzed one of the members who was leaning against the bar. He turned to the barman, ordered a round of drinks for him and his friends. In the distance, he could see [name's] lithe body swaying gracefully in and around the throngs of men. A slow, confident sway. His attention immediately shifted to the bar, catching glimpses of the body language between the cartel members and another girl they could barely keep their mouths off of.

She looked a lot like their [name]. The same build, the same hair and a similar fit. It made his stomach turn a bit.

This was the part of the mission he hated. It was when things started to get real—when there were a lot more moving pieces and when a slight error could cost her, them and the mission.

One of the members was speaking to the girl, he couldn't hear what his words were but he could read his body language clearly. He was starting to connect the dots when the girl was passed a keycard that was gently pushed into her back pocket.

"We've got movement." Simon warned.

"Where?"

Price and Simon could practically hear one another's voices on the edge of breaking.

"One o'em is passin' a keycard to woman at the bar. Keep watch." Simon commanded.

Kyle and Johnny stayed silent. But their focus remained locked on the pair, keeping eyes on her as the men around her continued to paw at her.

The barman finished pouring the drinks, and then a few other people passed by the cartel member before he leaned in to whisper her location. Simon took note.

The man and the girl began to walk away from the bar, heading towards a back door. Her body reacted defensively for a fleeting moment, recoiling ever so slightly to the unwanted touch. The door was out of the camera's range. Only the door handle could be seen. The man continued to drag her towards it, his grip tightening as he did. Simon got even more of an uneasy feeling as they drew closer.

Simon's eyes darted to another screen where a meeting was starting to take place and [name] had somehow managed to slip past the members. She was currently situated on the other side of the meeting doors, tucked away in a corner that kept her out of sight from them but gave him a clear view of her movement.

Simon noticed that there was two guards slumped over in the rooms leading to where [name] now was. "[name], do not engage. Do you copy?"

"Copy." Her voice crackled over the comms.

Simon couldn't help but think when the hell she got there with her weapon ready in hand, still in her same outfit from earlier. There wasn't much time to think about how or when she had done that.

"When did y'leave?" Kyle inquired, on behalf of them. A smirk could be heard in her voice.

"When no one was lookin', silly."

Johnny's and Price's jaw ticked in amusement at that.

"Slippery minx." Price muttered. "Weren't you s'pposed t'keep an eye 'er, Johnny?"

"I was." Johnny replied confidently. It was evident that he allowed her to do her own thing. It sure as hell beat gawking at her while other men got handsy with her assets.

Simon fixated on back on the pair from earlier, as they moved through multiple rooms, and suddenly she was thrown into the bathroom, landing on the tiles with a cry.

"Fuckin' military slut. You think I don't know who you are?" The cartel member sneered.

The girl recoiled and shook her head not able to find any words. "¡…n-no, señor! ¡N-no soy un chivato!"* She cried out.

(...n-no, mister! I am not a spy!)*

"Bloody hell, they've got the got the wrong lass." Simon grumbled over the comms realizing that there positions were somewhat compromised. It was natural for cartel members to be weary and hypervigilant about moles, but he had to maintain control over the situation.

The man didn't seem to be buying it as he fished out his gun from his holster. Simon could hear the sound of the man's voice rising over him manhandling the girl through the CCTV's audio system.

"I don't know what you are thinking you little whore, but you shouldn't have come to my club if you didn't want to get used! Don't come crying to me when these bastards finish with you!" The man yelled. His voice was so laced with arrogance and pride that Simon was tempted to get off the comms and put a bullet through his head.

By now it was obvious that the man thought she was [name]. The girl cowered before him in fear, not daring to move as she kept repeating that she wasn't a spy. But his eyes were filled with nothing but rage. It seemed to be the end of the line for her.

Simon's heart was in his throat as he watched the man aim his gun at her chest. He held the trigger down before another man walked in with two more guards.

He missed. He missed!

The girl's chest rose with relief, still trembling in fear.

"¡Maldito imbécil! ¡¿Parece una espía?!"* One of them shouts at the man who attempted to murder the girl just moments ago.

(Fucking moron! Does she look a like a spy?!)*

A gun is brought to his head and he's instructed to let go of her or die instead. The man lets go and backs away to allow the one of three guards to escort him off. The two guards that are left glare down at her in pity as they watch her shudder.

"Vete de aquí."* One of them gestured his head to the door.

(Get outta here)*

The girl tries to get to her feet but she collapses with tears streaming down her cheeks. They help her up and lead her out of the door as they shake their heads, muttering about who the fuck is training their guys nowadays.

"Fuckin' hell." Simon muttered to himself as he switched back his focus to the meeting happening in the room. No one had seemed to move from their positions. "'least tell us when y'r on th' move." His voice was filled with exasperation at [name's] cunningness.

"Sorry, Si."

She didn't mean that.

"How many?" Price asked over the comms, pushing away her actions to the back of his mind. He would deal with her later.

Simon could hear the girl cry as her tears mingled with the music from the club that drifted in and out of the bathroom. The girl was visibly distraught from her near death experience. Simon's lip was curled at the sight.

"Six." Simon replied as he watched the two guards lead her out of the restroom.

"Nine." Her voice interjected. "Those guys that took care of that--little squabble, are coming in right now." It made her heart wrench that she compromised another innocent woman, but with her out of harms way it was easier to focus on the mission once again.

"Sharp eye, hen." Johnny complimented her.

"Thank ya, Johnny." Her voice practically sang.

Minutes dragged by and Simon's eyes were dancing between [name] and the door that the cartel members all seemed to be facing, like they were waiting for the arms dealer to walk through at any given second.

"Any moment now." Simon muttered, keeping his eyes on the entrance for someone to enter, antsy for the deal to begin.

The door was pushed open and a man dressed in a crisp black suit with greased back silver hair and a thin, angular frame entered, along with another cartel member who held his weapon with his finger on the trigger. The man's eyes scanned the room as they approached the other cartel members, who remained relaxed. Simon let out a sharp breath, hoping that they had arrived on time to foil the deal.

"Tango has entered the building." Simon muttered into the comms.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard over their earpieces, but not from Price. His grip tightened on the bar stool as the seconds dragged on. It was hard to contain his breathing when his adrenaline spiked that high but he was managing.

Simon's voice was even and cool. He had trained for this moment. "Standby f'r engagement. Weapons free at m'signal."

"Copy." Price replied.

The transaction seemed ready to go down smoothly as the Russian man slid his briefcase towards the cartel members, who in turn slid over their weapons.

Simon's muscles began to tense, bracing himself for the inevitable gunfire. He was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Price's hand went to the butt of his gun, checking that it was secure in its holster as he waited for the signal to move in.

The men made their exchange, and the deal looked like it was going to go down without a hitch. But something didn't feel quite right.

Just when it seemed like things were going to go swimmingly, one of the cartel members raised his weapon and fired at the man in the suit. The man dove for cover behind the bar as a bullet shattered the glass door behind him. Chaos erupted as the entire room exploded in gunfire.

Bullets ricocheting off the walls, commands being yelled over the noise the clamor could be heard from both sides as the cartel was scrambling out of sight. [name] took that as her ticket to take care of the Russian arms dealer, but she was gently pinned to the wall.

A familiary honeyed voice in her ear. "An' where do y'think y'r goin', ducky?"

Johnny, Price and Simon move in with ease and efficiency as they neutralized the threats with no remorse. It more than personal at this point, as she ogled the way Simon used his lucky blade against the throat of one man, Johnny breaking the arm of another and Price taking his sweet time over the man that he watched so vehemently put his hands up your skirt. There seemed to be a common theme here.

"Someone call it in." Price let out a exasperated sigh as he shot the last guy straight in the skull without even giving him a second glance. He carded his calloused fingers through sweat saturated locks and his eyes fell on her.

His Sergeant's arms were enveloped around her lovingly as they eagerly tabbed their teammates individual vendettas.

"Done, sir?" Kyle probed playfully as he eyed his Captain and then the other two men. Simon flicked off the blood on his blade on the ground before using the now cartel member's suit to clean of the rest and stuffed it back in its holster, while Johnny's casually rolled his neck from side to side, cracking his neck like he just finished sparring.

The corners of Price's mouth turned up into an incredulous grin as he licked his lips and riveted on [name]. "Y'pull anotha stunt like tha' again, ducky--" He breathed out and shook his head as he took in her puckish grin. "ah fuck it. I've got no fire left 'n me after tonight."

He scratched his temple with the rear end of his handgun. "Y'call it in, Johnny?"

"Done tha' already, Cap." Johnny's tongue was peaking out of his lips as he pressed them in a thin line to keep himself from laughing, but the way the corner of his lips were kicking up gave it away.

"Good man." Price clapped the Scot's shoulder and soon the soft brouhaha of their men was heard, approaching them as they slammed doors of their vehicles ready to clean up the bodies and take them back to base. Simon and Johnny were more than happy to help them drag off the bodies onto the oncoming stretchers.

Price's bleary eyes glanced over at her form for a fleeting second before he headed toward the truck, but not before he pinched the exposed skin of her ass cheek causing her to yelp.

She pouted at him in passing to which he gave her a cheeky grin, gently instigating a smirk from her. Kyle's lips are on her cheek, his subtle stubble scratching her soft skin as she feels his breath against her ear.

"Y'r really in for it this time, ducky."

[yagirlwrites]

Show Me (Please) | (Sub!Rafe)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Domme!Reader

Warnings: sad rafe, angst and fluff

A/N: Hi y'all it's been a while! Wrote this a few days ago, did some editing but not too much cause I'm too tired for that lmao anyway I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think ❤️

Series Masterlist

This is set right before The Sounds of a Good Boy

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading 🥰

Show Me (Please)

She was picking up a coffee order at the counter when she noticed him. Sitting in one of the cafe's window booths, staring at his empty glass, looking positively tragic. She had no idea why the sight caused a sharp pain to shoot through her heart. It was unusual. That was the reason. She'd never seen him look glum before - always smiling or smirking at her, or even annoyed but never this. Never sad. So sad. She attributed the remaining dull ache in her chest to the fact that this was highly unusual and she was too damn empathetic. That was it. That's what she told herself.

Once she grabbed her cup she had half a mind to just walk away and pretend she hadn't seen him. He looked like he wanted to be alone and she was not his friend, so really, what would be the point in getting involved? She took a couple of steps toward the door when his eyes met hers.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt like she was intruding on something just by being there. He looked depressed. It was the only way she could describe it. The bags under his eyes, the abscence of his usual michievous smile, the sadness in his eyes which she could have sworn looked kind of glassy in the brief moment their gazes met. She wasn't sure what she expected him to do when he noticed her but it definitely wasn't this. She noticed his eyes roll briefly before he looked back down at his glass pretending she wasn't there. Rude.

Frankly she shouldn't have cared if he was being cold, she had been waiting for him to stop bothering her for a long time. But this felt wrong. She felt that ache in her chest again and she realized there was no way it would let her leave him like this. She sighed and kept walking.

She knew he sensed her there but he didn't look up. Didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge her at all. And this should have been her sign to walk out the door and get on with her day but that damn ache wouldn't let up. She slid into the seat opposite him, putting her coffee cup on the table and crossing her hands. And then she waited.

He could feel her piercing gaze on him. Could feel it burning through his skin. He felt naked under her eyes again and he didn't like it one bit. It didn't help that he was feeling so shitty anyway, the last thing he needed was her adding onto it. He didn't understand why she was there.

Minutes passed with them sitting in silence, his eyes on his hands and hers on him. Waiting. For what she wasn't sure. With every second that ticked by the silence grew louder, thicker, more suffocating. They both could feel it stinging the air they breathed.

He broke first. Because of course he did. When his eyes finally lifted to look at her they were void of their usual spark and this caused a frown to appear on her own face.

"What are you doing?" He finally spoke. His voice tight and low, as if he hadn't spoken in days. As if releasing the words physically pained him. She was left confused at what to do to fix it. Why she wanted to fix it? She had no idea. She just knew this wasn't right. So she spoke.

"Sitting here." She picked up her coffee, finally taking a sip. It had gotten cooler while they waited. Whatever, she thought. It didn't really matter.

Even though she loved her coffee strong and hot, to wake her up, help get her back on track when her energy tumbled during the afternoon. Even though it was the only reason she left her apartment, to get the coffee and bring some life back to her body so she could continue on the paper that's been kicking her ass for the past three days. At this moment it didn't matter in the slightest. And in a true Y/N fashion, she chose not to dwell on the why.

He was staring at her now, bows furrowed - trying to figure out what the hell was going through her mind, why she had sat with him when she had been rejecting every interaction he had been trying to start with her for months. She was a pro at getting under his skin with her ability to be completely unaffected by him and his charm, his bullshit. It made no damn sense why she would be here right now and it made his discomfort grow.

"Why are you here?" She gave him a pointed look, putting her cold coffee down and crossing her hands on the table, like she had all the time in the world and he was once again feeling like a little boy about to be scolded.

"Wanted a coffee. It helps me think." Her voice was casual and he hated it. The way she could always be so blasé and cool. Like she was so much better than him.

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." His voice was strained but sharp, meant to cut. She lifted an eyebrow at his nerve. He never spoke to her like this before. She didn't like it. It wasn't right.

"I see your manners left you cold, Rafe." He felt like a child being chastised by a parent.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" He ignored her comment, voice on edge. He was uncomfortable with this interaction. He wasn't feeling like himself and having her here now, was messing with his already fragile mind. He needed air and needed his head cleared, not more confusion added to it.

"I'm sitting, having a coffee. It's cold now though. I don't like it." She was trying to keep cool and not snap at his attitude. His face was unamused and if that damn pain in her chest wasn't so loud in wanting her to do something for him, she would have already left. But she didn't. She didn't know how to explain it to him when she didn't understand it herself.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" The way she said his name felt like an arrow shot right right through his fragile heart.

It was the first time he heard his name pass her lips and he wished so hard it didn't cause such an insane reaction inside him. His every reaction to her felt unhinged, he didn't understand it. It didn't help that she kept rejecting every attempt he made at getting to know her. She was frustrating and confusing and infuriating and it drove him wild. And while any other time he would have been jumping from joy to have her approach him and sit with him for coffee, as embarrassing as that was, right now he simply wasn't in the mood. For any of it.

"I don't have energy for this." His voice was practically a whisper and the way he so easily gave up on the banter he would have usually jumped on was starting to worry her. It wasn't right. And she didn't know why she cared.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Her voice was the softest and gentlest he'd ever heard it. And part of him wanted him to say yes, to bare his soul to her right there. But a bigger part of him, the meaner one, wanted to cut. It was his way of dealing with the pain. Don't show it - hence him being all alone in the café in the late afternoon, licking his wounds like a kicked puppy. And if he can't hide it, he will make it hurt - deflect, push whoever might be unfortunate enough to cross his path when he's like this far far away, so they may never return, never see him vulnerable again.

His scoff was much louder than his voice had been. Her eyebrows lifted at his reaction to her question.

"Something funny?" Her voice now a lot less gentle. It was go time. A cold smirk made its way onto his face.

"So all I had to do was stop fawning over you and you come to me?" Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance at his audacity and that smug look on his face.

"The second the guy is no longer running after you, suddenly you wanna be around him? I expected better from you, Y/N. That's pretty cliché." He tutted in faux disappointment and her anger rose within her.

How dare he speak to her like that? She was being nice sitting with him when he looked so sad. But now he was being mean and she didn't deserve it.

He waited for her to snap back. Tell him to go fuck himself, as she had in the past. To storm off in anger, or slap him even. He could see it on her face, she wanted to. He grinned.

And then she saw it. The little glint in his eye. He was trying to provoke her. Push her buttons. Get her anger and force a reaction. She knew how he worked. It was like that the first night they met. He tried to get her to slip up and let him get under her skin. He was itching for it then and he's itching for it now. And like that night she calmed herself down because she knew better than to give him what he wants.

Unlike that night though, he wasn't trying to piss her off for attention, he was doing it to push her away. Because unlike that night she knew him better now- whether she liked it or not. He had been in her life for a while and she picked up on things about him despite insisting she didn't care to.

He was hurting. A lot. He had looked so sad and in pain when she noticed him. And now he was embarrassed, provoking her so she'd leave and he wouldn't have to face it. And she shouldn't care. Shouldn't bother continuing a conversation when he was actively being a dick and trying to end it. But for some reason, unlike that night, she doesn't want to walk away. This isn't him. He isn't mean. He never has been.

He's confused when nothing happens and her face remains calm and collected. His smirk falls. Her eyes hold his for a long moment and he feels that same chill down his spine. What is she doing to him?

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. We can just sit. Or if you want to be alone I can go. Just say it. You don't need to be a dick." Her eyes remained on him, making him flustered. Her words piercing his heart like thunderbolts. Why was she still there? Why was she still trying? He didn't understand it. It made no damn sense.

"Why do you care?" His voice broke and she could see the tears he had been holding back glistening in his eyes. Her heart broke for him.

"I don't know." Truth. "I just do." She shrugged and gave him a small smile. A small smile that made his insides feel like they were twisting up into a knot. She was so beautiful and she didn't make any fucking sense to him. Ever. Always leaving him confused and desparate for more.

"Do you want me to go?" He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He realized he didn't. He usually never wanted anyone to see him like this - this fragile. It made no sense but he really didn't want her to leave him in that moment. She mistook his silence as an affirmative and she went to grab her bag but he finally spoke.

"Stay." He was looking at her with big pleading eyes and she could feel her heart clench. So she let go of her bag and made herself as comfortable as she could on the booth bench.

"Okay." She simply said and they lapsed back into a silence. Only this time it wasn't suffocating. It was... comforting.

A strange feeling enveloped Rafe. Like he could breathe again, even though just seconds ago he felt like dying. Like she was the calm wrapping around his stormy mind, soothing the ache with her mere presence. Her refusal to let his snippy attitude push her away, her ability to see right through him and know he needs someone to just be there for him. Just be. He felt like he was in a dream.

And so they sat there in the silence, for what could have been hours. The more time passed the calmer he became, the quieter his mind went. The longer she was there with him, so patient even though he didn't deserve it, the less he felt like shit. He was coming back to himself, slowly but surely. He didn't understand how this woman's presence always managed to make him feel both safe and like he's going to lose his mind at the same time. Because the more conscious he got the more his mind started running wild again. This time because of her.

What did she want with him? She had been so cold and indifferent to all his advances, every attempt at kindling some kind of relationship between them he instigated, she shut down. Why was she now here then? What did it mean?

"Why did you sit here?" His voice finally broke the extended silence they had been in. She could see he was more himself now and was glad. However, she wasn't glad she now had to answer his questions. Because she didn't know how.

"You looked sad." It was a simple answer and she hoped he might accept it but of course he didn't.

"So?" She shrugged.

"I don't know. It didn't feel right." He cracked a small smile at that.

"Didn't feel right?" She rolled her eyes at his playful tone.

"I don't have the answer you're looking for." She looked at him with honesty and he gulped and nodded, processing her words.

"You really are something else." He scoffed in semi amusement. She arched her brow expecting an explanation.

"For months I've been trying to talk to you. Get to know you. And you always turn me away." He shook his heard, a glimmer of pain in his eyes that tugged at her heartstrings.

"Why?" She sighed. It was a fair question. But she didn't want to think too hard and he was forcing her hand.

"You hate me then you come and sit with me cause I'm sad?" His voice was apprehensive. She swallowed from the tension building around them.

"I don't hate you." Her brows furrowed. Why would he think that?

"Okay, not hate but... you definitely don't like me. You've made it obvious." His voice was teasing, but hiding a note of hurt all the same. She looked sheepish and he didn't expect that.

"It's not that I don't like you." He cocked a brow at that.

"Oh really? So you do like me? That's why you shut me down every time I try and talk to you?" He was challenging her now. Poking for the truth behind her behaviour. He had been blatantly obvious about being interested in her but she had never reciprocated.

"Rafe... I don't know what you want from me." He scoffed at that.

"You're unbelievable, you know?" She sighed and tried to speak but he continued.

"I spent months trying to get you to see that I wasn't just some asshole frat guy you saw me as that first night. I didn't even ask you out I just wanted to talk to you. And you didn't want it." She felt uncomfortable now, like she was being called out.

"And I was finally accepting that you clearly don't want me. As a friend or anything else." The hurt in his voice was evident.

"But then here you are. Acting like you give a shit for the first time. And you ask me what I want from you?" His voice took on a note of disbelief. "What do you want from me? That's the real question?" He was getting agitated again and she was feeling kind of flustered at his words.

"It's cruel. Messing with me like this. Acting like you care that I'm sad when you're just gonna go back to pretending I don't exist after this." His eyes were teary again and she felt herself wanting to cry. Why was he making sense? Why was he calling her out like this? Unhinging her?

"I do care." Her voice was soft and he could tell she was being sincere.

