#Isn't there somebody you forgot to ask

[peeporoon]

tweet / art used

[futurebird]

Just made this...

[svtskneecaps]

ok which one of you fuckers is going to write the sky high au where cellbit is warren peace and roier is layla williams or am i the only one here who's that flavor of crazy

[kraniumet]

don't even really "ship" them but those are canonical soulmates forever and if you fail to acknowledge that i will not think you got the characterization right in this other relationship you're writing

[andredeguemon]

i think it's hilarious to watch this frankly senile old man start vlogging to cope with the trauma of change. relatable really.

vlogger klopp is here. love it!

[extrashortshorts]

Isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Context:

☠️☠️☠️💨

[wheres-mylove]

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly. 

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore. 

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised. 

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom. 

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

[vivwritesfics]

Grandparents

Jimmy is a frisky little fuck, gets the neighbour cat pregnant. But hey, that's an excuse for the neighbour cats owner to introduce her to the pretty man with the mesmerising blue eyes who also can't wait to become a cat grand parent

1.7K

Beaver had been acting incredibly strange. When her owner acquired her (literally rescued the little cat from a bin - she had been sitting in the apartment dumpster literally chewing a bit of wood, how she got her name), she had never been one to beg for food. 

In the three years she'd owned Beaver, she'd always filled up her bowl in the morning, and then Beaver would sporadically eat from it. She'd never finish the bowl before noon and then yowl for more. 

And Beaver was definitely getting fat. 

Her owner was incredibly worried.

She scheduled an appointment with the vets and then spent maybe two hours trying to coax Beaver into her cat carrier. But the cat was a wild child. If she didn't want to do something, she wasn't going to do it. 

The cat carrier idea was abandoned. "I kinda hate you," her owner muttered with little conviction as she scooped Beaver up into a blanket and left the apartment. 

It was a little awkward, carrying a cat through Monaco like it was a baby. But Beaver was pretty happy to lay in her arms, happier than she would have been in the cat carrier. 

When, at last, they got to the vets, they were the only beings in the waiting room. Thank God, the last thing she needed was a dog freaking Beaver out, or Beaver chasing somebody's pet rodent across the room. 

She couldn't stop her knee from bouncing as they waited to be called. Her eyes couldnt stop drifting across the room, to that ugly, magnified picture of a tick. When they were called (which didn't take too long, maybe everybody else's pets were thriving that day), she carried adjusted her grip on Beaver and carried her into the waiting room. 

Pregnant. Her mangy little street cat who she loved more than anything was pregnant. "Beaver, you hoe," she mumbled as they walked out of the vets office. But then she looked at Beavers swollen belly. She had kittens in there.

Who the hell was the father? Beaver hadn't left her apartment (by choice), so who had gotten her pregnant?

She didn't mean to gasp as loudly as she did. In the hall of the apartment complex, she stopped walking to look at Beaver, her eyes wide. "It's the neighbours cat, isn't it?" She asked, but Beaver didn't confirm or deny. 

But it madde sense, didn't it? The neighbours cat had a habit of breaking into her balcony to check Beaver out. It wouldn't be a surprise if he and Beaver got busy while she was at work. 

"Well," she said to Beaver as she unlocked the apartment door, "at least you've got taste." 

Yeah, the neighbours cat was pretty beautiful. A Bengal, if she knew her cat breeds (which, she barely did). And his owner wasn't bad to look at either. 

The owner that she should probably inform of what was going on. 

She placed Beaver down on the sofa, and she climbed out of the blanket. "Okay, Bea," she said, holding out her hand (so that Beaver could push her head against it). "I'm gonna go and tell your baby daddy's dad what's going on. You stay here and... try not to let any more boy cats in." 

Beaver ignored her and made her way to the bedroom. 

Standing up straight, she brushed the loose cat hairs from her jacket. She grabbed her keys from the side and made her way out of the apartment, to the one just above her own. 

As she waited outside of her cats baby daddy's owners apartment, she could hear an incredible amount of commotion from inside. Well, I say commotion, but it was one single voice, sometimes shouting. She raised her knuckles to the door and knocked. 

The shouting stopped. Their was a pause, so long that she thought he wouldn't answer, before he pulled open the door. 

Eyes so pretty she got lost in them, and quite literally forgot what she was going to say. She'd never properly met her neighbour before, just seen him when walking through the building. Her mind blanked as she continued to stare into those pretty blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" Her neighbour prompted, and she shook herself out of whatever trance he had her under. Witchcraft, I tell you. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry to bother you but I live in the apartment beneath you with my cat, Beaver, and I think your cat might have gotten mine pregnant."

His face dropped, and then a smile split across it. "Really?" He asked, and she nodded. "Jimmy is going to be a dad?”

