#Under armour coaching bags

[ashxketchum]

A new couples picrew, you know I just can't ignore it~

Here's Hogwarts!TyHil 🫶🏻

You can read my Hogwarts AU here, and a little snippet under the cut as well!

~~~~

Doing a final check that all her belongings were in order, and a little surprised to find that the train hadn’t begun to leave the station yet, Hilary almost made it out when her hands brushed past her chest and she realised that something was missing from her robes.

Her Prefect badge!

“Oh, Merlin’s beard!”

This time she exclaimed loudly, as she dropped her trunk on the platform and rushed back inside, slightly comforted by the fact that there was still a throng of students rushing about the platform and she hadn’t been marooned on the Hogsmeade station for being uncharacteristically lazy. She found the compartment she had been in easily and began searching for the shiny badge, trying to remember whether she had put it on after changing into her robes or had set it aside in her satchel for later. Settling on the latter, since it seemed like the only plausible explanation for the missing badge, Hilary hurriedly rummaged through the tan brown bag that she had lunged across her shoulder, chiding herself for not coming to this conclusion before getting back on the train, she really was off her game today.

Unfortunately, her badge did not show itself inside her bag and defeated, Hilary ran her eyes across the coach once again, when a gold flicker in the overhead compartment caught her eye and she leapt towards it, standing on her toes and stretching her hand as far she could to catch hold of the badge that seemed to enjoy being as far away from her as possible.

Suddenly she felt a pair of hands grab hold of her waist and within a second she was lifted off the ground, her feet dangling in midair as she concentrated on getting her Prefect badge within her grasp, letting out a cry of triumph as her fingers wrapped around the cold piece of metal. As she pulled her arms back, she felt herself being lowered slowly and gently, her feet gradually touching the floor with a soft thud.

There were only a few people in the school who wouldn’t think much before invading her personal space without a warning and out of those few, there was no mistaking who the strong hands that had snugly settled around her waist belonged to, despite the protection from layers of clothing, their presence on her still sent a tingling sensation all over her body. And, thus the joy of finding the badge was only short lived as colour flooded Hilary’s cheeks. She didn’t need to turn around to figure out who had miraculously decided to show up exactly when she needed someone to since this was usually how most of their encounters went, he could be her perfect knight in shining armour, if she had ever grown up believing in fairy tales and if he had a single courteous bone in his body.

“Thank you for your help, but that wasn’t needed,” she stated. Grabbing his arms and forcefully removing them from their hold on her waist, Hilary turned around to face the culprit.

The amused smirk that greeted her made her roll her eyes but the navy-haired boy decided that he had taken enough risks for the time being and backed away from her, raising his hands in the air to convey his surrendering.

“So we’re skipping through the niceties right off the bat then?” Tyson chuckled as he slowly ran a hand through his thick, spiky mass of blue hair, grinning at her, he added mockingly, “Oh and you were doing such a great job before I got here too.”

Hilary flushed as she glared up at him, it wasn’t fair that every time they came back after a school year he would be just a few inches taller, making it mostly impossible for her to intimidate him during their face-offs.

“For someone who is lauded by our Professors as the brightest witch in our year, you sure do forget to use magic a lot,” Tyson remarked. A triumphant glint was visible in his cocoa eyes as he gestured towards the compartment’s door, waiting for her to take leave first.

Hilary however, was busy internally berating herself for wasting so much time in trying to look for her badge physically when she could have just used a summoning spell and saved herself some time and possibly this unneeded encounter with the person she had hoped to not run into until the first day of classes. She had no retort for him, so she lowered her gaze and quickly slipped out of the compartment, with him sauntering behind her in all his glory of winning their first argument of the year. Hilary had hoped that with her being Prefect things would change starting this year, that she would finally have the upper hand when it came to their loud disagreements, but that dream slipped out of her hand the moment she decided to leave her brain at home before boarding the train this morning.

Once they were back on the platform, she noticed that the luggage she had dumped there in a rush was already gone, definitely the work of the house elves and felt a bit dismayed. She had sworn that she would do her part in decreasing the burden those creatures were subject to as the caretakers of the school by doing most of the heavy lifting and dirty laundry herself this year, but somehow Hilary had managed to let even that slip out of her hands. She prayed that whatever was happening this evening, was in no way a foreboding for the rest of the school year.

“You can either stand here and mope about the elves doing their job, or pick up your pace and catch the only remaining carriage headed towards the castle.”

Hilary looked up and saw that Tyson had already begun to briskly make his way to where the carriage was parked, she shook the thoughts about the house elves out of her mind and followed him as quickly as she could. At least her luck had managed to let her have the last carriage and not forced her to walk to the castle, even if it came with the added pressure of having to share it with Tyson, she could only imagine the things he’d want to talk about when it would just be the two of them.

~~~~

[hockeylvr59]

Here With Me Part 5 || Taylor Makar

Author’s Note: Things are changing and that makes it all the more complicated. aka Kelsey and Taylor spend time together without having sex. This one is a little shorter and a bit of a filler. FC: Marina Laswick (@marooshk on instagram).

Warnings: minor bodily injury, tension // Word Count: 2,167

~~~~

Four

Kelsey hadn’t even realized how frequently she talked to Taylor until it all went quiet with him 5 hours ahead time wise on a completely different continent. And though she’d only had classes Monday and Tuesday, the week seemed to drag. Even when home helping her mom prepare their contributions to Thanksgiving dinner, Kelsey couldn’t get him out of her head. 

Thanksgiving itself was nice enough, after all, Kelsey certainly wasn’t going to complain about not having to spend it with her uncle. But once she had consumed way too much food, her brain once again fell on the boy she couldn’t shake. The way his hands touched her body, his sweet smile, the press of his lips on her forehead. Every moment played on repeat. And that was dangerous. 

So she tried to focus knowing that she was in the home stretch of the semester. There were papers she had due in the coming weeks and it wasn’t a bad idea to get an early jump on studying for final exams as break ended and classes resumed. Still, she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed when she still didn’t hear from Taylor after she knew the team had returned to campus. But that was his loss and she refused to dwell on it too much even if it made her chest ache.

By Wednesday she had finally managed to put Taylor mostly to the back of her mind. She had hockey to coach and her girls deserved her all. She had a few new drills she wanted to try with them and a few new games as well. It was going to be a fun time. 

And it was fun. Kelsey laughed loudly and often and by the time they finished her legs were burning from the exercise and she had a thin sheen of sweat on the back of her neck and forehead. 

Stepping off the ice after sending her girls to their parents in the lobby, Kelsey found Taylor leaning against the hallway door. 

“Wow. He lives.” Kelsey mumbled, unable to keep the bite from her words. 

“Ouch. Claws.” Taylor said softly. “Look, I’m sorry. The time change fucked with me big time and I’ve been trying to catch up on the classes I missed and shit. But I should have sent you a snap or something. That’s on me.” 