"Why?" He wasn't backing down, holding her gaze hostage in his baby blues. She couldn't answer.

"Why don't you want me?" The words fell from his lips before he had time to stop them.

Why didn't she want him in her life as badly as he wanted her in his? Why didn't she want to be his friend? He would be happy to be just friends, even though he obviously wanted more. He'd be content to just have her any way she wanted. He just wanted her. In whatever way she'd let him have her. But he didn't dare say that, already having embarrassed himself enough for the day.

The blush on his face was so stong, a passerby might think him drunk or feverish. She could tell he let slip more than he intended with that last question. And she didnt have it in her to lie anymore. To either of them.

"It's not that I don't want you." His eyes snapped to hers from twiddling with his fingers on the table. Confused. Dare he say, hopeful? Apprehensive. The implication of her words driving him mad.

"What?" She sighed. How coud she explain this to him when it was so hard to explain it to herself?

"It's not that I don't want you. I just don't think we're compatible is all." She drifted off, feeling like she had said both too much and not enough at the same time.

"What does that even mean?" She looked at him for a beat, silently begging him to drop it. But he couldn't.

"What? You do want me?" She closed her eyes trying to keep herself in check.

"You... Do you feel it too?" His hand tentatively reached for hers sitting on the table. The touch made her skin feel like it was on fire and her eyes met his wild ones. There was so much swirling in him now. Hope, anger, hurt, relief, joy, pain, confusion. He was so terrified of her next words but also so damn anxious to hear them.

She should have pulled away. Walked away even. She didn't understand why she didn't. This was a terrible, stupid idea - to tell him the truth. It could never work between them. It just couldn't. But the tiny tremor of his hand holding hers unhinged her and she couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"Yeah... Yeah I feel it." His breath caught in his throat. Waiting for her to say sike. To take it back. Say she was joking. But she doesn't.

"What the fuck?" His relief was battling with his anger. If she felt the same then why the fuck had she been making him feel a fool for so long? Why did she reject him and make him feel like an idiot for even thinking she'd ever want anything to do with him?

"What's wrong with you?" He pulled his hand off her then and she was starting to feel the anger inside herself too.

"Watch your mouth." She snapped and he couldn't help but snort in disbelief.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You've let me feel like I was alone in this, like I wasn't good enough for you to ever feel the same way about me. And now you say you do?" He was breathing hard, his grasp on sanity slipping by the second.

"Don't be stupid." She couldn't belive he would say that. Had she really made him think he wasn't good enough for her?

"Don't call me stupid." He was struggling to control himself from blowing up at her right in this coffee shop.

"I'm not -" she sighed and rubbed her eyes in exasperation. She didn't realize his self esteem was so low, didnt realize she had made him feel like that.

"You're not stupid." The tears in his eyes were now a mix of hurt and anger and he didnt know which one was winning out. "And you're not alone. I'm sorry." His breath got shaky.

"It's not that you're not good enough, that's crazy." His heart skipped a beat at her words.

"Then what?" His voice was on edge and so was she.

"We just aren't compatible." He laughed then. A disbelieving laugh.

"That's bullshit." She was glaring at him. She didn't think it was bullshit at all. She was serious.

"What does that even mean?" He asked then, taking in her somber expression.

"It means that no matter what we might want we couldn't work together." She said it with such confidence and it drove him mad because how could she make that decision for both of them?

"Why wouldn't we work? What's so incompatible about us, huh?" He was angry at her, and hurt, and full of desparation. To understand. To make sense of it. Of them.

"We just dont want the same things, okay?" She wanted to be done with this conversation, regretting ever sitting down in the first place.

"Not okay." He didn't even hesitate for a beat. "How could you possibly know what I want?" She swallowed at his words, at how sure he was of them. And then she hesitated. What if he was right? But as soon as it came, she rejected the thought, shaking her head.

"It's very clear what you like okay? And I have different... My needs are different than yours, okay?" There was a slight blush on her cheeks and he couldn't believe she was flustered.

"What do you think I like? What do you need that you don't think I can give to you?" He was trying to get her to open up to him like he had to her. She was struggling to verbalize her thoughts but he wasn't going to let go.

"Look you're clearly used to a certain dynamic with women. And that's fine. That's what works for you-"

"Stop it with the criptic bullshit and say what you mean!" He held her gaze. Unrelenting. Both stubborn, pissed off and frustrated.

"Fine!" She almost shouted but returned her voice to normal when she realised where they were.

"You like to fuck girls." She was looking right at him and he started to blush. This was not what he expected her to say.

"What?" He didn't understand what she was getting at at all. She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance over how she would explain it to him in this public ass space.

"You don't think I can be faithful?" His words were frantic, confused, hurt. Like the idea of her thinking that hurt him deeply. She shook her head at his assumption

"No, that's not what I meant." He looked more confused than ever.

"Then what?" His eyes were saying please. Please tell me. Help me understand.

"I'm a domme." Her voice was so low he almost didn't hear it.

"You what?" He stuttered out. She shrugged deciding enough was enough. She had nothing to be ashamed of. And if he wanted the truth he could deal with it.

"I'm a domme. I fuck guys, not the other way around." She looked at him, a picture of poise and calm - a stark contrast to his wild thoughts, very obvious in his panicked eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he took her in now - in her full light. Understanding washing over him.

"So what?" She cocked a brow at him. "You think I can't handle being fucked by a girl? Is that it?" He nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"No, Rafe. I don't." Hurt flashed in his eyes and she continued.

"I don't just fuck guys. I'm particular. I have my wants and needs. That's just the way I am. And I'm not compromising on that for anyone. Not even you." It pained her to say it but it was true.

She had spent too long repressing her own nature, being ashamed, conforming to what other people told her was normal and she wouldn't ever go back to that. Not for anyone. Even if she did want him. Bad. She would not sacrifice her own needs for a guy ever again. She was stronger than that and she deserved more. Being lonely was part of the territory. But she'd rather the loneliness than the heartbreak of keeping herself hidden away like she had in the past. Even if it hurt to breathe when he was looking at her like that. Even if she wanted to kiss him so damn bad it felt like her heart would stop if she didnt.

He was gobsmacked. Out of all the things he thought she might say this was not one of them. It confused him why she thought he'd want her to ever compromise who she was for him. As if he didn't adore everything about her already. As if he hadnt been following her around like a lost puppy begging for her time, feeling so sad and alone when he thought she didn't want him. But now that he knows she does and she's holding herself back over something as silly as who's in charge in the bedroom was making his head spin. This was about sex. He laughed at the realization.

"What?" She was frowning at him. Offended, hurt that he'd laugh at her after she opened up to him.

"I'm sorry. It's just-" he looked ready to laugh again. "That's it?" She looked dumbfounded.

"All of this because you think we aren't compatible in bed?" She almost rolled her eyes at his oversimplification. He was making fun of her and she was serious. He realized he had hit a nerve when she kept looking at him like he kicked her.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I just- why are you so sure we aren't compatible then?" He was testing her.

"Because I know guys like you."

"Guys like me? What's that supposed to mean?" Now he was offended. He thought they were past this.

"You chase girls, you have your fun and then you move onto the next one. And the cycle goes on." She was looking so confident when she said it. And he knew she was right. He had acted like that in the past.

"I don't do that, Rafe." He sighed. His hand reaching for hers again but this time she pulled back. It hurt.

"You really think so little of me? That I couldn't do anything different just because I've done it a certain way so far?" His eyes were boring into her. Begging her to let him in. To believe him.

"Do you want to do it different?" She asked quietly.

"Maybe I do." She shook her head.

"Maybe." She scoffed at the childish response.

"What do you want me to say?" He was exasperated.

"Nothing. This was a waste of time." Panic rose within him. She couldn't just leave.

"No. It wasn't. Just- just give me a chance-"

"Chance to what? Rafe you're a player. I don't fuck players." Ouch.

She was slipping away again. And he didnt know what to do. How to fix it. Because even though it terrified him it also thrilled him - the thought of her fucking him, taking him, using him. Like he had used girls many times before. It was both confusing and incredibly arousing and he couldn't think straight. And now she was ready to leave again and he was getting desparate. So desparate. He had wished for her to want him for so long and now that she does he can't let a silly thing like this stand in the way.

"I'm not a player." It was a lie. She looked at him and called bullshit. "I - I don't want to be a player. I don't want to chase girls. I just want you." He was basiclly begging her at this point.

"Rafe. You don't know what that means."

"Then show me? Please? Show me..." he was looking at her with big needy eyes and it caused a stirring deep within her.

She stood up then, his heart racing, praying she doesn't leave. She took a step closer to him, her voice as soft as butter but her words sharply piercing his insides.

"I only fuck good boys, Rafe." His breath caught in his throat, heart hammering in his chest from her proximity. He wanted to pass out. In need, desparation, arousal. All of it at once.

"Bad boys aren't worth my time." She stood back up giving him one final once over and made to leave. His hand wrapped around her wrist a moment later causing her to turn back around and meet his eyes. In them? Complete and utter adoration. A need to have her so deep it was hurting.

She wanted him so bad too. But she meant what she said and she knew what he was like. It was unfair really, that the one guy she has this strong of a pull for cannot give her what she needs. And she can't give him what he needs either. Tragic really. When he looked so pretty and needy and willing. But she knew better than to fall for it. He just wanted her to let her guard down and it would end up causing them both a world of heartache when it inevitably didn't work out.

"I can be good." His words flooded her insides, setting her on fire. She looked at him with apprehension and he nodded his head.

"I can be good. For you." She wanted to groan at the words, hitting her right where he hoped. He was driving her nuts. Breaking down the walls of certainty she built around her with just a few words and those pretty eyes. It was so frustrating. How fast she was crumbling.

"I want to be good for you." Voice a mere whisper at that point. He was laying it all out. Leaving himself vulnerable hoping she wouldn't walk away from him now. He wanted to prove to her and himself he could be what she needed. He gulped waiting for her next move.

His eyes closed as her soft hand made conctact with his face, fingers running over his skin gently and then gripping his jaw with light yet commanding fingers. He couldn't breathe. She was looking at him like she would destroy him and he knew that she meant it. And he craved it too, so badly. Craved to give her exactly what she wanted, needed it. Her eyes were swirling with need and lust and he could have passed out then and here.

"You sure about that?" He startled as her words broke the haze a little bit, already melting at her feet. She was good and he was so so needy.

"Yes. Please." The please escaped without his consent, the moment so raw and tense and intimate he couldn't hold back. She smirked and he knew he was in trouble.

"Okay then. Let's go."

-----------

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @lovelornanonymity @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @malfoytargaryen @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife @ietss @beansprout713 @tpwk-mia

[crabonfire]

Scout falling for reader

characters: scout

tags: fluff

note: writing this on a whim and ignoring all the other drafts I really wanted to write! also hi :)

I was writing an enemies to lovers but um....maybe later

I have a love for scout okay :( I'm sorryyyyyyyyy ill do full characters right after this one (I'm in a writing mood for once in years)

and of course reblogs and comments very much appreciated <3

♡Scout♡

• You were really the only true friend he had in the base. He considered all the other mercs his friend too but, he knew they'd never really share that friendship. He felt appreciated, and had someone to talk to who would really listen to him, not finding him stupid like the others do.

• He didn't realize he fell for you. The last time he fell for someone he acted shy, aloof, awkward and honestly embarrassed himself a little. He never knew what to say. So it took him a while to figure out he liked you, because whenever you two spoke, words always came so easily to him.

• The day he truly does realize his feelings though, is a day like any other. Your team, victorious, going out for drinks at the local bar. Scout could never handle himself well to alcohol, and you didn't really seem to be a drinker either. You two were sitting outside for the most part, laughing and making fun of the other team, as well as you listened to him ramble on his accomplishments of the day.

• Though, something lingered on his mind. A question he really thought about for a while. He knew you wouldn't judge, so he asked you your opinion.

"How long do you think we're gonna have to do this for?"

• You turned to him, confused. He continues.

"Fighting. Like- how long do you think it'll take before it's over? I'm not sayin' I don't enjoy kicking the other teams ass or the money we get, but well- I don't know."

Anytime he asked this question, Spy, Demo, everyone in the team really, all just said "not to think about it and to do it until it's done." He was never satisfied with that answer.

He saw how you contemplated it for a moment, seeing a small smile curl onto your lips when you looked back at him to reply.

"I don't know. It's probably for a bit longer, I mean- it's been 2 years. Pretty sure there were mercs before us who fought for this stupid war.*

You paused, "Why? You wanna quit or something?"

He shook his head. "Quit being able to kill people for a bunch of money? No way! I just- I think of doing other stuff. We barely have any free time and I don't wanna do this stuff till I'm old or something. And I know old- just look at Spy. He's probably from the ice age or somethin'."

• You snorted, chuckling a little at his comment. He smiled, he always liked to see you laughing at his jokes, made him feel funnier than he really was. You mirrored his smile, turning to look at the road. The night was a bluish gray, a striking contrast to the liveliness and warmth the bar brought.

"I get it."

It went quiet, he wondered if that was it.

"I don't wanna grow old and retire from this job either. But I don't think it'll be so bad."

"Really? Why?" He asked.

• He saw the way you turned to look at him, that same smile he knew all too well, one side of your face shone so brightly under the bars lighting while the other side was slightly masked with moonlight. Your reply was so simple, but it made his heart race.

"You'll be there. And I guess having you around makes things less worse."

• He stared bashfully at you upon hearing those very words. His palms got sweatier than they usually did as he felt his chest tighten. You must've noticed, because you let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"Haha- that was corny as hell. Anyway, I'm gonna go get another pack of soda for us."

• You stood up and walked back to the bar, but he couldn't look away from where you sat before. His face felt warm, damn.

He didn't know what it was. Maybe it should've hit him sooner, the fact he had feelings for you. The fact that- whenever you pull him in for a hug, his heart beats a little bit faster. When you laugh with him he laughs just a little harder because your laugh is his favorite. That your playful fighting with each other, it really does mean a lot to him.

All he knew was from that day on, it became difficult to think of you without realizing everything it was he loved about you.

♡♡♡

I don't know how to write endings anyway scout fans here's your food I know it's been a while it's okay mama is here 🫂

and yesssss sigh don't worry there are other fics I'm writing 😪 just...wanted to do scout first as a practice :)

hope you enjoyed! reblogs and comments always appreciated, I'd love to know your own opinions of scout and such!!! #scoutlover

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 17. wicked games

chapter tags/warnings: family drama. mentions of masturbation. mentions of sex. infidelity/adultery. nonconsensual acts. manipulative undertones. strong language. classism.

word count: 3.6k

notes: this chapter incorporates the official manga relationships in the zenin household (link that illustrates the family tree). without further ado, i present to you the latest pov added to the fic: toji! likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Toji Fushiguro could not get his mind off of you.

Was that weird to admit?

When he last saw you two weeks ago in Teyvat’s meeting room, dolled up in that pretty pink dress, he had to wrestle every urge to push you onto his dick. All the times he had to retreat to his room afterward too—all because your one outfit had set off his imagination—forcing Toji to lock and then lean against his door so that he could palm himself through his sweats to dirty thoughts about you.

Gosh, what higher being in the universe allowed you to be such a hot and sexy tease? You sure loved prancing around with basically nothing and stealing looks at his colleagues as though he wouldn’t notice.

At this point, Toji was certain that he wasn’t the only therapist calling dibs on you. That most definitely pissed him off, though, because he explicitly told you that your pussy belonged to him.

Then why hadn’t you made another appointment these past two weeks?

Were you upset, perhaps flushed with utter denial, from the revelation that your husband had been cheating on you? Besides, he recalled how you had reacted so strongly to the information, racing away from the therapists who were just being honest with you.

In hindsight, Toji might have felt a teeny tiny bit bad about crushing your rose-colored glasses without much lead-up, but he was rarely the type to beat around the bush anyway. After all, he was the one to suggest a divorce in your first therapist appointment.

Of all things, echoing laughter was what finally grounded Toji’s wandering mind.

His green eyes fluttered rapidly, realizing that he had been in his office and staring blankly at his desk for... how long has this been? He glanced briefly at his tabletop clock. When he noticed how the time had advanced by thirty minutes, Toji rested his forehead on his left palm. “Damn...”

Given how he had a fully booked schedule today, he could not afford to dawdle in his thoughts. He had not noticed that half an hour had passed so quickly. How was it possible that thinking about one person (you) made him lose all sense of time?

He could do better than this.

���Maybe you’re the one who needs a therapist,’ Megumi had recently pointed out to him in irony, and boy, do these words from his own eighteen-year-old son sting.

In contrast to himself, though, his co-workers had lately been in higher spirits than usual. That much Toji could ascertain given the hubbub that continued to filter into his suite. He would not have minded the phenomenon much had it not been for this gut feeling, this hunch, that you were the reason behind this change.

At his age, Toji has learned to mind his own business, but he still considered joining his colleagues by the reception desk to investigate. He stopped, however, upon noticing an article at his desk.

Right, this was what had derailed Toji from his work.

‘Look at this, boss,’ Geto had said when he first presented the printed webpage to Toji. ‘No wonder Y/N’s been lonely. Naoya literally took his side bitch to Mexico.’

The accompanying photo may be in low resolution, but Toji recognized the two figures hand-in-hand, stepping into a private jet. Their faces were shielded by baseball caps and face masks, their bodies clad in boring and baggy clothes. Consequently, Toji had to scoff, drumming his fingers along his cheekbone. 

Another impeccable snapshot for our collection, huh?

Quite the scandal was brewing in Japan’s high society, not to mention how the illicit relationship involved your husband, and the therapists were merely here for the show. This was what the therapists were trying to advise you about before you promptly shut yourself away from them.

The love affair—especially involving a family as influential as the Zenin’s—should theoretically be all over magazines and newspapers, but any internet search for this image would prove futile. The Zenins were good like that, relying on under-the-table tactics to ensure that this photo would go nowhere.

Only thanks to his colleagues, who had extensive contacts throughout Japan’s many ranks, was Toji able to get his hands on this printed article before the magazine editors had taken them down.

Naoya, that cunning bastard.

If he had been in Cabo prancing around with his paramour, how did he so quickly realize that his images had been circulating among Japanese media? Or, more likely, was it his authoritarian father Naobito who informed his doltish son about the impending rumors?

Either way, Toji could not believe that he was affiliated with both assholes by blood, no less: Naoya, his cousin, and Naobito, his uncle. To think how he was involved again with the relatives who he had sought to avoid, Toji assumed that fate must love toying with him.

Already, growing up in the Zenin family was hell, to put things mildly: how they would obsess over power and prestige as though those two items alone determined one’s value as a human being, how they would scrutinize one’s every action because everything had to conform to their cookie-cutter standards, and then how they would abruptly cast aside those who strayed away from their ideals.

Toji, once an established member of the household, could speak from experience. Thus, blood relation meant nothing if these were the same people who had prayed for his downfall. 

He recalled his relatives’ dirty glances when he announced his engagement twenty years ago, then the even nastier looks when he took his first wife’s surname as his own: Fushiguro. ‘She’s a woman too low for our caliber,’ Toji had been told. 

He remembered the apathy he later received after his wife’s untimely death, followed by belittlement when he chose to marry again—this time, to a single mother. Perhaps he should have heeded his family’s advice for the last bit, but his decisions seemed right at the moment. During a desperate time, he provided his then-gradeschool son with a much-needed maternal figure as well as a stepsister.  

His personal life already made him a deviant among his relatives, so when his family discovered his therapist ventures earlier this year, Toji was not surprised to be severed from the household he once had been considered to lead. Well, Toji was more relieved than bitter, anyway. He could now live life on his terms without worrying about what his father’s uncle’s second cousin twice-removed or some crap like that thought about him and his son.

As he gazed upon the pixelated photo again, he sighed and wondered: was this how low the Zenins have stooped since they had expelled him? A centuries-old bloodline built on relationships with the public and the powerful, now resorting to bribes and threats to sweep scandals under the rug? While watching the Zenin clan burn from afar was entertaining, the situation was also pathetic and sad.

To also think that his moronic cousin Naoya was now not only the household heir but also the current CEO of the family conglomerate. Not to mention that the family’s current patriarch Naobito seemingly turned a blind eye to Naoya’s flings. The older Zenin might have been a brilliant businessman back in the early ‘90s, but his elderly brain had deteriorated too far to see how, at this rate, his son would eventually drive the company and the prideful family to the ground.

Had you realized what you married into?

Probably not, but you didn’t deserve this.

Or, to put things the other way around, the Zenin family didn’t deserve you.

“Yo!”

Toji shot up from his seat just as his door crashed against the wall.

He turned to the sound’s source in surprise. Leaning against the entryway stood a personage with his white lab coat draped over his unsurprisingly shirtless chest. The incomer crossed his thick arms over his half-exposed tattoos, but one such arm frees itself to greet Toji with a mocking wave.

