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babybluebex · 3 years

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vanilla sponge [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 5.5k ➽ summary: the four times bucky said goodbye and the one time he said hello ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, ANGST, eventual happy ending ➽ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BONK!!!! i meant for this to be a fluff blurb but it.... evolved lol. thanks @groupieforbucky for beta reading this! masterlist/taglist in bio!

March 10, 1935

You sat on the hood of the car, watching Bucky mess with a candle in front of you. His lighter wasn’t wanting to catch in the cold evening breeze, but he was adamant on lighting the candle up. “What’s the big deal with this candle, Buck?” you asked. “You’re just gonna blow it right out. You really want it that bad?”

Bucky scoffed at you. “Sweet, simple Y/N,” he chuckled. “It’s a tradition for me. My mom used to do it, so I have to.”

You sighed softly, and you stretched your hands out in front of you. Bucky looked at you for a moment, his eyes sweeping over your frame, and he stepped closer. His large hips settled between your knees easily and he put his hands in yours, and you clicked your tongue.

“No, you twit,” you giggled. “Gimme the damn lighter.”

Bucky tilted his head at you and smiled, and he jumped up onto the hood of the car next to you. The two of you had driven out into the countryside for a night alone, just you and your Bucky on his birthday. You had even baked a cake-- you had been saving money for months to be able to afford all of the ingredients for his favorite vanilla sponge. The cake had sat in a box in the backseat of Bucky’s car as you two had walked along the riverside and splashed cold March water on each now, and now it sat next to you as you yourself were sat with Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. James Barnes was a great guy, charming and cordial, turning 18 that day. He didn’t have much family besides you and your friend from school Steve Rogers, but, as Bucky often said, “You’re easier on the eyes than ol’ Stevie.”

You lit the lighter with ease, shielding the little flame with your body, and you successfully lit the candle and stuck it into the top of the cake. “Make a wish, Buck,” you said, offering him the cake. “But you can’t tell me what it is, remember.”

“Well, why not?” Bucky scoffed. “I wanna tell you what my wish is.”

“‘Cause it won’t come true, whacky,” you giggled. “Blow out your candle before it drips wax onto your cake.”

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes reflecting the orange of the setting sun, and he finally rounded his pink lips and blew out the candle in one strong, swift breath. The smoke curled upwards and you plucked it out of the cake, and you smiled at the bit of white frosting that got on your finger. “Happy birthday, baby,” you said, swiping the tip of his nose with the frosting, and he laughed. “I hope it’s a good one.”

“It’s the best one yet,” Bucky said. “Besides the inaugural one, of course.”

“I wish I could’ve gotten you something more than a stupid cake,” you mumbled.

“No, I love it,” Bucky insisted. “It’s really tasty; you worked hard on it.” With that, he scooped up the bit of frosting from his nose and offered his finger to you, and you licked up the frosting.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it,” you replied, straightening your posture. “C’mon, eat up. My curfew is at nine.”

Bucky began to eat the cake with his fingers, offering you bits every so often. The car radio was playing just loud enough for you two to hear, and, even with Bucky’s jacket, you found yourself scooting closer and closer to him. You loved him. This wasn’t typical puppy love. You could see yourself baking Bucky vanilla sponge cakes for years to come. Even though he always told you that there was no chance he’d be sent over, you imagined sending him a letter with the recipe so that, at the very least, he could think of you.

Finally, the box was empty, and Bucky laid back onto the hod, sucking bits of crumbs from his fingers. “Thanks for that, doll,” he said, and you cuddled up into his side. His arms were behind his head, and you settled your head in his underarm. It smelled so much like him and was so ridiculously warm, and you melted into him fully. “I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his arm. “I love this.”

“This?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged and pressed your hand to his chest. “Just being here with you,” you said softly. “I never want it to end.”

Bucky sighed, and he leaned to kiss your head. “Me too,” he whispered. A few quiet moments passed, and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Can you promise me something, dollface?”

“Anything,” you agreed.

“We’ll spend every birthday together,” Bucky said. “Even if we’re apart, you’ll send me letters and all. I’ll do the same for your birthday too.”

You nodded, and you clasped Bucky’s big hand in your little one. “Deal,” you whispered. “As long as I can make you cakes.”

“I can’t bake worth shit,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll have to teach me.”

“I’d love to do that, Bucky,” you told him.

March 10, 1942

“Look at you,” you cooed. “All gussied up. What’s the occasion, Sarge?”

Bucky threw his arms around your waist and spun you around, earning him a squeal. He wore his dress uniform, his tie done perfectly and belt cinched around his jacket. His shoes were shiny and his hair gelled and combed, his face clean-shaven. He smelled like the aftershave you had gotten him for Christmas. There was an obvious occasion, and you figured that it was something more than his 25th birthday. “I wanted to take my dame out to dinner,” Bucky said, turning you so that your back pressed against his front. “Is that allowed, Mrs. Barnes?”

You giggled as Bucky snuffled his mouth into your neck. “I guess so,” you huffed. “But it’s your birthday! I should be doing something for you!”

“You let me have dessert for breakfast,” Bucky laughed. Then, he kissed your neck, and he added, “And then you gave me vanilla sponge cake afterwards. You’ve done plenty for me, doll.”

“But it’s usually tradition for the birthday-haver to be the guest of honor,” you said. “And for you to be pleased. It doesn’t make sense that you do all the work today. That’s not how birthdays work.”

“Well, dollface, that’s why I joined the Army, remember?” Bucky laughed. “Wanna help people, all that business?”

“I thought it was to get away from me,” you giggled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right, because I joined the Army to get away from you and immediately turned around and married you to keep you around,” he scoffed. “You’re not thinking right, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m still fuzzy from this morning,” you admitted. Bucky’s arms tightened around you and drew you closer into him, and he took a deep breath from your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the powder you had used on your face. “You broke my brain, you and your stupid tongue.”

“And my lips,” Bucky added cheekily. “Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I won’t ever forget that. But don’t you agree?”

“Christ, woman!” Bucky laughed. “Let me take you to dinner! Why’re you fighting this so hard?”

“I’m not fighting it!” you said quickly. “I’m just saying that it’s not how it’s usually done!”

“Well, we don’t do things the usual way, do we?” Bucky laughed. “Anyway, I think I like this better. Any day I don’t shower you with my love is a wasted day.”

“You’re corny,” you laughed.

“But you love it,” Bucky said, and you shrugged.

“Tolerate, more like,” you said, and Bucky laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment, and you said, “Finish getting ready, I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t take too long, dollface,” Bucky said, knocking your chin lightly with his finger. “I already miss you.”

You wrestled yourself from Bucky’s grip and went to the door, and you opened it wide to see a man dressed like your Bucky. Older and stern, he struck a sense of fear and apprehension into you. “Is this the home of Sergeant James B. Barnes?” he asked in a thick voice.

“Yes,” you replied.

“Is Sergeant Barnes around?” the man asked.

You swallowed thickly. You already knew what this man’s presence meant. You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let the man in, and you called, “Bucky, sweetheart! You’ve got a visitor!”

“Is it Stevie?” Bucky called from the depths of the apartment.

“No, it’s…” you started. “Just come here, James.”

Bucky appeared at light speed. You never called him James, not even on the day that you had gotten married. He was your Bucky. As soon as he spotted the Army man at your side, his body went rigid, and he gave the man a salute. “At ease, Sarge,” the older man said. “You two seem in good spirits.”

“It’s…” Bucky began and cleared his throat. His stance relaxed, and his arm slid carefully around your waist. “It’s my birthday, sir. We were on our way to dinner.”

“Might have to cancel that reservation,” the Army man rumbled. “The 107th is being called to Germany.”

Your heart sank, and you couldn’t control the tears that stung your eyes. Bucky’s jaw flexed tightly as he absorbed the information, and he sighed heavily. “When do we leave?” he asked slowly.

“In the morning,” Bucky’s superior said. “The planes ship out at oh-five-hundred.”

Even under Bucky’s arm, the room felt cold. The trumpet on the radio sounded so distant, and you heard the two men having a conversation behind a veil of disbelief. Bucky had promised you that he wouldn’t get sent overseas. He said the 107th didn’t do that. He had promised you. He had fucking promised you. You broke out of his grip and escaped into the kitchen, and your gaze focused on the cake that sat on the counter. A piece was taken from it, the slice that you had allowed him for breakfast, and the cake itself was housed in a pretty glass cover that your mother had bought you as a wedding present. The candle was still stuck into the top of it, the tip burnt black and curled up.

“Y/N,” you heard from the door, and you turned to see your husband. His face was pale, his blue eyes as dark as the ocean, and he chewed his bottom lip. “Doll, I--”

“There’s nothing you can say to make this better,” you whispered. “You have to go. It’s what it is. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.” You turned back quickly, sniffling and trying to hide your tears, and you added, “Your bag’s in the spare room. I think your nametag’s in the box in our closet, I can check if you need me to.”

Suddenly, his strong arms were around you, holding you to his chest. Bucky didn’t say a word. The material of his dress uniform was itchy against your skin and you could only imagine what it felt like for him, and your knees buckled. The tears came, hot and burning your cheeks, and a sob wrecked your throat. “You promised me,” you whimpered. “You fucking promised me, you bastard! You said that the 107th doesn’t get sent over, you fucking lied to me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Bucky said, his voice rising to match yours. “You would’ve made yourself sick with all your worrying about when I’d be sent overseas, and I didn’t want that for you!”

You broke yourself from his grip, and you sniffled up your tears as best as you could. Even if your heart wasn’t crushed, you cried when you were angry, so tears were bound to happen no matter what. “So you lied to me instead?” you asked. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, Bucky? I’ve never lied to you, and I only expected the same from you; I didn’t expect for you to lie about something so fucking big! Jesus Christ, I can’t stand the sight of you.”

“Doll, please, listen to me,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Bucky was bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you. He had a tough skin and an even tougher heart from years of neglect and rejection. But you were his weakness. He cried when you did, laughed when you did, kissed you harder when you kissed him. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, but your heart burned with acidic hate. “Get out,” you said. “If you’re gonna leave in the morning, I don’t see why you need to stick around here any longer.”

“Y/N!” Bucky cried. “Darling, please settle down!”

“If you’re so keen on leaving, then do it,” you said, wrenching your arm from his grip. “And don’t call me darling. Don’t call me doll, don’t call me nothing. You gave that up when you lied to me for years! Our entire relationship! You were already enlisted when we met! You have literally lied to me every day for seven years! What else are you lying to me about? What else are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing!” Bucky said. “Christ, you need to settle down, please. I know you’re upset, but do you really think leaving things like this will make you feel better?”

“It’ll make me feel something,” you whispered. “Something other than missing you. Go stay with Steve or whatever, I just… I just don’t want to fall asleep next to you, and then wake up and not have you there. I… I wanna say goodbye.”

Bucky took a tentative step towards you, then pulled you close to him. His eyes were watery as he looked at your face, and he swiped away your makeup with his thumb. He smiled wistfully, every single memory of you that he had shooting through his brain as quickly as they could manage, and he said, “Then don’t. I’m coming back, my love. I promise you. And I’m not keeping anything from you. All my cards are on the table here, doll. I’m coming back for you.”

You two devised a plan. You and Bucky would go to bed, but he would wake you up when he did, and you would get a goodbye. You helped him pack his bag according to regulation, and you carefully slipped in a picture that your mother had taken on your wedding day. You sat in the middle, veil over your hair, flowers still fresh, with Steve Rogers next to you. You were about an inch taller than him in the picture, but you both were smiling. The bride and the best man. You knew that Bucky needed to be reminded of his brother as much as he was reminded of you.

When the alarm rang shrilly in the morning, you watched from the bed as Bucky got up and dressed in his uniform. An olive green that complimented his skin, his boots tied around his ankle, and his silver dog tags buried under his collar. He turned to you, silent, crying, and he moved back to the bed. You still wore your nightgown, and Bucky took the lacy hem in his fingers and sighed. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered.

Your arms went around his neck and tugged him in, and he buried his face in your neck. You caressed his head as he cried, and you tried to hug him as tightly as he had hugged you. “I’ll miss you more,” you whispered back. Your chest hurt with the urge to cry, but even the notion of it made you feel sick to your stomach. “I love you so much, Bucky.”

“When I get home,” Bucky said. “I’m gonna hold you and never let you go.”

“I’ll pencil it in,” you said through your tears.

As soon as the door shut, you pulled his pillow to your mouth, closed your teeth around it, and screamed.

March 10, 1943

Steve’s heart ached as he looked at the door. It was a normal apartment door, a little plaque with the number on it, above a peephole, but there was a little green ribbon held to the door with scotch tape. Bucky’s place. He remembered when Bucky had told him that you and him had gotten a place in the city. He was excited and said that he couldn’t wait for Steve to come over and see it. But that was before Bucky got sent to Germany. Before Steve joined Project Rebirth, before… Everything. He would be surprised if you recognized him right away.

He knocked on the door. There was a thumping from inside the apartment, and he heard your voice say, “Motherfucker…” before the door opened. You looked good. Your skin was glowing, your hair was done, and you were even wearing makeup. Steve had always known you as very put together, but you were Bucky’s wife. You were beautiful to him. Confusion was etched across your face, and you slowly said, “Can I help you, sir?”

Steve slowly took off his uniform hat. “You’re Mrs. Barnes?” he said, even though he knew the answer. There was a protocol to follow. The Army allowing him to be the one to deliver the news was enough of a breach.

“Yes,” you said carefully. “Can I inquire as to who’s asking?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he began, and your mouth dropped into a shocked look. “With the United States Army.”

“Stevie!” you cried, and you threw yourself at him. You knew that he had finally managed to join the Army and that he was sent to Germany as well, but you hadn’t had any correspondence with him. Bucky had stopped answering your letters and, while you feared the worst, you tried to keep your anxiety at bay. There was a reason, one that didn’t involve Bucky dying. There had to be. “Oh my God! You’re so… Big! I mean, I heard about the whole Project Rebirth thing and saw pictures of you, but… You’re taller than me now!”

Steve gripped you tightly. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it’s just me and Alpine, but you’re always welcome here, Stevie. Can I make you a drink? There’s some cake in the kitchen…”

Steve distantly listened to your chatter as he stepped into the apartment. It was warm and smelled like vanilla, and the walls were a pleasant beige with pictures. An official picture of Bucky hung in a nice frame right by the door, and Steve smiled at his best friend. “Cake?” he repeated suddenly, processing your words.

“Yeah!” you replied. “Buck’s favorite birthday cake. I’ve made it for him every year and, even though he’s in Germany right now, it didn’t feel right not to make it, ya know?”

Steve carefully sat down at the little wooden table in the kitchen, and he watched a fluffy white cat jump up to meet him. You served him a slice of cake on a pretty china plate, and you sat and buried your chin in your palm. “So what’s going on with you? Did you just get back?”

Steve couldn’t even bear to look at the cake. “No,” he said. “I have to go back in the morning.”

“Oh,” you said, and your heart sank. “Is everything alright?” You pulled Alpine into your grip and gently stroked her back, and you watched Steve’s gaze falter between you and the cake. “Steve. Is something wrong?”

Steve sighed, and his big shoulders sank. “A few months ago, Bucky and other soldiers in the 107th Infantry were taken as POWs. I led a team and we managed to rescue them. But then Bucky joined a squad that I was a part of, The Howling Commandos. As part of a mission with the Howlies, Bucky was--”

“Stop,” you hissed. You set Alpine aside and stood up, and you pressed your knuckles to your mouth. You knew it. You knew that Stevie was too good to be true. He was there to deliver bad news, the worst news for a military wife to be told. You sighed and hung your head, and you whispered, “Is there a body, at least?”

The chair creaked as Steve stood up, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We couldn’t locate one,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You sniffled. “An empty casket,” you mumbled. “An empty home, empty promises… Steve. Is there any hope that he’s alive? Even, like, infinitesimal? Even one percent?”

Steve shook his head, blond bangs falling onto his forehead. “He fell from a train, Y/N,” he said carefully. “We couldn’t recover a body. If he is alive, then… I think that would be worse. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your legs felt weak, and you braced yourself on the table. Bucky was dead. Your greatest fear had been realized. “What do we do, Stevie?” you whispered.

“We?” Steve asked.

“He was your brother,” you said softly. “He had you when he had nobody else. I think you’re more important to him than me.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said simply. “I chose him, but he chose you. He chose you to live the rest of his life with. He was stuck with me.”

You felt like a ghost as you walked into the living room and sat on the floor. You stared at everything, letting the silence gather around you. The coffee table was still crooked from where Bucky had last sat on the couch; his legs were longer and he always pushed it back to rest his feet. You fussed at him about it, but you didn’t actually mind it all that much. His favorite record was still on the player, playing empty static from when it had ended and you hadn’t flipped it over. Alpine had made a nest out of blankets on the couch, and you tilted your head when you saw that one of them was one that Bucky had made you. He was rather adept at knitting and had made it with yarn he had smuggled back to base, and it came in a package postmarked from Germany. You had referred to it as Bucky’s German blanket, but it was soft and smelled like him. You imagined him sleeping with the unfinished scraps every night. He was gone. He wouldn’t ever put his feet on the coffee table again. He wouldn’t ever get up with a grunt to flip his record and sweep you into his arms and dance with you.

Steve came to sit next to you, and he put a heavy arm over your shoulders. “I managed to nab this from his stuff,” he began, clasping his hand with yours. “Figured you’d want it. He took it off before missions because he said he didn’t want it to get messed up, and it stayed with his bag. It takes forever to out-process a soldier’s personal belongings, and I… I knew you’d want it sooner rather than later.”

A gold ring. The one you had put on Bucky’s finger that day. The wedding was beautiful for what it was. It wasn’t big by any means, just you and Bucky, Steve, and your mother. Your mother provided the veil and Bucky the rings, and Steve had picked a few flowers from his neighbors’ garden box. You had elected to get married at the courthouse rather than a church, and you remembered Bucky being flushed and giggling the entire time. You still wore your gold rings; you never took them off.

You grasped Steve’s hand and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered, and your tears finally fell. “It means a lot.”

“You’ll see him again,” Steve told you. “I know you will.”

You sighed and held the ring tightly in your palm. “I hope so.”

March 10, 2023

The breeze was cold as it drifted off of the lake, and Bucky nestled further into his jacket. He was sure there was some level of impropriety to wearing a leather jacket to a funeral, but it was a last minute thing. He didn’t want to come. He felt like he was disrespecting Tony by being there, but Steve had talked him into it. The jacket was the only black thing he owned that covered his arm.

“You sure you wanna go?” Sam asked again, and Steve scoffed. “I mean… There’s so much here.”