There was a moment of awkward silence as Kelsey slipped on her skate guards and reached for her bag to go change into street shoes. 

“Kels.” Taylor murmured. “I’m sorry.” Sighing, Kelsey nodded signaling that his apology was accepted and she brushed her hand against his under armour covered stomach as she passed through the door. 

“Come over tonight?” He questioned as his fingers reached out to touch hers. “I’ll make it all up to you.” 

“Yeah. Just message me.” Kelsey stated, trying to dampen her anger because it wasn’t helpful in any way. 

Leaving him there, Kelsey changed and headed home to grab something to eat and shower knowing that Taylor was going to be tied up in practice for a couple hours at least. She knew that she probably shouldn’t have snapped at him but it had hurt that he ignored her and then just appeared like that hadn’t happened. When she had last been with him she’d been at her most vulnerable and that had only made things worse in her own head. 

Pushing that aside after letting herself have a moment in the shower, she changed into sweats and a hoodie and munched on some pretzels while she waited for Taylor’s message. 

Getting the snap that he was headed back to his dorm, Kelsey took a few deep breaths and replied that she was on her way before adding her wallet and keys to the phone in her hand and heading back out to her car. When she arrived she let Taylor know she was there before making her way inside. Meeting him at his suite’s door, she followed him back to his room not noticing him limp slightly. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed by the time she closed his door and kicked her shoes off. Placing one knee on the bed beside him, she quickly straddled his lap and kissed him deeply just needing to shake all of the hurt feelings once and for all. Though Taylor responded, there wasn’t quite the same eagerness she was giving him and doubt swirled in her belly again. If he didn’t want this then why did he seek her out, why did he invite her over. It didn’t make sense. 

Continuing to kiss him for a few minutes hoping to get him more engaged, Kelsey finally pulled away ready to ask if she should just leave. It was only as she shifted, bumping against his leg that she heard his soft hiss of pain. Taking in his face, she noticed the grimace in his expression and the pain in his eyes and knew that something was wrong and that it had nothing to do with the two of them. 

Moving off of him Kelsey squatted on the ground reaching for Taylor’s pant leg as he murmured for her to come back. Ignoring him, she carefully lifted the fabric revealing a dark bruise the size of a puck. 

“Kels leave it.” He pleaded. “Come here.” Though his words were saying one thing, his tone was saying something completely different and Kelsey went with the latter. 

“Have you iced this?” She asked, fingers examining the bruise softly and pulling away when he winced again. 

His lack of response told her that no he hadn’t and she sighed, letting him haul her up onto the bed. 

“Supposed to be making my stupidity up to you but you’re making it difficult.” He grumbled quietly. 

Kelsey knew that they weren’t going to be having sex tonight but apparently his stubborness needed to run its course so she slid up the bed to rest against his pillow. 

“Come here then.” She stated, waiting for him to join her. Taylor shifted onto the bed beside her, wincing again, and kissed her. Kelsey enjoyed being kissed by him but knowing he was in pain made it a little harder to just let go. Still she played softly with his hair and let him touch her, mentally shaking her head every time he winced from moving wrong. 

After five minutes or so and Taylor making multiple attempts to progress things and being stopped by his pain, Kelsey had had enough. 

“Taylor you gotta stop.” She whispered. His mumble that he was fine was muffled against her neck and Kelsey sighed again. “Tay c’mon. It’s not arousing for me watching you in so much pain and it’s definitely not going to be arousing for you. Let me go get you some ice.” 

Before she could try to slide out from under him to get him ice and meds, Kelsey felt Taylor’s body shake softly and wet drops hit her shoulder causing her to realize that he was crying. 

“Oh Tay.” She whispered, carefully tugging him tighter to her, rubbing her hand over his back while threading the other through his hair.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you took a puck to the leg, we didn’t have to do this.” Kelsey whispered after a few minutes. Taylor didn’t answer right away, just continuing to cry but after a few minutes she felt more than heard his answer that he didn’t want to let her down again. 

“I’m not that much of a bitch Tay.” In a way she understood, but all she ultimately wanted was for him to communicate with her. “Now can I get you some meds and ice?” She asked softly, brushing some hair from his face. 

Though he didn’t explicitly agree, he also didn’t make any effort to keep her there and so she carefully slipped out from under him, moving from his room into the kitchen portion of the suite. In the freezer she found ice packs and after grabbing one and a bottle of water, she moved to ask whether he kept meds in the bathroom or his room. With Taylor’s silent point toward his desk, Kelsey nodded and dug around until she found them, grabbing two pills before moving to sit beside him on the bed. 

Kelsey handed him the pills and water and watched him pop them before she murmured for him to get comfy. 

“You’re not leaving are you?” He mumbled softly, his voice weak. 

“Not unless you want me to. But you’ve got to get settled so I can put this ice pack on you either way.” 

As he shifted slightly on the bed, Kelsey was sure she heard him faintly whisper ‘don’t leave’ and it made her heart hurt. Letting him settle, she pulled her hoodie off and used it to secure the ice pack to his leg over his thin pants. Once that was in place, she laid down beside him and pulled his body close, playing with his hair again. “Just need you to talk to me Tay. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.” 

Kissing his head, Kelsey just worked to soothe him softly, rubbing his back and playing with the hairs on his neck. When she felt the moisture of his tears on her skin again it was hard not to cry herself but she just swallowed hard and focused on helping him through whatever emotions plagued him. 

Eventually his body went limp and Kelsey let out a breath. This was not at all how she had expected tonight to go. But then again, had anything with Taylor gone how she’d expected? 

With his body half on top of hers and his heat radiating into her from head to toe, Kelsey felt herself getting sleepy and it wasn’t long before she dozed off. 

****

A soft groan. A shift of the uncomfortable dorm mattress. A lack of weight against her shoulder. 

Unconsciously, Kelsey reached out to soothe Taylor again, her body just acting on instinct. As she slowly woke up, her brain processed the ringing of a phone and Taylor’s soft assurance that he was okay. Blinking sleepily, Kelsey looked over at Taylor who was sitting on the bed, rubbing at his face. 

“Tay…” She inquired softly, everything taking longer to filter through the fog of sleep. 

“Just hungry and need to pee.” He assured her, twisting to kiss her head. “Want to go get food?” 

Nodding, she yawned and stretched, sitting up to hug him from behind. 

Letting her for a moment, Taylor got up and took the ice pack off, handing her her sweatshirt back. Feeling that it wasn’t all that cold any more made her crinkle her nose in confusion and as Taylor moved to use the bathroom, Kelsey checked her phone as she slipped on her shoes and her eyes went wide. It was almost ten which meant that they had just slept for over two hours. She had not planned on being here even half that long. 

But while she had things to do, she knew deep down she needed to make sure that Taylor was okay and she could use food after a light dinner earlier. 