“Sukuna,” the older therapist grumbled, “I’ve told you to knock first.”

“Why?” the pink-haired man challenged, not caring how this must have been the hundredth time he heard the order. For him, this was in one ear and out the other. Rather than mind the complaint, he inspected his newly filed nails. “Worried I would walk into you fingering Mrs. Zenin again?”

“Only because that’ll make you jealous,” Toji retorted with equal spite, to which his colleague chose not to respond anymore.

Besides, as a savvy businessman, Sukuna knew how to pick his battles. He might come off as crude, but only because he understood that, with his financial acumen and incredible connections, he was an indispensable asset.

After some silence, Sukuna’s chest rose and fell with a long sigh. “Well, check your schedule, Fushiguro. You have an appointment coming up now.” Not only was he the most well-organized therapist but also the current receptionist on duty. He then huffed again. “Tsumiki’s mom has been waiting for you. I don’t know how you deal with such an impatient bitch. What the hell am I supposed to do when—"

And a hand shoved his face away before he could finish.

Sukuna, flinching from the unexpected approach, recoiled at a beaming woman that peered in from the door frame. Anyone would immediately notice that the overly excited client was beautiful. The plush of her full lips, the gentle arches to her face, the roundness in her doe-like eyes—her looks were akin to an angel constantly in awe. Most people could hardly believe that, with her youthful looks, she actually had a university-aged daughter (with whom Toji could see a strong resemblance, too).

Meanwhile, her large brown eyes scanned the office—the posters, the couch, the nearby mirror—until her gaze landed on Toji and lit up.

“Honey, I’ve missed you!”

Before someone could stop her, the woman welcomed herself into the premises, her lithe limbs swaying with her graceful figure. She sported a simple navy dress that contrasted with her true self because, as far as Toji knew, this woman was anything but simple.

In fact, as she sashayed into the room uninvited, Toji remembered the paparazzi pictures still sprawled on his desk. He caught Sukuna’s maroon gaze and scowled.

This is why I tell you to knock.

Hurriedly, Toji then pushed the photos under some files just as his client seated herself in the sofa seat closest to him. She then turned to her escort in the hall. “Thank you, Sukuna. You’re such a wonderful man.”

She might be oblivious to Sukuna’s irritation, but Toji did not miss the way his colleague hid a gag and rolled his eyes. “M'kay, whatever,” the pink-haired therapist muttered as he slinked back into the corridor.

Then, when Sukuna shut the door with him, she pressed her rosy lips together. “Aw, Strawberry Boy doesn’t want to join us. Guess he likes to play hard to get.”

“Mari,” Toji started, placing his right ankle over the other knee. He rested his back against his chair and held his hands behind his neck. “I do not think neither Sukuna nor any other therapist here is interested in you. Therefore, if you are seeking a summertime fling, I’d suggest you pursue someone else.”

Shot down, an exasperated Mari tossed her dark locks to one side, a die-hard habit of hers. “Like who?”

Like Naoya.

It was hilarious for Toji to think about how he was entangled with his cousin’s mistress, the very same lover in that paparazzi photo with the young executive. In fact, Toji had this theory that Naoya sent Mari here as a Trojan horse, a seemingly harmless client whose actual intention was to gather intel for the Zenin CEO from afar, a pretty façade to lure others into ruins. He didn’t have much evidence to back up the suspicion (yet), but he knew Naoya for long enough to be familiar with the silly games he’d play. Did Naoya and Mari really think that Toji would be so naïve?

“Well, in Tokyo, there are plenty of ways to meet people your age,” he finally suggested and had to suppress a slight smile before adding, “Unless...you’re into younger guys?”

Mari narrowed her eyes but for a millisecond. Had Toji not been at the top of his field, he would not have noticed. Nothing, however, got past him.

“But,” she responded, “I still like you most because you give me your time, Toji.”

Interesting. Because that would mean Naoya had been too busy for his poor sweetheart, hm?

No wonder Mari had been so frustrated. Life must be tough when one was merely the mistress of the Zenin Corporation’s CEO. Not only was Naoya Zenin a mediocre performer in bed, but the homewrecker role also came with no fancy balls, no formal recognition, and—if the affair was well-hidden—not enough public attention either.

Pity.

Toji leaned forward in one fluid motion, resting his elbows on his desk. “Do not misunderstand my intentions, though,” he clarified while lacing his fingers. “I spend time with you because, as your therapist, I am sadly obligated to do so.”

The woman frowned.

“Now, that’s not nice,” she pointed out, allowing her staccato to afflict him with guilt. "That’s not how to talk to your wife, my dear husband.”

And Toji snapped.

“Ex-husband,” he corrected forcefully. His startled client jerked backward in her seat, but that didn’t matter because he had to sternly remind her, “You were the one who filed for divorce, remember?”

Toji liked to think that he was a patient man. Well, he had to be. As he grew up, the pressure that came with the Zenin spotlight taught him to exert self-discipline and emotional regulation, skills that became even more pertinent in his current role.

As a licensed practitioner now, Toji was obligated to treat all clients equally regardless of background. But under no circumstance could he remove all biases when this was the very woman who split up with him, leaving his son Megumi and his stepdaughter Tsumiki under his care. Therefore, she had quite the audacity to keep visiting him at his office and still call him her husband, especially since she was Naoya’s mistress!

How sinister life could be. For years, no one—not even Toji himself—would have seen this coming: how his second wife would leave him, citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ on the divorce papers, only to become his first cousin’s secret girlfriend.

His sudden confrontation, however, must have caught Mari off-guard, for she began twirling at her strands again. “Just because we aren’t married anymore does not mean that I don’t think about you. It’s been so long since we’ve—"

“Three days,” Toji interjected. He had to hold his breath before his annoyance controlled him completely. “The last time you saw me was three days ago. That isn’t much long ago at all.”

The silence that ensued was admittedly awkward until Mari suddenly stood up.

For a moment, Toji had to hide his relief thinking that the appointment would end earlier than anticipated, but he should have known that Mari wouldn’t leave that easily. Instead, she approached him in slow steps, encircling the seated therapist like a vulture.

When she drew near, her hands skimmed up from his brawny arms to his equally well-built shoulder blades, gliding over his lab coat before her warm palms began to knead at his tired muscles.

“I...think about you more than I’d like to admit,” she whispered, an incantation that could set any lustful man’s heart ablaze. Her fingers continued to massage him in slow and circular motions, the gentle pressure over tight knots melting into a calm and comforting rhythm. “I care about you so...don’t be mean to me, alright? The words you sometimes say, they hurt me a lot.”

Her delicate hands crawled up to his chin next, her left thumb tugging at the plush pillow of his lower lip. The most dangerous thing about Mari wasn't how she embodied a young lady’s exuberance with a mature woman’s elegance. Rather, it was her ability to place spells like these. Back when he had less self-respect, Toji might have forgiven her and caved in, her simple but flirtatious touches like trances that could crumble his resolve.

But you still fuck your ex-wife?

Of all moments, your words from weeks ago decided to haunt him now, your revolted expression a clear image in his memory. His heavy-lidded eyes batted quickly as he came to a realization: Why was he doing this?

In the revelation, Toji stopped Mari’s wandering hands from traveling toward his black slacks.

“Mari,” he said very firmly. As he pulled her away from him, his green eyes held her shimmering brown ones. “No.”

“What?” Given the woman’s visible surprise, Toji could also imagine the smoke that fumed from her nose. After all, this was the same man who once would go weak on his knees for her. Mari stepped back, folding her arms defensively. “Why not?”

“You say that my words hurt you, but I would argue that you’ve hurt me far more,” the therapist explained. As he regained composure, he twirled his chair so that he could face his client squarely. “Have you heard? Your own daughter Tsumiki isn’t even returning to Tokyo for her university’s summer break because she is too ashamed to see you.”

“Good!” she shot, surprising the man with her soured temper. “Would not have cared to hear from her either! Tsumiki had always sided with you and your urchin-headed son. But you know what? You’ve changed, Toji. You, and all the other therapists here, too. I don’t know what has been up with you four, but this clinic was far better back when Naoya worked here.”

Toji had a talent for hiding the whirr behind his thoughts, but he could not conceal his surprise this time. Although he wanted to, he never bothered to mention Naoya in his appointments with Mari before. However, it turned out he didn’t have to be the first one to bring up his cousin since Mari did so herself. Had she not reminded him, Toji would’ve forgotten that Naoya was once a sex therapist too, the family pair once working several doors away from each other. 

Since the opportunity already presented itself, Toji took the chance to inveigle his ex-wife. He stood up from his office chair and closed the little gap between him and his glaring client. 

“Let me tell you something,” Toji started, his voice low but steady. “You genuinely think Naoya is all that great of a person? That man has received countless complaints from his former clients about manipulation and derogatory remarks. He’s disrespectful. He’s deceptive. He's a complete con man. Therefore, I would actually argue that our office is much, much better without that elitist and misogynistic asshole.”

Come on, woman. Take the bait. I’m waiting. Three, two...

“Naoya is not that kind of person,” Mari erupted, likely faster and with more fury than she intended.

Well, that was easy. Toji appeared unruffled from the outside, yet he grinned inwardly.

While he paid no mind to how the woman shook her hands from anger and flung a weak fist into his strong chest, he did—however—find more amusement when she added, “Spreading false rumors about your own relative doesn’t make you the bigger person.”

Unfortunately for her, she tended to act and speak before she thought, not realizing that rushing to Naoya Zenin’s side made her suspicious. 

“What? Do my claims about ‘my own relative’ upset you that much?” Toji challenged, quoting her words. He rolled his shoulders back after pushing the woman’s hands from his pectorals. “He’s my baby cousin, so naturally, I have seen his good and bad sides. Just throwing that out there. Unless,” his voice then dropped into a deep bass, “for some reason, you know something I don’t...?”

The inflection in his tone was purposely inquisitive, and he raised an innocent brow with his questions. He could see the emotions that threatened to spill past her walls, from how she furrowed her brows in contemplation to how she pursed her lips in wrath.

But Mari bit her tongue at the very last moment. “No,” she quipped and folded her arms defiantly. “Naoya is not my business.”

Sounded rehearsed, but oh well. The paparazzi photos from their recent Mexico getaway might prove otherwise, though.

“If you say so,” Toji shrugged. 

He was satisfied enough with Mari’s reactions to his cousin’s name, and he liked thinking about how two heartless people had found passion in each other. Just as Toji retreated to his seat, a knock rapped at the door and opened to Geto at the entrance.

“Time is up, boss.”

Even as the appointment ended and was followed by other clients that day, Toji’s mind buzzed into the evening. 

Call him obsessed, but—for himself, for his son, for his stepdaughter, for his colleagues, and for you—he sought revenge. As Toji mulled over his strategy in his home library that night, he could feel himself about to detonate like a time bomb when the apartment buzzer rang unexpectedly.

“Megumi!” Toji’s low timbers boomed, hoping that his son would hear him from his room upstairs. He chased toward the entryway in hurried steps, calling the teenager’s name again because only the boy’s high school friends would be visiting at this hour. Toji swung the door open. “Megumi! Yuuji and Nobara are downst—”

His words vanished when, in the place of two bubbly teenagers, there stood you. 

You raised your gaze from the ground, the overhead lighting leaving a warm glow on your features as you met Toji with reddened and lachrymose eyes.

“Can...we talk?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: 1) For me, this was another challenging chapter to write, as I balanced between introducing the many layers behind our main therapist and inundating you—my lovely readers—with too much information without adequate context. 2) Originally, I had named Mari something else. I changed it because her name eventually reminded me of a different anime character and I didn’t want the association. Haha. 

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan​ @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @moodpi @tokyometronetwork​ @downtown-roponggi​ @the-cosmos-network

[messrmoonyy]

okay how about Tess and reader having a bet to see who can crack first without sex and reader cracks and begs Tess to fuck her? Thank you our lord and saviour messr 🙌🏻

Bet on it

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/n- hello. Thank you for the manners lmao it’s ben annoying me people don’t have the decency to be polite. ANYWAYS. I was really looking for an excuse to write about going down in Tess cause it’s been rattling around in my head for so long, so I took this as the excuse. Pls tess gimme one chance I beg tho I won’t lie I don’t like this one all that much but. Have it. What are you gonna do, ask me for a refund?

Warnings- 18+|| tess. Smut: mommy kink. Like it’s pretty strong, oral ( Tess receiving ) , fingering ( Tess and reader receiving sorta )

Word count- 3.7k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated

It was all Joel’s fault.

Him and his stupid fucking mouth. And maybe Tess too. Either way, you refused to take any blame.

It wasn’t your fault you were… loud. It also wasn’t your fault the walls were paper fucking thin and he just so happened to live next door. The man was damn half deaf and 9 times out of 10 he was passed out anyway, some brain rotting concoction of pain killers and whiskey knocking him out for the count. So it’s not like you’d made any real attempts to be quiet anyway, you just assumed he couldn’t hear.

How were you supposed to be quiet when you had someone like fucking Tess between your legs. You’d like to see anyone keep their mouth shut with her fucking the life out of them. Well. You wouldn’t actually. But that was besides the point.

He was probably just pissed because his sex life was non existent.

‘ you can’t go a single day without goddamn jumpin each other. It’s like livin next to a pair of rabbits ‘ he’d said. Of course you being the stubborn fuck that you were, had said you absolutely could go a day. Joking that it was Tess who couldn’t keep her hands to herself. And she had scoffed at the mere thought of her being the needier of you two.

So that was how the bet had been born. To see who could last the longest. Who would crack first. You’d expected it to only last a couple of days at the most. Tess jumped your bones every chance she got normally, couldn’t keep her hands off of you. But now she was behaving like a fucking nun.

The first few days had been fine. But by day 3 you were regretting it. So by day 8 you’d had enough. You felt like an animal in heat, like you were going insane. She wasn’t even doing anything particularly alluring. Just her presence alone was enough to make you insane. Her voice. Her face. The way she held you when you slept. The confidence she oozed in any and all situations. You were head over heels for the woman, how were you supposed to behave any differently?

Bit knowing how stubborn she could be you’d almost immediately accepted that she wouldn’t break. It wouldn’t stop you trying though. You were trying your hardest to make her crack, from deciding walking around the apartment in your underwear was perfectly normal. To ‘accidentally’ brushing against her when you shared the rationed water in the shower. But other than the occasional glance up at you she wasn’t breaking. In fact when you’d tried another tactic of leaving your button up only half way done up. She’d simply stood and buttoned it right up to the collar for you, leaning in close to your ear and whispering ‘ nice try ‘

By day 10 you decided you didn’t give a fuck about honour or pride anymore. You were done.

You were sat at the table, fingers drumming against the wood as you watched her. She had the sleeves of her shirt rolled in a way that showed off her forearms, she fucking knew you had a thing for that. She was doing it on purpose, knowing you’d snap. You were sure.

You needed to touch her. Needed her to touch you.

You didn’t think it was actually humanly possible to be as desperate as you were. Before ending up in Boston you’d gone years without anything. And yet, now you weren’t even going to make it to 2 weeks. Were you that enthralled by her? That addicted? It was almost embarrassing.

Especially when she seemed as cool and collected as ever.

You tried to ignore her, looking back down at your rota of assignments for the week. But you could still see her from the corner of your eye, wetting the pads of her fingers to turn the page in her book more easily.

You didn’t know if you should be mildly offended or not. That she seemed to be doing much better than you were. Though she had always been the better of you both at masking her true emotions and feelings.

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Waking up every morning to soaked underwear because your dreams had been filled with nothing but her, missing the way her fingers felt on your skin, how her teeth felt nipping at your neck. You missed the hickeys, the bruises she always left on your hips when she was feeling particularly rough. The scratch marks you’d leave down her back in response.

You were done.

You got up from your spot at the table and made your way over to her in purposeful strides, plucking the book from her hands and climbing into her lap. She quirked at eyebrow at you, a smug smile already creeping it’s way onto her face.

“ I was reading that “ you shrugged running your hands down over her shoulders and arms, over her chest and grabbing at the collar of her shirt.

“ this bet is fuckin stupid. I need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore “ you whispered, a whiny tone to your voice like some spoiled little kid that was being declined something they wanted. She simply scoffed

“ it was your fuckin idea “

“ I know I know. It was stupid. I’m stupid. Joel’s fuckin stupid “ you tested the waters lightly, pulling open her shirt where she already had the first couple buttons undone. Not revealing anything particularly scandalous, but still overjoyed just at the sight of more of her skin “ please. Please fuck me. Touch me. Let me touch you. Anything. Mommy please “ you whimpered the last part, pulling out every trick in the book to make her crack.

“ oh you’re begging now? “ you whispered a yes, nodding you head. You unbuttoned her shirt with haste, her hands still placed firmly on the fabric of the chair rather than you. You rolled your hips against her, pushing her shirt from her shoulders and tossing it carelessly behind you. But before you could touch her she grabbed the back of your neck, making you look at her.

“ this was your idea baby girl, and you want to end it? “ she looked far too smug and you hated her for it. But you were so desperately horny it was making your brain fuzzy. Your hands traveled down to her jeans, desperate to unbutton those too “ I know your tricks. You just want to win ”

“ I don’t care about winning, Fuck if you won’t touch me let me touch you “ you said, dropping your head to press kisses across her neck “ please mommy” her spare hand that was still on the armrest shifted slightly, still didn’t touch you anywhere you particularly wanted her. But moved. You were working her down “ please let me touch you. Let me taste. I’ll be so good I promise. You win. You win “

You hands trailed back to her chest, grabbing at her through the material of her bra, grabby hands groping at her with no shame.

“ you wanna make mommy feel good? “ the low, sultry, tone of her voice made butterflies explode in your chest. You lifted your head, nodding and not letting your hands stop their wandering.

“ please “ she looked entirely too smug and you knew you would never hear the end of it. She would hold the fact that she had won over you for the foreseeable. But you’d be pissed about that later, in that moment you didn’t give a fuck. The only thought whirring around in your brain was getting your mouth on her, you wanted to taste her on your tongue, wanted to make sure she’d never want to go so long without you again “ can I? Please “

She observed your face for a moment, then gave you a small nod and it was all the confirmation you needed. You slid down from her lap and onto your knees on the floor.

“ always look so pretty on your knees for me “ she mused as you grabbed at her jeans, tugging them down her legs as she lifted slightly so you could get them off “ just so we’re clear, you know this means I win and I’ll be tellin Joel that you lost and not me right? “ you nodded fervently, mildly surprised that she was actually letting you rid her of her clothes. Almost expecting the entire thing to be a joke, making you keep going with the stupid fucking bet until you actually exploded.

But clearly she was as desperate for it as you were. She was just better at controlling herself. She always had been.

“ I know. I don’t care “ the way she was already clearly wet when you tugged her underwear down her legs too, was proof enough that she was well and truly done with the bet too. You practically drooled at the sight, already anticipating the familiar taste of her in your mouth “ wanna taste you. Can I. Please mommy “ you begged and she reached down, lifting your chin and making you look up at her.

“ my poor baby, so desperate “ it was almost mocking. She was fucking loving the fact that she had won “ gonna show mommy just how desperate you are? Hmm? “ in response you ran your hands over her thighs, pushing them apart and tugging her closer “ show mommy what a good girl you are “

She took a sharp intake of breath as you buried your face between her legs, sighing blissfully as the taste of her flooded your tongue. You wanted to reach every part of her, your tongue dragging between her folds, devouring her. No desire in making it last, a burning primal desire to have her coming on your tongue the only thing you could think about.

You spread her with your fingers, lapping at her hole and not letting a drop of her arousal go anywhere but your tongue. Relishing in the small sounds it earned you.

“ that’s mommy’s good girl “ she sighed, her hand threading into your hair and tugging lightly so that your scalp prickled. You hummed a response, not slowing in your ministrations, tracing a pattern with your tongue from her entrance to her clit. Your chin and lips were slick with her. She filled all of your senses.

Your nose. Your eyes. Your mouth. The velvety feel of her walls when you dipped your tongue inside of her, the sounds of her quiet breathy moans and vulgar sounds of how wet she was. It’s what you had been yearning for for days, what your dreams had been filled with. A never ending stream of praise as you made her feel good. You moaned against her, the vibrations clearly doing her wonders.

You own cunt was flooding your underwear, your clit desperate to be touched. You were half tempted to reach down and touch yourself, but she deserved your undivided attention. So you settled with squeezing your thighs together.

“ makin mommy feel so good. Just like that baby “ her voice was breathier and you couldn’t help the smile that crept it’s way onto your face. It was no lie that she was a god when it came to making you feel good, she knew exactly how to pull you apart in minutes. But she was much more difficult to navigate, harder to read. She wasn’t like you. She often urged you to be loud, to make noise and be vocal. But she was the opposite.