“You know that’s a lie,” Bucky laughed. “There’s nothing here for Stevie.”

“Or Bucky,” Steve added. “We’re not from here, Wilson. Not really, anyway. We belong… Somewhere else. Sometime else.”

Sam nodded slowly. He knew that it was true. Steve and Bucky were better off back in the 1940s. “Buck,” he started. “Just… Be good to her.”

Bucky turned to Sam. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Sam was talking about. He had never once mentioned his wife to Sam, and he knew that Steve wasn’t one to tell. Any artifact that Bucky had of you had been lost to Hydra or time, and the only concrete thing he had was a little newspaper clipping that he kept tucked away: your name, listed in the obituary section. You were nearly a hundred when you were dusted five years ago. Bucky had Washington DC the first chance he had and had hunted down your name on the memorial. Y/N Barnes. Two simple words that had the weight of the universe crashing down on Bucky’s shoulders. Apparently, you had never remarried. You never had children. You had lived as a social worker, helping kids in the system go to good homes, and Bucky knew that he had chosen a good one 88 years ago.

“You say a woman’s name when you sleep sometimes,” Sam said. “Y/N… That’s why you’re going back, right? To see her?”

Even the sound of your name brought a smile to Bucky’s tired face. “Who told you that you could talk to me about my love life?” he asked, even though he was laughing and smiling now. “We’re work partners, remember? We’re not friends.”

“Right, right,” Sam laughed, kicking a rock with his boot. “Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. Neither of you. I don’t trust the two of you together… All kinds of shenanigans.”

Bucky smiled at Steve. “How can we?” he asked.

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said, throwing a smile to Sam. “Be good, Wilson. Maybe get a hobby.”

“I hear knitting’s pretty nice,” Bucky said, and he took Steve’s hand to assist in climbing onto the platform.

“Or baking,” Steve added.

“Oh, man, I could do with a slice of cake,” Bucky chuckled.

“Give it ten minutes,” Steve said. “You’ll get your birthday cake.”

“Whoa, birthday?” Sam said. “Is it your birthday, Buck?”

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky snapped.

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled.

“Punk.”

The sound of the machinery began to whir, and Sam called, “Happy birthday, old man!”

And they were gone.

March 10, 1949

You flitted around the apartment, stepping quickly to avoid the little grey kittens all over the floor. As much as you tried to keep them corralled in one place, kittens did what they wanted. The sun coming through the window kept the kitchen floor warm, and Alpine and her babies were often found lounging on the warm tiles.

“Christ above, Jefferson, look at the mess you’ve made!” you exclaimed, bending down and picking up the little kitten. Jefferson was the second of five kittens, and he was the most rambunctious of the group. He was the one to skitter around the apartment at three with a sudden zest for life and, as cute as it was, it made your sleep schedule hell. The little kitten had wet food all over his face, and you quickly wiped him clean with the corner of your dress. “Need to get you a bib, you little wild man.”

The doorbell rang, and a firm knock landed on the door simultaneously. “Coming!” you called, then, quieter, you said to Jefferson, “They really wanna see me, huh?”

You kept Jefferson under your arm as you traipsed to the door, and you knew that Monroe and Buren were right underfoot; they always were. You could hardly walk anywhere without the risk of smushing a kitten. You really needed to get started on adopting these fellas out, but something about being the crazy widowed cat lady at the end of the hall seemed to suit you. The knock came again, harder, threatening to bust the door in two, and you huffed in annoyance. “I said I’m coming!”

You opened the door and pushed Monroe and Buren away with your foot. Little escape artists, they were. “Can I help you?” you asked, looking up to the man that stood there.

He was familiar, but so distant. He had long, dark hair tied back, wrinkles around his eyes from exhaustion, dark hair around his mouth. He was all muscle underneath a buttoned shirt, and your eyes canvassed the weird shining metallic sleeve over his left arm. His mouth was slightly open as he looked at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Hello?” you asked, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Do you need anything?”

“Y/N…” he started, and your body ran cold. “It… It’s you.”

You quickly set Jefferson on the floor, and you closed the door behind you to prevent kittens from spilling into the hall. “James?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You… Are you real?”

Bucky laughed lightly, and he took your hand. He looked down at it, still wearing your rings, and he laughed again. “Oh, dollface,” he whispered, and he put his hands on your face. You flinched away from the sting against your cheek, and Bucky quickly pulled his left hand away. “You’re as pretty as the day I left you.”

“Buck…” you said softly. “I can’t even begin to… How? I was told that you… You died, Bucky. How are you here?”

“I’ll tell you, doll,” Bucky said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Bucky looked around the apartment as he stepped in, his eyes skating in wonderment. “Looks the same,” he said softly.

“I couldn’t bear to change it too much,” you said softly. “Oh, umm, the white cat’s named Alpine, and all the others…” You gestured to the kittens littered around the room. “Jefferson, Monroe, Buren, Polk, and Pierce… I can’t tell them apart, really. Jefferson is the energetic one, and Monroe and Buren are always underfoot, but the rest--”

Bucky kissed you. You melted into his body, the way you always had, and you tugged him close by his hair and kissed back. You had missed him. Seven years was a hell of a long time to miss someone. You had almost forgotten the feel of his body against yours. He smelled just like himself, sounded like himself, and looked like himself (maybe a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, actually). “Bucky,” you whispered, and his arm went around your waist and pulled you against him even closer. His touch and grip was rougher than before, but that was war, you supposed. “Bucky, I just--”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, doll. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I don’t need an excuse, love,” you told him. You had forgotten the way he looked at you, his blue eyes gazing at you like you had fixed the stars in his likeness, and you felt like the silly little girl back in high school who had a crush on a senior. “I don’t need anything.”

“Just me,” Bucky whispered.

“Just you,” you agreed. You sighed and kissed him again, and your heart swelled. Your Bucky was finally home. “Actually, I do wanna know about--”

“The arm?” Bucky asked.

“The hair,” you finished, twirling a dark strand around your finger. “But, yeah, I’m curious about the arm too.”

“It’s a long story,” Bucky sighed.

“‘Long’ as in ‘there’s a lot of moving parts’?” you asked.

“‘Long’ as in ‘I’ve waited for 81 years to get you back’,” Bucky said, and he pushed your hair behind your ear with a deft metal finger. “‘Long’ as in ‘I was kidnapped by Nazis and frozen for decades’. ‘Long’ as in I traveled back in time to get you’. ‘Long’ as in… Just fucking long, doll. It’s gonna take me a while to tell the story.”

Your mind was whirling, and you pulled him down to the couch. “So, you fought Nazis and time to get to me?”

Bucky shrugged slowly. “I mean, that’s a vast oversimplification, but, essentially, yeah.”

You smiled. “You’re gonna need to explain this real slow,” you laughed. “I’ve never been as smart as you.”

The smile that you had coveted for years was back. “You’re selling yourself short there,” Bucky said. “You’re the best girl I know. You’re my best girl, ya know that? The only girl I’ve ever wanted.”

After years of crying tears of sorrow, your tears were of happiness. You were smiling and laughing, kissing Bucky and tasting his own salty tears. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered.

“Did you make a cake?” Bucky asked.

You nodded. “Of course. Your favorite: vanilla sponge.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #avengers #marvel #angst

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thechekhov · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw on a post that you're agender and I'm kinda questioning my gender (again) but what interested me more about that post was that you said you believe that gender is a social construct and I'm not really familiar with that theory. I was wondering if you could explain to me what the whole idea is? (bc I kinda only feel like a have a gender in social situations? In my head, my dreams and how I picture myself in the future, I'm genderless idjskahwksjejensj) Sorry for bothering you if I did.

This is a BIG topic and it opens a LOT of wormholes.

We’re gonna do this in pie slice statements that will hopefully help explain what I mean. Please keep in mind I’m going to simplify many things for the sake of readability.

1) What is a social construct?

Social constructs are ideas that are negotiated by social groups. Something being a social construct does not make it ‘not real’.

For example, money is a social construct. Yes, we have cash - coins, credit cards - but these are physical props that are REPRESENTATIVE of the idea of currency. You have some form of credit to your name - the money is a socially agreed-upon idea of value being represented by bills in your hand, by numbers in your bank account.

[Description: Two humanoid figures are standing side by side. The right-side figure is holding a rock in its hand.

Right side figure: Let’s agree that this shiny rock is worth 2 sheep.

Left side figure: Sounds fake but ok.]

Technically, countries are also social constructs. We, as a society, negotiate what a country is, and this can be changed.

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of a dotted line drawn on the ground. The left figure is pointing down at it while the right figure watches, its arms crossed.

Left figure: Let’s pretend that everything on this side of the imaginary line is mine.

Right figure: ...ok but my house is over there.

Left figure: ... for 3 shiny rocks you can come visit.]

Does that mean canada isn’t real? No. (I mean, obviously canada ISN’T real, but we all agree to pretend it is.) The thing that makes it real is that we are in agreement, and all follow the social rules of pretend to make it seem like the Canadian border, the idea of Canadian citizenship, etc... is an objective fact. (It’s not. These are in fact, negotiable limits and parameters. We have laws in place to define it in legal terms, but those laws can be changed, or may change in the minds of communities. That’s why it’s a construct.)

By that same token, I hold the view that gender, as we largely perceive it in modern society, is a construct. Why? Because it is not inherent; we, as a society, negotiate its meaning.

2) What is gender?

People will probably fight me on this and that’s fine, but here’s my (simplified) understanding of gender (from someone who personally has none)

Gender is a social category negotiated by cultures based on your assigned or desired role in your community that influences, among many other things, your physical appearance, your role in family units, your expected position in jobs, etc.

How I think it happened:

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of the panel, both holding children-looking figures. The one on the left is wearing purple. The one on the right is wearing green.

Green figure: Hey, I’ve got an idea. What if we separate the babies into two groups based on physical traits they have no control over?

Purple figure: Wh-- okay...?

Green figure: And then limit the jobs they can do and the community ritual involvement available to them based on that!

Purple figure: ... I feel like this is going to backfire on us someday.

Green figure: Nah, it’ll be fine.

The past panel is a dramatic closeup on the purple figure’s face - which is featureless - betraying a deeply doubtful emotion. It says nothing.]

Important points to remember: what gender looks like, what the limits are, what the expectations are... are not inherent to any human biology. We make up gender roles. This is evident in the fact that across the world, gender roles differ by culture. The positions people of a certain gender are allowed to take up are different. What is perceived to be ‘girly’ or ‘boyish’ is different across cultures.

Simply speaking - currently the (western) model we have, dumbed down, is:

You are assigned male at birth because of physical characteristics

You are raised being told to ‘toughen up’ and ‘boys don’t cry’ and encouraged not to show emotions

You are taught to wear male-coded clothes and discouraged from female-coded fashion choices

You are given more opportunities to participate in sports, encouraged to engage in physical activity, etc

You are not expected to need time off for child-rearing

Here’s where gender as it works in society breaks down into being not a real thing but instead something we thought up:

Nothing about having a penis necessitates wearing pants. Nothing about having XY chromosomes means you need to keep your hair short. Nothing about your genome makes the experience of nail-polish different for any human being.

All of these are arbitrary traits we decided were allowed or not allowed to a specific group of people based on entirely unrelated physiology.

Even if we delve deeper, there is MORE variation among individuals of the same ‘sex’ than there are, on average, of members of the ‘opposite sex’ when compared to each other.

Many people use the excuse ‘women are physically not as strong as men’ to say that this has an evolutionary aspect driving these cultural, historical, socially-constructed gender requirements.

But if there was a physical reasoning behind the culturally-set gender-limited job expectations, then we actually WOULDN’T need a traditional binary gender system to sort ourselves into categories. It would simply be decided as a meritocracy - stronger individuals, regardless of gender, would be given physically-demanding jobs. (Also we know that many jobs thought to be ‘traditionally male’ are just the result of sexist bullshit, so this reasoning doesn’t fly any further than I can throw it which is, coincidentally, not very far. Politics is one such area. Doctors are another. We can go on but I think you get my drift.)

My own example of this is an anecdote when my grandparents came to visit my partner and I in Japan. While we were driving down to Tokyo, my grandmother - who has a PhD in entomology - began to say that driving is a masculine activity and women shouldn’t be driving as it was ‘un-woman-like’. My partner almost immediately fired back that in Japan, studying insects or having any interest in them whatsoever was considered a heavily masculine-coded activity. In Russia, there is no such assignment, and my grandmother was left silently blinking in confusion, unable to come up with any excuse except ‘well, all cultures are different, I suppose...’

Do either of these things inherently have a gendered aspect? Of course not! But we assign gendered ideals to them anyway.

3) If gender is made up and constructed by society, then does that mean trans people aren’t real?

No.

Even if you agree that gender is a social construct, trans people are still real. TERFs don’t get a pass. Why?

Because gender - as a social construct - still affects our everyday lives, dictates our social position in our community. Transitioning is still a thing that has to happen. The fact that you are NOT easily able to decide your own gender and are ostracized for wanting to transition, abused for dressing the way you want to be perceived, and bullied for wanting people to refer to you with different pronouns - all those are the effects of a social construct that has very REAL impact on our lives.

This is also why I dislike defining trans-ness by dysphoria. Because transgender people are not only their suffering - the suffering is coming from the outside!! Many trans people remember not being concerned about their gender identity in their childhood, because they did not yet perceive the world as being hostile to their desire to fulfil a specific role in society. The issues and self-hatred and dysphoria begins when they express wanting to be themselves - a life which they are forbidden from pursuing based on physical characteristics they were born with.

Does this mean we should try to remove gender from society? If we constructed it, we can deconstruct it, right?

Realistically, I highly doubt this is possible. Gender is so ingrained in our daily lives that it would be difficult. Nor, I would say, would it be necessary to achieve world peace.

Having social groups - having gender - isn’t inherently a bad thing. The bad thing is when we limit those social groups to specific basic human rights, like voting, or when we forbid them from transitioning from one to another based on things that are out of their control.

Also, I’m not saying genitals and secondary sexual characteristics aren’t real. Please don’t bother sending me that angry message, I’ll ignore it, I promise.

But the concept of gender IS something we thought up and maintain and negotiate with each other to this very day. It’s not granted to us by a higher power, nor is it a constant, unchanging thing. It’s a part of the human experience and like everything, it has the potential to evolve - as a concept in our communal memory, as well as on an individual level, for people who feel they want to be perceived differently.

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk!

#hiimholalate #gender #agender #queer stuff #gender is a social construct #social construct #genderqueer #long post

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czenzo · 2 years

Text

Misdial - Chapter I

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ Epilogue ]

summary: Lucy, a newly-enrolled fine arts student at a London university, accidentally calls the wrong number and ends up getting to know a business student who also happens to be in the same city. Slowly but surely, they realise their lives are intertwined more than they initially thought, and soon they find their friendship may be evolving into something more. Or: After a chance phone call, Lucy and Lockwood spend the next few months pining after one another.

rating: G words: 1937

note: baby's first multi-chap fic!! I've almost written all nine chapters but still have to go through and do some editing (can't wait), but I've enjoyed writing this so much that I wanted to get the first two completed and posted asap. hope you enjoy! :)

The streets of London are alive with the hustle and bustle of commuters, buskers, students, and all of the other people who manage to get in Lucy Carlyle’s way. She desperately wants to go home; after a long day of seminars, tutorials, the beginnings of a mildly stressful group project, and an irritating visit to the nearest phone shop, she craves nothing but the warmth and comfort of her bed, along with a good cuppa and a biscuit or two (or three).

She reluctantly decides to slow down, accepting that the streets aren’t going to become any less congested just because she wants to get back to her flat, and pulls out her brand-spanking-new phone from her coat pocket. It’s shiny and clean, lacking any scratches or cracks, and although she quickly set it up at the phone shop, transferring her old data onto it has to wait until she gets home. Despite this, she stabs in the digits for what she thinks is her flatmate’s number and hopes that her memory serves her well.

The phone dials once, twice, and then a soft click tells Lucy that she’s picked up.

“Holly,” she breathes, “I am having such a day. I managed to pick up a new phone after Skull lovingly smashed my old one, which is good since not having a mobile would be pretty inconvenient, right? But the rest of my day’s been shit. They’ve moved on from all the introductory lectures ’n stuff now, but instead of starting us off on our own, they’ve put us in groups. I’ve got to do a group project, Holly. I have to work with people. I’ve not even recovered from Freshers’ week yet. And everyone in my group seems so pretentious.

“If I’d read through the course syllabus I’d’ve known this was coming up, but I didn’t, I’m an idiot, and I’ve been jump-scared by this project. God, I hope this goes well. I don’t want to give all the course-runners a bad impression of me on my first project. I just— agh, I don’t know. I think I just need a cup of tea. Are you in right now? Could you pop the kettle on for me?”

There’s a stretch of silence in which Lucy double checks Holly hasn’t hung up on her, but when she puts the phone back to her ear and goes to ask if she’s alright, an unexpectedly deep voice cuts her off.

“I would put the kettle on, but I don’t know how much use it would be to you.”

“Oh. You’re not Holly.” She stops walking.

“That I am not,” a smooth, well-spoken voice says through the phone. “Misdialed number?”

“Must’ve been. I’m so sorry.”

There’s a soft laugh from the other end. “It’s alright.”

“I’ll hang up now,” she says, after a short pause.

“You don’t want to keep ranting about the group project?”

“I— hah, yeah, sure. I’ll probably make your ears bleed if I go on about it anymore.” She looks down at her feet, then up to the sky, and is thrown to find it’s getting dim already. The beginnings of autumn have shortened the daylight hours, it seems. “Actually, do you mind if I stay on the phone for a little bit? I have a short walk back through a city and it’s getting dark. Doing it alone doesn’t sound fun.”

“You don’t want to call someone else?”

“I can’t remember anyone’s numbers correctly, apparently.”

“…Ah. Okay,” the other person says, confusion evident in his voice, though he doesn’t press the matter. “Alright then, what’s your name?”

“Lucy,” she answers, taking a moment to briefly wonder why she’s hesitant to walk through a city alone but content with talking and revealing information to a complete stranger on the phone. She shrugs the thought off; Lucy Carlyle has never been one for logical decision-making. She once rescued an injured, feral, aggressive black cat from an alley and nursed it to health, and now she’ll complete the short walk home while making odd small talk with a stranger. “You?”

“Lockwood.”

“Lockwood?”

“It’s my surname. Most people use it to refer to me.”

He really is well-spoken. Self-consciousness over her northern speech habits starts to rise in her, just like it did when she first met Holly after replying to her ad looking for a flatmate. Immediately, she squashes it down.

“So, you’re in a city?”

“London,” she says, reasoning that the city’s so vast there’s no harm in telling him.