As Taylor used the bathroom he shot his parents a text in response to their two missed calls that he’d had a tough practice, fell asleep, needed to get dinner, and that he would talk to them tomorrow. Then he stepped out assuring Mercs that he was fine as his roommate headed back into his own room and moved back to his room asking if Kelsey was ready to go. 

By the time she climbed into her car after using one of Taylor’s guest dining swipes, it was almost midnight and her mind was even more jumbled than it had been during the entire duration of Taylor’s silence. 

She couldn’t for the life of her recall the last time that she had taken a nap and she certainly couldn’t recall napping for two hours unless she was sick. Yet somehow tonight she was certain she would have slept for even longer if Taylor hadn’t woken up. 

And while just hours ago she had been so hurt to the point of being mad at him, now she hurt for him and all of that anger was gone. 

And while she’d wondered before if this was more than just sex, now she couldn’t deny that it clearly was even if she had no clue what it actually was. Sure tonight had been intended as sex but it certainly hadn’t gone that way and yet that hadn’t made her run for the hills. She’d wanted to stay, needed to comfort him, and looking back there was absolutely no way she would have done that for any of her previous hookups. 

This was different. And it was going to drive her crazy as she tried to figure out just what it all meant.

[leah-jane]

Days had never seemed to draw on this long - not until he had to leave. A day without him was too long and an eternity in his arms was too short.

The apartment seemed too large in a...strange way. You couldn’t quite tell if the apartment had grown at the loss of his looming stature, or if you had shrunk in the sorrow of not having his soul near yours. Either way, it wasn’t right.

You find yourself drifting away - the living room fairy lights glowing, casting a faux look of warmth in the living area. The TV is on mute in the hopes of maybe hearing his footsteps in the hallway. You brace yourself for yet another restless night, barely being able to contain the anxiety that his absence has caused.

It wasn’t him leaving that bothered you so deeply, it was the fact that he could never return. His heart could still, while yours would shatter into fragments you wouldn’t be able to pick up and fix.

Deep breaths couldn’t fix this problem, and no self-help books or coaching podcasts could ease the fear that had made itself at home in your mind.

Anxiety had dug its claws into your back, slowly dragging you back into some kind of pit that you knew you wouldn’t be able to climb out of...But, you wouldn’t have to.

A quiet thudding noise made itself known, hailing from the hallway.

You lept from the sofa, grabbed the keys from the coffee table and ran to the door. You knew it was him yet you couldn’t care about the 54 seconds it would take for him to reach the door and open it - you needed him. Clammy hands fumble for the right key before swinging the door back, only just surviving being ripped from the hinges.

You curve around the doorframe and meet him in the hallway, his feet stopping when he sees you standing there. He was home.

Mind, body, soul and all.

Relief isn’t strong enough of a word to describe the peace that washed over the both of you.

This man was slightly different to what you remember - he was still your König of, of course. Just not what you were used to.

His body is clad in tactical gear and armour, scuffed in marks as a sign of its duty being fulfilled. The tufts of auburn hair had been smothered by some kind of mask that drapes over his head, hiding his ethereal-like face.

He was both your König and someone else at the same time.

He begins walking towards the apartment once more, an urgency in his step this time. The drop of a duffle bag echoes before you feel his embrace wrap around you. His arms reach around you and pull you towards him, mindful not to push you into his vest. He feels your hands find a way under the hood and thread through the parts of his hair you can find. Your touch is wanted yet feared, what if he is dreaming again?

His heart can’t handle the grief of your touch not being real again.

“Bitte sei echt, meine Liebe”

(Please be real, my love)

You lean back before sniffling back the tears that lined your eyes, holding onto his shoulders so he can’t disappear again.

“We better get you inside. You must be exhausted after working this long, come with me”

He keeps a hold of your wrist as you pick up his duffle bag and take him inside the apartment, the warmth of your touch a welcomed feeling. He is led into the bedroom where you drop his bag on the chair in the corner before turning to face him again.

“I’ll go grab you something to eat while you get changed, I’ll be back in a minute”

“No, please” he begs, keeping a soft hold on your wrist.

“Help me, Mein Liebe. I can’t do this on my own”

He guides your hand to the side of his head where his helmet’s buckle lays, permitting you to strip him of this part of his life. It pops open with a sharp snap before you begin to lift it from his head, deciding to take the hood with it. His face is now bare to you, a new scar running from his temple to the edge of his jaw.

His eyes flutter back open as your hand reaches to him and traces the new ‘blemish’ that lies on his skin. He was never someone who could hide his feelings that well, something you appreciated at this moment. A mix of love and exhaustion crossed his features in a flurry of ways.

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, nudging him towards your neck. He falls into place with a sigh as you start reaching for all the various clasps and buckles that keep all of his gear locked in place. Piece by piece, he comes back to you.

All of his gear now lies on the bedroom floor, leaving him in his trousers and black shirt. Your hand traces the scars on his back through his shirt. Their placements burnt into your memory like a hot iron.

He breathed you in and for the first time in months, he couldn’t feel his heart in his chest. The pain dissipated into ease that settled his mind. Still, his reality seemed too good to be true.

He was certain that you were his Heaven, he couldn’t tell if he was there or in the apartment you both shared together.

“I’m just grabbing something from the bathroom. If you want, we can get in bed and try and get some rest?”

You feel him nod yes, his head still cradled in your neck. He pulls back, glancing at your face before placing a tender kiss to your forehead. A tender notion of love that even now, 3 years later, holds the same sentiment as his first ‘I love you’.

Your hands file through the cabinet in the bathroom trying to find the needed item. Your hands land on the makeup remover and pull it from the shelf, glancing it over to see if it’s the right thing. You head back to the bedroom to find König sitting on the bed, now in some black sweatpants with no shirt. He was leaning his back against the headboard, patiently waiting for your return.

You perched yourself on his lap, his hands immediately finding their way to your waist, holding you in place. You soak a tissue in the makeup remover and begin to wipe away the black that lined his eyes. His eyes closed and his thumbs began to follow some kind of pattern on your waist.

He missed your touch, of course. He craved you in every way. But, this was his favourite intimacy.

He sat there whilst you took care of him, removing the final piece of him that he saved for the field.

You place your hands on the sides of his face, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss to let him know you are done.

His eyes open and gaze into your own.

He had already been home for almost an hour, yet it just now felt like he was home.

A broken smile formed on your face as you took in the sight before you. A man who you loved with every part of yourself - wanted or not. It was his.

“Hello there, beautiful”

He smiled at your compliment, heart beginning to run laps around his ribcage. You slide to the side of him, getting cosy on your bed as he leans to the side of him to turn the lamp off. You feel him shuffle down slightly and his head lay on your chest, his auburn locks engulfing the bottom half of your face as he snuggles in.