For someone so rough and confident she was much more gentle and soft in her reactions. It was all in her breathing, the sharp intakes and the shuddering breaths, the quiet curses that never usually went much louder than a whisper, only getting anything else from her if you managed to get her completely relaxed.

And the near breathless commands and instructions she still gave you, keeping you in check. Keeping you exactly where she wanted you doing exactly as she wanted. And showering you in the praise she knew you so desperately craved from her.

And nothing made you feel better than watching her fall apart. Because of you.

The tight grip on your hair grew impossibly stronger when you slipped in a finger, adding a second when your first was met with no resistance, burying them inside her to the knuckle.

“ fuck “ she whispered under her breath, her eyes falling closed for a moment. You watched her face carefully as you worked her open on your fingers, scissoring and curling them in some attempt to touch as much of her as you could. Stretching and massaging her velvety soft walls with your fingers, honing in on one spot when you noticed her reactions change.

“ such a good girl doin so well for me baby “ the way she was clenching around your fingers told you she wasn’t going to last much longer. So you kept at the pace, fingers curling up and hitting the same spot over and over. Tongue and lips practically abusing her clit in a way that was making your jaw ache, not that you cared “ like makin mommy feel good? Huh? “ you hummed an answer against her that drew another heavenly sound from her throat.

Nothing brought you more joy than watching her fall apart above you, knowing that only you could get her like that. Only you got to see that blissful look on her face, her eyes closed and soft breathy moans leaving her throat and going straight to your cunt.

“ that’s my girl. Like that. Gonna make mommy come. Is that what you want baby? “ you nodded, detaching yourself from her with a mildly obscene wet sound.

“ Wanna feel you come on my tongue“ you practically whined, begging for the privilege of being the one the push her over the edge. To gift her with the same earth shattering orgasm she so often gave to you “ please mommy “

“ since you’ve been such a good girl for me “ you didn’t wait a second longer, withdrawing your fingers and replacing them with your tongue. You gripped at her thighs, holding her in place, your eyes fixed on her face so you could watch every second “ that’s it baby, make mommy come. That’s my good girl “ her tone was higher, breathes quickening the rise and fall of her chest.

You started to rub soft circles into her clit with your thumb, relishing in the way she was clearly losing her composure. Squirming slightly in the chair, pushing your face closer until she was all consuming in your mind.

It was becoming slightly difficult to breathe but you weren’t about to complain. If you were gonna die you figured that was pretty alright way to go out. The searing heat of her on your tongue was enough to make you forget every single other thing in your mind.

A few more thrusts of your tongue and she was gone, head thrown back and her eyes screwed shut, heavenly sound after heavenly sound falling from her lips like music to your ears. You didn’t stop for a second. Lapping up every drop of creamy, sweet release she offered you.

You didn’t stop until she gently tugged your head back, your actions clearly bordering on being too much for her. You rested your head against her thigh, looking up at where she was running a hand through her hair and attempting to regain her composure.

“ you couldn’t have done that a week ago baby? Fuck “ a grin found its way onto your face, happy for the verbal confirmation that she had been struggling just as much as you had. She was just far better at hiding it.

“ I do good mommy? “ you asked softly, pressing a kiss to the silky soft skin of her thigh. She looked down at you with a soft smile and nodded.

“ so good baby. Come here. Up here “ you crawled back up into her lap, readily accepting her kisses when she pulled you in, the taste of her still lingering on your tongue “ seriously baby I needed that when you decided to walk around in your fuckin underwear “ she said when she pulled back, tucking her fingers under your chin.

She looked otherworldly. Her face flushed and glowing, the light sheen of sweat on her forehead and the hazy look in her eyes that could only come from having your lover between your thighs. It made you squirm a little in her lap, your panties completely soaked. You almost wondered if she could feel it.

“ I don’t know how I made it this long “ she laughed at that, her eyes flickering down to where you were wiggling around. She gave you an almost sympathetic smile, the backs of her fingers brushing along your jaw before pushing your hair away from your neck.

“ does my baby need some attention from mommy now? “ you almost sighed in relief, nodding your head “ you want mommy to fuck you? Hmm? “ her nose traced along your neck, lips brushing against the skin and making your cheeks flush and goosebumps follow in her wake.

Her hand came up, palming at your tit through the thin material of your T-shirt as she began working a deep purple bruise onto the tender skin of your neck.

“ mommy “ you whimpered, eyes falling closed as she marked you up in the way you adored most. It made warmth pool in your belly every time. Knowing she wanted to mark you. Brand you. You were hers. You belonged to her. Completely and utterly. And she wanted people to know it.

The friction of the cotton of your shirt against your nipple sent sparks straight to your cunt, your clit throbbing. Desperately wanting to be touched. You needed her fingers. Her mouth. Anything. You were so desperate you even wondered if you’d be able to get off just from the way she was grabbing at your chest.

“ please I can’t- “

“ it’s okay baby “ she cooed, soothing the last of her possessive marks with her tongue before lifting her head again “ tell mommy what you want. Use your words “

“ you. I. I want you. Anything just please- “ you cut yourself off with a pathetic mewl of a sound as she dipped her hand past the waistband of your sweats, fingers brushing over the soaked cotton of your underwear.

“ holy shit “ she mumbled mostly to herself, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at just how wet you were for her. She hadn’t even touched you “ my baby’s so desperate huh? “ you nodded, dropping your face to her shoulder and hiding from her gaze “ my poor sweet baby “ she cooed, running a soft hand up and down your spine “ if only you weren’t so stubborn you wouldn’t be in this mess would you? Mommy could’ve been eating this perfect little pussy days ago “

Your face burned at her words, still squirming as she ran her finger lightly over your swollen clit through the soaked material of your underwear. It was too light to really do anything, but just enough pressure for you to know she was there. It was infuriating.

“ I need more. Please mommy I can’t take it anymore “ her spare hand gently nudged your face up from where you’d been hiding, cupping your cheek in her hand as her eyes scanned your features. You wondered if your desperation was evident on your face.

No. You knew it was.

“ can you do one thing for me? “

“ anything. I’ll do anything “ she smiled, clearly pleased with your willingness to obey without even knowing what she was going to ask. No questions. No second thoughts. Just complete obedience to her every command. She brushed her thumb across your bottom lip before pushing past and hooking it into your mouth. Her smile grew as you moaned softly, sucking without her even having to ask.

“ I wanna hear all those pretty noises you like to make for me. Can you do that? “ you nodded quickly, knowing there wasn’t even a remote chance you’d be able to keep yourself quiet. Not after 10 days of absolutely nothing from her “ that’s my good girl, mommy loves when you’re loud for her “

You rolled your hips, no patience left in you anymore. She took the hint, rubbing at your clit through your underwear with two fingers. The friction of the cotton, the pressure of her fingers, and the fact that you had been wanting to come for days, meant you were going to be done ridiculously fast.

“ I know baby, I got you “ she cooed as you whined in a frustrated desperation, fingers wrapping around her wrist as you rutted against her hand some more. Your orgasm was so close you could practically taste it “ I know you’re so desperate to come, don’t fight it baby. It’s okay. Mommy’s got you “ you closed your eyes, focussing solely on grinding into her hand, cheeks on fire at the crude squelching sounds your cunt was making as you moved.

“ mommy- “ you whined, biting down lightly on her thumb that was still in your mouth, not holding back a single moan. Letting them all tumble out of your throat without a care.

“ I know baby girl. Gonna show me how pretty you look when you come for me?” You nodded, increasing the pace that you rolled your hips, ignoring the way your legs were beginning to cramp up “ such pretty sounds “ she mused as your moans increased in pitch, your orgasm teetering on a ledge already.

Maybe you should’ve been a little embarrassed. She wasn’t even touching you properly, a barrier of cotton between her fingers and your cunt. But you weren’t at all. A Selfish desire to come being the only thing you could think about. You’d be embarrassed later.

Your climax was intense. 10 days of lusting after her with no release finally coming to a head. She praised you all the way through it, and only withdrew her hand from your sweats when you slumped against her with a content sigh.

She ran her hand up and down your back lightly, pressing kisses to the side of your head.

“ better? “ you hummed a response, trying to live in that afterglow for as long as you could. If you were being completely honest, it had been good to finally get… something. But you weren’t entirely satisfied. Thankfully Tess was rarely ready to call it a night without making you come at least twice. And was also as if she could read your mind.

“ don’t get too comfy baby. We have 10 days to make up for. Mommy’s not done with you yet “ you squealed as she stood up, taking you with her and carrying you over to the bed. You wrapped your arms and legs tightly around her as she lay you down, not wanting her to go anywhere “ now. Let’s teach that fucker next door a lesson shall we? “

[tonberry-yoda]

Hi , tonnberry may i ' ve request for final fantasy 😄 for Claude and Noctis with they married female s/o until they had children. I wonder how the two of them became a father to their children like what kind of activities?whether they can spare their time?, and how will they cope when their teenage son acts like a Brat ?

That's all from me , anyway i'm really like your blog don't forget to tag me in your update please!!!🥹🌹😩

Thank you so much for this , love your dear 😘

Cloud and Noctis as Fathers (f!reader)

notes - AHHH HI! Sorry this took so long, I've just been swamped with a ton of stuff, but I cleared out a bunch of requests and am more than happy to do this one for you! It's funny that I don't get a lot of requests even though my name is literally Tonberry lolol. Thanks for much for the request my dear! I hope you enjoy and have an amazing day <3 tag list - @cerezzzita (I remember you being interested in this one love <3), @kawaistrawberry21

CLOUD

he wasn't expecting to be a father when he was young

like being a father was the last thing on his mind

but after everything chaotic in his life, he finally decided to settle down and found the perfect partner, you!

only then was he fully prepared to become a father

you talked about it a lot and told Cloud that he would be a wonderful father

he thought you would be a wonderful mother, so after a while, you found that you were going to have a child! (or if you prefer to adopt, that would be super cute for the two of you)

at first, raising a child was very difficult

it didn't matter that Cloud had nearly fought god in his lifetime, raising a child had to be one of the most challenging things he ever faced

this also made him a little self concious

he was helping, but saw you doing a lot of the work

^ he would always step in though to help, no hesitation

his favorite thing was teaching his child how to grow into a lovely human

lots of playing and just being a kid, which neither you nor Cloud really had, so it meant a lot to be having that with a child of your own

lots of family adventures and traveling

for the first time in a long time, a smile hasn't left Cloud's face <3

NOCTIS

he would be TERRIFIED

he would be prepped, but terrified

you two talked about having a child, but even after talks, it was still scary

and you were a more natural mother, ready to help the child at any cost and already knew what to do

he just felt like some idiot in the back watching you

lets just say he spoiled you a little more than the baby because he felt bad for everything you had to do

he would still be a fun dad though

and the baby would have all their uncle chocobros to hang around

ignis teaches Noctis how to make food for the baby and through trial and error, he actually makes some pretty damn good food for the lil thing!

but having friends around makes raising the baby more fun, especially because you can trust them when you're too tired some days

Noctis though would love napping with the baby

^ you would walk into the kitchen to tell him that dinner's ready and find him napping with the baby on his chest and you definitely tear up and take TONS of pictures

he would be ecstatic, but he was more of a scared dad at first lol

he knew a baby would come eventually with him being king and all later, but he didn't know it would be such a hard thing