"If Jimmy is the pretty little Bengal that Beaver is obsessed with, then yeah, Jimmy is gonna be a dad," she answered, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was reaching into his apartment and grabbing a set of keys. "Can I come meet the momma?" He asked, his voice so excited. How could she say no to that?

On the short journey form his apartment to her own, they introduced themselves. Max was Jimmy's dad, and he was a car mechanic (okay this girl clearly didn't know who Max was, and he didn't want to come out with the whole F1 driver thing. So he took a leaf out of Daniels book and called himself a car mechanic).

(She thought it was a little weird, how did a car mechanic afford a luxury apartment in Monaco? Maybe he was a car mechanic to the stars or something).

"Why is she called Beaver?" Asked Max as she pushed her key into the lock on her apartment door.

She didn't judge him for asking, it was an incredibly strange name for a cat. "Well, when I found her she was chewing this bit of wood and she looked sort of like a mangy little beaver. Turns out she was just a mangy little cat," she said and let Max in.

They might have been in the same building, but her apartment was much smaller than his own. A lot more full, too. Where Max had little else beside his set up in his living room, she had so much stuff. A fluffy colourful rug, a sofa big enough for a whole group of people, a cabinet full of DVDs.

"The little miss is probably in my bedroom," she muttered as she kicked off her shoes. "I'll go and get her."

Max kicked off his own shoes. He took a moment to look around properly, careful not to invade her privacy.

She emerged just a few moments later from a little way down the hall, a little black and white cat in her arms. "This is Beaver," she said, holding the purring kitten towards him.

"Hi Beaver," said Max as he took her from her hands. "I'm Max, Jimmy's dad. You're gonna make me the happiest cat grandpa out there."

Beaver pushed her head against Max's, still purring. "She likes you," said her owner as she sat on the couch.

"They're gonna have the prettiest babies," Max said as he sat beside her, Beaver happily sitting in his lap. As carefully as he could, Max fished his phone out of his pocket and passed it to her. "Give me your number, just in case you guys need anything."

But it wasn't just in case they needed anything. After Max went back to his apartment, they texted almost constantly. It started off being about the cats, but then it went further (I say further, but it was just them sending each other memes, giggling from behind their phone screens as they laid in their respective beds).

Max invited her out for dinner maybe a week before the kittens were born. It wasn't anything fancy; he was just craving something unhealthy and he wanted some company.

And then the kittens were born. As Beaver hid herself away in her closet, she pressed her phone to her ear. "C'mon Max, pick the fuck up" she whispered as she sat on her bed.

She was panicking, admittedly. But who could blame her? Her cat was about to give birth!

Max finally picked up his phone. "Hey, I'm at the pet store. What sort of bed should we get for momma and babies?" He asked, sounding all too relaxed.

"Shut the fuck up and get your ass over here!" She cried. "The babies are coming!"

Max ran out of the pet store. He'd never moved so quick in his life (not with his own two legs, at least). In ten minutes flat he was outside of her apartment door, knocking insistently.

Max was just as stressed as she was. But, upon seeing the look on her face, Max let the stress drop. "She'll be okay," he said, pulling her close for just a moment. For a moment was all they had; they had to get to Beaver.

He took charge, sitting her on the bed with a glass of water. The two of them waited while Beaver gave birth. There wasn't much more they could do. Once the kittens were born, Max brought in towels and blankets. He kept a nice distance to her while he set up a lovely warm bed for her and the kittens.

"They're beautiful," he said, not daring to pick them up. "Should we bring Jimmy down here to meet them?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. Let momma and babies rest," she said, laying her head on Max's shoulder.

He squeezed her. "We're gonna be the best cat grandparents," he said. When she held up her hand, Max gave her a high five.

"Can the grandpa take the grandma out for dinner? Is that something a new cat grandparent would enjoy?" He asked, looking down at her with her head still on his shoulder.

She hadn't yet taken her eyes away from the kitten. "Real dinner? Or you just want company?"

"Real dinner, date dinner."

"Love it."

[lookitsstevie]

Isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

(water and light)

[paintpaintpaintman]

isn't there somebody you forgot to ask

[komoboko]

𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜𝐬

ft: Gyomei Himejima, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Obanai Iguro, Giyu Tomioka, Mitsuri Kanroji, Muichiro Tokito, Kyojuro Rengoku, shinobu Kocho, Tengen Uzui

hi i forgot i have a tumblr account this was an unfinished drafts so i just decided to finish dis

# gyomei ! ☆

GYOMEI can’t really text, he can’t even read your text.. the only time he has is when muichiro came over and read the text for him. You were then hit with a very long and dragged out voice message about what he did today, how he loves you and asks you to come by and visit his estate. You appreciated it but that was the first and last time you texted gyomei.