“Oh.” Lockwood pauses. “I’m in London, too.”

“Funny coincidence.” She presses the button at a pelican crossing and waits, knowing it’d be stupid to try and cross on a red man during rush hour.

“It is.”

“For my group project,” Lucy says, filling the silence that threatens to descend on them while taking a moment to admire the colours of the beginnings of the sunset peeping through the lovely smog of the city, “we’ve got to create a collection of art pieces that correspond to a topic of our choosing. To get us used to using the studio… and for us to get to know each other, I suppose.”

“You’re an art student?”

Shit, she thinks, she should probably be more careful about how much information she drops. She only knows the guy’s surname, yet she’s minutes away from telling him her whole life story.

The red man turns to green, and home is now just minutes away.

“I am, yeah. Are you a student?”

“Technically.”

“Technically?”

“I’m enrolled as a student,” Lockwood sighs, “but I lack the student mentality. I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop instead of a lecture.”

Lucy lets out a snort of laughter. “Bit of a rebel, are you?”

“Not really. Management Science”—he drawls the two words, and Lucy can immediately tell he’s not particularly fond of them—“just doesn’t interest me too much.”

“Management Science… Not to be rude, Lockwood, but that honestly sounds god-awful.”

“Oh, no, you’re spot on. It is.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure what else to do. Going into a full-time job sounds like hell, and I’d already taken a gap year. A management course is solid enough to keep nosey people off my back, but vague enough so that I’m not trying to squeeze myself into a specific path, if that makes sense?”

“I get that,” Lucy finds herself nodding; the pressure of having to decide her future at such a young age isn’t unfamiliar to her, and the only reason she’d dared to take a leap and move to London for art school in the first place was that it finally gave her an excuse to move out of her suffocating childhood home.

“Who is Skull?” Lockwood then says, abruptly swerving the topic of conversation and startling Lucy so much that she has to rack her brain to work out why he’s asking.

“Oh,” she says after a moment, “he’s my cat. Cheeky little bastard knocked my phone off the kitchen counter and smashed it to bits.”

Lockwood laughs again, and Lucy is irritated to find that she enjoys hearing it.

“Why that name?”

“He has white splotches on his face, and I used my incredible artistic brain to interpret it as a skull.”

There’s that laugh again. Lucy’s face burns as she enters her block of flats and hauls herself up the first flight of stairs.

“Skull keeps you on your toes, then?”

“He sure does. He knows what he’s doing, I’m dead sure of it. He lives to cause chaos and disruption, and—”

“Ah, I’m so sorry Lucy, my sister’s calling. I should take that.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” She pulls her phone down to glance at the time stamp on the screen and finds the call’s lasted much longer than she intended. “I started rambling again, sorry. I don’t want to keep you.”

“No, no, it’s alright. This was much more interesting than a lecture or listening to coffee shop music.”

“Glad to hear I’m a good source of entertainment.”

“I really do have to take this call. Take care, Lucy.”

“You too.”

Click.

Lucy finds herself standing on the second-floor landing, staring into space, with a strange empty feeling inside of her. She looks down at her phone, seeing the one, lone phone number in her recent calls. It must be one or two digits off of Holly’s, she thinks. It looks too familiar.

“Why are you staring at your phone like that?” a snooty voice says in front of her. It’s nothing like Lockwood’s voice—where his is smooth, calm, and comforting, Quill Kipps’ is harsh, uppity, and pretentious.

“None of your business,” she looks up at him, where he’s stood locking the door to his flat. The jangling of his keys is muffled as he shoves them in the pocket of his expensive-looking plaid coat.

“No, it’s not, but I’m so thoroughly invested in the life of my neighbour Susie Carlyle that I must know anyway.”

“It’s Lucy.”

“Same thing.”

“If you must know,” she says, beginning her ascent up the next flight of stairs, “I mistyped Holly’s number and called a posh-sounding guy instead. Probably goes to your pretentious uni.” Inwardly, she apologises to Lockwood for grouping him in with Kipps, then scolds herself for doing it. Lockwood doesn’t care, he barely knows her. She doesn’t care either, of course, she has many more important things to be focusing her attention on.

“Good to know. Have a lovely evening, Susie.”

With a swish of his coat and a flick of a scarf, Kipps descends the stairs and is gone.

“I’ve missed you too, you little idiot,” Lucy stoops down to scratch Skull under the chin after closing the door behind her, though he quickly turns and feigns disinterest, clearly wanting to avoid showing her too much affection.

“Lucy, you’re back!” Holly Munro calls from the kitchen. Lucy gets a whiff of whatever she’s cooking—she doesn’t know what it is, but it smells… healthy—and pointedly avoids breathing through her nose for a while.

“I am,” she calls back, dumping her bag onto the settee and leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. “What does your phone number end in?”

“An eight,” Holly says, sprinkling seasoning onto her food in a swift, well-practised manner. Lucy wonders if she has any instant noodles left in the cupboard.

“Ah. Did you know there’s a guy who has the same number as yours but with a nine at the end? And he also lives in London?”

“I… did not know that, no. I’m assuming you discovered that today?”

“I did. He seems like a decent guy, actually.”

Holly stops moving, and her eyes snap up to meet Lucy’s.

“Lucy Carlyle, are you telling me you spoke to a man and enjoyed it?”

“‘Enjoyed’ is a stretch,” Lucy avoids eye contact; the sticky notes on their fridge suddenly look very interesting, “but it wasn’t awful.”

“You’re sure he isn’t some fifty-year-old creep, though, right?”

“If he is, he’s insanely skilled at making his voice sound young. He speaks like you, though.”

“Like me?”

“The accent,” she vaguely waves a hand in circles in front of her, trying to remember the term. “The dead posh one.”

“RP?”

“Yeah, that’s it. RP.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Holly frowns.

“It’s not when it’s you.” She pauses. “Or Lockwood.”

The squeal that comes from Holly’s mouth is almost superhuman, and Skull, who had been grazing from his bowl of food nearby, quickly scarpers out of the kitchen in shock.

“Lucy Joan Carlyle, tell me everything.”

end note: for anyone not used to British uni terms, Freshers' week is the week before courses start at a university, where all the new first years are given many opportunities to mingle with their fellow students and, to put it simply, get shitfaced. I imagine Lucy didn't make that many friends over that week, but definitely took advantage of all the alcohol on offer.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fic #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #locklyle #czenzo.fic #misdial

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

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Strawberry Sundae

Summary: It's story time! Have you ever wondered why Dante affectionate strawberry sundaes so much? Well Patty has and luckily for her, he is about to tell her. It will just cost her a small favour. A man got to pay his debts remember.

Tags: ANGST (but with some very cute moments) / Dante’s childhood / childhood trauma

Author’s note: This is my take on Dante’s origins and also my first time writing for the Devil May Cry fandom. I hope I did it right and that you will love it. Set whenever you want but definitely after the DMC Anime. I made the reader female (in case I write a sequel. I have ideas for one, just tell me if you want one), but it can definitely be read as Gen!Reader if you make some small changes.

To most people Patty Lowell looked so cute and angelic with her girly lacy dresses and her silk ribbons in her baby blond hair they’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But to Dante, she was the most annoying brat that ever walked this earth and, even though he would never admit it, also one of his dearest friends. And like all his friends, he owed her big. “I’ll erase that from your tab.” She said as she swallowed a spoonful of vanilla ice cream. “Oh c’mon! You keeping counts now?” Dante harrumphed and watched the kid wipe her mouth like a very distinguished lady. “You spend too much time with Lady.” “Not too much. Just enough to know you owe me a trip to the beach, two dresses, a dozen ice cream cones and six strawberries sundaes” She counted on her fingers and Dante sighed as he slouched in the fake-leather seat of Freddy’s diner. “Well, you can’t have it all now, can you?” “You’ve been saying this for months. And for months you’ve been eating hundreds of sundaes and bought none for me.” She grumbled, staring at him with a pout as he nonchalantly took the strawberry on top of his sundae to eat it, eyes closed to savour the sweetness of the fruit in his mouth. “What’s with your obsession with strawberry sundaes anyway?” She asked, genuinely curious. After all, even after spending so much time with Dante, watching him evolve in his natural habitat (meaning the Devil May Cry) and coming to the conclusion that Dante was a very unique species of man, one that whose diet was only based on pizzas and strawberry sundaes and that knew nothing of women, Patty still hadn’t figured why he was the way he was. Dante opened an eye to see her impatiently waiting for an answer. “If I tell you, would you consider erasing … let’s say six sundaes of my tab?” He smirked, knowing Patty would not resist the curiosity to know more about him. “That could be arranged. But your story better be good!”

STRAWBERRY SUNDAE

One more step and this would be the furthest Dante had ever been from his house. Of course, he had dared follow Vergil down to that weird old man’s house to secretly spy on his brother, wondering what was so interesting and fun in keeping a wrinkly company but he had never stepped a foot in the city. Never could. The only time he had tried and had somehow managed to go down the hill of his red home without tumbling down the steep rocky stairs and lay even just a toe on the urban pavement he was now standing on, his father and his sharp demonic earring had found him and brought him back home with a firm grip around the collar of his white shirt. Sparda had scolded him so much that day that even Vergil hadn’t dared smirking. But here he was. Wet, trembling and cold, under a pouring rain, wondering where to go, what to do, both feet on the pavement, his tiny arms holding on tight to his father’s sword which was way bigger than he was. He had never been so terrified, so alert, his blue eyes widened and scanning all his surroundings in every direction possible like a poor defenceless animal fearing for its life, wondering if a deadly predator was secretly watching him crouched in the thickest shadow, the same kind of predator that took his mother and brother away from him. He wanted to call for help, ask someone, anyone for guidance but he didn’t know whom to trust or if he could trust anyone. All he knew was that he had to be strong, that he had to be a big boy, a man. That’s what his mother had told him before leaving, before … A tear streamed down his childish face. Not the first one tonight. He wiped it with his sooty knuckle but a new one appeared, bigger and more painful. It stung his eye and he cried harder. A devil should not cry but he was so tired. And he wanted his mama. And he wanted his big brother. But they were gone and behind him, his house up the hill was just a pile of smoking ash and burnt bricks.

“Why are you crying?” Dante jumped and his small yet strong grip grabbed a hold of Rebellion’s hilt. It took his eyes a short second to fall upon the face of a little girl holding a green frog-shaped umbrella above both their heads. “Are you lost?” She said as she tried to catch a glimpse of Dante’s face hidden behind layers of soot and wet hair. “Is it a real sword?” “Don’t touch it!” Dante growled, pressing his father’s sword tighter against his chest, shielding it from the curious child as she tried to put her fingers on the legendary weapon. It had seen Vergil do that countless of times. And though it never worked with him, it formidably worked with the child in front of him. “It’s my dad’s.” “Is your dad a knight?” She questioned with amazed (colour) eyes, imagining heroes in shining armours resembling the ones in the stories her mother would read her before bed. “My dad is the Legendary Dark Knight.” Dante spat, scowling behind his silver hair falling over his eyes, a pitiful and vain attempt at sending the little girl packing. After all, to her eyes, he didn’t look impressive at all, more like a wet small kitten that someone had abandoned in the street. She shrugged “My dad doesn’t have a sword and he is not a legendary dark prince or whatever but he has a mighty spatula and his strawberry sundaes are the best in the whole kingdom!” She exclaimed with an over-the-top enthusiasm that made Dante’s weary frown even more pronounced. “That’s the name of my father’s diner.” She pointed at the pinkish red neon sign across the street. Kingdom’s diner. “You’re hungry?” Dante thought he wasn’t until he heard a rumbling in his tummy. Yes, maybe he was even though his heart was preoccupied by other things than hunger. “Come on. Follow me.” He hesitated for a few seconds, watching the girl cross the crowded street in her way-too-large yellow oilskin - which was probably not hers now that he thought about it – and feeling the rain pouring on his shivering body again. “Well? What are you waiting for?” With one last look at his destroyed home up on the hill, Dante finally took a step towards the girl waiting for him by the warm neon lights of the diner. And he took another step, and another, feeling a weird weight forming in his stomach. A mix of apprehension and hope. Apprehension of what’s waiting in this unknown land and hope that his father would suddenly appear and bring him back home. But once more, Sparda never showed up and the child was left alone. Dante had never ventured that far away from home but he had no home anymore, right?

The diner was warm and cosy, with red plastic booth seats and speckled grey linoleum-covered tables that were incredibly clean and shiny. On the walls there were vintage-like pictures of old cars, old advertisements and old Hollywood stars who were almost all complete strangers to Dante apart from a glamorous blond woman with a weird mole and another one with a tiara and a cigarette holder. Pretty sure he had seen them both in some boring movies he had seen – or slept through - with his mother and Vergil. Mama. Vergil. He missed them already. Terribly.

A new tear fell along his cold cheek and Dante looked down, devastated that he would never see them again; guilty that he could not save them, angry that his father had not been there to protect them. And with his wet sorrow came scorching flashes and piercing screams. But soon they were covered by the sound of weird music sizzling in a machine that looked like from another time. “I always listen to music when I feel bad. I like music. Do you like music?” She was impossibly chatty but deep down Dante knew it was only to take his mind off whatever she thought he was thinking about. After all, he would use the same trick on his brother. “There are a hundred of songs in this jukebox.” So that was this hellish machine was. A jukebox. “Pick one. I’ll make some strawberry sundae” She smiled and disappeared behind the counter which was way too high for Dante to see what she was doing. “Oh but don’t play the music too loud. My parents are sleeping upstairs.”

He didn’t know how it worked but he thought that pushing a button would do the trick. And so he did. And he almost fell on his butt when the jukebox started shaking and doing weird sizzling noises. Had he just broken it? “I… I” He mumbled pointing at the machine and the girl’s childish head popped up from behind the counter a bit like a funny rabbit leaves his hole. “Kick it!” She said and Dante looked at her, harrumphed and unsure he had heard right. His mother never allowed him to kick anything … especially not Vergil … and he kicked Vergil a lot … because he deserved it. “There!” The girl approached and gave the dying machine a small yet firm kick that made it come back to life. “It does that sometimes.”

“What’s with all the racket?” A loud voice growled and a man with tousled and sparse black hair appeared from upstairs. Only wearing an old navy blue robe over a white t-shirt and a pair of checked slippers, he looked asleep and yet angry. “Y/N what are you doing … up?” His somewhat aggressiveness turned into confusion when he saw Dante standing next to his beloved daughter. He blinked a couple times and shook his head to make sure he was perfectly awake and not dreaming. What was this boy doing in his restaurant? All wet and covered in soot? “Who are you?” He managed to voice. Dante opened his mouth though unsure what to answer. “He’s my friend.” The girl replied. “Your friend?” She nodded vigorously. “I was making him a strawberry sundae.”

If there was two things Mister Y/LN had a soft spot for, it was food – sugary and greasy food – and his precious daughter Y/N. She was his little princess, his only daughter, the apple of his eye (even when there was sleep crust in its corner like right now). He could not refuse her anything and could not stay mad at her for more than a couple of minutes to the great disappointment of his wife. And even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help it. “Y/N” He sighed and went to kneel in front of his daughter. “You cannot invite a little boy that late at night. I’m sure his parents must be very worried.” He glanced at Dante who looked down his brown boots hiding his eyes yet again behind his silver hair. What curious hair. “But since he is here, let’s eat those strawberry sundaes.” The little girl grinned and ran back to finish her creamy dessert with an enthusiasm that made the man smile for a small second.

Even though Mister Y/LN was weak for his daughter he was still a man of reason. Something deep in his guts was telling him something was wrong with that kid and the last thing he wanted was trouble. Who was he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? Where were his parents? Was he some kind of street kid? A child of drug dealers from the rough areas of Red Grave? Should he call the police? Maybe so. Certainly so. They would certainly know what to do. It was their job after all. He was just a cook, a sleepy cook. What could he do, except offering that scrawny kid a strawberry sundae? “Why don’t you sit, boy?” He waved at the stool and Dante climbed on it without saying a word. “I’ll be right back.”

“So what’s your name?” The little girl said as she placed two coupe glasses filled with cream, ice cream and strawberries right before Dante’s eyes that immediately ogled at the dessert with greediness. So much sugar, so much cream, so many strawberries. He loved chocolate, but this, this looked like even better than chocolate and his stomach seemed to agree. Excited to taste it, he went to grab the spoon that was placed by the couple but was immediately stopped. “Wait. I’m not done.” Y/N shouted and, with a frown and the tip of her pink tongue out, cautiously topped both sundaes with a cherry and two pink wafers. “There. Now you can eat it.” She barely had time to finish the sentence that Dante quickly stuffed a generous spoonful in his tiny mouth. OH GOD! If his mother saw him right now eating so much sugar in the middle of the night she would be furious. But this was the most delicious thing in the world. After pizza of course. He ate another spoonful, and another, humming after each, as he was slowly reaching a comforting sugary paradise. “I’m guessing you like it.” The little girl giggled, laughing at his mouth as round as a balloon and the cream running from the corner of his lips. Dante froze at the laugh and stare at her with a blush creeping up his inflated cheeks until he swallowed with a big gulp. “Yeah.” He confessed and Y/N smiled at the small amount of joy she caught in his childish voice. “You still haven’t told me your name. I’m Y/N by the way.” She reached out to shake his hand and Dante stared at it for a few seconds, remembering what his mother had told him as she hid him a wardrobe.

You must change your name. Forget your past and start a new life as someone else. But who could he be? And could he be someone else? After all, he had always been Dante, the restless daredevil son of Sparda and Eva and annoying little brother to Vergil who always picked a fight for fun and found ways to be involved in new kinds of mischiefs. There was a silence, heavy and pregnant, as the boy tried to answer the questions in his confused little head and as the girl patiently waited for him to talk. And only the lively music from the jukebox could be heard in the room. And it sang to Dante ‘Hey there Anthony boy. Why are you in such a rush (go!). The girl, she wanna talk to you. Look at him, how he blush (go!)’ giving birth to his new identity. A new beginning. “I’m Anthony.” He finally grabbed her hand and she shook it with a smile that he tried to mimic. An effort he thought he would have never done tonight but that he did for her. Calm down, Tony me boy. “Tony for short.” “Well nice to meet you, Tony. I’m sure we’re going to be good friends.”

And with a new spoonful of strawberry sundae he said goodbye to Dante. Hey there, Anthony boy!

***

“That was a lovely story, Dante. Sad but lovely.” Patty finally declared after being incredibly silent during Dante’s childhood story. A first. “Glad you liked it.” Dante said with a small smile that was barely concealing the sadness that this memory had brought back. “So does that mean those six sundaes are off my tab?” “I guess so.” She shrugged as she drank the ice cream in her coupe. “Great.” He winked and stood up, throwing a bill on the table before putting his long red coat on. “So … you love strawberry sundaes because they were the first things that gave you comfort after you lost your mom?” “No, I love strawberry sundaes because they remind me why humans are sometimes worth fighting for.”