he's just thankful to you and his friends for being patient and helping out <3

~~~~~

final fantasy masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[greatermaguro]

Hello! I hope it's okay to bother you here, cause I really just wanted to say thank you for all the reblogs on my fics. You have the best reactions/comments/tags. Cracks me up and makes me smile like an idiot every damn time. Really glad to have another Ran simp too, cause their following is criminally almost non-existent.

Anyway, thank you!!! 🖤🖤🖤

FIRST I want to apologize for, like, never responding. I see a notification and usually assume it’s a bot/spam. But sometimes I get a whim and open my activity/messages and see that it’s not a bot!

I saw this one quite a while ago, but couldn’t take the time to think about how I wanted to respond, then eventually it got left by the wayside as I’ve been swept up in completing some long-ass career training and starting my first Big Girl Job™️.

THAT BEING SAID I want to express how ridiculously grateful I am that you took time to express appreciation to me because excuse me?? You’re the creator here! And one putting out niche content, too! And you’re thanking me for consuming it?? Unreal. Unfathomable.

I know everyone enjoys fan content, but getting to read your works and interact with you has been the highlight at the end of some exhausting days for me especially.

ALSO I’m truly grateful to not be alone in the Ran Fan Club. Any fandom I’ve been a part of, I’ve always been drawn to the side characters with little screen time and next to no script and find that no one else sees what a catch they are. 😫 Lmao, I’ve recently recovered my dinosaur of a laptop from my family’s house, so I may be contributing to the Ran content soon 👀

Again, thank you for everything you give us fans to devour! I always look forward to every morsel you spare us regarding any of our beloved muses, much like a wanderer finding streams in a desert.

Or a moth bewitched by a flame because sometimes I think I’ve died after reading your works (in the best way possible).

[undercityrezident]

I posted 1,262 times in 2022

That's 562 more posts than 2021!

87 posts created (7%)

1,175 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pkmncoordinators

@rat2rrj

@ranger-kellyn

@mousewich

@cascadena

I tagged 1,261 of my posts in 2022

#pokemon - 696 posts

#fanart - 642 posts

#pokeani - 246 posts

#the legend of zelda - 222 posts

#princess zelda - 130 posts

#link - 123 posts

#swsh - 107 posts

#legends - 104 posts

#breath of the wild - 96 posts

#zelink - 88 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i'm loving this new appreciation on the writers' end for his previous journeys after years and years and years of them kind of shunning it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I might’ve made Hisuian Clemont... Oops...

12 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

#4

Alright... that’s a lot to unpack... good grief... what an episode.

Ok, where are we? I guess the start is as good a place as any to begin.

So, here we are in part four of Leon vs. Ash. At least one of my predictions came true: Eternatus helped solve the problem that Ash and Leon’s Gigantamax and Z-move created. I’m glad that, in that sense, Eternatus didn’t interfere in the match so much as to have them call it off. I could’ve very easily seen the writers doing that as a cop-out not wanting to break Leon’s winning streak while not giving Ash another finals loss.

I do wonder what exactly changed such that Eternatus is now trying to actively keep away another occurrence of the Darkest Day, aside from just being a captured pokemon. Maybe that’s all it really takes. I might’ve appreciated more hints and scenes on this change in behaviour aside from the one we got the episode before the battle, but I can’t ask for too much more for such a one-off thing, I suppose.

Anyway, the lesson here we learn here is don’t mix your battle enhancements. Z-Moves and Gigantamax moves apparently have violent, explosive, world-altering chemistry.

I think the best thing we got out of that encounter was Team Rocket narrating the events to the same rhythm and rhyme as their motto. Considering I don’t really care for TR always butting into the match and eating up valuable screen time, that’s saying something.

That all aside, we can’t say that Eternatus didn’t do anything to influence the match. They apparently gave Leon and Ash another use of Gigantamax, which Leon elected to use on Cinderace this time while Ash could only use it with his lone contender, Pikachu. In retrospect, I should’ve expected something like this because we’d also been exposed to Gigantamax Pikachu far earlier in the series. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it, but I guess it’d been long enough that I forgot about the big round Pika-friend and his extra-long lightning-tail.

Strangely, we only got one move out of each of those Gigantamaxes with a cool pairing of move impacts that each tried to hold at bay. The announcer said the impacts forced them back to normal size, which seemed like a really conveniently mundane answer. I would’ve gone with something along the lines of the fact that Enternatus only provided so much power for their second Gigantamax, but that’s just me.

That said, the visuals in this face-off were pretty cool, and I love Cinderace trying to repeatedly kick the damn lightning bolt back up into the sky. That said, Cinderace must be quite frail since I’m reasonably certain it took little to no damage in its other appearances in the match. Meanwhile, Pikachu took that giant fire-soccer-ball like a champ and went on to stand up against Charizard.

I do appreciate that, in the end, after all those battle enhancements through the match we do come down to a classic pokemon battle. No Mega Evolution. No Z-moves, no Gigantamax or Dynamax. Just  Pikachu vs. Charizard.

And after all that, after we finally... finally... got some screens of Ash’s past travelling companions that we’ve been missing! Another shot of the ranch crowd; Misty; Brock, Cilan, and Alexa all in the same room, May and Serena in contest garb with Max and bonus Lisia! I’m not sure why we haven’t been able to get them until now, but thank god we finally got them in before it was all over.

Now, I’d be here all night if I were to narrate every move exchange between the pair of battlers because damn, there are a lot, and damn, some of them work great on screen. Pikachu using an electroweb to delay a fire blast long enough to dart away. Charizard taking an iron tail in the chest to be able to use a dragon pulse at point-blank range. Pikachu jumping from ancient power boulder to ancient power boulder like in his gym battle with Grant back in XY to get to the fucking ceiling of the arena. Dueling moves as the pair fall back to the ground. The raw displays of power between the two pokemon as they try and intimidate each other and show off their strength.

I won’t lie, I was captivated. This is the kind of battling I love to see. This is why I come back to this anime time and time again. For these moments. For these battles. I swear, for a few minutes there, I forgot about all the critiques I had for the rest of the battle in the previous three episodes leading up to this. I might’ve even forgotten my all-to-often-displayed annoyance for Leon’s character too.

This was just raw, high-octane, amazing battle and animation fueled by rad music and peak emotional investment from the trainers, the pokemon, and even me.

Then Pikachu took a nasty fire blast hit, beginning, for me, the most poignant and powerful part of the episode. All to the tune of Pikachu’s heaving breaths, we got to see the looks on everyone’s faces as we waited to see if the little yellow mouse would continue to stand:

Dawn and Chloe; Team Rocket; our favourite badass ladies, Cynthia and Diantha; Misty; May and Serena holding hands, and Max is there too; the two mentors in Cilan and Brock; Iris on her iPad; my precious lemon siblings, Clemont and Bonnie; the whole fucking Alola gang, and then the Alola adults too; the Oak Ranch crowd; and finally, Goh.

Then, from behind Pikachu’s own eyes, we saw the moment he fell over. This next part of the episode that made me actually choke up a bit.

For Pikachu, all in its own mind within presumably fractions of a second--though stretched out for us and him--a reunion with all his friends: Ash’s pokemon. All of them. From every region. Kanto. The Orange Islands. Johto. Hoenn. Sinnoh. Unova. Kalos. Alola. And the latest team too. And even pokemon Ash released, traded, or otherwise left with others: Butterfree, Pidgeot, Primeape, Ambipom, Goodra, and Nagandel.

I’m a sucker for nostalgia, I won’t even try to hide that. I love when the anime acknowledges the past sagas. And this was wonderful for me. The feelings that welled up for me had me clutching my chest.

And then finally, Ash comes up and tells him, “That’s right Pikachu! Everyone’s at our side!”

That’s when Pikachu gets up and lets out a frighteningly powerful thunderbolt that even has Charizard and Leon recoiling.

That’s when Ash turns his cap back when we know things are really hitting their peak.

That’s when Leon throws his cap off and does his goofy, though I suppose now quite appropriately timed, pose as the two contenders finally meet in their final clash of the match.

Pikachu meeting Charziard in the middle, shrouded in pure electric power contrasted against red-hot flame, was a powerful feat of animation...

...and made me wonder why we ever gave up Volt Tackle.

Cut to Pikachu on a bed in the local Pokemon Center, us as audience members supposedly clueless as to who won. It was a strange way to delay telling us who won, since they really didn’t make us wait long to show it anyway. But all said, the finale of Charizard getting domed on the head by Pikachu, letting out one last frustrated gout of flame before keeling over, was pretty neat.

Then, to my surprise, an actual moment of character development for Leon! We’d been teased, very lightly, with flashbacks to Leon as a kid. This culminates here in the completion of those scenes with us seeing none other than a young (and hella adorable) Sonia beating the young new trainer, Leon.

I actually really love the idea of the unbeatable champion having actually lost to someone before, and that someone being Sonia. Sorry Ash, you weren’t the first!

But that’s ok! Because you beat him when it counted, Ash! You got there, to that champion podium, with that damn trophy that’s almost as big as you (you really gotta grow up soon already Ash... you’re not going to be able to carry these home if they keep growing at the rate they are and you’re growing at the rate you are...).

We got another moment with the gang back at Oak Ranch, our phaesporia crumbs with Diantha and Cynthia pining for another match (so why not each other... heheh), cuts to Ash’s supporters in the crowd (aww why no cuts to our lovely companions watching from afar again? Aw... oh well...) and then, finally, to the next morning for the segue into Goh’s own finale to come next week.

See the full post

12 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

#3

Odd thought:

So it’s quite heavily implied that Clemont was the one to come up with the idea of integrating Rotoms into the Rotomdex, thus kickstarting the idea of having Rotoms become a common sight in frequently used electronic devices that benefit from having autonomous and mobile behaviour, such as phones and cameras in battle arenas.

Considering that the Rotomphone is a continued fixture of the upcoming Scarlet/Violet games, on top of having been popularized in Galar and with the Rotomdex getting a start in Alola, it seems like the idea of using Rotoms in convenient electrical devices has really taken off on a multi-regional, perhaps even international, scale.

So...

I hope Clemont is seeing some sort of royalty benefits of this if these products are being monetized. Given the very commercialized nature of the Galar League (or at least implied commercialization, given that it mimics soccer leagues in theming in that region, on top of the fact we see adverts on the boards of the stadium as well as even on Leon’s cape), I can’t imagine that the Galar league gets to make use of the Rotom drone cameras for free. Therefore, someone likely makes and sells them to the league or the individual stadiums, which are likely financed by the league in some manner. If the pokemon world parallels our world, aside from Rotomphones given to young trainers to ensure they can communicate for safety and convenience on the road, I imagine that Rotomphones are something one has to buy as well.

Now, I’ve always headcanoned Clemont and his family lived in rather modest conditions (perhaps not below the poverty line, but not too far above it either, perhaps in the lower end of middle class). I hoped that the young man’s brilliance and drive, even if it doesn’t always pan out, would eventually lead him to a life of means by which he could eventually help support his family, helping to give Bonnie a happy childhood leading up to her eventual pokemon journey (given that he often appears as one of her primary caretakers, perhaps even more so than her father). A success on the scale of the establishment of the Rotom-integration trend would definitely be the windfall Clemont needed after years of using his own funds (after numerous deductions for essentials) from his position as gym leader to fund his passion of invention to mixed results. Perhaps many of his invention failures were due to the use of sub-par materials and parts that came with a lower income and meagre financial assets.

In addition to being able to continue with new, bolstered confidence and motivation on the winds of his new success, I’m sure Clemont will dedicate a great deal of these potential royalties to further iteration and invention with resources that could lead to greater and more frequent successes and greater benefits to “help people and pokemon” as he has claimed and endeavoured to do since he first fell in love with the concepts of science and engineering at large. As well, considering the fact he’s a person who cares deeply for his family’s welfare, and Bonnie’s especially, I’m certain he’ll use his a good part of his newfound wealth to ensure Bonnie has the best chance she has of pursuing her dreams too.

13 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

#2

My Commentary on Legends Arceus

So, after some 86 hours of my life being consumed, I finally managed to complete Pokemon’s newest entry into the franchise. I know I kind of alluded to this being some sort of review in previous posts I’ve made, but the fact of the matter is, I’m neither a qualified or professional reviewer, nor am I someone expecting to convince others to play this game or assign it a score.

I’m writing this more as a way to purge my thoughts and feelings on this game in a way that makes me feel like the experience is complete. And, hot damn, I really want to talk about this game!

It goes without saying that there are massive spoilers for Pokemon Legends: Arceus beneath the cut.

Now, for full disclosure, for anyone that cares about where my opinion comes from on this game with references to my praises and critiques: I have completed the game in so far as that I have completed the main story, the post-game story, collected all the wisps, collected all the poetry, and gotten a research score of 10 to classify every pokedex entry as finished.

That said, I cannot bring myself to complete every single research entry for each pokemon’s shiny bonus, nor grind that last 2.5k points to get myself to a 10 star rank with Galaxy Team. As someone who doesn’t hunt shinies, and having looked up the 10 star reward, neither feels worth it to me.

That all said, I do think that I have a pretty broad scope with which to comment on this game. So here we go!

To start, let’s get around two big elephants in the room:

Firstly, let’s address game’s continuous comparisons to Breath of the Wild. Yes, in the very broadest and simplest sense, you could compare it to The Legend of Zelda’s open-world marvel. I had to actually dissuade myself from making this comparison in order to avoid the disappointment with the very first thing that I found annoying about this game: your base character cannot climb or mantle over small ledges.

See the full post

14 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Weird odd Volo theory with Legends: Arceus spoilers beneath the cut...

"Someday, I'll solve every riddle in the legends of Hisui's Pokémon. And on that day, I'll stand before Arceus at last—No, I will CONQUER it! No matter how many years, how many decades, how many centuries it takes me!" 

This is something Volo says after we defeat him and Giratina.

This just makes me wonder though:

Is it odd to anyone else that he says “centuries” there specifically?

I suppose this could be him being overly dramatic, but is the pursuit of a physical god not something that someone could fall into pursuing over a long-lived life?

Take another Volo quote: "I've devoted myself to Arceus beyond any other! I worshiped it as the creator of our entire world! I bent all of my passion and interest to its study! All the time I've spent poring over the legends... Everything that I've done—!" 

This sounds like an obsession that could be forged over a lifetime, though Volo does not appear all that old.

So I have to ask, in light of these quotes and Volo’s utterly fervent need to reach Arceus and his dedication to that goal: is Volo immortal?

Or at the very least, is he incredibly long-lived.

And that itself brings upon us another important question.

We’ve seen numerous ancestor characters to various Sinnoh characters (as well as ones from other regions). Naturally, we’d lend that assumption to Volo being an ancestor of Cynthia as well, right?

What if we were just meant to assume that?

What if Volo is long-lived, or even immortal, and the champion we all know and love in the modern Sinnoh era, is in fact the same person?

Appearance-wise, Volo could pass for Cynthia (given a new hairdo), and perhaps through clever feats of disguise; or if they’re, in fact, agender or genderfluid and able to pass as either of the two traditional binary genders; or if she’s transgender entirely, the chances are of Volo actually being Cynthia are not entirely remote. (I should make a disclaimer here, I’m not trans or non-binary, so if this seems like a misappropriation of these gender identities for this theory, I do apologize. I mean no offence or misuse.)

This doesn’t necessarily account for the changes in personality though. But you know what does change a person’s personality and perspective?

Time.

Legends: Arceus takes place at least 200 years before the Diamond and Pearl games, I believe. I know people whose entire personality and perspective have changed over just a decade. I know I’m a vastly different person than I was ten or even five years ago.

Assuming Legends is set in the same universe and timeline as the Sinnoh we all know, could the protagonist in this newest pokemon game set Volo on a new path by defeating him? Maybe Volo discovered a better path for himself all on his own during those centuries. Or maybe Cynthia is just very good at burying her Volo-esque impulses behind that champion facade in the Diamond and Pearl games...

We should also consider that Volo uses the same exact team as Cynthia, barring Milotic (which isn’t in Legends, so maybe that’s more technical reason than a lore one). Sure, we know that many ancestor characters use the same pokemon as their descendants. But most seem to use only one. Volo uses five of the same pokemon as Cynthia. As the old saying goes, once is chance, twice is coincidence, thrice is a pattern... and so on.

Wrong or right, the idea intrigues me, because I can’t just believe they’d throw in the word “centuries” for no good reason in that one line of dialogue.

33 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nickfowlerrr]

keeping secrets - chapter four

series masterlist / chapter five

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: super short chapter. i don’t think there’s any warnings necessary.

words: 2.6k

notes: ten thousand years later - here’s less than half a chapter. but buckle up because the next update is going to be intense. and i can promise it won’t take me two months to post lol. but thank you to the majority of you who have been really patient with me. and sorry to the one anon who told me not to split this chapter up hope you don’t hate me 🫣 i just feel like if i don’t post this now - i’m never gonna finish it. anyway! thank you for reading. comments are always welcome and reblogs are always appreciated. hope you enjoy.

The flight was grueling. The tension between you and Bucky was so palpable it was nearly suffocating. You refused to break the silence, and he had no plans to initiate a conversation either so you stayed in your seats and the only thing exchanged between the two of you were the sneaking glances you both took every so often, hoping the other wouldn’t notice. As if a super soldier and a highly trained spy wouldn’t notice when someone was looking at them. It was juvenile and ridiculous. You knew that, but it didn’t stop you.

Five hours into the flight, you were fighting to keep your eyes open and slouching forward in the seat you had forgone buckling into. You hadn’t even realized you’d closed your eyes again until your body jerked awake, saving you from completely falling forward onto your face. The jolting wasn’t missed by Bucky who turned to look at you, eyes narrowed and annoyance clear on his face.

“Can you just go lay down already? I don’t need you fucking up this mission because you’re sleep deprived,” he groused.

You didn’t respond, simply rolled your eyes and got up. You were too tired to argue and honestly couldn’t think of anything clever to say back. He was right. You walked to one of the bunk beds in the back and crawled on it. As you let your eyes fall shut once more, you heard him talk again.

“Was that so damn hard?” he grumbled.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mumbled, annoyed but too tired to use your full voice.

“I can hear you even when you’re talking under your breath,”

“Good, now shut up,” you muttered, turning over on the bunk to bury your face in the pillow.

You fell asleep relatively quickly and didn’t wake up until you heard thrashing coming from the front of the jet. You bolted up and climbed off the bunk as you heard Bucky cursing under his breath. You went toward where he was still sitting and watched him drag his flesh hand down his face, breathing heavily.

You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but something told you doing so’d be less than helpful.

It seemed like he’d just woken up when you had. You thought maybe he had a nightmare, but you knew it was none of your business. You saw he was fine, at least physically, so figured you’d keep your distance.

“Two hours til we land,” he said quietly, stopping you in your tracks as you were walking away.

“Already?”

“Well you just slept a whole eight hours,”

“Oh…” you weren’t sure you should ask but you wanted to know, “and you? How long did you sleep?”

“Long enough,” he answered shortly.

“Did you read the mission files?”

“I looked 'em over, got the picture.”

You scoffed at his dismissal as you turned back away, but you weren’t sure what else you should have expected from him. As long as he watched your back while you were inside, you supposed it didn’t matter much he knew the details. Maybe it was better, even. Can’t be judged by someone who doesn’t know what went down and despite yourself, you hated the thought of him judging you, thinking any less of you than he clearly already did. Knowing he already thought badly of you had a pit in your stomach. It made you feel terrible, but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. So you pushed it down. You had a mission you needed to be focused on, you didn’t need to be worrying about Bucky.

Two hours later and the jet was landing. It was dark out, a little past 8 o'clock. You were slightly annoyed that Bucky hadn’t bothered to wake you up earlier knowing the drastic time difference, but that wasn’t his problem. You should’ve set an alarm. You huffed as you grabbed your bags and got out your flashlight. Bucky landed the jet a few miles away from the safehouse, the nearest you guys could get, so you’d have to walk the rest of the way. You got off the jet and started walking without waiting for him. He was taking so long and was obviously avoiding you once again, so you figured he was trying to get you to go ahead without him. Though about twenty seconds later, you were proven wrong.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled to you from the door of the jet, causing you to turn around, your brows furrowed.

“Walking,” you called back as if it was obvious.

You watched as he closed up the jet and grabbed his bags off the ground before he started walking down the path toward you.

“You think walking alone in a forested area at night in a place you’ve never been is a good idea?” he called out as he walked.

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ve been in worse situations alone,” you said as you continued walking, not waiting for him to catch up.

“You say that now,” he spoke. You hadn’t heard him get closer so when his voice came from right next to you, you jumped slightly and dropped the flashlight.

He stifled a chuckle and you shot him a glare as you bent down to retrieve your light.

“Sorry, didn’t know you scared easy,”

“You didn’t scare me,” you denied. “I just wasn’t expecting you to catch up so fast.” you tried to play off. It was a little unnerving that he’d gotten up behind you without you noticing. You thought you were on top of your game, but it was apparent you were letting your guard down with Bucky around and you didn’t know why. Well, you guessed you did. You’d unconsciously relaxed when you realized he wasn’t trying to separate and the zing of protectiveness you felt from him warmed you despite the biting cold of the wind.

You readjusted the straps of your bags you had on your shoulder and kept walking further into the dark.

“I’m not scared walking alone,” you assured him.

“Sure,” he said, “until you cross paths with a wolf.” You looked to him with furrowed brows.

“There’s no wolves out here,” you say as you stop walking. Briefly taking a look around you, shining your light through the trees. As you turn to look at Bucky, expecting him to have stopped when you did, you instead found him still walking.

“Are there wolves out here?” you asked incredulously as you hurried to catch up to him.

“You’re in a forest, Bambi, what do you think,” he said sarcastically.

“Well, I don’t often find myself in forests,” you defended. “It didn’t cross my mind,”

“Scared of wolves?” He glanced over at you. You took a breath and kept your eyes ahead of you, set on your path. You didn’t want to admit you were a bit nervous now, but the thought of a wolf appearing from out of the trees had you bristling. There was something so intimidating about them. Not that you’d ever seen one in person, but even just from pictures and videos, their eyes were so intense, knowing. They’re beautiful creatures and you admired them, but you couldn’t imagine coming face to face with one in the middle of a dark forest.

It was quiet for a bit as you walked in silence. Bucky’s presence was comforting you without you really realizing it as you continued on.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the wolves, anyway,” he said, breaking the silence. You looked over to him, raising a brow.

“The lynxes are the ones you need to keep an eye out for.”

You stared at him for a moment before you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head fighting your smile. He tried to fight his own, but couldn’t help his grin in return as you continued down the path side by side.

“Alright, good to know,” you nodded.

“I’m serious,” he said. “The Eurasian Lynx, they’re nocturnal, too. And they’re quiet, you’d never hear ‘em coming.”

“Well you have like, super hearing, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’d hear it, but I’m saying if you were walking alone,-”

“I’d be bested by a wild animal?” you finished for him.

“You’re scared of wolves but you think you could take a lynx?” he laughed.

“First off, I’m not scared of wolves, okay. And secondly, I know I could,” you said confidently. “I’m not saying I’d come out completely unscathed, but I could absolutely hold my own. It’s just a big cat,”

“Never underestimate your opponent,”

“Don’t underestimate me,” you said. “If I can handle my own hand to hand against the main players of the avengers, I don’t think a lynx would be much of a problem.”

He sized you up for a moment as if he was assessing you, it wasn’t for a second or two but still you felt your skin heat up under his gaze.

“You’ve never taken on me,” he countered.