Not many words were spoken that night, yet so much was said. A final sense of comfort rests over the two of you, a tangled mess of limbs, love and auburn curls.

It’s the times like these that König wishes the world would stop, if only for a moment. It would mean he would have just a moment more with you. For now, he’ll settle for an eternity.

[wrapsify]

10 Best Softball Gifts for Dad: A Comprehensive Guide

Finding the perfect gift for a dad who loves softball can be challenging. Whether it's for Father's Day, his birthday, or any special occasion, you want to get him something that resonates with his passion for the sport. To make your search easier, we've curated a list of the 10 best softball gifts for dad that will surely bring a smile to his face and enhance his game experience.

1. Personalized Softball Glove

A high-quality, personalized softball glove is a gift any softball-loving dad would cherish. Choose a glove from top brands like Rawlings or Wilson, and add his name or initials for a special touch. A customized glove not only improves his game but also makes a sentimental keepsake.

2. Softball Bat

Upgrade your dad’s game with a top-of-the-line softball bat. Brands like Easton, DeMarini, and Louisville Slugger offer bats with advanced technology that can enhance performance. Consider his playing style and preferences to choose the perfect bat.

3. Softball Apparel

Softball-themed apparel, such as jerseys, hoodies, and caps, make great gifts. Look for items featuring his favorite team or customize them with his name or number. High-quality materials ensure comfort and durability on and off the field.

4. Training Equipment

Help dad improve his skills with training equipment like batting tees, pitching machines, or agility ladders. These tools are great for practice sessions and can significantly enhance his performance. Brands like SKLZ and Jugs offer reliable training gear.

5. Softball Bag

A spacious and durable softball bag is a practical gift that helps dad carry all his gear with ease. Look for bags with multiple compartments and sturdy construction from brands like Easton or Mizuno. Personalizing the bag with his name or team logo adds a thoughtful touch.

6. Softball Shoes

High-quality softball shoes provide the support and traction needed for peak performance. Brands like Nike, New Balance, and Under Armour offer specialized footwear designed for softball. Make sure to choose a pair that suits his playing style and preferences.

7. Softball Books and DVDs

For the dad who loves to learn, books and DVDs about softball strategies, techniques, and famous players make excellent gifts. Titles like "The Complete Guide to Slowpitch Softball" or instructional DVDs from expert coaches can provide valuable insights.

8. Custom Softball

A custom softball with a special message or design is a unique and sentimental gift. Companies like Make-A-Ball allow you to create personalized softballs featuring photos, messages, or team logos. It's a great keepsake that he can display proudly.

9. Softball Jewelry

For a subtle yet meaningful gift, consider softball-themed jewelry. Options like cufflinks, bracelets, or pendants with softball designs can be a stylish addition to his wardrobe. Look for pieces made from quality materials to ensure longevity.

10. Softball Tickets

Surprise your dad with tickets to a major softball game or tournament. Whether it's a local league or a professional event, attending a live game can be an unforgettable experience. Pair the tickets with some fan gear to complete the gift.

Conclusion

Choosing the right gift for a softball-loving dad doesn't have to be difficult. From personalized gloves to training equipment, these 10 best softball gifts for dad are sure to hit a home run. Consider his interests and needs to select a gift that he will truly appreciate and enjoy. Happy gifting!

[sumiyarezasuchana]

Unveiling the Power of the UA Yard Baseball Backpack by Under Armour

In the dynamic world of sports, the right gear can make all the difference. Whether you're a dedicated player, coach, or simply an enthusiast, having the right equipment can enhance your performance and overall experience. One such essential piece of gear that's making waves in the baseball community is the UA Yard Baseball Backpack from Under Armour. This innovative backpack combines style, functionality, and durability to cater to the needs of baseball enthusiasts of all levels.

Design and Durability:

At the heart of the UA Yard Baseball Backpack is its robust design and durable construction. Crafted by the renowned sports gear brand Under Armour, this backpack boasts a high-quality build that stands up to the demands of the baseball diamond. Made with premium materials, this backpack is designed to withstand the rigors of both training and game days.

The backpack features a spacious main compartment that can easily accommodate all your baseball essentials, including gloves, batting gloves, and even a couple of baseballs. In addition, its separate bat sleeves ensure your bats remain secure and protected throughout your travels. The UA Yard Baseball Backpack is a testament to Under Armour's commitment to combining style and practicality, resulting in a sleek and versatile bag that suits both the field and the dugout.

Smart Organization:

Staying organized amidst the hustle and bustle of a baseball season is crucial. The UA Yard Baseball Backpack has been thoughtfully designed with this in mind. The front zippered pocket is perfect for storing smaller items like keys, phones, and wallets, while the dedicated shoe compartment keeps your footwear separate from your gear, maintaining hygiene and convenience.

Moreover, the padded laptop sleeve in the main compartment serves as a reminder that the UA Yard Baseball Backpack isn't just for the field. It's also an ideal companion for students, professionals, and travelers. This dual functionality adds another layer of value to an already impressive backpack.

Comfort and Mobility:

Long practices, extended travel, and busy game days demand a backpack that's comfortable to carry. The UA Yard Baseball Backpack is equipped with adjustable HeatGear® shoulder straps that ensure a secure and comfortable fit. The HeatGear® technology wicks away moisture, keeping you cool and dry even during the hottest summer games. The padded back panel adds an extra layer of comfort, preventing discomfort during extended wear.

The ergonomic design of the UA Yard Baseball Backpack doesn't just stop at the straps. The chest strap adds stability, especially when the backpack is fully loaded, making it easier to carry your essentials without straining your shoulders. This thoughtful design ensures that you're focused on the game and not on the discomfort caused by an ill-fitting backpack.

Discount Alert:

Now that you're undoubtedly excited about the UA Yard Baseball Backpack, you might be wondering where to get this remarkable piece of equipment at a discounted price. Look no further than the official Under Armour website. Under Armour frequently offers promotions, special deals, and seasonal sales that can help you score the UA Yard Baseball Backpack and other gear at a reduced price. Keep an eye out for holiday sales, back-to-school offers, and clearance events to make the most of your investment. Search coupons in the reputable coupon website to get amazing deals on Under Armour.

Moreover, subscribing to Under Armour's newsletter can provide you with exclusive access to sales and discounts. By signing up, you'll receive notifications about ongoing promotions, product launches, and limited-time offers, ensuring you never miss a chance to grab your favorite gear at a discounted rate.

Conclusion:

The UA Yard Baseball Backpack from Under Armour stands as a testament to the brand's commitment to innovation, quality, and user-centric design. Its durability, smart organization, and comfort-focused features make it an ideal companion for baseball enthusiasts, students, professionals, and travelers alike. With the added benefit of potential discounts through official channels, this backpack is a must-have for anyone looking to upgrade their gear and experience the pinnacle of performance and style.