But mostly, he liked them because they reminded him of someone who had helped him build a new life, someone who had given him kindness, generosity and love when he thought that all he could expect from life was sorrow and pain. They reminded him of you. Yes, that’s why he loved strawberry sundaes.

#devil may cry #dante #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dante fanfiction #dante x reader #strawberry sundae

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invisibleicewands · 3 years

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Staged's Anna Lundberg and Georgia Tennant: 'Scenes with all four of us usually involved alcohol'

Not many primetime TV hits are filmed by the show’s stars inside their own homes. However, 2020 wasn’t your average year. During the pandemic, productions were shut down and workarounds had to be found – otherwise the terrestrial schedules would have begun to look worryingly empty. Staged was the surprise comedy hit of the summer.

This playfully meta short-form sitcom, airing in snack-sized 15-minute episodes, found A-list actors Michael Sheen and David Tennant playing an exaggerated version of themselves, bickering and bantering as they tried to perfect a performance of Luigi Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author over Zoom.

Having bonded while co-starring in Good Omens, Amazon’s TV adaptation of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s novel, Sheen, 51, and Tennant, 49, became best buddies in real life. In Staged, though, they’re comedically reframed as frenemies – warm, matey and collaborative, but with a cut-throat competitiveness lurking just below the surface. As they grew ever more hirsute and slobbish in lockdown, their virtual relationship became increasingly fraught.

It was soapily addictive and hilariously thespy, while giving a voyeuristic glimpse of their interior decor and domestic lives – with all the action viewed through their webcams.

Yet it was the supporting cast who lifted Staged to greatness,Their director Simon Evans, forced to dance around the pair’s fragile egos and piggy-in-the-middle of their feuds. Steely producer Jo, played by Nina Sosanya, forever breaking off from calls to bellow at her poor, put-upon PA. And especially the leading men’s long-suffering partners, both actors in real life, Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg.

Georgia Tennant comes from showbiz stock, as the child of Peter Davison and Sandra Dickinson. At 36 she is an experienced actor and producer, who made her TV debut in Peak Practice aged 15. She met David on Doctor Who 2008, when she played the Timelord’s cloned daughter Jenny. Meanwhile, the Swedish Lundberg, 26, is at the start of her career. She left drama school in New York two years ago and Staged is her first big on-screen role.

Married for nine years, the Tennants have five children and live in west London. The Lundberg-Sheens have been together two years, have a baby daughter, Lyra, and live outside Port Talbot in south Wales. On screen and in real life, the women have become firm friends and frequent scene-stealers.

Staged proved so successful that it’s now back for a second series. We set up a video call with Tennant and Lundberg to discuss lockdown life, wine consumption, home schooling (those two may be related) and the blurry line between fact and fiction…

Was doing Staged a big decision, because it’s so personal and set in your homes? Georgia Tennant: We’d always been a very private couple. Staged was everything we’d never normally say yes to. Suddenly, our entire house is on TV and so is a version of the relationship we’d always kept private. But that’s the way to do it, I guess. Go to the other extreme. Just rip off the Band-Aid.

Anna Lundberg: Michael decided pretty quickly that we weren’t going to move around the house at all. All you see is the fireplace in our kitchen.

GT: We have five children, so it was just about which room was available.

AL: But it’s not the real us. It’s not a documentary.

GT: Although some people think it is.

Which fictional parts of the show do people mistake for reality? GT: People think I’m really a novelist because “Georgia” writes a novel in Staged. They’ve asked where they can buy my book. I should probably just write one now because I’ve done the marketing already.

AL: People worry about our elderly neighbour, who gets hospitalised in the show. She doesn’t actually exist in real life but people have approached Michael in Tesco’s, asking if she’s OK.

Michael and David squabble about who’s billed first in Staged. Does that reflect real life? AL: With Good Omens, Michael’s name was first for the US market and David’s was first for the British market. So those scenes riffed on that.

Should we call you Georgia and Anna, or Anna and Georgia? GT: Either. We’re super-laidback about these things.

AL: Unlike certain people.

How well did you know each other before Staged? GT: We barely knew each other. We’ve now forged a friendship by working on the show together.

AL: We’d met once, for about 20 minutes. We were both pregnant at the time – we had babies a month apart – so that was pretty much all we talked about.

Did you tidy up before filming? AL: We just had to keep one corner relatively tidy.

GT: I’m quite a tidy person, but I didn’t want to be one of those annoying Instagram people with perfect lives. So strangely, I had to add a bit of mess… dot a few toys around in the background. I didn’t want to be one of those insufferable people – even though, inherently, I am one of those people.

Was there much photobombing by children or pets? AL: In the first series, Lyra was still at an age where we could put her in a baby bouncer. Now that’s not working at all. She’s just everywhere. Me and Michael don’t have many scenes together in series two, because one of us is usually Lyra-wrangling.

GT: Our children aren’t remotely interested. They’re so unimpressed by us. There’s one scene where Doris, our five-year-old, comes in to fetch her iPad. She doesn’t even bother to glance at what we’re doing.

How was lockdown for you both? AL: I feel bad saying it, but it was actually good for us. We were lucky enough to be in a big house with a garden. For the first time since we met, we were in one place. We could just focus on Lyra . To see her grow over six months was incredible. She helped us keep a steady routine, too.

GT: Ours was similar. We never spend huge chunks of time together, so it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At least until David’s career goes to shit and he’s just sat at home. The flipside was the bleakness. Being in London, there were harrowing days when everything was silent but you’d just hear sirens going past, as a reminder that something awful was going on. So I veered between “This is wonderful” and “This is the worst thing that ever happened.”

And then there was home schooling… GT: Which was genuinely the worst thing that ever happened.

You’ve spent a lot of time on video calls, clearly. What are your top Zooming tips? GT: Raise your camera to eye level by balancing your laptop on a stack of books. And invest in a ring light.

AL: That’s why you look so much better. We just have our sad kitchen light overhead, which makes us look like one massive shiny forehead.

GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael.

There’s a running gag in series one about the copious empties in Michael’s recycling. Did you lean into lockdown boozing in real life? AL: Not really. We eased off when I was pregnant and after Lyra was born. We’d just have a glass of wine with dinner.

GT: Yes, definitely. I often reach for a glass of red in the show, which was basically just an excuse to continue drinking while we were filming: “I think my character would have wine and cake in this scene.” The time we started drinking would creep slightly earlier. “We’ve finished home schooling, it’s only 4pm, but hey…” We’ve scaled it back to just weekends now.

How did you go about creating your characters with the writer Simon Evans? AL: He based the dynamic between David and Michael on a podcast they did together. Our characters evolved as we went along.

GT: I was really kind and understanding in the first draft. I was like “I don’t want to play this, it’s no fun.” From the first few tweaks I made, Simon caught onto the vibe, took that and ran with it.

Did you struggle to keep a straight face at times? AL: Yes, especially the scenes with all four of us, when David and Michael start improvising.

GT: I was just drunk, so I have no recollection.

AL: Scenes with all four of us were normally filmed in the evening, because that’s when we could be child-free. Usually there was alcohol involved, which is a lot more fun.

GT: There’s a long scene in series two where we’re having a drink. During each take, we had to finish the glass. By the end, we were all properly gone. I was rewatching it yesterday and I was so pissed.

What else can you tell us about series two? GT: Everyone’s in limbo. Just as we think things are getting back to normal, we have to take three steps back again. Everyone’s dealing with that differently, shall we say.

AL: In series one, we were all in the same situation. By series two, we’re at different stages and in different emotional places.

GT: Hollywood comes calling, but things are never as simple as they seem.

There were some surprise big-name cameos in series one, with Samuel L Jackson and Dame Judi Dench suddenly Zooming in. Who can we expect this time around? AL: We can’t name names, but they’re very exciting.

GT: Because series one did so well, and there’s such goodwill towards the show, we’ve managed to get some extraordinary people involved. This show came from playing around just to pass the time in lockdown. It felt like a GCSE end-of-term project. So suddenly, when someone says: “Samuel L Jackson’s in”, it’s like: “What the fuck’s just happened?”

AL: It took things to the next level, which was a bit scary.

GT: It suddenly felt like: “Some people might actually watch this.”

How are David and Michael’s hair and beard situations this time? AL: We were in a toyshop the other day and Lyra walked up to these Harry Potter figurines, pointed at Hagrid and said: “Daddy!” So that explains where we’re at. After eight months of lockdown, it was quite full-on.

GT: David had a bob at one point. Turns out he’s got annoyingly excellent hair. Quite jealous. He’s also grown a slightly unpleasant moustache.

Is David still wearing his stinky hoodie? GT: I bought him that as a gift. It’s actually Paul Smith loungewear. In lockdown, he was living in it. It’s pretty classy, but he does manage to make it look quite shit.

#Michael Sheen #David Tennant #Staged #Staged 2 #Georgia Tennant #The tidy corner #we noticed it #Staged2 #SwedishFishAL

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tripstaysnoided · 4 years

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Flow Just Like Water

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Story and writing-related transparency update and my many shames...

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

“Hey you haven’t updated No Stars over Uptown in almost a year...”

Hmm, I hate it when you’re right. (This section has been rewritten ad-nauseam to curb back the bitchiness by the way)

So back in early/mid 2018, the idea was to divorce Uptown from a person who influenced it (and myself) heavily. She was my most important audience member, the closest friend I ever had, and unfortunately someone who used her power to bully, ostracize, and hurt others with my help. I cut contact when the hurt + some self-awareness finally reached me. Apologies were made and I feel like my work will never be done with it, but there was still Uptown.

Between censored comments, entirely recasting Axel’s save, different plot threads, and a load of disclaimers, there was nothing that would scrub her influence from the story. There was no way to cleanly drop everything because of how deep her influence went. It disgusted me to look back at it, and I had to private the blog because I feared what it endorsed, even if just in the past.

I pulled back from that sims writing community. I had its main thread on the Official Forums removed too (I guess if that was a mystery to anyone). It was a surrender that I never wanted to do, but I had it in my mind that if I was gone, then she wouldn’t be there either. Uptown became this cursed item, and as I quietly retired it, I noticed that she went quieter too. Not gone, but enough to make me sleep easier at night and even occasionally say hello to old friends.

And I hope deep in my heart that no one else is getting hurt in my place, but now this is gonna haunt me all day huh!

The two paths forward...

1) Complete Uptown rewrite that I’ve been threatening everyone with all year. While it won’t ever be clean because I can’t undo time, I do have a sound outline for a story that is much more true to my actual vision and how I’ve evolved, with a few necessary boundaries in place that are going to be there for all stories moving forward: no more casting calls and no more collaborative efforts. I am not going to open myself up to this happening again, even if the people have changed.

2) Same as above, but I continue the original Uptown as a favor to loyal readers alongside the rewrite. I would try to put the effort into it that I initially did, but with no promises on an update schedule and no advertising. I did ask myself “is there Patreon but without pledging money, just the private posts function” but it could operate as part of a private forum, a members-only part of a website, etc.

Also readers of the original would be beholden to a rule of “don’t spoil the rewrite for new readers, c’mon guys”. I mean, not really, but it is a good courtesy to extend to people.

Priority on this isn’t high but you at least will see what is!

I will probably make the blog public again either way due to the many broken links on my Tumblr but we’ll see. There are other things to deal with as I shall list!

Where Life’s Been Regardless

Been spending more time with my grandpa every weekend. Life’s pretty good and he’s warming up to my dogs.

Shiny New Webbed Site

Cucumber Fields Forever is a site I own now. We have a full domain, cucumberfieldsforever.com, a blog with one post, and the framework needed to host stories the way I want to and still through WordPress. The functionality of likes, comments, and following should still be the same but you know...I’ll take feedback too...

The main blog still has an undefined purpose though I do have drafts sitting around about:

The maybe/maybe not hoax band that was on the Metal Archives and the history of Funeral Doom Metal.

The curious case of when Sims 4 babies get their genetics and my only collaboration (read: was talking about it with a friend and might quote her if needed, it’s actually a bit of a doozy)

Amazon.com’s fake dried udon noodles, an actual issue by the way.

Things I’m reading! (This’d be a monthly feature if so)

For the sake of unity, I am thinking of solutions for hosting old and shameful content there including Uptown and for the real fans in my followers feed, Eight Cicadas...a world I totally have plans for too (not really). I don’t want them to be front-and-center, and that’s why I mentioned forums/members-only content. I finally have that power! Maybe.

Ooooh but what are the costs? Not too much to handle, that’s what. 😉 (Like really, I don’t need any hand-wringing about this, I can manage my finances)

Project Queue (In Order of Confirmedness)

Outrun the Scythe: have you seen me post out-of-context Sims 3 pictures? Did you want more? Did you hope it was Linda in Custody? If the answers are yes, yes, and “meh, whatever you want”, then you’re in luck.

Outrun the Scythe is a Sims 3-based tale of a young gay man and his zombie grandma, as they are both offered separate roles of being the undying intermediaries between the world of humans and the influence of a race of space daemons. It’s pretty familiar if you’ve been following me pre-Uptown, taking some cues from stories I’ve kept under lock and key like Eight Cicadas, The Chains of Lyra, and the not-so-locked-up Ironstar Immortals (of which Outrun is just the direct sequel to sans any retconning...ah the smell of early 2013 and performative heterosexuality)

Ah, back to my roots.

It’s a hybrid of gameplay, story, and lore about my little race of daemons with a lot of my own idiosyncrasies that I’m not really ashamed of: basing it off a super-polarizing Sims 3 challenge from a site I moderate, using a lot of EA’s pre-made townies and their genes, lots of unnecessary posemaking, stupid references. It’s a comfort to have in my roster.

While the first few chapters are in the middle of revision, I have around six in the queue and will be making this public when I have ten. I’m guessing December then?

Undocumented Black Widow Challenge: I just did this for fun/forum kudos (yes, in fact I have joined many forums), there was going to be a short story but it was quickly becoming something against my code of ethics. I mean, sims die and all. (read: I had to choose between “heterosexual widow” and “widow with some same-sex marriages that still end in tragedy, reinforcing negative stereotypes to the public for the sake of me not getting bored and detached during gameplay” so there were no good choices. Except for her affair with the mailwoman, 10/10) I hope to finish this before October ends and get my medal on Boolprop, I’m pretty far through it all. I might upload the sims involved anyways. This is for TS4.

I mentioned it because it’s keeping me busy. But not for long!

NaNoWriMo 2020: Dipping my toes into that again! It’s not sims-related, just a tale of lesbians, nosy neighbors, a haunted beach house, and some light murder and kidnapping. And I actually got my brother to scout out locations for me this weekend. If there’s any demand, I can share chapters as the rough drafts are finished, especially for the sake of proofreading.

Not saying I’m publishable, but wouldn’t it be nice? Will keep me occupied for much of November.

Untitled “Dear Diary” Challenge: Tired of feeling left out of the fun on the Boolprop forums, their “Dear Diary” challenge was the one that appealed to me the most on first glance. Why? Probably once I found an idea that let it be set in the early/mid-2000′s to begin with and explore some interesting characters through diary entries (which I have mixed feelings on as a literary device but I think that’s just me saying “well I didn’t like Dracula”, yes you get bonus points for writing it like a diary)

Also writing is the one skill I’m good at across multiple games. Wanna hear me bitch about the cooking skill tree in TS4 or riding in TS3? I’ll spare you.

I guess I could have included “spending time on Boolprop with old and new friends” in where my life has been. It’s a nice lil community if also a place with its own idiosyncrasies as well. So it doesn’t feel like I’m promoting another community if/when I make a thread there for Outrun the Scythe, I want to have a couple chapters of this ready to go by Outrun’s release, though it’s not gonna be the highest priority compared to it nor as long because I think I can blast through the gameplay quickly.

This one will be played in TS4 due to it having the easiest writing skill/I dunno variety is the spice of life. And hopefully another December release.

Defunded or Forgotten?: Oh shit I actually released stuff in 2020 and told no one? I do have a “mortifying ordeal of being known” sinking feeling whenever I get a site hit because it’s not my best work (but good enough) and veered sharply into issues I may be over my head in, though I try to be a good noodle with research and listening. Maybe hiding is bad after all.

Being based off a very flawed and incomplete Sims 3 challenge I found in the annals of the Official Forums, there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work just making sense of things. And I’m scared of working on reconstructing the house but I haven’t abandoned the project yet. The story has eight chapters so far and is pretty game-based with some additions here and there. Scared of how long it could be though!

Date for this unknown.

Untitled Sunlit Tides Decadynasty: another year-long abandoned TS3 project with a much stupider reason why. Last update was about Hua getting ready for her wedding, and I wanted to do some poses for a bait-and-switch wedding chapter because to put it mildly, her real one was an absolute disaster.

Blender decided to fuck up its interface again, I got discouraged (this probably does account for some of the Uptown delays too), and when I decided to plow forward, it was for other projects instead.

Meanwhile I played all the way to Gen 5′s teenhood and the only thing stopping me is time (it takes almost 30 minutes to load the file right now, though they’ll be looking at moving towns in a couple gens) and maybe fear of the Logic skill.

Date for this also unknown but it’s easy to pump out updates once I’m in the groove for it. My third heir had a difficult life so maybe I’m just trying to bury it.

Also I just noticed the view count there was really good and probably because I linked it here on Tumblr last year. Thank you so much guys. I can’t really fret over views on Carl’s forum these days thanks to the years-long death spiral pretty much every forum anywhere has been riding on. But it’s a nice surprise. And it’s an alright little challenge recap to read during your lunch break or whatever.

The Wawas

I figured I’d end on the real news everyone wants! Both the chihuahuas are a year and a half now and reached their adult size around a year ago. For the most part, they are happy and healthy dogs.

#state of the uwunion #long post

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fizzingwizard · 4 years

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Tumblr sucks so I had to post this twice but you should still read it because I had a lot of fun writing it xD Yamato is so easy to tease omg

Today’s Digimon Adventure: 2020 episode is entitled, “Time To Bring Back Visual Kei Bands,” because that’s pretty much where WereGarurumon belongs. I know what you’re thinking, he’s a wolf man in jeans with a kind of grungy rock n roll cowboy theme, how is that visual kei?

My friend, it’s all about the NAILS.

Those perfectly manicured, PINK freaking nails.