“Never had the opportunity,” you contested swiftly.

“Don't ask for opportunities, just take ‘em when you see ‘em.”

You thought you heard a twig snap off to the side of the path and your head shot in that direction. In a second you found your flashlight being taken from you as Bucky disarmed you from behind, his right arm winding under yours as he pulled it behind you, forcing your body to turn with the motion. Your bags fell from your left shoulder as you were shoved up against the tall trunk of a giant oak tree. Your flashlight was still on but rolled away from you when he dropped it, lighting up the left side of the path you’d just walked up and shining into the forest across you. Your breathing was labored as your eyes shot from the light to find Bucky’s. The moon was the only thing helping you see his face, it was little illumination but it was enough. You had no words as you stared at him in surprise, his arms pinning you to the trunk while he held your gaze. Nothing but breathing could be heard from either of you, the ambient noise of the critters and creatures alive around you but hidden by the night filled the silence.

Everything in you told you to break his hold and strike out where he was vulnerable, play the offensive and -

“Fight back,” he breathed heavily as he kept you pressed firmly against the tree. You could imagine it. You wanted to show him you were more than capable of holding your own, even against him.. But you quickly realized that wasn’t going to be possible.

Your breathing was verging on shaky and you had to force yourself to keep his stare. Scared what you’d see when he realized what you did. Or more aptly, remembered what seemed to have been so easily forgotten by the two of you so quickly.

“I don’t think I can,” you whispered.

Silence returned as you felt his gaze piercing through you, no further words exchanged aloud, but so much was being told as you looked into his eyes. Intense. Pained. Sorry?

What was happening? How the hell did you get here? It was like the last few weeks never happened. And yet it felt like you’d known each other forever. You were just so uninhibited moments ago. Sharing playful banter and comfortable silences, walking side by side. The harsh glares, attempts at distance and complete avoidance of each other were forgotten in no time at all. Like it never happened. But now as you stood face to face with the truth, you were forced to remember. Not only what had happened, but why. And that “why” was the same reason you'd forgotten so easily. Bucky Barnes was your soulmate. And it was so easy to be around him when he wasn’t trying to refuse that. The insecurity telling you that you were better off alone and the worry that you weren't wanted just dissipated. And things were light. And you didn’t have to think or worry about anything, not even the connection itself. But when you were reminded of it, reminded that neither of you had a choice in the matter, that dark cloud came right back around. Because he didn’t have a choice. And he didn’t want to want you.

He didn’t want you.

Breaking your stare, your eyes shot to the left of you, just past the trail to where your flashlight was shining as you could have sworn you heard movement. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight you were met with, your eyes growing wide as you stared. Frozen as you looked into the yellow eyes of the wolf just across the trail from you.

Your hand came up to Bucky’s arm still across your chest, holding you against the tree.

“Bucky,” you breathed, trying to stay as still as possible, “Wolf.”

His brows furrowed before he slowly looked away from you, turning his head in the direction you were still staring. He made to turn around completely but you stopped him by quickly grabbing his arm, possibly holding onto him a little too tightly.

“Don’t freak out,” he said quietly, taking your hand off his arm gently before he turned to face the trail. “I thought you weren’t worried about being ‘bested by a wild animal’,” he tried to joke.

“I said I could take a lynx, I never said I could take a wolf,” you responded, trying to keep your composure, though it was slowly slipping as the wolf continued staring down the two of you. On the outside you were still but on the inside you were freaking out.

“Calm down, it's alright,” Bucky assured you, feeling your fear.

“You say that, but we’re literally being stared down by a fucking wolf. And they’re a hell of a lot bigger in person,” you stressed quietly.

“It’s not gonna do anything, just… don't break eye contact..and we’re gonna slowly walk back on the path. It's more scared of you than you are of it,”

“Beg to fucking differ,” you muttered.

Bucky was standing tall as he stood in front of you, both of you slowly stepping away from the tree and back onto the path with the wolf watching your every move.

As you were retreating, a slightly smaller wolf emerged from behind the first.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking,” you quipped.

The first wolf seemed to stand more defensively…protectively when the second one made its presence known, both of them watching the both of you as you continued walking backwards. After a moment, when you were far enough away, the pair continued across the path into the trees once again. You let out a shaky sigh of relief, Bucky turning around to face you again.

“See,” he said. “We’re fine.”

You didn't return his gaze, instead staring past him to where your bags laid on the ground, walking to go back and grab them. He followed suit and ended up grabbing them all before you could pick yours up, only handing you one of your two bags before he started walking again. You adjusted the strap on your shoulder as you slung it on and followed, not questioning it. Still not entirely sure what, if anything, to say now.

You looked back into the trees surrounding you, taking a breath. With that you continued on. Silence returned. But not as comfortable as it was before. This was charged and the energy between you was building with each minute that passed. Like you were waiting for a kettle to boil. Knowing it’d bubble up and whistle out any moment.

Neither of you seemed to want to address what had just happened.. what had been confirmed, no room for any lingering doubts. But you had to know it wouldn’t just go away. No matter how you might wish it would.

You could try to avoid it, though. Until you couldn’t any longer.

[rassvetsky]

Hello hello my dear :D

I love your writing so i HAD to send a request! This is probably super niche and if you dont feel comfortable writing it thats COMPLETELY okay!<3

So i have a skin disorder that makes red spots appear ALL over my skin and it makes it feel itchy and rough(now in other fanfic its normally that the characters talk about "readers soft skin" and sadly i cant relate to that)

So i was wondering if you could write Sam Wilson x fem! Or Non binary! Reader with a skin disorder :D what prompt you use, if its nsfw or sfw and how long it is, is completely up to you! I would just love to relate to a fanfic again :,)

Much love <3

thank you so much for sending this and i hope i did it at least some justice, because i've been incredibly uncreative and unmotivated for a long time now— i too suffer from a skin condition mostly triggered by stress, which makes the skin of my shoulders and upper back very bumpy (and damn it leaves scars each time) so this was insightful to think about,, most fics aren't that inclusive unfortunately (which is nobody's fault!!) but anyway, i hope you have a wonderful day, and thank you again for dragging me out of my void!!

Fifty Bucks

sam wilson x reader

"It's impossible to feel inconvenienced by anything when Sam Wilson is your personal stand-up comedian and therapist at the same time. He might demand fifty bucks, though."

[1k] | honestly not much, super short and quick anyway, fluff, reader has a skin condition as lovely anon mentioned above, swearing, sam is a blessing and not in disguise at all

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

You should've seen this coming.

But it's like your body and your mind operate on completely different terms sometimes, with no connection to one another whatsoever. It's impossible to control how your body might react to something that brews in your mind, and while for some it's not an issue to keep focus on; people that are blessed with one tiny little add-on to their existence like you have to be extra careful sometimes.

And good lord, you can never be careful enough.

As Sam paced around in your apartment, trying to keep your mind off of work stress and the general adulthood obstacles through a sacred quest of finding a show to watch before you could come back to the living room; you were mentally face-palming upon the sight of a red spot on the course of forming on your shoulder, and a few more down your arms. You can't control everything that happens around you, of course, but God, why is it that everyone else seems to be better at handling stress?

When you came back to the living room with a slight pout on your lips, fingers tugging on the material of your t-shirt to reveal a portion of your arms, Sam is perplexed. Remote control in his palm, he turned around to look at you, gaze flickering between your hand and your face. "Everything okay?" he asked, pointing towards the snacks laid out on the coffee table with the remote control. "It better be. I didn't pay for all those for nothing, you better cheer the hell up."

That pulled a chuckle out of you as you shrugged, stepping closer to him with a sigh, forcing the sight into his point of view. "Flaring up a bit, I think," a soft breath left you. "Figures. I was beginning to expect it at this point."

"What's that? Allergies?" he asked, following suit when you took a seat on the couch, relaxing right next to you. "Is it the lobster? Can't be, because I marinated that thing so good that people with seafood allergy could risk death to have a taste. I'm serious."

"No, it just happens." you chuckled softly, heaving a deep sigh before leaning back comfortably. "There isn't much that I can do about it now, it's just gonna itch and drive me crazy."

Sam hummed as a response, before pressing 'play' on the first comfort show that he came across, mind occupied with this newfound information. It must be annoying enough to go through, he thought, figuring that he shouldn't ask many questions— but he's a curious individual, he couldn't help it even if he tried. "Isn't there anything, like— like an ointment or something for 'em?" your slow nod caused him to hum, the intro of the show seemingly catching your attention, but not his, surprisingly, considering the fact that he often possessed the attention span of a goldfish. "Does it bother you?"

"It's not a pretty sight when the timing is wrong," you mumbled while reaching for a pack of sour candies on the coffee table before leaning back on the couch again. The cushions were soft against your back, but not as soft as your bed— which you were beginning to miss. "But I feel like I've gotten used to it, you know? Like, I learn more about how my skin reacts to certain things as time goes by and, well, I'm trying to manage it better."

"Not a pretty sight my ass," he whispered under his breath, causing you to laugh— along with him. "You could have Shrek skin for all I care. Or Avatar skin, whatever fictional world you're into— you'd still be one hell of a sight."

"Shrek skin? C'mon, you're just saying that."

"Watch it, I get real aggressive about affection," a pair of strong arms pulled you to his side and you giggled against the material of his shirt, trying to slap his arms away from you. "God was like, damn, a full package. Gotta balance it out somehow."

It was incredible, how fast Sam could get you laughing. But there you were, laughing at his antics with the show long-forgotten on the screen, his arms secure around you and a pretty smile on his lips. He was a man of acceptance, after all, and you were sure that given the chance, he could restore world peace in a week with his delicious cookouts and wonderfully thought speeches.

"Shut the hell up," you chuckled, shaking your head. "It doesn't even bother me, it's my own skin. Just makes me wish that I was a bit luckier."

"That's a good thing, you know, being alright with it." his fingers found your hair then, giving the area a few loving pats before carding them through your locks. It was as if his tone changed when he started to speak again, and you'd recognize that speech pattern anywhere. "Health-wise, accepting and embracing something kinda works like a placebo, you know? Whether it's a mental thing or, you know, something physical— when you're like, alright, I'm doing this and that to cure this thing, but at the same time, I'm not gonna be all like, damn this thing—"

"God, not one of these speeches again—"

"Listen, you ungrateful brat," his faux offense made you laugh again, as you watched him press his palm against his chest where his heart is supposed to be. "People don't pay therapists for nothing."

"I know, I know." you cuddled onto him more. "M'sorry, go on?"

"I will, for fifty bucks."

"FIFTY?!" you raised your head from his shoulder to look up at him, eyes wide in shock.

"Do you have any idea how expensive therapy is?! Thirty at most, pay up or shut up!"

[astromaki]

part 3 of second choice ; ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1617 words)

part 1. part 2. (previous) part 4.

tw ; angst, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, degradation, divorce, mention of alcohol, bad language, slightly suggestive ?

EXTRA INFOS ;; all the characters are aged up obviously (they are 30 here), the point of view of this third part is from shoto todoroki !

confrontation. [7 : 16 pm]

a week has passed since he came home that night drunk. that he had begged momo to stay with him. that he had accidentally seen those divorce papers crumpled by your hands.

momo had seen them too that night, and yet she and shoto had not commented on them. good, he wasn't in the mood anyway.

it had become almost official, even the media had it on their front pages. "one of japan's richest couples on the verge of divorce?", "billionaire todoroki single again?" "y/n, will the heir.ess of their father's company return to being a lawyer?"

he would have liked to say that he cared what you thought about it. if you cried, screamed, were you hurt ? but that would be lying, you were the least of his worries.

and then, wasn't it what he wanted from the beginning ?

that you would end up hating him so much that you would leave him. that he could finally be free of the weight that you represented every day.

and yet his signature was still missing.

"you can't even love your partner properly, and now i hear through the media that a divorce is on the way ? you're pathetic son. i knew i should have married them to touya. " enji's heart-attack voice echoed terribly through the phone, which made shoto sigh. he was even pretty sure he could hear it from across town.

"calm down." shoto said in an annoyed tone. "your marriage isn't a success either, so keep your remarks to yourself. bye. "

"you idiot, don't you dare hanging up on me. i don't care if you can't satisfy your s/o, i don't care if they feel bad about this arranged marriage either. but y/n y/l/n comes from a very famous lawyer's family, so get a divorce and the amount of money you have to give will be huge. "

"i manage them, it will not be a problem. i have to go now. "

the young man finally returned to your room, looking exhausted, his tie loosened and ready to down a few glasses of whiskey.

however, he was surprised to see you. dressed in a beautiful versace dress/suit, you were glowing. well no, he meant that you looked... good.

though, it was the first time he took the time to look at you. to admire you.

the young man finally met your indifferent gaze through the mirror you were standing in front of. that gaze that was so joyful and sparkling at the beginning of your marriage, full of hope to transform this purely financial union into a love marriage.

but that look, devoid of emotion, almost made shoto, Japan's most ambitious ceo, doubt himself. almost.

"i'm surprised you're still using my card to splurge. how much is this one? $1000 ? $2000 ?"

he was tired, exhausted. nut the truth is he was in the mood to be a pain in the ass tonight.

"$ 8,330. plus the $800 pair. " you replied coldly.

your answer was like a slap in the face to your husband. not because of the price, he didn't give a fuck about this.

but this tone right there. it wasn't like you. you were normally so gentle, patient even with the worst of the crap he put you through. that naive kindness that made him want to vomit was completely gone. he didn't expect such a turn of events.

"so you decide to divorce me, but first you want to empty my bank account? you're exactly as I imagined." his look that used to reflect nothing but fatigue was now full of contempt for you.

you finally faced him. shit, he couldn't help but find you beautiful.

"here todoroki, let's talk about the divorce. " you began, quietly walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a stack of documents. "i've signed it, sign it, and i'll take it to my lawyers first thing in the morning.

he snatched them out of your hand and threw them across the room. you didn't even flinch, you even held his gaze. poker face.

a loud silence fell between you. a long silence, uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. heavy and light. sensible and meaningless.

"what's all this about ? who put you up to this ?"

a wry laugh escaped your lips. your new behavior puzzled shoto. he loved and hated what he had in front of him. a challenge.

"you think i need someone to make me realize that i deserve better than an asshole like you ? fuck, let me laugh. "

your hand went to retrieve a piece of paper from your purse. and it was slammed hard against his chest. bakugou’s business card.

he found your face inches from his, your warm breath gently caressing his cheeks. a scent of whiskey filled his nostrils. you were not sober.

"how many drinks are you on? " he asked quietly.

"so now do you care if i downed a whole bottle or not ? oh please shut up. because now that you mention it, your friend bakugou katsuki may have hired me. to be his company's business lawyer. isn't that funny? "

you turned your back on him, unaware of the state you'd put him in. but damn, it was like he'd just been slapped in the face. nausea took over his whole body, his legs became heavy and weak in few seconds only. and he knew damn well it wasn't fatigue.

so you were leaving him, but on top of that you were going to work for his number one competitor ?

he didn't know what hurt more, the knowledge that bakugo had won one of the most competent lawyers in the field or that you were leaving him for him ? was he jealous ? surely not, it was another feeling that repulsed him. he didn't even know.

"have you lost your tongue todoroki ?"

todoroki ? since when did you call him by his last name ? where are the darlings or my heart that used to annoy him so much ?

you finish getting ready, now wearing your long jacket. he had lost his tongue indeed, he didn't know what to say to you. what to do.

y/n y/l/n, you had succeeded in putting your husband to the wall.

but it was only for a moment. he quickly, too quickly, pulled himself together. his usual irritated expression returned.

"you don't see that he's using you to get ahead of me ? i thought you were smarter than that. "

he took a step forward, slowly but surely. like a predator approaching its prey.

"he doesn't care about you. just like no one has ever cared about you, not me, not him and not your bourgeois family. that's why they put you in a loveless marriage so easily. "

a mirthless laugh escaped from his lips.

"y/n, this bastard doesn't give a damn about you. "

you tried to move towards him, ready to slap him, but the alcohol made you capsize and stumble on your carpet. he arrived just in time to support you with his muscular arms. an annoyed sigh resounded in the large room when your sob reached his ears.

nevertheless, a petty smile stretched his lips. there you were again, the fragile and unassertive y/n finally in his arms.

that bakugo had managed to turn your brain inside out. yet shoto knew you better than anyone else. he knew you. better than you knew yourself. you were that puzzle he had managed to decipher long ago.

"that's not true. kacchan wouldn't do that...", you whisper.

"you know i'm right, sweetheart. you know i'm the only one who's honest with you. my love for you is all you need. "

his muscular hand gradually, peacefully, came to caress your back to take off the buttons of your dress. his lips came to meet yours, to draw you into a long, languid, unsentimental kiss. your lips asked for more, your whole soul asked for more of shoto. more of this man for whom your heart never stopped beating. even if his was vibrating for another woman.

you wanted to feel his lips making love to you sensually, sincerely.

you just wanted him to love you for one night. one fucking night.

shoto was ecstatic. he could already see himself opening a bottle of champagne with his father, to celebrate the divorce that would never happen. tonight, shoto had brought out his best acting skills. millions were at stake. he had brought out his best kiss. he had never touched you like that. so gently, so carefully.

he had never called you by any affectionate nickname.

he has done too much to keep you around.

and you were drunk, not stupid.

you finally stood up, moving away from him, reluctantly. nothing he said was true. from his love for you, to his accusations against katsuki.

awkwardly, you put your dress/suit back on properly.

"i have a meeting with my future employer mr. bakugou tonight. i'll be late. don't wait for me, i'll sleep at the hotel tonight, with your card. "

a red color came to his cheeks. anger ? sadness ? jealousy ?

he had never seen you so determined, so proud. and that attracted him. he was going to lose millions, no matter what. but it was you who was going to escape him. for that bastard bakugou katsuki.

the nice little y/n was no longer shoto todoroki's.

AHHH omg sorry sorry i told you i can't do a fluffy end!! >< (comments and reblogs are appreciated <3)

🔖 tag list ; @nveusii @angelofthorr @missmolliemoo @jazzylove @loki-an-idiot @deepestranchgoopdeputy @mhasimp666 @shotorozu @chscklvr @devilsbooksworld @marshmallow12345 (ones in bold cannot be tagged)

[andysbubba]

Loving you

Andy Barber x Gender neutral (?) reader

-> the one where you’re tired of andy’s igorance towards himself

Note: Angst diffusing into fluff, the typical andy-kitchen scene i used in my candlelight loving fic— except there’s no smut, ++ feedbacks welcomed as always! and reblogs and likes are more than appreciated <33

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

~h

-

“Andy, baby. Will you please take a break?” You exasperatedly sigh when you see Andy still hovering over his desk in his study after the fifth time you told him to take some time to rest.

“I know, I know. Just a little more, honey. I’ll join you in bed in a bit, okay?” He only looked up at you for barely a second to reply before his eyes were back on the stacks of case studies and folders on his desk.

Truth be told, you were completely done with his bullshit.

You huff in frustration, rolling your eyes the slightest bit and muttering to yourself as you distanced yourself from Andy’s home office with full annoyance. “Fucking lawyers.”

Andy’s been fully hung up on work ever since one of his co-workers took a vacation off work just last week. Meaning that his already-extensive workload just got an upgrade. Also meaning that he’d drag his workload home and continue working his ass off in his study. Which really- there’s nothing wrong with your boyfriend being all diligent and assiduous.

But it really doesn’t seem all that glorifying when you’re the one having to deal with all his crap. You could’ve probably list down all the times he put fucking paperwork above you, and the list would probably have been as long as Article 1.

Unbeknownst to you, Andy caught onto what you said right before you left his study. He felt guilty, alright. All he’s done is to be a complete work-addict while you’re out there being the best lover one can ever ask for. And all he wants to do is to chase after you and apologize and stay in bed and order in pizza with you. But the never ending workload on his desk was the one thing keeping him away from having you all snug in his chest.

He shakes his head, eyes glancing back down at his work. He was beyond exhausted, the pot of coffee you made him and the hope that the earlier he wraps his work up, the earlier he can shower you with all the love you deserved, was his only motivation to keep reading though the files and trying to get as much work done.

-

You groggily rubbed your eyes as you tried to feel around the sheets for Andy. And honestly? You weren’t even surprised that he wasn’t there. It was 7 in the morning, and it was too early for Andy to be up if he actually went to sleep last night. You could only assume that he never even went to bed, no matter how much you wished otherwise.

You head out to his study, the door’s still opened as it was yesterday and the faint noise of keyboard clicking tells you that Andy’s still working inside.

“Babe?” You knocked on the wooden door, trying to get his attention.

Andy’s hunched in his seat, eyes switching between his laptop and the files from time to time as he typed. He glances up at you, just a little surprised.

“Did you get some sleep, honey?” You asked, even though you knew you’d only receive the answer you dreaded so much.

He glances at the digital clock on the wall, only realising that it’s been 6 hours since you last came in to check on him. He scratches the back of his neck as he shook his head and mentally cursed himself. “I—”

He considered lying, but he already felt as bad for leaving you to sleep alone the whole night and breaking his promise on joining you in bed. And knowing you, you’d probably see right through his lies anyway.

You sigh, shaking your head and disappointedly rubbing your face. “I swear to god, Andrew—” You turned away before you could allow yourself to get even more pissed at him. Which most probably would’ve been impossible.

Caffeine. God— caffeine sounds fucking amazing right now.

-

Andy’s beyond guilty. So much more than what he felt yesterday. And his heart burns when he sees you so disappointed and pissed at him. The kind of pain where it feels like it’s being crushed and squashed.

He didn’t even realise that he went a whole night of work without sleep. Nor did he realise the time. Or that he forgot to keep his promise to join you in bed. Or the fact that he never paid attention to you for more than 5 minutes in the last 10 hours. Or that he didn’t join you for dinner. Or— okay, the list is long alright. And Andy knows he’s hurt you- the one person who’s patient enough to deal with him and the one person he loves above anything else in the goddamn world.

He ditched his laptop and stood up. Stretching his legs and working out the kinks in his muscles.

Andy trailed behind your footsteps, leaving his study for the first time in almost a day. It really took you to be angry at him just to get him out of the study. Andy knows his sorry isn’t enough. And you truly deserved every right to be pissed at him.

You were sorting your morning tea out when he came into the kitchen. Andy couldn’t help but smile fondly at you- or rather, your back really. For goodness sake, Andy’s head over heels in love with you. With every inch of you from head to toe. It is truly indescribable.

He steps up behind you, arms wrapping around your shoulders, and his chin resting on the tiny area joining your shoulder and your neck.

“Hi, baby,” He pressed a soft kiss on where his chin was before.

He wasn’t surprised that you stayed silent and continued doing your own thing. He knows damn well he deserves the silent treatment, alright.

“Honey,” He trails off as his thumbs rubbed circles on both sides of your shoulder. “Talk to me please, baby.”

You let out a heavy sigh, unwilling to turn and look at him, but you knew stirring tea wasn’t enough to occupy the next 3 minutes of your life, let alone the next few hours.

Andy turns you around by your shoulders, one hand shifting your mug to the side so he doesn’t accidentally mess up more and end up spilling hot tea all over you. He picks you up by your sides and sets you down softly on the counter.

His head was around your chest level now. As much as Andy wanted to bury his head in your chest and stay there forever, he knows he has to say something because you definitely won’t say it first. He takes your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, his pretty blue eyes staring up at you the whole time.

One look and you know he’s sorry. His watery eyes bring you to that conclusion.