So, whether you're stepping onto the diamond or stepping into the classroom, the UA Yard Baseball Backpack is ready to elevate your experience and keep you in the game – no matter where life takes you.

[pennysrecoveco]

Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: Mustard Seed Pink Eyelet Embroidered Mini Dress Size Medium.

[bestbaseballreview]

Best Baseball Bags

Top 11 Picks and Expert Reviews in 2023

Here are some popular baseball bags that are highly rated by players and coaches for the 2023 season:

Easton Walk-Off IV Bat Pack - a versatile and spacious bag with room for equipment, batting gloves, and other essentials.

DeMarini Special Ops Wheeled Bag - a sturdy and well-designed bag with wheels for easy transportation.

Rawlings Sandlot Equipment Backpack - a budget-friendly option with multiple pockets and a comfortable design.

Under Armour Hustle 3.0 Backpack - a stylish and durable bag with ample storage space.

Nike Vapor Jet 5.0 Bat Pack - a sleek and functional bag with padded back and shoulder straps for comfort.

Note: It's always best to consider your specific needs and preferences when choosing a baseball bag.

Read More: https://bestbaseballreviews.com/best-baseball-bags

[mediashark]

Best Crypto Marketing Agencies

Why choose a crypto Consulting Agency?

The demand for professionals who can assist projects in navigating these uncharted waters is increasing as the world of blockchain and digital assets continue to expand. An NFT consulting firm can help with that. It is a reputable company that provides project management, legal advice, and other services. The demand for professionals who can assist projects in navigating these uncharted waters is increasing as the world of blockchain and digital assets continue to expand. An NFT consulting firm can help with that. It is a reputable company that provides project management, legal advice, and other services.

A Japanese banking company named Sumitomo Mitsui Banking Corporation (SMBC) has announced that it is attempting to provide a range of NFT and cryptocurrency-related services to its millions of customers in Japan. An upcoming NFT collection based on the Hello Kitty franchise has already attracted the attention of a number of well-known Japanese game developers. Take Square Enix's planned NFT for the enduringly well-liked dieselpunk classic Final Fantasy VII as an example.

All of these initiatives were made possible by the participation of several NFT consulting firms, who assisted these businesses in strategically planning and starting their NFT journeys as well as creating buzz before their launches.

Why Are Rushing Into the NFT Business?

Brands are pouring into the NFT industry as NFTs are no longer considered a novelty investment.

For firms involved in every marketing area, the NFT revolution created a plethora of opportunities. Books, music, tickets to a flight, pieces of art, experiences, and even real estate can all be sold as NFTs. Additionally, by linking customers directly to the brand, NFT builds a strong community that supports the company in both good and bad times.

The following are a few actual NFT use cases that brands are making advantage of:

1. Since the NFT is a digital representation of ownership on a public ledger, brands have connected them to actual limited-edition products and physical brand events. The Coach handbag company will start allowing NFT owners to claim custom-made bags in Q4 2022.

2. In the gaming sector, companies set up challenges for their consumers to achieve, such as collecting a certain number of NFTs to be eligible for a prize.

3. Brands lessen the entry barrier for potential investors who haven't set up crypto wallets by permitting the usage of credit cards or fiat money.

4. Clothing and apparel firms have created limited-edition NFTs that consumers can use in the Metaverse. For instance, your metaverse identity can wear the digital shoes that Stephen Curry and Under Armour created.

Market Decipher, a company that conducts market research and consulting, claims that the market's value increased from $232 million in 2020 to $22 billion in just one year. The market for NFTs is anticipated to reach $60 billion in value by 2031 with a compound annual growth rate of more than 19%, according to the business.

As long as your competitors see the potential for profit, they will continue to be interested in a market that size. The establishment and support of internet markets have made it simpler for these brand communities to trade NFTs.

[tjkl895]

Mitko Georgiev (https://www.instagram.com/p/CM_c5ZbF7Ie/)

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) eyatir STAR WARS

The last thing Rex remembers was the burning agony of electricity tearing through his already brutalized body, and Obi-Wan’s cry of alarm. The mission looking for the lost colonists of Kiros had been a shitshow from the start, and Rex had known, deep down, that something would go wrong - because something always went wrong.

Still aching from the haran that had been Umbara, Rex had been drifting through his duties like he was in a fog - he still did what was expected of him with the competence and skill he was known for, but a part of him just wasn’t fully there . Some part of him was still in that air base on Umbara, surrounded by the dead and unable to pull the trigger as Krell laughs. He sees Hardcase in his nightmares, him and all those Vode who had been lost to the madman parading around like a Jedi, he sees Dogma, begging for help as he’s locked away on Kamino even though his brother hadn’t made a noise as he had been led away. He sees Fives’ accusing look, and him and Jesse staring down a firing squad of their own siblings. He knows his brothers - his men - haven’t forgiven him; hells, he hasn’t forgiven himself for what he let Krell get away with.

Seeing Obi-Wan down there in that arena had been the most like himself that Rex had been for a long time. Seeing his partner and Jedi chained and bruised had lit a fire in Rex that had been put out on Umbara.

So of course it had gone wrong.

He had woken up on a slave transport heading for a labour camp, with a stone faced Obi-Wan seated across from him in their cell, and with no idea if General Skywalker and Commander Tano were okay.

Little gods, Cody must have been losing his mind.

“Don’t do anything to anger them, Rex.” His Jedi had said quietly, something haunted in his eyes and a collar around his throat. “Don’t look them in the eyes, keep your head down.” It had been a moment of cold acceptance when Rex had looked at the man’s pale face and saw the quiet understanding that came with experience - the same sort of look he had seen on General Skywalker when he thought no one was looking.

He had done his best to keep his head down and his mouth shut as their stay on Kedavo had dragged on, hoping to slip past the notice of the overseers much like he had back on Kamino, where too much attention could possibly spell his decommissioning. He had done his best to remind Obi-Wan of his own warnings, but his Jedi was too good , too kind, and he never could sit by while others suffered. Unfortunately, the slavers saw exactly what he did too.

He had done his best to support his Jedi as he crumbled under the stress, under the misplaced guilt as others were punished in his place. Watching him break had hurt more than the whips that tore his skin or the electricity that was forced through his body. It hurt that Rex couldn’t protect him - and no doubt it hurt Obi-Wan that he couldn’t do the same for Rex.

It didn’t mean they couldn’t try.

His last memory before losing consciousness was of the whip tearing into him, skin and muscle tearing and electricity coursing through his thrashing body. He’s not even sure what they had done to anger the overseer this time, only that the slavers had come to drag them out of the bunk they had shared. They had been thrown at the base of the Zygerrian’s hover chair, and the overseer had been completely enraged at something , watching as they had been forced to their knees and lifted their whips. It probably wasn’t even something they had done, but they has just been the ones chosen for him to take his anger out on.