# sanemi ! ☆

A bit of a dry texter if I had to be honest with you. Not completely that its annoying but SANEMI isn't super energetic either.. that's only if you can properly get him to text you. He's rarely on his phone and when he is he rarely ever goes out of his way to read or respond to anybody's text messages. Luckily Sanemi "waste his time" in his words and actually responds to you and on the rare occasion hits you with a "i love you" instead of calling you dumb.

# obanai ! ☆

Another very very dry texter, excepts OBANAI actually answers your text messages. Sometimes. He loves using those text reactions instead of sending a proper message, or other times he just uses "👍" instead. When he does text its always to remind you of something or asks you a question he would rather say online. There are those times where he blames kaburamaru for slithering over his keyboard when he sends you a heartfelt message.

# giyu! ☆

Is much much much worse than sanemi when it comes to not texting people. You rarely if ever get a proper text message from him, to the point you question if he even owns a phone. GIYU always tells you that he prefers to properly adress you in public (he has yet to figure out how to use facetime when he said this) and he just likes to see your expression. Though when giyu did figure out facetime exist you get a call once a night just so he can tell you he loves you and properly see your face.

# Mitsuri ! ☆

A very VERY energetic texter. MITSURI practically texts you every single second she has!! She also absolutely loves informing you on anything that happens during the day making sure she always sends you a selfie or two before the day ends. Probably one of the people on this list who texts you more than you do by a mile. She just has so much to tell you! She's also obsessed with using filters so most of her photos of herself and you have a filter on them (her favorite is the pink dog face one).

# Muichiro ! ☆

MUICHIRO gives giyu a run for his money when it comes to never texting you at all. Yet unlike giyu who just likes seeing you in person (Muichiro does too of course) Muichiro just forgets. If he doesn't see you text immediately then you'll get a response in approximately 3 days. You probably have to call him just to tell you to respond to your text. Atleast he makes it up to you by hanging out with you in person.

# Kyojuro ! ☆

You're sure his phone must be broken because you've never seen KYOJURO type in lowercase before. Another person who texts you alot but less than mitsuri. He always tries to make sure to send you morning and good night texts (he wakes up at the crack of dawn and goes to sleep at 9:30 p.m on the dot). Also somebody to send those really cringey gifs constantly. You without fail always get a "HAVE A GOOD DAY! I LOVE YOU AND I'LL SEE YOU SOON!! 🔥"

# Shinobu ! ☆

Unlike some of the people on this list she texts you on a regular but casual basis. SHINOBU always make sure to text you atleast once a day, the only problem is she texts you like she's sending a lettter in the mail. Every single message has 'Dear.. and From, Shinobu Kocho" and she has the most on point grammar you'll ever see. Her little letters would be really romantic if you actually got the physical letter instead of the text message.

# Uzui ☆ !

A wild card when it comes to texting but UZUI usually texts you frequently. Another person who is obsessed with using emojis and also uses the "✨" because he claims its the most flamboyant emoji his phone has. He takes alot more selfies of himself compared to Mitsuri and always asks you to rate them for him. His wives usually are the ones who texts you with more sense, all of you are in a groupchat (excluding tengen) that you gossip in.

[nouveaullo]

isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

[ritasanderson]

isn't there somebody you forgot to ask

[sinvilles]

I forgot I wrote a one-shot ages ago... context is Orel and Shapey went to visit Clay for the first time since he disappeared after the divorce (maybe a year out) and Orel brings up wanting to live with him on the farm. Danielle has to explain to Orel why that's not going to happen.

Sobriety AU, Orel is around 14ish here.

Danielle guides Orel out to the patio and takes a seat on the bench, gesturing for the boy to join him.

He lets him get comfortable before he drops the headline.

"You can't live with your dad."

A pause settles between the two of them on the bench.

"I just figured that... since he's better now... and he stopped drinking..." Orel trails off, with very little hope.

"He's sobered up..." Danielle sighs, "But that wasn't the only reason he had to leave you."

"Then... why else did he have to leave?"

"It isn't because he doesn't love you, Orel. Your dad has... problems."

"Nobody's perfect..." Orel shrugs, then catches himself. "Except for God."

"True, but your dad's problems make it so that he isn't..." Danielle chooses his words carefully. "Clay is not well equipped to be a very good father to you or Shapey."

Orel stares at the ground, despondent.

"You know this already, Orel. He's not even well equipped to have this talk with you, which is why I have to do it."

"Yeah..." Orel sighs.

"I'm sorry."

"But I can still come see him sometimes, like this?"

"Yes."

"Coach... how are you able to live with him?"