Tto start I’ll say this episode lowers the tension significantly compared to previous ones. That’s to be expected, and doesn’t mean it’s boring. It does a lot - it lets us confirm some things about Yamato, and a couple things about Sora and Jou in relation to him as well. It is otherwise a carbon copy of episode 8 in terms of story arc. More below as usual

So this ep is Yamato/Sora/Jou main inside a Taichi/Koushirou/Mimi sandwich.

We are starting to see more of Mimi Herself, complaining and whining about the unfairness of it all. Taichi appears to have scaled this wall by himself and Mimi’s like “YOU HAVE TOO MUCH ENERGY, YOU’LL PUT THE ENERGIZER BUNNY OUT OF A JOB, DO YOU WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR HOMELESS BUNNIES?? HE HAS TO PROVIDE FOR HIS FAMILY”

Adding salt to the wound, Koushirou then zips up the wall like this..

zip!

The good thing about Mimi is, though she’s emotional, it’s easy to lift her spirits. She’s very in the moment. And fortunate that she has a partner who is both very patient and useful in these circumstances.

wheeeeee

Meanwhile the slightly-less-energetic group has put their heads together and decided to fly first class to their destination. I would ask where they got the basket but I’m sure I’d get the same answer as Taichi’s raft from episode 4 and Jou’s pergola from episode 7: these kids are extremely good at woodcraft and speedy

(or maybe Sora just had a giant basket in her bag, which we all understand by now is really a Bag of Holding)

While airborne they are Attacked!!! by SandYanmamon and not one but two tornadoes.

Jou: Wonderful!

(for a hot second there I mistook this for Birdramon’s line and was like “??? birdramon’s unusually sarcastic today” but of course it’s the king of morbid humor kido jou)

These Kyaromon appear out of nowhere to show off their dramatic eyeliner. Work it baby

Just when you think SandYanmamon and TWO FREAKING TORNADOES are enough, turns out there’s another threat lurking below the sand for the sole purpose of reminding us yet again “Pokemon this is not!”

SandYanmamon: Aaaaaaahhh nooooooooo i had so much living left to doooo heeeelp mommyyyyyyyyy

NOT IN FRONT OF THE CHILD YOU MONSTER!!!

Cool-headed Yamato figures out that the new monster is able to track their movements under the sand. He sends the others away while he stays behind to hold off the bad guy.

The Kyaromon lead them to a cave where they meet...

ewww uuggghh noooo I hate them aaaahh make it stoppp

and also Neemon! and I’m just going to assume this is a parallel universe version of Frontier’s Neemon because it tickles me to think this is what he actually sounds and acts like and is just riding Bokumon out of pure spite

also Bearmon’s cap says “Bears.” Not bear, bears plural. I believe he’s an outcast former member of the Gummy Bears.

The Labramon look like Rainbow Brite rejects

Pictured above: First lovers’ tiff!

Neemon doesn’t know about the holy Digimon and tells the kids he is leading his group of perfectly helpless Digimon across the monster-infested desert because of the dark forces taking over everywhere. They will seek asylum with Leomon! We got our first mention of Leomon! Quick, cast your bets, how long till he dies? My guess is sooner rather than later because this seems like the kind of show that likes to kill your darlings.

Sora takes one look at this pathetic group and goes “We must go with them to protect them!” conveniently forgetting that she just got her ass kicked, but hey it’s the thought that counts

Yamato is quick to disagree.

Yamato: Did you forget that I stayed behind while you RAN AWAY? When you say let’s protect them, you mean I’M gonna be protecting them, right? RIGHT? That’s what you mean RIGHT??

(he thinks, but doesn’t say. that wouldn’t be Cool)

Yamato doesn’t want to lose sight of their mission, which is to fix things in their home world. He’s already at his limit hanging out with other human children who don’t know what they’re doing, he doesn’t want to be slowed down by freaking Bearmon. Wishy-washy Jou is like “Eh, either way sounds like death and torment to me, so...”

The interesting thing to me here is that no one’s upset. A bit surprised, I think, but Sora just stands her ground, Jou wibbles but eventually gets pumped up enough by Gomamon to decide to help her. They don’t even try much to stop Yamato from leaving which I think is what surprised me the most. I would have expected at least a vibe more like “We shouldn’t split up!” or something. If Taichi were there, maybe we’d have seen more conflict... but I’m really not sure. So far, conflict among the kids has been very low key. Even last week, the first time we saw Taichi and Yamato butt heads, to the other kids it was shocking but to a 99 Adventurer like me it was barely a kerfluffle xP

Well, anyway, the result is Sora and Jou stay with Neemon, and Yamato goes off on his own, and there is surprisingly little bad blood about any of this. They are all just getting to know each other though, so maybe that loyalty’s not quite expected yet.

Same as episode 8, Gabumon hints that there’s more to Yamato’s behavior than he lets on. He’s not just coldly abandoning his friends... except that he totally is >_> (As an adult, I don’t exactly think Yamato is wrong. I’d be more likely to agree with him than the others probably xP But these are children in a show for children, so Protecting Others and Following Your Feelings get a boost over cool rationale.)

Gabumon says Yamato should open up to the other kids. YEAH RIGHT. Yamato says “You’re all I need.” AWWWWWWWWW this wont backfire on them in a way that will wrench out my heart and tear it to a million pieces in forty episodes or so, no way

Ikkakumon becomes a Sand Boat while Birdramon covers the sky. At first I was like “hey! not a bad plan!” If they can help Neemon’s group get across the desert faster, it will be a big help even if they can’t take them further.

Of course, first they have to deal with the SandYanmamon.

Ikkakumon: Why does everyone go straight for the horn!?!

Oh, and also the two tornadoes.

Sora, standing on Birdramon’s leg: don’t look down don’t look down don’t look down

And now Sora’s on fire! That is it, I’m headcanoning it that the kids are basically invulnerable as long as they are touching their partners. THERE’S JUST NO EXPLAINING THIS

The flaming elementary school child does well until her partner is snared by the same monster from before, who turns out to be Scorpiomon. But this ain’t your momma’s Scorpimon from 99 Adventure, who was really Anomalocarimon but that was too hard to expect kids to say. This is the real Scorpiomon who is much scarier.

All of a sudden, from above!

ACTION LINES!!!

Yamato and Garurumon, both physically incapable of doing anything normally when there is a cooler, more awesome method available, drop into the battle from the air and start burning shit up.

They stand, bodies licked by blue flame, piercing eyes bright with the fever of battle, the sound of swooning fan girls echoing into the night

Garurumon does his best but Scorpiomon is a level higher so, duh, he doesn’t stand much of a chance. WHAT WILL OUR HERO DO.

Well, first, same as in episode 8, he flashes back to each of his newfound friends, gaining strength from their memory. Yamato is so sentimental it Hurts

Then his mind flashes to someone else...

... his favorite bobble head doll. No wait, that’s his round-headed baby brother, Charlie Brown.

he is infused with the power of Friendship!!!!!!!

Garurumon: What... is this feeling... so passionate... so... powerful... FFFRIENDSHIPPPPPP IS MAGIC

He then evolves into a brony into a furry in the coolest freakiest way he knows how.

WereGarurumon is basically everything the creators thought little boys like besides dinosaurs (because Taichi’s got that one covered) thrown together to make the ultimate little boy dream action figure: wolves, leather, hardware, piercings, brass knuckles, belts, skulls, scars, dog tags, and fuchsia stiletto nails

Ikkakumon: Sugoi... so shiny... oooh... blinding me...

WereGarurumon kicks Scorpiomon’s ass, it’s a cool battle scenes complete with kicks so fast his foot appears detached from his body. He then gives Yamato thumbs up.

Yamato: With nails like those the brass knuckles are kind of overkill...

Yamato dodges apologizing for going off on his own like that by saying he only came back because it’d be useful to him to have the others around as a decoy. Jou’s like FRIGGING DECOYS AGAIN??

But his dedication to remaining cool and aloof falters and he ends up telling them he’s just extra pressured to get their mission handled because he has a little brother, Takeru, living in Tokyo who is probably very scared stuck in the blackout. Sora and Jou are like “Oh, that makes sense, that’s why you’re so high strung.” They don’t point out the obvious, which is that they also have families affected by the blackout... >_>

Jou passionately thanks Yamato for being so forthcoming so early in the season and looks forward to telling Yamato about himself in the future.

The others: “But we already know all about you.”

Jou: “But HE doesn’t!”

xD look forward to it, Yamato...

It’s episode 11 and Yamato can already smile like this... I had to cap it.

Yamato: Ahh, I’m finally getting used to wearing this purple shirt. Still can’t get quite suppress the urge to cut off the sleeves though...

The other slice of bread completes our sandwich when we shoot back briefly to Taichi/Koushirou/Mimi’s group.

Taichi gets annoyed with Koushirou for the first time because of how much time Koushirou spends taking pictures of everything. Koushirou is that kid on the museum field trip who holds up the entire class reading every last word on the exhibit plaques while everyone else groans ‘cmon dude I wanna get to the dinosaurs before we go extinct too!!’

fyi I, Fizzing Wizard, was and am that slow ass kid

Mimi’s even more impatient than Taichi and in her boredom she starts touching things, because she’s never seen The Mummy.

IT’S A TRAP!!!

lol

Next ep’s trailer includes:

Andromon!!!

And Lillymon!!!

Oprah voice: You get a Perfect level and you get a Perfect level and you get a Perfect level and you get-

Yeah so, clearly everyone’s gonna get to Perfect level much quicker than in 99 Adventure, which again, it’s good they’re mixing things up. The question is, what’s next? My guess is down the line everyone will get Ultimate levels and of course, at some point we’ll see Omegamon. I wonder if there will be other Jogress possibilities? Just because it’s hard to believe evolution will stop being important, but if they’re going through both Adult and Perfect so fast it doesn’t leave much left for the rest of the season...

I give this ep a 5.5/10 for being basically a remix of episode 8, and I’m looking forward to getting new stuff for Yamato eventually. Next week’s looking to be Mimi-centric if Lillymon’s any indication, but I’ve got my fingers crossed for a few Taishiro moments anyway.

#digimon adventure 2020 #digimon adventure reboot #digimon psi #psi spoilers #digimon #fizz watches digimon 2020

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kittyg67789 · 3 years

Note

top 5 pokemon lol?

HHHHHHHHH I love Pokémon too much and am too indecisive to pick an actual top 5, so I’ll answer the first 5 I love that come to mind. I love so many Pokémon and I am very indecisive so have random Pokémon in a list (that is not in order bc idk actual order THERES TOO MANY GOOD OPTIONS OK SHHH)

Oh god I typed too much I’ll format this later but hve a Pokémon info dump!!

1. Jigglypuff/Wigglytuff (kinda the whole line but mostly these two), okay I know technically this is more than one but shhh. This is like 89% nostalgia from multiple sources. For one, mystery dungeon is iconic and that’s that. For two I really loved jigglypuff in the anime a kid, I thought them singing washes the prettiest thing so I’d replay it to sing a long, and I always felt super bad tht no one would listen/couldn’t listen and appreciate their pretty voice :( ALSO for 3 back when I was a kid, I was playing through heartgold/soulsilver (can’t remember which), and before the first elite four I was training up random Pokémon go evolve them for the Pokédex while I trained my actual team. So I was training jigglypuff in order for them to evolve, except then they didn’t. Because jigglypuff evolves with a stone and not by level up. So I ended up trying for so long tht it was my highest level Pokémon after a while, I’m talking like upper 80s high level. I eventually figured out it evolved with a stone, I think by buying stones from pokeathalon and seeing I could use it. It was supposed to be a temporary Pokémon party member, but i had it for SO LONG, that I got attached and ended up going through the rest of the game with a level 80+ wigglytuff. Also Bow jigglypuff in smash is top tier.

2. Gardevoir, absolutely classic I’ve had in multiple games. The first one I ever had. Was in X/Y, I saw you could get one in the early flower fields and SUPER wanted one. So I ended up catching one, except when I nicknamed it I accidentally pressed enter too early so it ended up being named Bi, with it’s only move confusion... 2ndly, Gardevoir is one of the very few Pokémon I actually worked on competitively! Kind of. Also one of my few natural shinies! I will always have a soft spot for it since it’s kind of become the mascot of me and @pufle10 friendship! For context, we were breeding because we wanted to do double battles for the Ultra sun/moon battle tree to see how long we could go. So one time when we were hanging out, we went to one of my favorite places to eat, and as a joke while I was hatching eggs they did like a lil hand motion over my ds saying “this one will be shiny!!” And then it actually fucking was. So basically we Stan gardevoir in this family.

3. Bulbasaur/the line, Surprisingly was not my og starter. Used to be a charizard Stan (still love it and also mega X is an aesthetic) but the bab has grown on me. 1 bc of Pokémon coliseum, they had an ivysaur you could rent, that I had so much fun with as a kid bc I loved being annoying and poisoning the enemy AND stealing their health every turn and obnoxiously stalling them out. I still love this bc toxic stalling is very fun and chaotic lol, and I found at least for me in play throughs it was a very convenient Pokémon to pick up for that playstyle, so I ended up using it in a lot of play throughs. Also I always name mine Eddie and when I was figuring out naming things, it ended up being a name I felt close to, so now I always associate bulbasaur with cool shit lol

4. Sylveon, best eeveelution imo (I love all of them). First Pokémon I got to level 100, since I was trying to shiny hunt eevee (also the first Pokémon I ever tried to shiny hunt) in X/Y bc I REALLY wanted a shiny Sylveon, and ended up getting my “placeholder” Sylveon to 100 while egg hatching/battling at the chateau to fill out my Pokédex. I still haven’t gotten my own shiny yet, but I have gotten them through trade. Also reminds me of my cats which is very good. Also fairy is my favorite type and it’s one of the OG fairy types lol

5. Cursola, probably one of my favorite ghost types tbh, and definitely one of my favorite newer Pokémon. It’s cool af, amazing aesthetic, and also it has tiny spoonfuls of curry it’s so cute. I also just got like way too attached to the one I got in my play through tbh. Also it’s shiny is amazing, and I’m still looking for it I just love them they are baby ok

#thoughts #oni talks #Pokémon #I felt the need to tag this with the actual Pokémon tag bc this is a lot of Pokémon #oni answers #anon #anonymous asks #anonymous questions #anon asks #asks #I would say sorry for the info dump but also I’m not bc I love Pokémon #honorable mentions include Alolan ninetails for similar Pufle friendship reasons #also alolan raichu bc it’s baby and it’s like a toasted marshmallow #typhlosion for being one of my first starters in my favorite Pokémon game #skitty bc mystery dungeon and I guess that’s just the Pokémon I’ve been assigned now #chimchar for being my first starter even tho I don’t really Stan the rest of their line tbh #also litwick is a fave and I literally have a litwick plushie #I mean I also have a chimchar and typhlosian plushy #also a regular ninetails plushie pufle got me as a gift one year #listen i really like Pokémon man #I’m not always into it/playing it/etc but it’s been a hyperfixation since I was very young #and I literallly always cycle back to it + me and pufle get to dump Pokémon stuff @ each other it’s great #fun fact one of the times we were discussing what we’d be as Pokémon/types/drawing each other etc #pufle made me into liek a toasted marshmallow fairy/Fire type #that lowkey looked like a toasted marshmallow/Fire type version of wigglytuff and tbh thts accurate af #anyway have fun with my Pokémon dump I’ll reformat it on desktop later so it’s more legible lol

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alolanrain · 4 years

Note

Hey! It's the anon once again. I was finally able to see your post once I got the Tumblr app. I want to thank you. You and your ideas got me back in the Pokemon fandom and actually inspired me to work on my own Pokemon fanfic. I also have some questions. What do you think of Ash? Who's your favorite and least characters from each game/anime? What's your favorite pairing? Some of your favorite headcanons? Why do you hate Rose so much? (Haven't played SWSH)

I’m so happy that you were able to see it!!! And I’m happy that my work and ideas brought i you ou back! And wnsnans I CAN’T WAIT TO READ THE FIC!!!!

What do you think of Ash?

I’ve always seen myself in Ash. He reminded me of a child with severe ADHD, and me a child with severe ADHD loved having a character I can somewhat relate to than just more than girl characters. I also love how close he is with his Pokémon, and how he treats them very differently from a lot of trainers. Along with how he never actually forces them to evolve, it’s always up to them if they truly want to do that.

What is your favorite/least favorite character from each Game/anime?

(I’ll do the games another time but I’m sticking with the Anime for now!!!)

Gen 1

Fav: Ash 👀 which is obvious

Dis: Lance surprisingly, I liked him a lot better when he showed up in Johto and during the last fight in Hoenn. But never liked him to begin with.

Gen 2

Fave: Brock, Ash actually gave me some annoyance during Gen 2 and Brocks Normal antics with pretty girls didn’t really upset me like it usually does

Dis: Misty, for the soul fact I didn’t like her voice. It reminded me to much of one of my old pre school teachers that actually hated me so I just associated Misty with her until after the Sinnoh arc

Gen 3

Fav: May, she reminded me a lot like Ash and also with having a little brother. I have two little sisters so I connected more with May

Dis: Wallace. Fuckin’ Wallace for the reason being I hated his fucking outfit

Gen 4

Fav: Cynthia, she wanted to fight Gods and I love her

Dis: mix up between Paul and Barry for reasons very blatant

Gen 5

Fav: Ash back at it again because Cilan and Iris were to fucking annoying

Dis: Iris and Alder. It’s a tie between the two. Alder because he’s a Bumbling idiot and doesn’t deserve the title of Himbo. And I took personal offense every time Iris called Ash a kid when he ended up doing a small thing wrong or doing something that he just Dose because he’s Ash.

Gen 6

fav: Professor Sycamore, when he found out who the mask Blaziken was it made me smile a lot because the Professor also kept the secret to himself for so long

Dis: Serena, she was a good character and loved by many, I respect that. Her voice was annoying, along with Bonnie but I had a weird connection to her since my sisters loved her, and how blantant she was with Ash. Even though it was his own fault for not seeing the obvious fucking clues

Gen 7

Fav: Professor Kukui and Ash, FAMILY BOND!!!!

Dis: Faba. Do I even have to explain him?

Gen 8

(Ik, IK it’s barley even out tho)

Fav: I’m having a feeling I’ll love Marnie if she comes to the anime. But for now it’s Ash, the art style is amazing and the scene with Lugia? B L E S S

Dis: Chairman Rose and Oleana, I know their not in the anime yet but I still can’t help myself.

What’s your favorite pairing?

Its a toss up between four right now.

Palletshipping- it was literally the second ship I got into and was also another reason for me to continue watching Pokémon after Gen 1 because my friend hinted that Ash and Gary made up, somewhat, after the Johto conference. So it’s an oldy but a goodie and I enjoy a lot of smaller headcanons about them.