There had been pain, and electrowhip digging into the side of his temple, and then nothing as his vision went white, then black, as Obi-Wan’s voice rang in his ears. Then he was floating, body suspended in nothingness, his awareness and thoughts returning at a slow crawl. For a while, it’s just Rex, left alone with his memories, his life swimming around him in the sea of unconsciousness. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when feeling in his body starts to return. It starts as a dull ache in his head that spreads to the rest of him and rises like the tide. It’s accompanied by the feather-soft brushes of hands touching him, fingers soothing through his hair and chasing away the pain.

He feels safe. Safe and warm. It’s a rare feeling, usually reserved for those scarce night cycles when the 501st and 212th meet up and Rex could sleep against Cody’s warm back, white Obi-Wan’s arm thrown over his waist, listening to the Commander and Jedi quietly speak over him, their voices lulling him to a deeper sleep then he’d ever get otherwise.

It’s odd, feeling safe again.

Rex stirs, drifting away as those hands still in his hair. Everything is quiet and still, and he’s lying on a comfortable cot, with soft blankets pulled up to his chin. He lets out a quiet whine when that blissfully warm hand retreats, and a familiar chuckle reaches his ears.

“Being pretty needy, Rex’ika.”

Rex’s eyes snap open, meeting those heart-wrenchingly familiar amber gaze, and honestly, he could have cried at the sight of his ori’vod leaning over him. “Cody.” He gasps, and Cody smiles at him softly, hand moving to press against his chest when the blond clone starts to rise.

Rex drinks in the sight of his brother like a man dying of thirst; he’s stripped out of the upper half of his armour down to his blacks, with only his legs covered by white and orange plastoid. There are deep, dark bags under his brother’s eyes, and a bacta patch on his temple, but he’s smiling.

“Hey, take it easy, vod.” Cody soothes, pushing him back against the soft mattress. “Pace will have my neck if you pull those stitches.”

“Cody.” Rex finds himself struggling against the blankets folded around him, reaching for his brother, and the other clone meets him half-way, gently taking Rex’s hand in his own.

“Udesii, Rex’ika.” Cody murmurs, voice gentle in the way it got when he coached him through breathing after a nightmare, and his ori’vod perches himself on the edge of Rex’s cot, his other hand traveling back to Rex’s too-long hair to run his fingers through his blond curls. “You’re safe, verd’ika. You’re on the Negotiator, in the medical bay. You’re free. Breathe, vod’ika.”

“Kot’vod.” He gasps, like a fish out of water, and Cody’s face somehow grows even softer. He hadn’t used that nickname since his second growth cycle, back when he was a lanky cadet who thought he didn’t need his ori’vod constantly watching his back. He had been overconfident then - but scared too. Scared that if Cody got too close to him the Longnecks would take him away too.

Rex chokes, eyes burning, and he grips his brother’s hand like a life line.

“K’uur, Rex’ika.” Cody soothes, pressing a soft kov'nyn to Rex’s bandaged forehead. “I’m here - and I’m not letting you out of my sight any time soon.” Rex snorts wetly, letting his eyes slide shut as he just breathes with his brother.

“Obi-Wan?” He asks quietly, achingly aware that their partner is gone, not within Rex’s sight for the first time since everything had gone to shit. Not there for Rex to watch over, to make sure no one is going to go for his open back. It’s agonizing, not being able to see the copper haired Jedi, and it’s making Rex’s heart speed up with anxiety.

He blinks his eyes open, meeting Cody’s gaze with his own once again, and he watches as his brother tilts his head, eyes growing distant for a long moment, as if he was listening to something that wasn’t there. When Rex blinks again, the odd expression is gone, replaced with another smile.

“He’s on his way, vod’ika.” He assures, and Rex lets out a small gust of air.

“Me’bana?” He asks, tightening his hold on his brother’s hand into a squeeze, and Cody looks at him, considering.

The Commander sighs. “Obi-Wan contacted us - I’m not completely sure what happened.” His brother admits, then shrugs at Rex’s wide-eyed stare. “The Zygerrians were all dead, and you were in rough shape. Obi-Wan -” Cody cuts himself off, swallows, then shakes his head, “- he just needed a bit of bacta. The 501st had retrieved Skywalker and Tano, and we waited for General Koon to arrive to take the colonists back home.” He shares, and Rex narrows his eyes at his brother - he’s hiding something. Or at least not sharing it.

Cody may have been an amazing liar, but Rex knows all his tells. He knows Cody almost as well as he knows himself. The slightest tightening of his brow, pulling at his scar, could give him away if someone knew what they were looking for.

“Cody.”

The Commander sighs, ruffling Rex’s curls almost subconsciously, gaze distant again. “We’re in hyperspace.” Cody tells him, “You’ve been unconscious for three week, vod. Missing for four.” Rex winces, and his brother nods in agreement, “You went right into surgery the moment we brought you on board -” he runs a hand across the wrappings constricting Rex’s head, resting his fingers on his temple, and there’s something dark and angry in his brother’s eyes, “- then into bacta as soon as Pace cleared you.”

“We meeting back up with the 501st?” Rex asks, and Cody goes quiet, scar tightening once more.

“No, we’re not.” Both clones straighten as the door hisses open, and something in Rex’s chest lightens at the sound of the familiar voice. His head turns, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of his Jedi leaning in the doorway, looking clean and healthy once more - nothing like he had looked back on Kedavo.

“Obi-Wan.” He whispers in greeting, breathing so much easier now that the older man was in sight, and his Jedi smiles back, so soft and loving and the sight makes Rex choke up.

“Hello Rex.” Obi-Wan slips into the private room and towards his bed. He stops to gently press his lips to Cody’s when his Commander tilts his head towards him, tracing the scar that was Cody’s visual marker of individuality and smoothing away the tension in his shoulders with only a touch. When they part, the Jedi sits down next to Cody on the bed, then reaches forward to take Rex’s other hand and kiss his knuckles. “It’s good to see your eyes, cyar’ika.” He glances to Rex between copper lashes, and Rex opens his mouth to give him a properly witty reply, but his voice catches in his throat.

He had been half-way in love with the Jedi General since the first time their eyes had met, back when Rex had just been a lieutenant in Ghost Company. He had been enraptured by the colour of the young Master’s eyes. They were beautiful; the colour of the waters of Kamino on a clear day and just as deep. The exact colour was always hard to pin down, shifting as they were through shades of grays, blues, and greens, and everything in between depending on his mood, just like the sky or sea changed with the weather. They were enchanting, and Rex still couldn’t understand how they’d look at him and see something worth loving.

There was gold in the blue now, bubbles of it that bursts and swirls hypnotically, making him seem wilder than he had been before.The bags under his eyes were darker now, his skin paler, and it reminds Rex eerily of the eyes of the Sith as the gold continues to spread like an oil spill the longer Obi-Wan studies him.