"Mmm. I suppose it's because I'm an adult, and I know how to handle his attitude. And because I'm a coach, I can keep him focused on his long-term goals, like staying off the sauce for good. But the average person might not be able to live with him, no."

Orel nods solemnly at this.

"Did you fall back in love with him?"

The darnedest questions, this kid asks.

"Well, Orel... looking back, I don't think I was really in love with your daddy. I thought he could fill a void in my life. But I didn't really know who he was."

"And now you really know him?"

"Yeah."

"What's different about him?"

"He's trying to be better. He needs somebody reliable to be on his side to motivate him. Even adults need that."

"Golly." Orel contemplates this. "Well, I guess you can't choose who you love."

Daniele seems to stare at something far behind Orel's head before sighing.

"No, Orel. Maybe you can't help who you're attracted to. But loving somebody is a kind of choice you make. Because it means you commit to being in their life and trying to do right by them."

He lets Orel take this in before continuing.

"And I'll admit, there are people who might say it's foolish of me to stand by someone like Clay."

"Because... you're two men?"

"No, because he's done very bad things and used to indulged in very dangerous habits- and so have I, if I'm being honest... But I chose him. And whether he keeps sober or relapses or recovers or falls to pieces, I'll continue to choose him until I change my mind or one of us dies."

Orel's stare prompts him to add an afterthought.

"And he's just... nice to have."

"And to hold?"

The swiftness with which the boy tossed him that statement threw him off. When the meaning registered, it made Danielle smile in spite of himself.

"Yeah... and to hold."

Orel smiles back at him.

"Well... it sure makes me feel better that he has you in his corner."

"I'll keep him out of trouble. Don't you worry your little head."

[breakfahzt]

isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Together or Separate

Eddie is pissed.

He knew the risks, he did, he didn't care. The rewards were worth it.

Getting to hold Steve's hand, getting to love him. Who cares if his boyfriend gets flirted with from time to time and he can't do anything to stop it...no biggie...right?

Who cares if their waitress is laughing a little too loudly at a joke that certainly was not a joke. Who returned with their drinks with a button undone on her uniform. Who hasn't given Eddie the time of day and keeps leaning a little too closely to Steve...on their anniversary.

Steve slams on his foot the minute she turns back again.

"Bitch!" Eddie yelps.

"Sorry! What's going on with you? I've been calling your name and trying to get your attention-"

"At least somebody wants my attention."

"Oh is that what this is about? The waitress?" Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie doesn't dignify that with a response. He huffs and digs a little more into his seat.

"Eds you know we can't do anything in public...you don't think I don't want to hold your hand across the table? To sit in a booth so I can wrap my arm around you?"

Eddie sits up a little more, "Steve I-"

"Alright gentleman!" The waitress interrupts. "Here's the check for the meal." She slides it closer to Steve, her phone number very obviously printed on it.

"You know, I forgot to ask, together or separate?" She flashes Eddie a forced smile.

A dark shadow passes across Eddie's face. They always have to pay separately. Stupid small town. Stupid Reagan. He was going to take advantage of this opportunity though.

"I guess we can pay together since the check is already here." Eddie reaches a hand into his pocket to search for his wallet. He's about to put the bills together when Steve let's out a girlish giggle.

Both Eddie and the waitress are staring at him in shock. Eddie's never heard that noise from him before.

"Steve? Are you-"

"Oh! Isn't he just dreamy?" Steve flutters his lashes at the waitress.

"...him?"

Eddie tries not to take offense to that.

"Steve, what are you doing?"

Steve's smile is evil. His eyes have a terrible sparkle to them. "Taking care of things dear."

The waitress jumps back in shock.

"We never get to go out anymore, he's so busy providing for me. It's so nice of him to pay for dinner isn't it?" Steve blows a kiss at Eddie and the waitress has gone pale.

"It's our anniversary you know? We can't normally advertise our relationship you know? Some people are awfully rude to us. You've been so sweet to us Sharon."

Oh so that's her name.

Eddie couldn't care less.

Steve turns his megawatt smile to him now. Not even giving Sharon another minute of his time.

"Of-of course. People can be so rude to such a lovely...couple. I'll be right back with your change."

"Keep it." Eddie says, standing from the table and walking over to Steve. "Ready to go sweetheart?" He holds out his elbow.

Steve grabs it and giggles as they leave.

"That was some risky move Stevie."

"I don't actually give a fuck." He leans his head on Eddie's shoulder as they walk home. He can feel Steve's smile pressed into his shirt. He finds he can't keep his own smile off his face.

"Happy anniversary."

----

I'm back bitches!

I wrote this on my lunch break:P

Kind of inspired by the date I went on where we paid separately and it ended on a nice note of friendship