Originalshipping- it was, I think, my fifth ship? I loved watching my older brothers play the first Pokémon games every Christmas Eve after dinner at my dads. It was a tradition that still goes on today. But besides that, I love stoic and silent Red with blabber mouth and energetic Green. I screamed when I found out they were going to be at the battle tree in the Alola Sun and Moon game.

(I blame @hiddenbyfaeries for the next two because she talked/screamed with/at me about them)

Ash/Hau/Gladion- their cute separate and together. And Hau and Gladion has a lot of good emotions in the game while both had very good episodes with Ash in the anime. Gladion and Hau just didn’t have any together from my recollection.

Leon/Ash/Raihan- I never stated anything about this in a post. But I will clarify that I mean Leon/OLDER!Ash/Raihan, for Ash would technicaly be around 20-something if the anime would let him age up instead of staying ten. But it’s slowly climbing higher in my heart of ships.

Favorite headcanons?

- Ash is strong, crazy strong. But his body doesn’t shown it, he still has soft baby fat and slightly round edges. Yet he can still chuck you to the moon if he puts enough effort into it

- my Tattoo!AU in general, which I’ll expand later on

- Brock is still the best cook to Ash, even when he gets older and all. Brock is the best

- Gary has a natural attraction to Dark and Fairy types. So when he goes to Kalos for a few month working under Professor Sycamore he ends up getting a sylveon, shiny or not is your chose to interpret

- Cynthia likes watching Dawn during contests, just like Diantha likes watching Serena in her contests

- ^^^ Diantha was slightly sad that Serena wasn’t going to enter in the Kalos contests. But she did warn Wallace about how good Serena is and got the older man to watch some of the girls old competitions. Wallace ends up falling in love with the girl and some how ends up becoming her pseudo weird ass uncle

-^^^^ she calls up May, who Ash sent her phone number to because he doesn’t want to approach Serena yet because of the kiss, and asks about Wallace

- May: *Sighs* he unofficially adopted you?

Serena: *panicked* he’s asking me to call him Uncle Wall!?

May: *seriouse* welcome to the family, you can’t escape

- both Gary and Ash melt when you pet their hair, like really get into it and lightly scratching their skulls. Their puddles of love and whine and complain when you stop.

- this is more canon I believe than a headcanon, but Professor Oak was an Ice type trainer before becoming a Pokémon Professor. So imagine him with an Alolan Ninetails

Why do you hate Rose so much?

I don’t have SWSH either, I watched my little cousins and older brothers play it on the Tv. I had an inkling of Rose since he was first introduced before the game. Something just bagged at the back of my head and grew as more content came out. This is the first time we’re dealing with a Chairman of the League in general, it’s usuajust the Champion that you see running it (or in Alola’s case, Professor Kukui). So having an actual Chairman just set off my warnings signs and I ended up being right that he was the bad guy. Oleana also didn’t help his image to me. But I’ve also felt with people like him and they were all very condescending to me, so just seeing him made my blood fucking boil.

#wolfy answers #headcanons #my pist #ash ketchum #gary oak #gym leader brock

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fishfurred · 5 years

Text

Four times Iwaizumi said I love you, and one time Oikawa beat him to it.

Iwaizumi is a lot of things. Gruff, tough, strong, brave, but all of that pales in the matter of embarrassing his best friend and he's learned a special trick. If saying 'I love you' makes Oikawa even more of a whiny brat, then that's just what Iwaizumi will do. A series of one-shots following Iwaizumi from confession through his and Oikawa's life together.

It's absolute, complete fluff nothing else.

Words: 10K+

Hit the read more or read on AO3

One

Hajime glanced down at the purple plush Tooru had shoved into his arms.

“What is this?” He raised an eyebrow up at his best friend, carefully turning the creature around. It was soft but there were spines going down it’s back and it’s smile kind of looked like Kageyama’s.

“It’s Gengar!” Tooru chirped, grinning wildly for some reason. Hajime wondered if the Pokemon was supposed to be something special, he was never a big fan of Pokemon and didn’t really know what a Gengar was. “It’s for you! It’s a ghost type and loves to sneak up and bully people, just like Iwa-chan.”

Hajime grabbed it and chucked it at Tooru’s head, catching it when it bounced off as his best friend squawked and fixed his hair immediately. Tooru scowled at him and crossed his arms angrily at him.

“What?”

“You’re such a shit, Oikawa. Why do I want a Pokemon just for you to make fun of me? It’s stupid, and it’s grin creeps me out-”

“You’re right,” Tooru cut him off, turning away before Hajime could see his eyes and see if he was actually upset. “I should have gotten you Machamp, because he’s a big muscled idiot like you, no brains at all. You would have gotten along with him perfectly.”

“Oikawa-” He called after him when Tooru stormed out, heading towards the ice cream cart across the street. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, gently rolling the purple creature over to look it in the eyes. Tooru had already bought it so he couldn’t exactly put it back, but he didn’t really care for ghosts whether creatures or real. He wasn’t sure if Tooru was actually upset, or just trying to trick him into apologizing for insulting Pokemon but either way a few minutes to calm down would be best.

“Oh hey, there you are.” Matsukawa’s voice came from behind him and he turned to see him holding one of the expensive life size pokemons. He held it up proudly. “I’m going to hit Hanamaki with this and see if I can knock him down in one blow.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Oh! It’s a Goomy, it was the first Pokemon Hanamaki ever caught when I lent him my game, y’know, when I got him addicted.” Matsukawa frowned for a second and Hajime couldn’t blame him, Hanamaki had gotten way into the game for a few months and almost had to be dragged to practice because he wanted to catch all the Pokemon on Matsukawa’s game. “But I see you have a Gengar, is it for Oikawa?”

“Huh? Why would it be for him?” Hajime said, then frowned at his own protectiveness of the plushy, he was already attached to the damn thing. Stupid thing.

“Gengar is Oikawa’s favorite Pokemon.”

“That’s an understatement,” Hanamaki’s voice cut in as he walked up, a large green dinosaur in his hand. He turned to Matsukawa and gasped, eyes wide. “They said they sold out of him though.”

“I pre-ordered him, just for you.” Matsukawa said, eyes soft and then smacked his best friend with the purple and pink plush. Hanamaki didn’t fall but he did burst into laughter, holding out the green dinosaur pokemon for Matsukawa.

“Funny, I pre-ordered him for you too.” Hanamaki said and Matsukawa cooed, quickly switching the two and squeezing the dinosaur. Hanamaki glanced over at Hajime’s confused expression. “Meganium, it’s the final evolution of Chikorita, the first Pokemon Matsukawa ever got. His game got corrupted so he wasn’t able to transfer her to the newest game where you can play with her, but now you can play with her all the time.”

“Hanamaki, marry me.” Matsukawa said into the plush’s neck and Hanamaki laughed, cheeks red.

“I intend to, but after college.” He teased then turned to Hajime before Matsukawa could say anything about that. “So, is that for Oikawa then?”

“Uh… No, he gave it to me… Why does he like the little gremlin? Cuz it looks like Kageyama?” He frowned down at the purple monster and tried not to feel like he was hurting it’s feelings.

“I mean, maybe. But Oikawa told me that in the old games the Pokedex, the tool that tells you about the Pokemon, it said that Gengar plays tricks because it’s lonely and wants someone to be it’s friend forever. Apparently he felt so bad he decided that he was going to be it’s best friend forever and won’t trade them for anything. I even offered to give him a legendary in return for just one of his Gengar’s and he nearly had a heart attack at the idea of trading them.” Hanamaki explained and Hajime blinked, something warm blossoming in his chest.

He hadn’t thought about it in years, long since forgotten since Oikawa had latched onto his side. How many times as a kid had he purposely harassed Tooru to try and get him to pay attention to him? How many times had he pranked him hoping Tooru would come out of his house and they could play together? How many times had Tooru jumped in front of him to yell at the older kids when Hajime’s pranks had gone wrong and swear he wasn’t going to leave him? When had they switched places?

He smiled at the purple creature, an idea forming. He did promise his mom he would confess before they graduated highschool, and this would get Tooru to forgive him for insulting his favorite Pokemon, it was perfect. He turned to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, rolling his eyes when they gasped at his smile.

“Can you two nerds help me with something?”

“Oikawa!” The tall brunette glanced over at him, two cones held in his hand as he tilted his head at Hajime. So not too upset, and any left over hurt was immediately washed away as he looked at Hajime’s chest.

“Is that a baby carrier?” Tooru squealed with laughter at the sight of Gengar carefully tucked into the baby carrier and held to Hajime’s chest. He didn’t even notice Hajime’s hands behind his back.

“I didn’t want to drop him!” Hajime insisted, frowning down at the little guy. He was way too attached to the little bastard already and he blamed Oikawa. “Come on, shit head, quit holding up the line.”

“Oh right, sorry!” He smiled at the person behind him and skipped ahead with both of their ice creams. “Where’s Makki and Mattsun?”

“I told them we’d meet them at the outside cafe around the corner, I don’t think anyone is going to let them come inside with their child sized toys.” Hajime said, fondly remembering the two walking down the street together and beating each other up with their Pokemon.

“I mean, probably not… I suppose I should forgive you for being mean to Gengar… after all… You are taking very good care of your new child.” Tooru said, glancing back and snickering again. This time his eyes did catch on Hajime’s arms being held behind his back. “What are you hiding Iwa-chan?”

“Oh nothing… Just a gift for someone.” The effect was instantaneous, Tooru lit up like a christmas tree, bouncing on his heels.

“Is it for me?”

“Who knows?” Hajime hummed, turning so Tooru couldn’t peer around and look. Tooru huffed, eyes narrowed and he jumped forward trying to move faster than Hajime and look behind his hands.

“You know! You bully! Let me see my gift.”

“Who says it’s for you? Maybe it’s for Kindaichi. His birthday is coming up.”

“You already bought him a new set of volleyball shoes and tickets for all you can eat Barbecue.” Tooru said, and Hajime paused mouth hanging open slightly.

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know you Iwa-chan, I know everything about you.” Tooru said proudly, head held up haughtily. He smirked down at Hajime who rolled his eyes. He didn’t know everything, but he would in a minute.

Suddenly, doubt formed in Hajime’s stomach. Sure, Tooru wouldn’t throw him to the side and never talk to him again but they were going to different colleges and maybe Tooru didn’t feel the same. Or didn’t feel like putting his career in danger just to…

“Here.” Hajime said before the anxiety could build too much. He held out the silver Pokemon and watched Tooru nearly drop the ice cream.

“Holy shit… Iwaizumi Hajime, do you even know what you’re giving me? Shiny Eevee is a limited edition… She’s so expensive, like… Holy shit Iwa-chan.” Tooru’s eyes were alight, wide and gentle like he was afraid he would blink and it would all be a dream. Then they moved to meet Hajime’s and Hajime couldn’t help but think of how beautiful they were. How beautiful Tooru was always. With his dumb antics and dumb hair and pretty face and his brain that somehow managed to outsmart everyone and yet insisted on aliens. Hajime loved it.

“I know, Hanamaki nearly cried when he saw me go to the register. I think my wallet really did cry.”

“Then why-”

“Because it’s you.” He held out the Pokemon again, taking the cones from Tooru as he gathered up the large plush. “Eevee can evolve into almost any type right? Well, you can be anything you want, anything in the world. You’re special and you deserve a Pokemon as special as you are.”

“Hajime.” Tooru murmured and Hajime’s heart skipped a beat. He angrily told it to shut up, they hadn’t even confessed yet. “Oh she has a collar, did you buy her a special collar Iwa-chan?” He tilted his head as he moved to look at the metal piece.

I love you.

Tooru’s mouth fell open and he gaped at it for a second and Hajime had a flash of pride for finally managing to surprise his captain. He glanced up at Hajime and then back at the Pokemon and Hajime’s heart stuttered at the idea that he would refuse it, or worse, laugh it off.

“I love you.” Hajime said, wishing he wasn’t holding ice-cream so he could hide behind his hands, or even behind the Gengar at this point. “I mean, who doesn’t. But really… I… I know you get a lot of confessions and I didn’t mean to confess today, I meant to do the button thing but then I was thinking about Matsukawa telling Hanamaki to marry him because of the dinosaur-”

“Wait Mattsun said what?” Tooru interrupted, confusion clouding his features and Hajime waved him off.

“I’ll explain in a minute, anyways I realized you’re going to get a lot of confessions as soon as we graduate or even in college and you’re going to fall in love with someone unless you’re dating someone. And I can’t really compete with Daichi-”

“I can’t believe you still think I’m trying to date Daichi that was clearly a ruse to piss off Tobio-chan.”

“Wait what-”

“Duh, I told him I was going to be his new dad and he was going to have to call me Kindaichi and Kunimi big brother, I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

“Stop bullying him Tooru- Ugh I am trying to confess here! This is terrifying.”

“Sorry, sorry, keep going Hajime. I’ll say yes when you’re done.” Tooru said, settling on his heels, head nestled on the top of the Eevee.

“Thank you- Wait.” He glared at him, watching his best friends lips twitch up despite him doing his best not to smile. “I hate you, I take it back, I take it all back, die alone.” He spun and immediately arms wrapped around his waist and a head was burrowing into his shoulder.

“No~ Keep going Iwa-chan, it’s so sweet and you’re so sweet and cute.” Hajime glared and kept walking, ignoring Tooru’s complaints and attempts to hold him back. He managed to break free after a second, turning the corner and handing the two ice creams to Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Tooru came around a second later, pouting and eyes creased in the way that told Hajime he thought he really messed up.

Hajime sighed and rolled his eyes, this was the man he fell in love with ages ago. He reached up and squished his cheeks and kissed him lightly.

“I’m completely in love with you.” Hajime said, and turned, plopping into the seat and grabbing the ice-creams back from the two stricken volleyball players. He heard the squeal before Tooru was slipping into the chair next to him and pressing up as close as he could, kissing his cheek.

“I love you too Hajime, and I’m going to date you forever so you better be prepared.” He declared and stole a cone before Hajime could lick it, smiling at Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s looks. “So what’s this about marriage you two?”

Hajime rolled his eyes, watching his best friends flush and stutter out excuses. He lifted an arm and wrapped it around Tooru, feeling him lean into his side like he was meant to be there. He smiled softly and pressed his lips into Tooru’s hair to hide it. All this because of a stupid purple monster.

Two

Working in the library really wasn’t how Hajime intended to spend his afternoons after school. Sure, it was fun being able to help the librarian and the students find materials and he loved being surrounded by books. However, it also meant he had to deal with every single idiot who spilt beer, marijuana, and other unspeakable liquids in his books. He didn’t think he could ever be a librarian, which was good because he was studying Aerospace engineering, but the librarian in charge loved him after he threatened a senior who returned a beer covered textbook and they came back the next day with a brand new copy for a ‘donation’.

He closed his own textbook as a girl came towards the desk, a handful of books clutched in her hands. She flushed terribly when he held his hands out to take them and he couldn’t help but be reminded of all the times girls would try to confess to Tooru in school only to squeak and run away. Of course, he’d gotten his own admirers but most of them had been fellow athletes and had quickly realized neither of them had time if they wanted to be the best at their sport.

“H-Hi.” She seemed so small that Hajime flashed back to the manager of Karasuno and wondered if she had gotten lost. Except she had been blonde hadn’t she? She must have been, Matsukawa had teased Yahaba about having a thing for blondes.

“Hi, checking them out?”

“What- no- I mean yes, checking the books out.” She said when he held up the books curiously at her denial. “I… I’m studying Psychology and I have a report due.”

“Oh? Huh, about what?”

“About how society affects how psychologists report their findings.” She said, relaxing as they got to a topic she was more comfortable on. Now that they were talking, she seemed really familiar and he wracked his brain for her name.

“You might want to grab this book too then, it covers a lot of different values at the same time as Freud started his psychoanalyzing.” He said, grabbing a book from the returned pile. “He might have been a bit of a cocaine addict, but his work did change how psychology was used.”

She paused and glanced at him as she flipped the book over. “You know a bit about psychology?”

“One of my best friends wanted to be a Psychologist for a while, before he realized that meant dealing with people and decided to become a baker instead.”

“Those are completely different things.” She laughed, grinning at him and it hit him where he knew her.

“Did you go to Johzenji?” He asked and her face blossomed pink again.

“How did you…”

“You were the manager right?”

“Yeah, Hana Misaki… I know Terushima caused a lot of trouble for you but-” He waved it off.

“Is that why you were nervous? I won’t blame you for Terushima if you don’t blame me for Oikawa getting into a fight with him.” He snorted, pressing down a grin when she groaned at the memory. Terushima had decided to flirt with Oikawa’s so called protege and Yahaba had flirted back, causing Oikawa to go into unnecessary protective mode. He called it ‘Doing his job as a Captain’ the team called it ‘Mom mode’.

“Honestly I think Terushima did it just to fight with Oikawa, I am so sorry about that-”

“Really, really, it’s fine, I think Oikawa enjoyed being able to fight him too, normally Yahaba throws the first punch so Oikawa doesn’t get half a chance.”

“Yahaba always tries to fight people bigger than him and I have to protect him!” Tooru’s voice was half shrill, lips twisted in a pout as Hajime turned to look at the volleyball player. He was always a bit wild when people called him out on his overprotective behavior. “I remember you punching that junior last week for flirting with Kunimi.”

“I remember you shutting the fuck up.” Hajime flushed, angrily scanning the books out and handing them to Hana as she laughed softly. Tooru’s gaze landed on her and twisted from jealous to curious in a few seconds, before she could even notice.

“Hana Misaki? From Johzenji?” He asked, smiling his normal fake smile when she nodded, eyes wide with surprise. Her fingers tugged at the books nervously as if she could sense the possessive feelings roiling under the surface of Tooru’s mask.

“Yes, hello Oikawa.” She tried to give him a smile, glancing at Hajime as he groaned and leaned over the counter to punch Tooru’s shoulder gently.

“We were talking about Psychology, she has a report due.”

“Oh! You mean like Makki was doing?” Tooru brightened immediately, an almost real smile on his lips.

“Exactly, asshole. So quit being a jealous turd.”

“I am not a jealous turd, that would involve anyone being able to take you away from me. And I’m adorable.”

“Yes. You are.” Hajime said simply, a growing smirk on his face as Tooru immediately turned red and started to bluster and turned away, stomping away to a table. He laughed and turned to Hana. “Works every time.”

“Clearly. So you two finally got together?”

“If I had a hundred yen for every time someone said that to me,” He shook his head, eyes settling on Tooru and softening immensely as the volleyball player pulled out his books and notes. Tooru glanced over and stuck out his tongue, childish despite his accomplishments and Hajime knew he’d do anything to keep him that way. To keep him away from the way the world weakened and darkened the souls in it, he’d do anything.