A hand reaches across his line of sight, catching the Jedi by the chin and jerking his head around until Obi-Wan is staring at Cody instead.

“Udesii, Obi-Wan!” Cody barks, his tone taking on the edge he used to scold arrogant shinies that would likely get their squads killed if they didn’t pack it in, and it’s such an odd tone for his brother to use against their jetii that it snaps Rex out of his state of shock. Cody is frowning at his General, eyes hard, but there’s something scared in the tilt of his lips.

Obi-Wan scowls right back - which is just as odd and even more alarming - before he shudders, blinking heavily, and Cody studies his eyes. “Ni ceta, ner alor.” Whatever he sees is enough for Cody, because his grip relaxes and he offers their lover an apologetic kiss, which Obi-Wan accepts readily.

When he turns back to Rex his eyes are blue again, and his expression is strained. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Rex.” He murmurs, squeezing the captain’s hand to accentuate his apology, and Rex squeezes back.

“Obi-Wan?” He questions, and he’s not proud of the way his voice shakes.

The copper haired man looks pained. “I am so sorry to have dragged you into this.” He murmurs, and there’s something in his tone that makes Rex frown.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, cyare.” He says firmly, and it makes the man’s lips twitch sadly, reaching out to cradle Rex’s cheek like he was something precious.

“I’m afraid I did something I’m not very proud of after what they did to you.” Obi-Wan says, and a small bubble of gold rises up from the blue as he speaks, only to retreat again when Rex leans into his touch.

He remembers what Cody had said - that the slavers were already dead when they had arrived. That Obi-Wan had called them.

Rex isn’t stupid - he can put the pieces together.

“You killed them.” He notes, not judging, but surprised, and Obi-Wan nods.

“I won’t apologize for that.” Obi-Wan informs him, which makes Rex snort.

He wouldn’t either, not after what those bastards had done.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Rex.” The Jedi says, something meaningful in his eyes, “You scared me.”

Fear leads to anger, Rex remembers, and something heavy settles into his stomach, “General - Obi-Wan, you -” He can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to, because Cody winces and Obi-Wan’s expression tightens with guilt and sorrow as he averts his eyes. He’s expecting anger, Rex realizes - he’s expecting Rex to tear away from him, to leave him like so many others had before him.

Well, Rex can’t have that.

He tightens his hold on his Jedi, pulling his attention back to himself, and as soon as those blue eyes are on him once again, Rex speaks, “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” It’s so much more powerful to speak those words in Mando’a. It makes it feel like a vow, like a promise that he wouldn’t leave him, and it makes Obi-Wan’s eyes soften.

“Told you.” Cody says in amusement, and the Jedi huffs at him.

“You needn’t be so smug about it, my dear.” Obi-Wan says, then gives Rex a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. With a grumble, Rex slides his hand around the back of his lover’s neck to pull him into a deeper, more passionate kiss. When they part, Rex rests his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, closing his eyes as the Jedi gently rubs his aching temples.

He’s still Obi-Wan, still the man he fell in love with, no matter what he had done to get them out of that haran.

“You said we weren’t going to the Resolute.” Rex finally says, after a long moment of silence, enjoying having Cody and Obi-Wan near him after so long of a collar around his neck. He pulls away enough to look both men in the eyes, studying their expressions. “Where are we going then?”

Cody’s lips press together, his eyes darkening into something thunderous, and Obi-Wan’s fingers press harder against the bandage around Rex’s head - right in the same place where Cody had his own bacta patch.

“Kamino.” His Jedi finally says, voice dark with a promise of a reckoning, “The scientists have a lot of things to answer for.”

[prettyboy-parker]

starker- 11:11

this is the backstory to my high-school au 

no major warnings beside background sambucky

♡♡♡

“What’s going on with you and Sam?”

Bucky makes a show out of avoiding Tony’s eyes, staring at his beat up Converse

“We’re taking a break,” He mutters, swallowing thickly.

“Shit, why?” Tony asks, the filter on his mouth non-existent. Bucky shoots a glare at the other boy.

“Tony,” He warns, digging through his Under Armour backpack for something. Tony has never been good with thinking before he speaks.

“Where the fuck is Coach Wilson?” Bucky grunts as he takes a sip from his Gatorade water bottle.

“Probably jacking off. I swear, he’s never around.” Tony jokes, rolling out his wrists. Steve gags from where he’s stretching on the ground. A few other teammates are doing a warmup laps at the other end of the field, while the rest stand around and chat. Bucky watches Sam as he does his stretches a decent distance away. He looks sad and Tony can bet he’ll be fucking up good amount today.

“On your left, Tony.” Steve mumbles, and as if on cue, all the players look to the left.

The cheerleaders.

The only good thing about practice is that the cheerleading squad practices on the turf with them. All the guys love it and admit it loud and clear.

“Hi, boys.”

Peter Parker.

Peter is one of the most loved boys in their school. Being the only guy on the varsity cheerleading squad, he has an entire group of girls devoted to his well being. He’s on the Decathlon team, Vice President of his class council, and on track to becoming Valedictorian.

Tony hates him.

(Not really. He’s smitten with the boy, but he’ll never admit it.)

“Hey, darlin’.” Bucky purrs, causing a beautiful pink blush to creep onto the younger’s cheeks. He looks delicious, in short blue track shorts and an oversized Midtown Tech sweatshirt. His long legs are on display, a perfect balance of muscle and skin.

“Bucky! How are you?” Peter asks, adjusting the strap of his hot pink Nike duffel bag that’s on his shoulder.

“Better now that you’re here,” The older boy flirts, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Peter giggles for God’s sake and bites his strawberry pink lip.

Why does Bucky have to be so good at sweet talking?

“Peter! Come on!” One of the girls on the squad shouts, beckoning the boy. Tony recognizes her as Pepper Potts, a senior with red hair as fiery as her attitude. He’s positive that her and Peter are dating, because they’re always touching in some way.

“Bye! See you later!” The brunette squeaks, waving as he runs off to his team. Tony can’t help but stare at his ass as he jogs.

“Cute, huh? Seems like your type.” Bucky smirks, nudging Tony’s shoulder.

“No. Not at all.”

♡♡♡

“Hey Tony? Can I borrow a pen?”

Tony looks up from his worksheet, face to face with a certain cheerleader.

Peter leans over his desk, chewing on the end of his pen, cherry lips coated in gloss. His honey eyes are wide in question, long lashes coated in mascara.

“Mine ran out of ink.” He says coolly, head tilting just so. Tony realizes his mouth has been open slightly and he quickly closes it.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” He stammers, rummaging through his navy pencil case. Of course he can’t find one pen, so he dumps some of the contents on his desk. Peter bites his lip to hold back a giggle.