“I’m sorry, honey.” He sighs, guiltily holding your palm up to the side of his face. “I know I hurt you. I was just so focused on the case that I didn’t even realise I hurt you, baby. You deserve all the right to be mad at me and ignore me and- fuck. I really messed up, Y/n.”

Andy shakes his head, “I just thought that if I wrapped up all my work, I’d have more time with you.” He chuckles humourlessly. “I know what I did was wrong, baby. You gave me more than enough chances yesterday but I messed up every one and I left you.”

He glances into your eyes desperately, his hand gripping onto your palm on his cheek tightly. You know it’s a silent plea for you to respond and do that thing he loves about your touch.

You find yourself surrendering to his silent plea, and your thumb brushed the side of his face. Soft and repeatedly. The comfort it brought Andy was beyond words. He leaned into your palm, seeking more of your touch.

“You’ve been nothing but understanding and caring and I just kept on taking advantage of that.” Andy was grateful he had someone as amazing as you. “ I’m so sorry I hurt you, honey. I know I j- just completely left you alone— and shit, you don’t deserve that, my love.” The crack in his voice broke your resolve.

You breathed deeply, bringing your other palm up to the other side of his face. “Baby, you really don’t get it, do you?” You paused, searching his eyes before realising that Andy didn’t truly understand why you were upset in the first place. “Andy, everytime I came up to check on you— that was for you. I wanted you to get some rest, honey. You looked exhausted every single time I came in, and I hated that you just ignored your own health.”

“You skipped dinner, bub.” Your hands shifts down to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. “All this overworking and sleepless nights— I just wish you’d take care of yourself more, Andy.”

Andy sighs, hands shifting down to your hips and he leans in, burying his head in the middle of your chest.

You felt his lips moving against your his shirt as he murmured. “I know, ‘m sorry.” Andy inhaled deeply, your natural, comforting scent piercing through his nose. “I missed you, bubba,”

You run a hand through his hair. “I missed you too, love.” You lean down and kissed the top of his head. “You wanna go wash up or get some rest while I heat up yesterday’s dinner?”

“Wanna stay just like this.” He mumbled into the fabric of your his shirt.

You laughed heartily, “Go nap on the couch, Barbie.” He pulls away from your chest. “Or at least, please go brush your teeth. I’ll fix up somethin’ for you.”

“And sleep with me after?” He arched a brow, and you took the time to scan over Andy’s face. He looks so fucking exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes and the barely noticeable strands of gray hair among the luscious black is a simple message that he was stressed. And god, you wanted nothing more than to take care of him and make sure he’s all healthy and— lord.

“Anything you want, baby. As long as you don’t step foot in the study till tomorrow afternoon.” You pressed your forehead against his, lips touching into an easy kiss.

You were both exhausted— Andy with his lack of sleep and you having to worry over him almost every 45 minutes. You both needed the rest. And some time together where it’s just the two of you and no one else exists.

[wicked-mind]

Once More With Feeling

Summary: When Steve brings an enhanced human with the ability to sense and manipulate emotions/feelings to join the team, she has an immediate interest in the puzzle known as James Bucky Barnes. And Bucky can’t help but be infatuated with her abilities and eventually her.

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, mentions of torture.

Italics are used for flashbacks/memories.

All Writings Masterlist

As always, any likes, comments, or reblogs are deeply appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

“Who’s that?” Y/N asked Sam with a smile, nodding over towards the man sitting on the patio with a beer bottle in his hand, staring off into the distance with a grim look on his features. He wore a black leather jacket that was zipped up to the collar, dark pants, boots tied perfectly, and black gloves on his hands.

“Ah that’s James. His friends get to call him Bucky.” Sam told her, tucking his hands in his pocket, “It’s a very exclusive group though. Consists of just Steve.”

Y/N looked up at Sam, raising an eyebrow, “Is that a bit of… can I call it annoyed jealousy?” She asks with a teasing smile, nudging him with her shoulder slightly, “What, you jealous you’re not Cap’s bestie or annoyed that James won’t let you be his?”

Sam looked down at her shaking his head, “Can you not do the whole reading thing right now?” He asked with a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Sorry, it’s just radiating off of you.” Y/N said with a small laugh before looking back out the glass door to the man referred to as James sat alone, “I’m going to go talk to him.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at her, “Good luck with that, Y/N. He’s a man of little to no words. Or emotions. He also doesn’t blink very much.”

Y/N was already headed towards the door with a small smile on her lips, turning her head over her shoulder to look at Sam, “That’s alright. I love staring contests.” She told him before walking out the glass door, shutting it behind her. Y/N walked over to the small metal table Bucky was sitting at, plopping herself on the chair across from him silently. She allowed her eyes to study him. He had longer hair, almost brushing his shoulders. There was stubble covering his cheeks and chin and he constantly looked like he was deep in thought, so much so in fact that little crease between his furrowed eyebrows could be permanent. She didn’t say anything, just sat silently in the chair as she stared into his eyes.

Bucky watched the woman. He had heard they were getting a new team member but didn’t bother to get to know much about her. It was somebody Steve had found and thought could be useful to the team but he didn’t know much more than that. He looked her over as she sat, she was wearing a long sleeved black shirt with blue jeans and combat boots. He was curious about the red leather gloves she wore though, he’d never really seen anybody else besides him wearing gloves constantly. He stared into her eyes, watching her closely. What was she doing? Why did she come to sit by him when there were so many other places to be? Bucky had came out here to be alone as he always did. He liked to be alone, in his own personal bubble lost in his thoughts. There was something about sitting outside alone and night where he felt peace. Maybe being under the stairs with the breeze on his face reminded him of his time in Wakanda, he didn’t know what it was but it was his favorite moment of the day. And now there was this new team member just staring at him. When her eyebrow twitched upwards slightly as if to challenge him, he narrowed his blue eyes at her and placed the beer bottle on the table never breaking eye contact. Bucky places his gloved hands on the table intertwined and leans slightly forward, staring, almost glaring, into her eyes. But the more he just stared the more he felt… what was that? Comfort? His irritation was fading away as he stared into those eyes, almost feeling lost and mesmerized in them at this point. Once he couldn’t take the staring anymore he sighs and leans back in his chair, looking away from her and out into the distance again, “What are you doing?”

Steve had found Y/N after she accidentally helped on a mission. She had a special ability that he thought could be very useful not only on missions but just in general so he asked her to join the team or at least give it a try. Y/N had agreed and now here she was, across from the dark haired, constantly in pain looking man having a staring contest. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her ability consisted of being able to read emotions and feelings of those around her and also manipulate them if she touched them, hence why she wore the gloves. She never wanted to touch someone and manipulate their feelings without their consent because she believed everybody was entitled to how they feel and there were reasons people felt the way they do. But that all broke off when Steve offered her the job. She would be helpful on missions, being able to get enemies to cooperate with the good guys instead of being all nasty and evil. Y/N could feel the pain, the anger, the lostness but she could see that plain as day in his eyes. When he broke the staring off and asked the question, she leaned back in the chair, “Did you know there’s multiple studies that show that staring into someone’s eyes can show their true intentions to you and show if you can trust them? They also say eyes are the window to the soul, able to process other’s emotions and what they’re feeling deep inside.”

Bucky’s lips curved slightly downwards at her words. She had stared at him to get information about him, was that it? He took a sip of his beer and looked back over to her, “You could’ve just asked instead of treating me like a study. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.” He spat out at her but almost immediately felt bad. She wasn’t wrong, he stared into her eyes and saw nothing but openness. Even now she was being open with him, truthful. God dammit, all it took was a damn staring contest for him to have a spark of trust for her, “Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Y/N.” She told him, a small smile curving to her lips, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” She said as she stared into his eyes, letting him know she was truly sorry if she offended him, “Sam said you like to stare and I’m pretty kick-ass at staring contests. Couldn’t help myself.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly again at her as she apologized to him, then looks away again as he took another sip of his beer, letting out a slight sigh, “So you’re the one Steve brought back. Why would he do that?” He said almost coldly thought he didn’t mean for it to come across that way.

Y/N shrugs, “He thought I could be helpful here and on certain missions given my abilities.” She told him, watching him even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“And what are your abilities?” Bucky asked, looking over towards her curiously before looking down to her gloved hands, “Are you missing an arm too? Did he think we could bond about it?”

Y/N almost chuckled at his words then shook her head at him with a small smile, “No, I have both arms in tact. Which now would be a good time to tell you I’m sorry about yours, must’ve been a big loss that I’m sure you’re still dealing with everyday.” She watched as Bucky looked at her almost shocked for a slight second at her words. She figured nobody must’ve told him they were sorry for what happened to his arm, or acknowledge the loss he still felt of his left arm even though it had been replaced with a vibranium arm, “I like to call myself a reader. I can sense the emotions and feelings of those around me and if I touch you, I can manipulate those feelings. For example, I can make someone feel more cooperative with a single touch. I can provide happiness. Love. There is the darker side to it though. I can also make people feel pain, feel like their drowning, feel like they’re on fire or in the deepest pit of despair.” She said, looking down at her gloved hands, “Sometimes when I touch people, I can’t help but try and make them feel better. Touching people lets me feel their emotions more personally than just sensing them. It’s an automatic response to try and help fix it but I believe that everybody has a reason for feeling how they do and they can choose need to sort through their own emotions on their own.”

Bucky swallowed hard at her words. Only one question came into his mind of her and he was halfway worried to ask it. As if she knew he was dancing around the question, she smiled over to him encouragingly and the question just sort of slipped out, “Can you make someone feel relief? Feel…. less guilty?”

Y/N bit her lip at his question, watching him for a moment before pulling off one of her red gloves and setting her hand in the middle of the table outstretched towards him, palm face up to give him the choice to touch her.

Bucky looked down at her hand, hesitating whether he should touch her or not but curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to feel some sort of relief. Sure, he had made all his amends in the notebook but that didn’t mean he felt any sort of relief, any sort of happiness or hope. He slowly took the glove off of his right flesh hand, reaching out and hovering his hand over her’s for a moment before looking into her eyes and resting his fingertips into her palm. Immediately at the touch of her skin, a slow sense of relief filled his body and he closed his eyes at the feeling. He tilted his head back slightly and his lips parted the smallest bit at the feeling he had longed to feel. It was relief and hope with no guilt anywhere in his body or mind. He wanted to stay like this forever, keep this feeling inside him even if it wasn’t truly real. He didn’t notice his hand had moved to hold her’s, gripping tightly not wanting to let go. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes to look down at their hands and quickly pulled away, “I’m sorry.. for lingering… I shouldn’t have…”

Y/N shook her head at him, pulling her hand back and putting the glove back on, “Don’t worry about it, I’m happy to help anytime you need it. I’ll help you until you don’t need me to feel relief, hope. Although, if you do come to me to for help, you do have to teach me some self defense. I pretty much know nothing and Steve says you know everything about it.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile and he nodded slowly, “Alright. You have a deal.”

Bucky stood outside the landing pad, his arms crossed as he watched the quinjet touch down. There had been a new organization that had made themselves known called the Peace Keepers. They had a mission to capture all known people with any type of superhuman abilities or those they deemed posed a threat to the rest of the ‘normal’ population. They were ruthless, kidnapping any type of enhanced human and either making an example out of them or the person was never seen again. They didn’t have very many leads so when Steve got word that a local police department in Seattle had captured one of the Peace Keepers, he immediately took Y/N and Sam with him to try and confront him. Bucky always worried when Y/N went on missions even though he had trained her well in offense and defense, she was still a human and could get hurt easily. As the quinjet bay doors opened, Bucky’s arms uncrossed at the sight. Sam and Steve were walking out shaking their heads at each other with grim looks on their faces. Bucky immediately started walking towards them at a brisk pace, his eyes scanning for any sign of Y/N. When he didn’t see her, he looked to Steve, “Where is she? What happened?” But the look in Steve’s eyes was all he needed to confirm the fear he had.

Steve sighed and shook his head slightly, a defeated look written all over his face, “It was a set up, Buck. I’m sorry, the Peace Keepers took her.”

It’s been a few months since Bucky met Y/N. He hated to admit it but he liked being around her. She could sense his emotions and knew when he just needed to sit in silence or when he needed to talk and it was comforting to know someone had some sort of understanding of what he was going through. She helped him whenever he needed whether it be someone to talk to, to sit with, or even using her ability to help him when he was feeling the worst. Y/N seemed so pure to him, like a ray of sunshine in the dark world that surrounded him. He always felt at his best when she was in his presence even if she wasn’t using her ability. He loved training with her, even if he was a little tough on her at times she never held it against him. She was a quick learner and even asked him to teach her some knife tricks after he showed her his extensive knife collection.

Tonight was a bad night for Bucky though. Every time he closed his eyes the nightmares of the Winter Soldier took over his mind. He was waking up what seemed like every ten minutes dripping in sweat and he could feel himself slowly breaking due to the lack of sleep and anxiety that riddled his body. He pulled himself out of his bed, pulling on some grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt before walking out of his room. It was early in the morning hours and he thought nobody would be up, but as if Y/N knew he needed some help, she was sitting outside where they usually sat every night waiting for him with a twelve pack of beer sitting on the table. Bucky couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight before taking a seat in the chair next to her, grabbing a beer and opening it before taking a long swig, “You waiting for me?” He asks her after putting the bottle back on the table. He had never seen so much skin exposed on her. She was wearing a tank top, no gloves, and long black pajama pants with red roses on them. He had never seen her arms before and just now he noticed she had small tattoos littering both arms, but they weren’t so much a sleeve as just randomly placed across her skin like she just closed her eyes and picked a spot.

Y/N shrugs over to him, taking a sip of her already open beer, “I figured I’d meet you out here eventually. I’m three beers in, Barnes. You got some catching up to do.”

“Bucky.” He said to her and when she looked at him sort of confused he quickly added, “Call me Bucky, that’s what I meant.”

Y/N smiles and nods, “Alright, Bucky. Does this mean I’m part of the super exclusive Bucky Barnes friend group?”

“That sounds like something Sam told you.” Bucky responds with a small smile, bringing the bottle up to his lips again for a drink.

“Oh yeah, he very much told me that.” She responded with a soft laugh, “But I am extremely honored to be accepted into the group.”

Bucky chuckles over to her, finishing the rest of his beer and setting the empty bottle on the table before grabbing another one, “One down, two to go.” He told her, cracking open the next bottle. His eyes lingered over her tattoos, wondering what they all meant to her, “I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

Y/N shrugs slightly, looking down at her own arms at the scattered ink, “Oh yeah, I mostly keep them covered up so nobody accidentally brushes my skin and gets feelings they aren’t ready to feel.”

Bucky nods, “What do they mean to you?” He asks curiously, wanting to know more about her.

Y/N looks down and points at three butterflies that were placed above her wrist, looking like they were flying up her arms, “This one reminds me that I’m free.” She moves to point to another one that was a purple iris with a date in the stem, “This is for my mom. She passed away from cancer a few years ago. She was the only one that loved me unconditionally.” She moved to one that was just the number thirteen in a fancy font, “This is my lucky number.” She looked at her other arm and pointed to a small yellow sunflower, “My favorite flower. My mom used to send me to pick wild sunflowers when my dad was home. He wasn’t a very good man.” Her eyes flickered to Bucky who was nodding each time she explained, entranced with her tattooed skin so she continued, pointing to one that looked like a human heart, “This one is to remember to wear my heart on my sleeve because I’m cheesy like that. I have a lot more but they’re all covered up right now.”

Bucky nodded, slightly smiling at the last one before noticing one she hadn’t pointed out yet. It was in the crook of her elbow where someone would put an IV but it had the red cursive words ‘fuck you’ around a large circular scar, “And that one?” He asks, pointing towards it and raising an eyebrow. All her other tattoos were cute but this one had a curse word plastered right on her skin.

Y/N looked down at it, biting her lip gently before looking up towards him and taking a sip of her beer before she spoke, “That one is for my dad. Like I said, he wasn’t a good man. He put out a cigar there, hence the scar and I decided to tattoo fuck you on it.” She said, and even though the story of her childhood wasn’t one she liked to share, she would always be honest with Bucky. Her father was a very abusive man and eventually the abuse went from only on her mother to her until she and her mom ran away to get away from him.

Bucky looked at her sadly for a moment, wondering what her childhood was like. Her father sounded evil from the bits she shared, but yet here she was all sunshine and smiles through her pain. He felt a small bit of jealousy for the way she was able to handle trauma, but mostly just sadness for her and a need to protect her from those things, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N shrugs at him, “It’s alright. It’s a part of me that made me who I am even if it is a dark and twisted part. I like who I am now, and even if I don’t like how I got here, the best I can do is keep moving forward.” She watched him for a moment before tilting her head, “So what has you coming out here at this hour looking for me?”

Bucky swallowed dryly, bringing his beer bottle up to his lips and taking a long drink before answering her, “Nightmares have been bad tonight.” He said quietly, almost as if ashamed to seem weak as he looked down at his ungloved hands, “Every time I get to sleep I just see him. The things he did. I didn’t want to bother you so I was coming out here to find some peace.” He looked over to her, “But here you are, waiting for me.”

Y/N smiled gently over to him, reaching her hand across the table for him to touch if he’d like. As she watched him reach out his flesh hand to touch her’s, she pulled back a little, “Answer me this first, Bucky.” She said, “How are you feeling right now?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed at her words, blinking a little as he thought about it. How did he feel? Certainly better than when he first trudged out here. Talking to Y/N calmed him, just being in her presence made the anxiety and panic he felt in his body melt away. He slowly looked at her, “I feel… Better.”

“No, Bucky.” Y/N told him, shaking her head gently, “I know exactly what you feel, remember? You feel relieved. You feel hopeful. All on your own without needing my touch.” She said with a smile over towards him, watching his lips curve into a small smile at her words, “My ability may be a quick cheat to getting you what you need to feel, but what is even better is when you can feel that all by yourself without my touch.”

“I like your touch though.” Bucky blurted out before flinching at his own words.God he must’ve sounded like an idiot, “I… uhm…” He said, scanning his brain for anyway to cover that up.

Y/N chuckles and smiles at him, reaching over and taking his hand in her’s, “That’s alright. I like your touch too.” She said, “We’ve done this enough times I’ve figured out how to keep myself from messing with your emotions when I touch you. So whatever you’re feeling right now, that’s all you buddy. You’re stronger than you know.”

Bucky smiled over at her, immediately feeling something at her touch. He didn’t know what it was but he believed her when she said he wasn’t toying with his emotions at her touch. He felt warm but his stomach was also twisting. No, not twisting. He didn’t know what the feeling in his stomach was, but all he knew was that he liked it. Could this be happiness he was feeling? Happiness that wasn’t given to him by her ability, but by the way she spoke to him and touched him.

Bucky immediately lost his temper, punching his vibranium arm into a wall that easily collapsed around it and formed a large hole. Y/N had been taken. His safe place had been taken from him. He should’ve gone with them on the mission, he had tried but Steve told him they had it handled. He felt lost in guilt and anger, wondering if Y/N was one of the bodies they would find days later or if she was going to be one of the enhanced humans that were taken only to never be seen again.

“We’ll get her back,” Sam said, placing a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder which was quickly shrugged away, “I got redwing trying to track down the trucks they escaped in.”

Bucky turned to look at Sam, an angry vein popping out of his neck, “Oh, we are just going to rely on your stupid little mechanical bird then? Hope that it can figure shit out?”

“Calm down, Buck.” Steve said, folding his arms across his chest and stepping to stand between the two, “It’s not his fault, he’s trying to help.”

“No, you’re right Steve.” Bucky said, turning his angry glare to his best friend, “It’s yours. If you would’ve just let me come maybe none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have let them take her. I would’ve protected her.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky at his choice of words, looking at Sam and giving him a nod as if to tell him that they needed a minute. Once Sam was out of earshot, he turned his attention back to Bucky, “We didn’t let her get taken. We were ambushed. It was a set up, Buck.” He said sternly, “What’s gotten into you?” His gaze softened a little bit at the look in Bucky’s eyes, “She has, hasn’t she?”

Bucky looked around, anywhere but meeting Steve’s gaze because he was right. He had developed feelings for Y/N and now that she was out of his grasp, taken away from him he was realizing everything he felt for her. It wasn’t just friendship. The night he talked to her when she showed him her tattoos and held his hand that feeling in his stomach was butterflies, a crush forming and he didn’t get the chance to tell her. Now he didn’t know if he would see her again, “She has, Steve…” Bucky finally softly said, “She’s like an angel that just came into my life and showed me how to process through things. Showed me what it’s like to have hope, happiness. Relief.” His flesh hand came up to run through his long hair, “And now she’s gone, taken. And we don’t know where or what is happening to her and I’ve never told her how important she is to me.”

Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, trying not to smile at the fact Bucky had found someone because the circumstances wouldn’t allow it. But he was genuinely happy that Bucky was doing better and vowed to himself that he would do everything to get Y/N back for Bucky, “Y/N can read your emotions as soon as she enters the same room as you. She knows, Bucky.” He told him, squeezing his shoulder gently, “And we will get her back so you can tell her. I promise.”

“I know why you’re always eating those plums.” Y/N said, looking at Bucky who had pulled a plum out to snack on after training with her.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, throwing the plum up in the air before catching it, a small grin on his lips, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Y/N smiles, reaching out and taking the plum from him in her gloved hand and looking at it, “Plums have antioxidants to protect the brain from cell degeneration and also help with memory. I would actually be surprised if you didn’t eat them constantly.” She told him, holding the plum back to him to take.

Bucky shook his head and couldn’t help but chuckle a little at her correct answer. When he was regaining his memory, he did extensive study on foods that helped your brain and memory and plums happened to be his favorite, “You’re smart, Y/N.”

“I know.” Y/N said with a smile.

Y/N opened her eyes slowly, groaning to herself. The last thing she remembered is that she was trying to get a read on the Peace Keeper in custody before the station they were in was ambushed by many more minions of the Peace Keepers. As Sam and Steve fought them off, a man came face to face with her. They fought for a little bit before the man pressed a syringe into her neck, causing the world to fade to darkness around her. Now, as she looked around the room she was in, she noticed she was strapped to a chair with duct tape in a small cement room almost like a cell. Her attention was caught when a man entered through the steel door in front of her, tilting her head slightly. She could feel his emotions and all he exuded was dominance and power.

“Welcome, Y/N.” He said towards her, his long blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, “I’m so excited you’re here. I have such great plans for you.”

“What are you thinking about, Bucky?” Y/N asks, laying on the grass next to him as they looked up at the stars. She didn’t wear her gloves around him anymore or hide her skin which made her feel more comfortable, more herself.

Bucky’s arms were stretched behind his head, his eyes glued to the dark sky that was littered with twinkling stars, “My amends. After I came back from the blip, Steve and Sam helped me get pardoned by the government except I had to do these therapy sessions. I had a list of everybody that either used the Winter Soldier or those the Winter Soldier wronged, wanting to make amends.”