“Yeah, we’re together.” He finally finished, glancing up at Hana’s knowing look and trying not to get embarrassed.

“I’m glad… and a little jealous… Ah you probably don’t want to hear it.”

“Go ahead, I’m curious. Besides, no one else is here and my replacement doesn’t come in for another thirty minutes.”

“Well.. I mean… Just the way he looks at you, he’s looked at you for as long as I can remember seeing you on court. It’s like… you’re his rock and you look at him like he’s your sky. I’ve never had anyone look at me like that… It’s dumb because I mean, I’m only a first year in college, I haven’t even lived that long. But… You two… It’s like someone took a soul and split you in two. You’re your own people, but you fit together perfectly and it’s… just… nice to know that couples like you exist. Meanwhile I’m going to die alone because Terushima has scared off every woman this side of Japan.” Her voice flattened at the end, and she looked tired but also mildly amused as she thought back to her Kohai. Hajime laughed and shook his head.

“Not every woman, uh…” He dug around for a pen and paper, scribbling a number down. “Kiyoko Shimizu, give her a text. Tell her I gave you her number and she’ll introduce you to a few others. There’s a group of us who go out to the bars on the weekend and crash together at my place afterwards, if nothing else you can get a crap ton of free drinks out of it.”

She took it hesitantly and glanced at Tooru who was scribbling at something angrily and broke his pencil, staring at it like it betrayed him.

“He lets you bring a bunch of girls over?”

“It’s amazing how nice he is once he hears the word lesbian.” Hajime pressed his lips together to stop a laugh from escaping. “Ask Kiyoko, she’s put him in his place a few times. She could probably get even Ushijima to bow to her power, she’s terrifying.”

“Sounds like my kind of woman.” She tucked the paper carefully into her book. “I think that’s your replacement, you have a good day Iwaizumi… and if you ever want to talk Psychology I definitely could use the study help.” She waved the books at him and headed out, passing Moniwa as he skipped in and hurried behind the counter.

“Thanks for covering the first part of my shift Iwaizumi, I thought Futakuchi was going to eat Kogane if I didn’t intervene.” He shook his head tiredly and held open the gate that led to the main part of the library. “Go on, I think Oikawa thinks I’m going to seduce you into giving away Seijoh secrets.”

Hajime rolled his eyes, knowing the thought had probably crossed Oikawa’s mind and grabbed his books. He snuck his way around the library, careful not so alert his boyfriend as he laid his books down on the edge of the table. Oikawa was engrossed in a physics book and didn’t even notice until Hajime was sliding his arms around his neck and hugging him from behind.

“You’re a dumbass.” Hajime muttered in his ear, pressing a soft kiss to Oikawa’s forehead. “You were totally jealous.”

“You are gorgeous, of course I’m jealous when a pretty girl comes up to you.” He huffed, looking away but Hajime could see his lips twitching up as Hajime glided soft kisses down his neck. “Stop it, I’m mad at you.”

“No you’re not.” Hajime laughed, quiet and rough, the way he knew made Oikawa shiver and glow with pride knowing he was the only one who got to hear it like that. Oikawa hummed for a second then leaned back until his head was resting on Hajime’s chest and he could smile at him. A real smile, the kind that made Hajime’s heart skip a beat and his brain work ten thousand miles a minute thinking about their futures together.

“No, I’m not. How could I be? You’re perfect, and you quite literally asked me out… doesn’t mean I don’t worry.” He admitted softly and Hajime kissed him. A gentle, loving brush of lips as he reached over and pulled the other chair closer and sat in it. Hajime took Tooru’s hands and tangled their fingers together, pressing a kiss to each knuckle.

“Oikawa Tooru.” He said softly, looking up at him. He thought about what Hana said, about looking at Tooru like he was the sky and he tried to channel that. It wasn’t hard, Tooru was his best friend, his partner, his love and every glance felt like falling in love all over again.

“Y-yes?” Tooru’s cheeks glowed red and Hajime loved it, loved being the one to put that there. Loved that he could take Tooru from his snow-white skin to a cherry tomato and tease him and Tooru would never move from his arms.

“I love you.” He said simply, watching Tooru groan and lean over to hide his face in Hajime’s shoulder.

“You’re embarrassing! So embarrassing!” Tooru insisted, squeezing Hajime’s hands and sighing softly. Hajime just shrugged, letting Tooru hide in his shoulder and humming softly.

“I love you still.” He said, lips twitching when Tooru whined again.

“I love you too Iwa-chan… even if you are a butt head.”

“Sure, darling,” Hajime felt Tooru shudder and knew he was red again at the nickname. “Let’s study huh? And I’ll make dinner tonight.”

“You spoil me… I’m going to get you back for it, just you wait, I’m going to say I love you first one day and you’re going to be so embarrassed and I’m going to laugh.” Tooru declared, but sat up, keeping on hand in Hajime’s and pushing his books over, settling against him.

Three

Tooru was tired, bone achingly tired. Everything hurt. His head, his feet, gods his knee felt like it would be worthwhile to chew off, and worst of all his ass hurt. Stupid Kuroo and stupid Bokuto knocking him down, they never checked to make sure there wasn’t anything they were knocking someone on. Thank the heavens Aran was there to pull them off, Oikawa was sure he was going to die under their combined weight.

Now he was home and didn’t want to do anything ever again. Ever.

He glanced around, pouting when he saw that Hajime wasn’t home yet. He was probably still at the library, getting in extra hours to cover his half of the rent and still be able to afford unnecessary amounts of Godzilla merchandise. Or as Hajime said “Totally necessary Godzilla merchandise.”

The apartment was homey, comfortable with a nice couch in front of a tv with a table that was more footrest than anything at this point. The shelves around the walls were decorated in pictures of the old team and random merchandise, from Final Fantasy Chocobo statuettes to Hajime’s failed attempt at felting a godzilla that Tooru absolutely refused to let him throw away. It was rather clean, considering both of the boys had a habit of dropping everything on the couch and then losing all of their stuff twenty seconds later when they needed it. There was a small desk off to the side, covered in papers from Hajime’s engineering designs and whatever doodle Tooru decided would annoy him the most. (Despite lacking all artistic ability, given a pencil and a ruler Hajime could actually draw decently, as long as it was only technical designs of course.)

Tooru’s own desk was in his room, and was drowning in textbooks and scattered notes and a single volleyball that he had been using as a pillow the last few nights. Hajime’s room was empty except for a bed that was always made in case of a fight, or more commonly, one of them had to pull an all nighter and didn’t want to keep the other up. Not that it stopped Tooru from just wandering in at four am and laying on his boyfriend for an hour until he had to get up. Sometimes it was just nice to be held for an hour, atleast Tooru thought so.

Tooru looked blankly into the kitchen from the couch and thought he’d rather sleep for the next century before he cooked dinner. He let his volleyball bag fall to the floor, barely making his bookbag land on the couch before he turned and stumbled into his room. The floor was still covered from the pillow fight that Hajime had started that morning and Tooru decided that was good enough.

He collapsed onto the pile of pillows, grumpily kicking at the blankets as they caught on his shoes. He barely managed to make it cover his shoulders before he was passed out, snoring happily onto the pillow nest.

When Tooru woke, he was tucked carefully into his bed and his shoes and clothes had been removed. It took him a moment to realize what was wrong and he gently patted his chest and legs, sighing in relief when he found his boxers still on. It wouldn’t be the first time he stripped naked in his sleep and his clothes always seemed to find themselves in the strangest places, like the microwave. Thankfully, if he was still wearing boxers that meant that Hajime had moved him.

He sat up.

Hajime.

He scrambled out of bed, cursing as pain shot up his knee, it was aching again. He glared down at it and swore that as soon as cybornetics were available he was replacing the thing. It wasn’t as bad as earlier and he could walk on it without major pain, but the residual ache was getting annoying.

Tooru took a breath trying not to be annoyed as he leaned against the doorway opening the door and breathing in the rich scent of food. His mouth watered almost immediately and he groaned, stumbling his way into the kitchen.

Hajime was standing there, stirring slowly and reading a book in the other hand. He glanced over and smiled and Tooru felt like melting into a puddle at his gorgeous boyfriend. His brown eyes were shining with amusement as Hajime looked over at him and put the book on the counter, covering the pan with a lid and making his way over. Tooru leaned into his strong hold as soon he was able too, winding his arms around him.

“It’s my turn to cook dinner.” Tooru sighed, nuzzling his neck and breathing in the smell of sandalwood that came from Hajime’s skin. He loved how he smelled, it was so unfair. Tooru had to spend his days around sweaty nasty people (like Bokuto no matter what Akaashi said, Bokuto needed a shower before hugging anyone) and Hajime smelled like a fancy shop.

“You were tired.” Hajime said, fingers gently stroking through Tooru’s hair and Tooru could imagine if he was a cat he’d be purring up a storm right now. Still, he pulled his head back and frowned at his boyfriend. He couldn’t help the guilt that welled up in his stomach and he swallowed anxiously.

“You’ve made dinner three nights in a row… Seriously, you could have woken me up Haj. I’m sorry, I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Tooru insisted, grumping when Hajime shook his head.

“Tooru, you nearly cried when I picked you up off the floor. You’re tired and you’ve been pushing yourself extra hard these past couple of weeks. I can let you rest a bit more while the season’s going. Now when final’s come and they give you time off, then you can make it up to me.” Hajime teased him and Tooru kissed his nose, smiling at the sprinkle of pink that spread over his cheeks. Hajime’s lips were spreading into a small smile, tiny and unintended and in Tooru’s opinion, the best smile he was capable of. It was one that Hajime never meant to give but it meant he was so happy and relaxed that it slipped out and Tooru would literally do anything to see it every day.

“Pinky promise?” Tooru hummed and Hajime laughed, kissing him and murmured against his lips.

“Pinky promise.” He finally let go of Tooru, just long enough to lower the heat on the pan and stir it a little. Then he turned and gave Tooru a look that made him a little weak. The curve of a smirk on his lips, eyebrow raised, and a dangerous glint in his eyes that made Tooru sure Hajime knew exactly what he did to him.

“I can think of something that you can do to make it up to me right now though,” Hajime purred and Tooru was about to complain about atleast getting a pillow for his knees when Hajime turned and pressed a button on his phone. Soft music echoed from the phone and Tooru let out a peal of laughter, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Hajime asked, arms crossed. Tooru just shook his head, leaning against the door frame as the laughter shook him. Hajime huffed and glared at him until Tooru held out his hands and made a grabbing motion with them.

“You’re just… gods… you’re just amazing.” Tooru laughed, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s neck and leaning in to press their foreheads together.

“That’s why you’re laughing at me? Because I’m so amazing.” Hajime deadpanned, sliding his own arms around Tooru’s waist.

“Because I get to step on your feet.” Tooru said, teasingly tapping his feet with his own and Hajime snorted, pulling him closer and tilting his head up to kiss him sweetly. Tooru didn’t bother to pull away, kissing back as Hajime swayed them to the music.

“Tooru, you’re the world’s biggest dumbass.” Hajime murmured against his lips, smiling when Tooru squawked in fake offence. “And you’re the love of my life.”

“Ugh.” Tooru groaned, burying his face in his shoulder as Hajime laughed. As many times as he’d been able to embarrass his boyfriend and turn him shy, he would never be bored of it.

“I love you. I love you…. I love you.” Hajime said, spinning them slowly and listening to the ever growing groan. He pecked his cheek and said it again, moving to take his hands and kiss them too, repeating himself as Tooru whined and kissed him to shut him up.

“Stop it, you’re a bully… I love you too.” Tooru said after a minute, pouting cutely and Hajime couldn’t help himself.

“I love you.” He whispered, looking him in the eye and Tooru rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips.

“One of these days, I swear. I’m going to make you a mess, just like you do me.”

“You make me a mess every time you smile. It’s like the world disappears.”

“Who is giving you lessons!” Tooru blurted, whining and collapsing into his chest as Hajime laughed and rubbed his back. “You are too smooth, you’re going to get so smooth you break up with me and marry someone just as smooth… like… like Akaashi! Or Suga-chan! Or or…” He frowned then looked at him, eyes wide.

“You’re going to fall in love with Kai-chan and Kuroo is never going to let me live it down. And I can’t even be made because he’s adorable and sweet and I love Kenma-chan so much?” Tooru gasped, and Hajime wondered if Tooru was purposely being a shit or if he genuinely was concerned that Hajime was going to run off with Nobuyuki Kai. Then he decided he didn’t care.

“Tooru, do you love me?”

“What? Of course I do. Completely in love with you.”

“And you know I love you right.”

“Well yes, right now-”

“Tooru.”

“Yes you love me.”

“You remember what you said when I confessed? I’m going to date you forever. I agreed. I’m not going anywhere idiot. I’m going to love you forever and you’re going to be sick of me by the time we get to the afterlife you’re going to beg me to marry Matsukawa so you can hang out with Hanamaki.” Hajime said seriously, lips twitching when he saw Tooru trying not to laugh at him. Tooru shook his head, then sighed and smiled, leaning in and kissing him long and deep.

“How is it that even when you’re saying something ridiculous like that, you’re still able to make me fall even more in love with you.”

“Duh, I’m your partner. We’re meant to be, like the stars in the sky, fish and water, Daichi and horrible teammates, snow and antarctica.”

“Oh I’m so telling Daichi you said that- Wait does that include me?” He gasped, offended and Hajime kissed his cheek, letting go and moving to the stove to stir the pan. “Oh nice try, get back over here and finish my dance and tell me the truth.”

Hajime just laughed, blowing him a kiss and focusing on the meal.

Four

Hajime considered himself lucky, most of the time. He had a great boyfriend, amazing friends, a nice apartment, a decent job, and he was well on his way to graduating at the school of his choice. Then, Tooru got ahold of alcohol.

Tooru wasn’t the worst alcoholic. He was just… worse.

Tooru had three moods when handling alcohol. Clingy mother, slutty, and marrying Hanamaki. Out of the three, the clingy mother mode was probably the most dangerous. If he didn’t have someone to pay attention to, he would often have to be wrestled from his phone before he called up whoever his thumb hit first and started asking about their dinner.

It wasn’t too bad the few times he’d dialed Bokuto or Ushijima, both who were willing to humor him and discuss a proper meal. Kuroo on the other hand got so much enjoyment out of the panic that Tooru caused when he thought he was without dinner that even Kenma and Yaku had to get involved.

Slutty was just Tooru’s normal mood, ramped up. Hajime really didn’t mind that one, especially when half the time Tooru passed out before anything happened and Hajime could seduce him into going home before they reached the clingy mother mode. Or, if someone else was the designated driver, he got to have fun with his boyfriend.

Marrying Hanamaki was probably the most troublesome. Of course, if you asked Tooru, he’d remind Hajime that he was notorious for drunkenly buying plants and crying through a divorce statement when Tooru took away his credit card. If you asked Hajime, he’d tell Tooru to shut up about that.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were great friends, and they only harassed Tooru a little bit after any drunken misadventures. However, during the misadventures they were almost as bad as he was and it was in their nature to harass and bully Hajime at any moment. They claimed that it was their duty to protect Tooru as their captain, but Hajime just knew they got off on watching him suffer.

Tooru, on the other hand, absolutely adored his friends and despite the constant bullying of his boyfriend and teammates Tooru considered Hanamaki and Matsukawa to be the best people on earth and refused to bully them. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were well aware of this and abused it.

“Babe, we should get a cat.” Tooru stated one night when they had all gone out to drink, staring at the empty shot glass in his hand.

“I don’t want a cat,” Matsukawa grumbled before Hanamaki laughed and ruffled his hair.

“His other babe, the one he goes home too.” Hanamaki teased Hajime, who just stared him down as he drained the beer in his hands. Hanamaki blinked in surprise before giggling and leaning against his boyfriend.

“Tooru, why do you want a cat?” Hajime finally sighed, waving down the bartender for another beer. Tooru hummed and flopped onto Hanamaki’s shoulder, pouting at Hajime.

“Because. Cats.”

“That’s not an answer.” Hajime frowned at the beer, the fuzz in his head making it a little hard to think. He was pretty sure it wasn’t an answer, he wasn’t completely certain but if he let Tooru know it then he would lose the argument. Which argument that was, he’d already forgotten.

“But babe, I can name her princess and-”

“Who said we’re going to get a girl?” Hajime interjected and Tooru gave him such a look of disbelief Hajime was almost sure he’d sworn or said something insulting.

“The only dicks I’m touching are my own and yours, not a cat’s.” Tooru said dryly, blinking in surprise when Hanamaki and Matsukawa both jerked with laughter, Matsukawa spilling alcohol on his lap. “Iwa-chan why are they laughing?”

“... Dicks.” Hajime said simply, leaning backwards unsteadily as Tooru’s hand smacked at his face.

“Don’t be mean to them, they’re your friends.” He complained and Hajime batted his hand away.

“You said a dick joke! You’re such a brat.”

“I did? Huh…” He pouted at Hajime, reaching over to tug petulantly at his shirt. Gods, he was cute. He was so absolutely adorable and Hajime didn’t know how he’d gotten the cutest damn boy in the world. He couldn’t help it, leaning over and sloppily kissing his forehead.

Tooru turned a brilliantly beautiful shade of pink and giggled, tugging Hajime’s shirt and trying to turn away when Hajime tried to kiss him again.

“No~ I’m trying to make a point Hajime!”

“You’re beautiful.” It slipped out before Hajime could quiet himself and he could hear his friends mocking him to each other. Then Tooru’s eyes met his and he decided he didn’t care. “You’re the most beautiful person in the universe.”

“H-a-j-i-m-e.” Tooru complained, shaking his head. Then he paused and leaned in to kiss him lightly. “You’re distracting me, besides… you’re absolutely stunning… I’m lucky you decided to love me.”

“No I’m-”

“Okay, you two, I love you both but don’t start that again.” Matsukawa interrupted, arm reaching around Hanamaki to gently push Hajime’s face away from Tooru’s. Tooru scowled immediately, crossing his arms and turning to glare at Matsukawa. “Cats, Tooru?”

“Oh! Iwa-chan! We should get a cat! I can name her Princess and hold her and love her and brush her and feed her… and her name will be Princess because she’ll be perfect like me… and a Princess… like me!” Tooru said, obviously proud of himself for that string of thought before he was grabbing Hanamaki’s drink for himself. Hanamaki didn’t mind, only occasionally sipping at Matsukawa’s drink.

Hajime sighed and shook his head, taking a drink of his beer and vaguely wondered why he hadn’t gotten wine like Matsukawa. Then he caught Tooru greedily drinking Hanamaki’s sweet liquor and remembered that Tooru was addicted to any sweet alcohol.

“Tooru, we can’t get a cat.” He finally said when Tooru started to wiggle unhappily in his stool.

“What? Why not? We’re adults, we don’t have to ask my mom.”

“We don’t have anything for a cat, you don’t even know how to clean a litter box.” Hajime said logically, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle when Tooru steeled his gaze.

“I can learn anything I need to, and I can be a perfect owner.” He insisted and Hajime sighed, not particularly against a cat but deciding to get an animal while drunk was a terrible decision.

“You can ask Kindaichi!” Hanamaki said and both Matsukawa and Hajime shouted as they heard the name. It was too late. Tooru perked up immediately, his foggy gaze the clearest it had been since they started drinking. Mother mode activated.

“Kindaichi? I haven’t talked to him in so long, I wonder if he’s doing alright. He was really worried about that history final and of course trying to be a captain, and he’s so cute when he’s all huffy and worried about Kunimi- Haj, Hajime, where’s my phone? Baby, where’s my phone I want to call Kindaichi.” Tooru asked, reaching over to check Hajime’s pockets. Hanamaki grabbed the phone that was on the bar and started to offer it to Tooru before Matsukawa snatched it and shoved it in his pocket before Tooru turned around.

“Oh!” He turned and without even blinking at the rudeness of the action, stuck his hand into Hanamaki’s pocket and pulled out the pink haired man’s phone. “Thanks Makki! I bet Kindaichi really misses us, he always worries too much… He needs a hug, Iwa-chan, you should hug him more… We should all hug him more, and then we can hug Kyoken-chan. Yaha-chan says he doesn’t bite people when they hug him anymore, oh and Shi-chan says he got a new boyfriend and I have to make sure he’s being treated right.”

Hajime leaned to the right and caught Matsukawa’s gaze, mouthing “Shi-chan?” Matsukawa just shrugged. There were three people that could be, and knowing Tooru he could mean all of them.

Hajime licked his lips, watching Tooru chatter as he tapped away at Hanamaki’s phone. He needed to intervene before Tooru started randomly harassing their kohai and terrifying them, but without upsetting Tooru who was emotionally unstable when drunk. He might have been the most badass person Hajime knew while sober, but after a few drinks that went out the window faster than a demon out of hell.

Hajime blinked when Tooru flipped the phone upside down and then turned to quietly lay it on the bar. The three of them watched him curiously as he stared at the device and said seriously.

“I have no idea how Makki’s phone works.” He pressed his lips together looking pouty before his lip quivered. Tooru blinked rapidly, turning to look at Hajime as tears built up on his eyes and panic built in his chest. “Did I lose my phone because Kindaichi doesn’t want to talk to me?”

Hajime had no idea where he got that, but was mentally banning Tooru from anymore of Hanamaki’s drinks. He reached out and took his hand, patting them as his drunken brain tried its best to kickstart itself into thought. Matsukawa, more sober than all of them, had the absolute worst thought as he grabbed Hanamaki’s phone.

“Tooru! Iwaizumi will get you a cat.” The curly haired accountant blurted and Tooru gasped excitedly, his mind too intoxicated to focus on more than one thought at a time.

“I am not getting him a cat, Mattsun, I’m drunk.” Hajime blurted and Tooru’s face crumpled as Hajime realized Matsukawa was trying to help.

“Fine, then I will buy you a cat!” Hanamaki blurted, wrapping both arms around Tooru. The other two looked at Hanamaki in growing apprehension, Hajime mentaly swore he was never going to drink with these two again, as Tooru hugged Hanamaki back and nuzzled his shoulder like he was a cat himself.

“Iwa-Chan, I’m breaking up with you. Me and Makki are going to get married because you’re a butt head.” Tooru declared and Hanamaki blinked numbly before shrugging. Hajime cursed quietly, marrying Hanamaki mode active.

“Can we bring Mattsun too?”

“Yes! We and Mattsun, Iwa-Chan, me and Mattsun and Makki are getting married… You’re not invited! Because… Because…” The words tangled on his tongue and Hajime sighed.

“Because I’m a butthead?”

“Yes!” Tooru reached over and patted his cheek and Hajime glared at Matsukawa who shrugged at the turn of events. “We are… broken up! I love Makki now and forevs… and Mattsun too, I guess.”

Mattsun twisted slightly in his seat at that and wrapped his large arms around both of them, head resting on Hanamaki’s shoulder. Hanamaki giggled and kissed him, only to break away and let out a snort laugh as Tooru planted a kiss on his cheek. Tooru brightened at the laugh and did it again, starting to giggle with him.

Hajime glared harder at Matsukawa who just stuck out his tongue and slid off the stool, holding a hand out to the other two. He gave a flourished bow and both of them dissolved into laughter, teasingly patting his hand and pretending to take it.

“Well now, my darlings, the time has come to head home, may I lead you to the car?” Matsukawa asked and Hajime had to give him props for managing to capture both of their attention at the same time.

Hanamaki nearly fell from his stool as he stood and tried to take Matsukawa’s hand. Matsukawa just stepped forward and held him steady, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Tooru gasped and pointed.

“Hajime, did you steal Matsukawa’s move and use it on me?” Hajime debated informing him that he and Tooru had gotten together first so any moves Matsukawa was using, he had learned from them. Unfortunately, Tooru had already decided he was heart broken and turned away, stumbling off his seat and Matsukawa was quick to catch him before he tripped. Both of them were leaning against Matsukawa’s chest, trying not to sway and even he was starting to be affected by the weight of both of them.

That didn’t stop him from teasingly stick his tongue out at Hajime as he gently guided both of them around to head toward the door. Hajime knew from experience if he didn’t stop them, not only would he have to pick Tooru up from their apartment but also that Tooru would be upset that Hajime didn’t have his back while he was inebriated. Hajime had long since given up the battle of explaining that Tooru was just as safe with those two as he was with Hajime himself. Tooru just got grumpy anytime he didn’t wake up in Hajime’s arms, which was flattering, but annoying when Hajime was too sober to not just follow Matsukawa and crash with them. Not even mentioning that Hajime was already lonely with Tooru gone, he wanted his best friend back to lay on in bed.

So now he had to find a way to get his boyfriend back. Then it hit him, the perfect way to get Tooru back.

“Tooru!” He called, throwing a few bills on the counter and moving after them. He stopped as they exited the doors, Tooru turning to him curiously as he tried to get his phone back from Hanamaki. Matsukawa looked just as curious, if a bit smug that he hadn’t managed to lose his boyfriend to his buddy. Hajime was going to kick him.

“I love you, Princess.” He said, holding his arms open. The effect was almost immediate. Tooru let go of Hanamaki and jumped into Hajime’s arms, giggling when Hajime stumbled slightly before holding him, happily kissing him. His lips tasted like liquor and cherries and he kissed back.

“I love you too Iwa-Chan! Forever and ever and ever and ever.” Tooru declared, letting himself be lowered to the earth and hugging him tightly, happily cocooning his boyfriend. Hajime snorted and stroked his hair, rough fingers sliding through the soft brown curls.

“Thought you loved Hanamaki forevs.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at Matsukawa when the accountant flipped him off. Tooru hummed and nodded but tightened his hold on Hajime.

“I do~ but Hajime is my heart! And my boyfriend and my bestest friend and…” He paused as if considering something before he kissed Hajime again. “And I’ll always be Hajime’s.”

Hajime’s heart melted immediately and he kissed back, waving off Matsukawa’s taxi. They only lived around the corner, and Hajime didn’t mind a little bit longer trip home if he could hold Tooru a while longer.

“Hey Tooru?” He asked when they were close to home and Tooru was cuddled up against his side, half asleep as they waited for the final street sign to turn green. Tooru hummed and blinked blearily up at him.

“If we get all the supplies, we can get a cat.”

“And name her Princess?”

“And name her Princess.” Hajime agreed, leading them home.

And One Aain

Tooru loved to surprise Hajime, but more than anything he enjoyed beating Hajime at his own game. Especially the one Hajime had been playing since he confessed. The one where Hajime did everything in his power to trick Tooru into thinking he was going to be an ass, and then said he loved him and destroyed Tooru’s ability to do anything but think about his stupid boyfriend. Or said he loved him first just so he could point and laugh about his bright red cheeks and Tooru was going destroy him now.

There was only one thing Tooru had left in his arsenal after years of dating, well, okay. There were two, but Hajime probably wouldn’t be able to get off the ground laughing if he caught Tooru in tutu again and Tooru still had flashbacks to getting stuck in the damn thing even after nearly twenty years after the incident. So he had one thing left to do, one thing he knew he had to do before Hajime got the jump on him and made him cry.

He planned it for the one event he knew Hajime definitely wouldn’t think about doing anything else, a celebration for the acceptance of Hajime’s designs and employment at the Japanese Aerospace Exploration Agency.

Hajime had tried for years to finally get this and Tooru couldn’t be more proud of him. They’d put nearly everything else on hold, even moving halfway across the country (and Tooru had the worst four hour commute to his team) so Hajime could apply for an internship and gain the experience he needed to come back to Tokyo and get his dream job. Tooru almost teased him about being more excited to get into space than he was, but decided it could wait a few more days.

Tooru and Hajime were both dressed up nicely. Hajime was in a soft navy blue tuxedo with a small purple lily tucked in his breast pocket and Tooru wound his arm around his waist. Without even thinking about it, he leaned down and nuzzled his cheek until he could whisper in his ear.

“Do you think Nishimoto would notice if I ate all the oysters before he could get to them?” He murmured, a proud smile growing as Hajime pressed his lips firmly together to quiet the laughter building in his chest.

“You’re horrible.” Hajime murmured back, but Tooru could see the light in his eyes. They were bright under the stars, almost glowing amber and Tooru pressed a sloppily dramatic kiss to his cheek. Immediately the gorgeous eyes were narrowed with false annoyance and Tooru yelped as Hajime’s hand dug under his suit jacket and grabbed his boxers, yanking them up into a wedgie.

“Iwa-Chan!” He howled, shoving his boyfriend forward and hiding behind him as he fixed his pants. He kneed Hajime’s ass, glaring at the tongue sticking out at him and focused on fixing his mint green jacket.

“What, idiotkawa?” He purred innocently and Tooru rolled his eyes, kicking out at him again until Hajime grabbed his arm and yanked him too close to kick. He reached out and snagged something before his hands were in Tooru’s hair.

“What? Iwa-chan! No, don’t put bugs in my hai-”

“Tooru,” Hajime said, his voice the silky loving way that made Tooru’s knees weak and his stubbornness melt away. “It��s not a bug, you wouldn’t let me buy you a flower on the way in.”

He held up his phone, snapping a photo before Tooru could school his features into a less sappy look. Then he turned the phone around, showing Tooru the soft white petals of a gardenia that now were tucked carefully into Tooru’s brown locks. Hajime pulled the phone back before Tooru could snatch it and delete the compromising evidence of his own weak heart, and promptly saved it as his background erasing the previous picture of Princess splayed out on her back on their pillow.

Tooru almost cooed at how sweet his boyfriend was, but he was on a mission. He wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him forward, pulling him towards the food table. Hajime went willingly, rolling his eyes at Tooru’s eyes narrowing on the food like a dog’s.

A flash of silver hair made Hajime spin, eyes trying to find them.

“Did that waiter look like Yahaba?” He asked curiously, looking over at Tooru. For a second, panic flared behind brown eyes before it was smothered with a cool neutral look. Tooru shrugged and turned to grab a plate.

“Now now, Iwa-chan, I know you miss our kohai but why would they be here of all places?” Tooru teased and Hajime narrowed his eyes on his boyfriend but this time he could have sworn he saw pink hair and he twisted.

“Was that Hanamaki?” Hajime asked, then glanced over at the muffled answer. Tooru’s cheeks were stuffed with milk bread and he looked genuinely curious. There was a moment where he fought the way his throat didn’t want to swallow, then Tooru coughed and swallowed.

“What baby?” He tilted his head innocently and Hajime decided he probably was seeing things. He knew Yahaba had been taking odd jobs and he might have signed up for this event and didn’t want to appear in front of his senpai, but there was no reason for Hanamaki to be here at all.

“Forget about it.” He shook his head, grabbing his own plate and filling it up. The speeches and ceremony had already ended so now it was just a meet and greet between Hajime’s new coworkers and the ones financing his plans being put into motion. Most of them had been heading home when Hajime had seen them earlier, but the event still seemed well packed and the catering service was bringing out fresh foods.

It wasn’t a bad thing, but Hajime really wasn’t sure when it was going to end and when he could go home. He really just wanted to lay on the couch with his boyfriend and his cat and watch some dumb drama that would leave Tooru gasping in surprise and unable to comment on his boyfriend studying his face.

Speaking of his boyfriend. Tooru was still stuffing his face, somehow managing to look decent and wonderful even after his eighth pastry. His eyes were alight almost unnaturally, dancing over the crowd as if dissecting each one of them. He leaned back, settling against Hajime’s shoulder and leaned up to whisper in his ear, the sugary sweet scent on his breath making Hajime want to ban him from sweets.

“She’s having an affair with the waitress.” Tooru whispered, and Hajime almost smacked him. Then the waitress came by again, a hand gently sliding over the woman’s waist as her husband turned away.

“No.” Hajime gasped and Tooru grinned.

“Oh yeah. And the husband is the one me and you walked in with that dancer, remember in Kyoto?” Tooru purred and Hajime looked away before he gave it away. He did remember the man and how much he’d begged Hajime and Tooru not to tell his wife. Well…

“Oh, this is the best.” Tooru giggled, leaning down to nuzzle at Hajime’s cheek. “I haven’t been surrounded in this much drama since I helped my Dad at his business parties. You have to take me to every event now, babe.”

“Who else am I going to take dumbass?”

“.... Koushi.” Tooru said after a long moment and Hajime had to think it over before finally nodding.

“Yes, okay, if you and Daichi were both working, I would take him with me. But only because you said I couldn’t bring Kai.”

“Because, he. Is. Beautiful. And. a. Good. Person. I can’t compete with that, Iwa-chan. We both know I’m a bitch.” Tooru said dramatically, blinking down at him like he couldn't believe Hajime had forgotten that very important aspect of their relationship. Hajime honestly couldn’t believe that Tooru thought he’d want anyone else.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Iwa-chan! Stop being mean!” Tooru yelped, tugging petulantly at his jacket as Hajime wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled his head down enough to kiss him.

“Never. You’re stuck with me forever, dumbass.” Hajime murmured against his lips, almost breaking into a smile at the happy cheer Tooru let out before stealing another kiss.

“Oh! Iwa-Chan, let’s go sit down.” Tooru said, bumping their hips together and almost losing Hajime’s plate. Hajime turned to snap at him before catching sight of blonde and black hair behind Tooru. Kyoutani?

He was so distracted he didn’t even notice Tooru pulling him along and putting their plates down at a table. Tooru’s hands were poking and prodding him but Hajime didn’t notice, looking around and staring at the suddenly much thinner crowd. He could only recognize two or three people and they were heading to the parking lot, however the catering service was switching out plates with fresh food and they were lighting candles at the long table in the middle of the field.

Something was going on. Knowing Tooru, he might have decided to marry Tobio off against his will again. Hajime almost turned to ask Tooru, but there was another flash of bumblebee hair and he spun, eyes widening as he took in his old team. Their team.

Every single one of them. Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Yuda, Sawauchi, Shido, Watari, Yahaba, Kyoutani, Kindaichi, Kunimi. And they were holding a giant banner that read ‘Turn around, Ace.’

He turned but Tooru was missing. Until he looked down and saw his boyfriend on his knees. His breath caught as he stared down at his best friend, his partner, the love of his life before him.

Tooru gave him a smile, the real kind that set Hajime’s heart on fire and made him want to kiss him senseless. Tooru was opening a velvet box, holding out a ring for him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime. You are the beat in my heart, my best friend, you’ve been my partner since the moment I was born. Every time I wake up with you is like a new promise of a lifetime together, a thousand lifetimes wouldn’t be enough to show you how much I love you. But I do. I love you, Hajime and I want to spend the rest of our lives together showing you. I want to see your smiles, your frowns, I want to soothe your anger and drive your passion, I want to be the one you turn to always. Will you, Iwaizumi Hajime, do me the most amazing honor of marrying me?”

Hajime’s mouth didn’t work and his eyes were blurring with tears as he mumbled uselessly. All he could see were those eyes staring up at him with understanding and so much love. They were completely full of adoration and Hajime couldn’t do anything but cry for a second. He pulled himself together and took a breath.

“Of course… Stand up, idiot.” Hajime managed to push out, waiting until Tooru managed to get the ring on his finger before he was tangling a hand in his hair and pulling him down into a kiss. He kissed him again and again, holding him as close as he could and laughing when he felt Tooru’s own tears of joy hit his face.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” Tooru said, kissing him softly. “Shi-chan said he would beat you up if you said no.”

“No I didn’t!” Watari’s voice called and that was all the warning they had before they were being tackled by the team. Arms were everywhere and Hanamaki and Matsukawa were doing their damndest to kiss both of them. Yuda was openly sobbing into Shido’s arms as he hugged Tooru and Hajime laughed, bright and loud. He didn’t even try to stop as he took in his team.

They had grown up so well, from accountants to vets, they were making their dreams a reality. Yet, here they were, before him at one of the most amazing times of his life. His team and in many ways, his family. Even when they had pulled away, they would always come back together. His family.

He scooped up Kyoutani and Kindaichi, hugging them tightly even as Kindaichi squeaked and Kyoutani patted his arms. There was only a second before Hajime’s arm was being forced away from Kyoutani and Watari was diving in for a hug too, laughing at Hanamaki’s loud insistence that it was his turn.

“Actually! He’s mine!” Tooru said above the din but Matsukawa and Sawauchi both tackled him to rub his hair and coo about the sweet proposal.

“As fun as this is, I’m hungry. Let’s eat.” Yahaba said once he and Kunimi had disentangled themselves from the pile. Kunimi’s gaze was soft and there was a smile on his lips and Hajime considered that a bigger win then Tooru managing to propose before him.

Hajime laughed, rubbing the top of Watari’s head as they started to stand. The team broke apart for a moment, hurrying to the buffet table and moving to sit at the long table. Tooru screamed for Watari to stop and nearly tackled him down before rubbing his head.

“For good luck.” He explained, grinning when Hajime shoved him off the ex-libero.

“You don’t need luck, you’ve got me.” Hajime said, grabbing his jacket and pulling him down into a kiss again.

“And you’re all I need.”

#HQ #haikyū!!#Iwaoi #Matsuhana #Oikawa Tooru #Iwaizumi Hajime #Hanamaki Takahiro #matsukawa issei #Fluff #fanfic #I love you

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