Y/N turned onto her side to look at him, studying his face, “Did you finish your list?”

Bucky tilted his head over to look at her, “I did. Feels like I didn’t though.” He told her honestly. He was always honest with Y/N. She was the only other person that was easy to talk to besides Steve.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him as if trying to figure something out just by looking at him, “Maybe it’s because you didn’t put your own name on the list. The Winter Soldier wronged you too, Buck. Maybe it’s time to start making amends to yourself so you can truly finish your amends list. Tell yourself that you are James Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier anymore, and that you would like to make amends. Maybe it’ll make you feel like it’s complete.”

Bucky stared at her in awe. How did Y/N do that? How did she saw all the right things at the right time to him like she knew what he needed to hear? He moved his right hand to reach over and grip onto her’s, intertwining their fingers with a smile before looking up at the stars, “I think you’re right.”

“Well I don’t want to brag, but I usually am.”

Redwing returned to Sam after two weeks and losing track of where the Peace Keepers and Y/N were taken which only irritated Bucky more. He wanted to go to Seattle immediately and look for her himself but just when he was arguing with Steve and Sam about it, all the monitors in the briefing room suddenly turned on and started flashing imagines of the Peace Keeper’s symbol before footage of Y/N appeared on the screen. There were people holding her and making her touch a wall over and over again, holding her up even though she looked like she was asleep and collapsing. A voice started speaking on the screens though it seemed like it had been disguised because it was so deep, “As you can see and already know, we have taken one of your team. Y/N Y/L/N. We may not have the technology or methods used to create the obedience the Winter Soldier had, but we have our own methods.” The screen changed to show Y/N being tortured in different ways, breaking down her psyche by forcing her to do things and if she refused, she was either struck or was forced into freezing cold water. They were breaking her down and turning her submissive to their will. Bucky flinched at the images, he had trained her to fight and defend herself but not how to stay strong under torture, “Breaking down the mind, spirit and soul of a being is messy, but our methods are effective. Within one week of continuous strain on her mind due to no sleep and our training, Y/N has become submissive to simple commands. By week two, she has completely bent to our will and we unlocked her abilities to make it so she doesn’t have to touch people to manipulate them. With her, we will be able to bend anybody to our will.” The images changed from Y/N being tortured to her causing them to scream in pain that they felt like they were on fire and scratch at their skin until they were ripping their own skin off, “Let this be a warning to all enhanced beings. We will find you. We will bend you to our will. We will make you our soldiers. You are dangerous and the Peace Keepers will keep you in line.” Then the screens turned off.

Bucky shook his head, “I’ve read everything on brainwashing when I got my memories back. They’re using old soviet methods as well as methods L. Ron Hubbard used.”

“The scientology guy?” Sam asks confused as to what he had to do with anything.

Bucky nodded over to him, folding his arms tightly across his chest, “They believed that if you could make someone do something as simple like only touching a wall over and over again for days without sleep, food, or water, they could break your will and psyche. Make you do anything. That’s what they did to her, making her believe her only purpose is to do what they say or there will be punishment.” Steve ran his hand through his blonde hair slowly processing the information, “So she’s basically brainwashed. Not only can she manipulate emotions but she can make people feel pain instantly without touching them now, make them feel like they’re on fire until their bodies just give out.” He looked over to Sam and Bucky, “They’re going to find more enhanced humans to do this to, use her to make them comply with their orders.”

Bucky nodded, trying his best to get the images of Y/N being tortured out of his mind and remember her as she really is. He felt anger but going on a rampage wasn’t going to help at this point, “And where do we know of that they keep a bunch of enhanced beings?” “The Raft prison.” Sam said with a sigh. He’d been locked up there before until Steve broke them out. It was an awful place but if Steve could break his team members out, the Peace Keepers and their followers sure as hell could with the help of Y/N/

“Tell me about yourself, Bucky. Not the things I know…” Y/N said as they walked along the grass, twirling a wildflower between her fingers, “Who you really were in the forties.”

Bucky had his hands tucked in his jean pockets as they walked, “Oh, darlin, you would’ve loved me.” He said looking over to her with a grin, “All the girls did. I was kind of a player.”

Y/N laughs a little, “A player, huh? I don’t think I could picture that. So you used to be cocky and confident then?”

“Hell yeah.” Bucky said to her, “I had ladies lining up just to dance with Sergeant James Barnes. Always had my arms over at least two women’s shoulders.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at him with a smile, “Alright, I get it. You were the ladies man of the 1940’s.” She said, glancing up at him, “So, ladies man, were you ever in love? A lucky lady waiting for the handsome Sergeant Barnes back home?”

Bucky squinted his eyes into the distance at the question before looking over at her with that crooked smile only she could bring out of him, “Nah, nobody waiting for me except my family. But I once spent all my money trying to win a girl named Dot a prize at Cooney Island. Does that count as love?” He asks before stopping in his spot and tilting his head down at her, “Wait, you think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t think spending all your money on a woman counts. I think that’s just called being a Sugar Daddy.” Y/N stopped her steps when he did, turning and looking at him with a smirk, “Oh like you didn’t already know how handsome you are Mr. Cocky and Confident Ladies Man.”

When Sam, Steve, and Bucky arrived at the Raft prison on the quinjet, they were already under attack by the Peace Keepers. The only thing they had on their side was the element of surprise. They had discussed a plan on the way. Sam and Steve would keep the Peace Keepers busy while Bucky tried to get to Y/N. They infiltrated quickly, taking down the vast amount of the Peace Keeper followers until the got to the detention level where the enhanced beings were kept. That was where Y/N and the leaders of the Peace Keepers were, unlocking cells one by one and using Y/N to cause them pain or make them complicit to be captured. Steve and Sam immediately went to fighting the leaders of the Peace Keepers, pushing them into cells and slamming them shut to seal them in.

One of the Peace Keeper leaders stood next to Y/N. He turned to her, “Take them out.” He ordered.

Y/N looked at him with what could be considered dead, emotionless eyes before looking to Sam and Steve, “Pain.” Was all she said and instantly, Sam and Steve fell to the floor screaming and writhing on the floor.

“Y/N!” Bucky said, kicking one of the Peace Keeper leaders into the cell before turning his full attention on her, “Stop, you don’t want to do this.”

Y/N tilted her head at him and his words, her facial features unchanging. She then looked towards the Peace Keeper leader as it to ask for permission and he nodded toward her. Y/N returns her eyes on Bucky, “Pain.” Bucky winced at the sudden pain that erupted through his whole body besides his left vibranium arm. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to resist as every point of his body felt like it was on fire and he was being stabbed in every pore at the same time, “Y/N…” He growled out, taking slow steps towards her, “C’mon doll, it’s me, Bucky.” He groaned out, managing to get closer to her even though his body wanted to give out, join Sam and Steve who were still on the floor shaking. He managed to close the distance, using his vibranium arm to land a hard punch to the Peace Keeper leader next to Y/N, knocking him back into an open cell that slammed shut.

Y/N watched Bucky stand in front of her. His skin was covered with thick beads of sweat as he tried to resist the pain she was making him feel, “Paralyze.” She muttered out, watching his body fall to the floor.

Bucky laid on the floor, he couldn’t feel any part of his flesh body. But luckily, his vibranium arm didn’t seem to be affected by Y/N’s abilities. He reached out his vibranium arm, latching onto her ankle and pulling her down on top of him so her hands touched his skin. He needed to let her feel what he did, show her the emotions he felt hoping to ground her, “Y/N, listen to me.” He whispers out to her, feeling the paralysis start to fade when she made contact with his skin, “It’s me, Bucky. Mr. Cocky and Confident Ladies Man, remember?” Feeling his right flesh hand regain feeling, he reached a hand up to touch her cheek, “You are Y/N. Not a pawn for the Peace Keepers. You are everything good and you are as free as the butterflies on tattooed on your skin.”

Y/N shook her head at him, “No. I belong to the Peace Keepers.” She said to him softly. She was about to open her mouth again to cause him pain, but when her focus broke so did the hold she had on Steve and Sam. Sam quickly came flying in and kicked her off of Bucky, slamming her back against a wall hard enough to knock her out and fall to the floor.

Bucky was at her side immediately, glaring over at Sam, “I had it, birdbrain.” He spat out before his features softened as he brushed some hair from Y/N’s unconscious face.

“Yeah. You had all of that handled perfectly, Buck.” Sam said rolling his eyes, “She was about to twist you inside out. I saved you, man.”

Steve was busy informing the back up guards of the Raft prison on what had happened, helping them secure the Peace Keepers and the rest of the enhanced humans who weren’t in their cells.

Bucky lifts Y/N up from the cold floor gently, looking down at her, “I got you, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll take you home.”

“I like this place.” Y/N said, once again sitting with Bucky outside in the darkness of the night sharing a pack of beer as she stared up at the stars.

Bucky looked over at her curiously, wondering what she liked specifically about living at the facility. Their chairs were almost touching with how close they were sitting next to each other, “What do you like about it?”

Y/N turned her head to meet his gaze, “It just feels like home. Haven’t had that feeling in a long time.” A teasing smirk appeared on her lips suddenly towards him, “Plus I get to be a part of this really exclusive group, the Bucky Barnes friend group. Maybe you’ve heard of it? I keep suggesting we get matching jackets or something but nobody seems to agree.”

Bucky let out a laugh at her comment, “God, I’m never living that down. Thanks, Sam.” He said with a roll of his eyes and another swig of his beer, “And I wasn’t apposed to the matching jacket idea. Steve was. He said it would make Sam feel left out.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head, “Couldn’t have that.” She replies, “You may be able to fool everybody else, but I know he’s secretly your other other best friend. First best friend being Steve and the other being myself, then Sam.”

“It’s like being friends with a pigeon.” Bucky snorted, “Yeah, he isn’t all bad. Just sometimes his face does this thing that makes me mad. And he has that stupid RedWing robot he treats like a pet.”

“That thing with his face? That’s emotions, Bucky.” Y/N laughed again, “Emotions are normal. You and Steve are good at hiding your feelings, able to be stoic. But Sam wears all his feelings plain as day on his face. You can’t let that offend you, it’s just him being honest. But RedWing, yeah, I don’t understand why he treats it like a pet. That’s sort of weird.”

Bucky nodded to agree, drinking the rest of his beer he held in his left hand while his right hand subconsciously found Y/N’s intertwining their fingers and giving it a light squeeze.

Bucky looked down at Y/N who laid on the medical table. She seemed a little malnourished from being held captive for two weeks so Dr. Cho had an IV in her arm providing fluids and nutrition her body badly needed. Bucky was by her side constantly while she was under the light sedation Steve had suggested since they didn’t know if she would attack them or not. It had been days since Y/N had been brought back and Bucky was there at every moment he could be, holding onto her hand as they had done many times before. He was hoping, praying that Y/N was feeling all of the emotions he was just by his touch. He cared deeply for her, emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time since before World War II. He hoped she could feel his hope, the relief of her being here with him, the happiness just touching her made him feel… And the love he had been denying he felt for her. Bucky stood from his chair when he saw Y/N’s brow furrow as if she was about to wake up, squeezing her hand gently, “Y/N.” He breathed out to her, “Doll, you with me?”

Y/N opened her eyes lazily to look up at him, sensing his worry when she just stared at him. Slowly a smile came across her lips and she felt the relief instantly flood his body, “Bucky…” She managed to draw out though the sort of slurred from the sedation, “You love me.”

Bucky shook his head and chuckles down to her, “You felt that, huh?”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes slowly and lazily blinking, “I feel everything.” She murmurs out, squeezing his hand gently, “I feel honored…. Does this mean you’re gonna spend all your money trying to win me a prize?”

Bucky leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, “Whatever you want, darlin. I’m pretty sure I can win those prizes first try now though.” He grinned down to her, “Rest, doll. I’ll get Dr. Cho to wean you off of the sedation.”

A Week Later

Y/N was pretty much back to normal. She had a few nightmares that kept lingering due to the torture she endured and the things she was forced to do. Bucky helped her through it, knowing himself what it felt like to forced to be a pawn and go through the haunting nightmares. He made an open invitation to his bedroom towards her, allowing her to come and snuggle up next to him so she didn’t feel alone. They hadn’t discussed what was said when Y/N came out of sedation, the whole Bucky loves her thing which made him worry and panic that she didn’t feel the same way.

Y/N and Bucky sat outside in their normal spot, sharing this time a bottle of whiskey. Their hand were interlocked and they were laughing about some story about how Steve used to have to wear newspapers in his shoes prior to being all super soldier. Then it got quiet and Bucky was staring over at Y/N, examine every feature on her face. Y/N looked over and met his gaze, “What you worrying about?”

Bucky smiles slightly, of course she felt his worry. He looked down at the whiskey glass in his hand before placing it on the table in front of them. He stood up, pulling her up with him while his other hand grabbed her glass and put it next to his on the table. Bucky kept his flesh hand interlocked with her’s, bringing his vibranium one up to gently stroke the skin on her cheek with his finger tips, “I love you.” He breathed out to her.

Y/N smiles and tilts her head at him, “I know.” She told him, squeezing his hand lightly and taking a step closer. She licks her lips, narrowing her eyes at him.

Bucky tilted his head at her, suddenly feeling overwhelming feelings of warmth flooded his body. It felt like electricity was running through his bones, enough to power cities. It was pure happiness like he'd never felt before. It was so powerful, it felt like magic, "What're you doing, sweetheart?"

Y/N's eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, "I'm showing you how you make me feel, Bucky." She said softly to him, "Because I love you too." Bucky grinned down at her at the sound of her reciprocation of love, moving his vibranium hand to the back of her neck and pulling her face towards his, connecting their lips in a deep kiss. His tongue traced her bottom lip until her lips parted, allowing his tongue access to intertwine with hers. After a few moments, he pulled away and looked down at her with nothing but happy eyes, “You’re my girl.”

Y/N smiled at him brightly, slightly breathless from the kiss between them, “And you’re my home, Bucky Barnes.”

_____________________________________________________________

Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Rumor | JJ Maybank x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: A rumor spreads about you and JJ at a party. 

A/N: I changed the rumor that was spread instead of what you requested because this one flowed a little better than the other and I hope that’s okay!! I hope you guys enjoy and anon, thank you for requesting!! x 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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! Warning: cursing, talks of sex, being made fun of. 

You didn’t want to come to this party in the first place. You would have been just fine staying at home, alone on this Friday night, but the pogues thought you needed a night out in public. You were usually the quiet one of the group, stayed to yourself and wasn’t as confident and outgoing as the others. They respected that, usually, but tonight wasn’t one of those nights. 

“You’ve stayed in all week! It’s summer break and we deserve to go to a party.” JJ argues. 

You groan as you follow him and the other pogues into the large beach house, “And i’ve been fine staying at home. It’s been relaxing.” 

“You deserve a crazy night every once and a while.” He says, poking your side, which you immediately swat his hand away. 

“Your definition of a crazy night is much different from mine.” 

He sighs, “If you want to end the night early, come get one of us. Sound like a deal?” 

“Sounds like a great deal, I’m ready to end the night early, so lets leave now.” You smile. 

JJ rolls his eyes, “come on, pretty girl, time to party like the kooks.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into the house and through the crowd. He doesn’t let go of your hand as he talks to a few people on the way toward the drinks. 

Pretty girl was his nickname for you since childhood. You and the pogues practically grew up together, going through middle school and now high school together. You all were great friends, but you were closer to JJ than anyone. 

“Drink up,” He hands you a red solo cup that he just filled up from the punch bowl. 

You take a whiff of the cup and scrunch your nose up, “Oh my god, JJ what the hell is in this?” 

He shrugs, chugging his own, and wincing as the multiple alcohols burn his throat, “Just drink it.” 

You’re hesitant, but you tip the cup up, drinking the liquid. It takes everything you have not to gag on the taste. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, “now here, drink another. Have fun and don’t get into any trouble?” He hands you another cup. 

“You are not leaving me-” 

“I have to go say hey to some of the guys!” He calls back, already disappearing into the crowd. 

Damn it JJ. You groan. He left you standing alone in this large kitchen. You glance down at the cup in your hands before taking a few sips, a buzz coming along. Maybe this would help you to loosen up and be a little more confident. So, you downed that one and poured you another. 

Half an hour later and two more drinks, you’re sitting on the couch with a bunch of kooks, listening to them tell their best sex stories. 

“So, y/n.” One of the kook girls smirks, “Are you a virgin?” 

You flushed with embarrassment at the intimate question, “I mean-” 

“Oh my god,” another perked up, “You and JJ so did it!” 

“No we-” You try to defend. 

“You aren’t the only girl that’s lost her virginity to JJ Maybank.” The girl laughs, “I’m guessing that’s why you’re still friends? Couldn’t push it more than that?” 

“Me and JJ haven’t had sex.” You say. 

“Oh.” She frowns, “Well you want to have sex with him don’t you?” 

Before you could really answer, the alcohol answered for you, “yeah-” Your eyes went wide, “I mean no!” But it was too late. The girls were already giggling and the rumor was ignited. 

“hey everyone, y/n wants to fuck JJ Maybank!” The girl laughs and suddenly the room erupts in laughter. 

“As if he would even touch you!” 

The room suddenly felt very small and very hot. Everyone was pointing and laughing at you. Your breathing increased and you prayed JJ wasn’t in the room to hear this, but knew you could use him to calm you down. 

Tears stung and you jumped up from the couch and pushed your way through the laughing crowd. 

“Hey hey-” JJ grabs your arms, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He’d heard the commotion and headed toward the room when he grabbed you as you were leaving. 

You pulled your arms from him and run out the door without another word. 

“What the hell did you guys say to her?!” JJ stomped to the crowd of kooks, grabbing one of the guys, “huh?! What the fuck did you say?” 

The girls laughed, “Oh JJ calm down. We were just messing with her.” 

“She just told us the truth.” The other shrugs. 

“Which was what?” He lets go of the guy. 

“She wants you to have sex with her.” The girl smirks and then all of the kooks erupt in laughter once more. 

“As if JJ Maybank would have sex with someone like her!” another girl adds. 

“Fuck all of you.” He spits with anger, “She’s fucking amazing. She’s beautiful and sexy and she’s got a lot more going for her than any of you fucking pricks. I hear another one of you make a joke about her, i’ll beat every one of your asses.” And with that he leaves the room in search of you. 

“Y/n?!” He calls out as he enters the patio. “Y/n!” He calls out again and his eyes scan the beach. He spots someone sitting near the water and heads toward them. 

“y/n?” He asks softly when he hears the sobs. 

“Go away.” You sniffle. 

“They were being assholes, as usual.” He says coming closer, “They love to get under people’s skin.” 

You wipe the tears, “Yeah and this is why I don’t come to these kind of parties.” 

He sighs and takes a seat in the sand next to you, “come on...” He gently nudges you, “You’re too pretty to be crying.” He pulls his long sleeve down his arm and uses it to wipe a tear when you look up at him. 

“Please don’t tell me you heard what was said.” 

The face he makes answers it all. “Yes but-” 

“Great!” You quickly stand, “Fucking fantastic.” 

“y/n, just wait!” He stands to follow you down the beach, grabbing your arm and turning you around to face him. His hands keep their place on both your arms and he leans in to plant a hard kiss on your lips. 

You’re taken back and your eyes are wide as you stand there still as a statue. 

He pulls away, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t..” He lets go of your arms, his eyes now wide. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Then we’ll forget all about it.” You wipe your lips, “It was a pity kiss anyways.” You interpret his apology as regret, like he really didn’t want to kiss you and only felt bad for you. 

“No-damnit it wasn’t!” He groans, “I’ve wanted to do that for years.” He runs a hand over his hair, taking a deep breath, “Y/n i’ve been in love with you for years.” He drops his hands, “I’ve never known how to tell you because we’re different and I didn’t think you deserved someone like me. I’m not someone you should be with.” 

“JJ..” 

“You’re perfect.” He laughs a little, “Perfect, and not someone I deserve to be with. I don’t deserve someone as great as you. I mean you’re funny, caring. and you’re really beautiful. Like really really beautiful. and you deserve someone like.. someone who isn’t me.” 

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol still in your system, but you took the confident leap and stepped forward toward him. Your hand found his neck and you pulled him down to your lips. “I love you too, JJ.”  

Comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated xx 

Obx taglist: @poguestyleskye​ , @alexa-playafricabytoto​ , @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ , @prejudic3 , @turtlee-says-rawr​ , @outrbanks​ , @k-k0129​ , @annedub​ , @rockyyc77​ , @ilovejjmaybank​ , @treestarrrrrrrr​​ , @thedarkqueenofavalon​ , @write-from-the-heart​ , @lasnaro , @ircnwitch, @normatural​ , @kaylinfayezink​ , @lordsagittarius , @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ , @thelovelydreamer17​ , @chasefreakinstokes​ , @fanficscuziranout​ , @diverrdown​ , @tregua-oca​ , @junkiemuppettxx​ , @afterglowsb-tch13​ , @hardyxlove​ , @cinnamon-roll-seth​ , @copper-boom​ , @dpaccione​ , @themaddies-obx​ , @ocean-breezq​

JJ Maybank // Rudy Pankow taglist: @thatweirdblondesword​ ,  @saltwatercowb0y , @popcrone818​ , @thee-sex​ , @coni-martina​ , @pm-my-hubbies​ , @timotaychalabae , @katiaw2​ , @maybebanks​ , @sataninsatin​ , @obx-beach​ , @fangirlvoice​ , @lolitstiana , @teamnick​ , @danicarosaline​ , @losers-club6​ , @bananasfromtarget​ , @rudypankowswife​ , @fratboystark​ , @notmcchkn​ , @obx-beach​ , @ifilwtmfc​ , @mk15x , @bibliophilewednesday​ , @irdkwhatimdoinghere​ , @maybankbby​ , @halobaby​ , @lilsiswinchester , @iccyyyybitch​ , @http-cherries​ , @tovvaa​

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore​ ( @obxrafejjwhore​ ), @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

[amjustagirl]

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

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

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance 

Wordcount: 7.8k 

Masterlist link here

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

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

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

It must be the worst meet cute of all time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why on earth did he agree to this again? 

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

His glare softens by a fraction. 

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hm.’ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Dramatic ass.’ 

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

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

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

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

Then he takes a breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts. 

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders. 

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

Much, much worse. 

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

He ends up face planting directly into her chest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes her hand with a rare smile. 

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

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

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

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

He appreciates that. 

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

He likes that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He finds himself wondering about them. 

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

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oikawa Tooru . 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. That was unexpected. 

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

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They move in together after that. 

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

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

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

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

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

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly. 

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

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

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

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath. 

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

He waits. 

Then his phone buzzes. 

Ah. 

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

“Omi?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

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

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

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

Taglist: 

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