“Here, Peter.” Tony says triumphantly, handing him a blue Bic pen. Peter smiles tightly and takes it.

“Thanks, Tony.”

He has trouble focusing on Business Management after that.

♡♡♡

“Tony? Earth to Tony.”

Tony flinches as Sam snaps his fingers in his face.

“What?” He asks, tearing his eyes away from the cheerleaders who sit a few tables away.

“Jeez, Tony. I asked if you were going to Thor’s party on Saturday. What has gotten into you?” Sam scolds, looking at him weird. Tony can’t help but glance back at the table, catching a glimpse of Peter laughing at something.

“Oh,” Sam gasps, “You’ve got your eyes on someone, Stark?”

Steve nudges him gently.

“Yeah, something like that.” Tony snaps, glaring at Steve. Sam lets out a hoot.

“No way. Is it Natasha? I’m willing to bet it’s Natasha.” He theorizes, taking a bite of his ham sandwich. Tony makes a face.

“No. Leave me alone.”

Sam raises his hands in mock defense.

“Calm down, Tones. You can tell us.” Bucky pipes up from the other side of Tony. He’s still won’t talk to Sam, and there’s a heavy tension between the two.

“Nope.” Tony teases, popping the p. Sam rolls his eyes and Steve groans. As the group drawls on about Thor’s party, Tony’s eyes wander to Peter. He laughing and smiling with his girl friends, clearly excited about something. Tony’s heart stops when the younger boy catches his gaze. Instead of looking away, he bites his lip and waves.

Tony waves back.

♡♡♡

He’d rather be anywhere but here.

Herebeing on Thor’s beat up couch, ears bleeding from the shitty rap music that’s blasting from the stereo.

“This sucks.”

Tony turns to look at Thor’s brother, Loki. He’s curled up in the corner of the couch, a scowl on his pale face.

All he does is complain.

“Yeah,” Tony replies, taking a sip of his shitty beer out of his Solo cup. He gags, because he’s got drinks that are 100 times better at home. He hasn’t even had enough to give him a buzz.

“Parties suck. My brother sucks.”

Tony stifles back a laugh, because he knows how much Thor adores his younger brother.

“Yeah. He sucks.” He jokes, checking the time on his phone.

11:01

Tony decides he needs a breather. He gets off the red couch, maneuvering his way through the crowd of people. He exhales a sigh of relief when he steps out the sliding glass door, the smell of cheap booze and Axe washed away by the fresh air. He chucks the rest of his beer over the railing of the porch, balancing the cup on top of it. The fresh air is nice, a slight breeze moving his hair.

“Hey.”

Tony jumps a little as Peter Parker leans on the ledge next to him.

“Hey yourself,” He responds, watching Peter chuck his drink into the grass.

“Don’t drink?” Tony asks, already knowing the answer.

“No way,” Peter cringes, making a face. “Alcohol is fucking disgusting. And dangerous.”

Tony is taken aback by the foul language coming from the tiny thing.

“My friend made it. She probably put about 5 different drinks in one cup. I threw up a little when I smelt it.” The brunette complains, dead serious. Tony can’t help but laugh at the younger boy’s disgusted face.

“Hey,” Peter scolds with a pout. Tony just shakes his head as he checks the time.

11:11  

“11:11. Should we make a wish?” He jokes, not that serious. Peter giggles softly, looking up at the vast expanse of stars.

“Sure. You start.” The boy offers, looking up at Tony. The older boy practically melts as he studies Peter’s gaze, full of innocence and expectancy. Tony doesn’t know why he says what he does. It may be the booze, or the nerves.

“I wish you weren’t dating Pepper.”

There’s silence.

Tony’s heart pounds in his chest, the sound drowning out the chirps of cicadas around him.

Then, the unexpected happens.

Peter laughs.

He doesn’t just giggle, no. He’s full on hysterically laughing, clutching at his stomach. This causes Tony to laugh at how ridiculous the boy is acting.

“Oh my god, Tony,” Peter wheezes through his tears, lips stretched wide. “I’m gay!”

Tony rubs his face with his hands.

“Jesus, Peter, I’m sorry, I’m such a fucking idiot.” He laughs, flushing in embarrassment.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Peter reassures, placing a tiny hand on Tony’s exposed bicep. “She’s single. All yours.”

Tony almost throws up.

“Peter,” He says softly, “I don’t like Pepper.”

Peter inhales sharply.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“Me?” He asks softly, “Why me? You’ve never even noticed me.”

Oh my god.

“Peter, what the hell? I’ve been drooling over you since middle school.” Tony confesses, laughing slightly. Peter rubs his temples.

“No way. The only reason I joined the cheer squad was to get you to notice me. That’s it. I am so-“

“Peter, shut up and kiss me.”

[chromalogue]

The Clock Strikes Midnight

A story that I wrote for my 8-year-old niece as a gift, “illustrated” with pictures I printed off the internet and cut out and recombined, and then photographed under what I realize now were very poor lighting conditions.

 A lot of people know the story of when Cinderella was young. They know that she had a wicked stepmother and two wicked stepsisters who made her wear rags and clean the house while they sat idle.  They know that her fairy godmother helped her go to the royal ball by turning her rags into a beautiful dress and glass slippers, a pumpkin into a coach, a rat into a coachman, mice into footmen, and lizards into horses.  They know that she danced with the prince until the enchantment started to wear off, and on the stroke of midnight she fled the palace and left one slipper.  They’ve heard all about how the prince searched through the entire kingdom to find the woman whose foot fit the slipper.  They know the prince married Cinderella with a glad heart.  But people don’t know what happened after she got married.

[Image description: Castle Neuschwanstein, in the mountains, with a cutout of a coach emerging from the front gate. End image description.]

Most of it was good.  Cinderella got to live in a palace with a very nice husband.  There was always enough to eat, and she was able to send money back to her father.  She didn’t have to clean from sunup to sundown, although sometimes, when she was working on a thorny problem, she did anyway.  It helped her think. 

Cinderella’s wicked stepmother had started going to therapy, and now she was Cinderella’s occasionally cranky but really quite decent stepmother.  And now that Cinderella didn’t have to live under the same roof as her stepsisters, they all got along much better.  Lacey, one stepsister, had married a seamstress and they had adopted a son and a daughter.  Tilly, the other stepsister, had always been good in history and had decided to pursue it as a career.  She worked at the new university.

The prince’s parents, the old king and queen, had retired and given Prince Charming the throne.  They said they wanted him to inherit the kingdom in the prime of his life, while they were still there to enjoy his rule and to give advice if he really needed it. There would have to be an heir eventually, which meant that someday Cinderella would be expected to at least think about having a child, but she was still very young, and there would be plenty of time for that later.  So she spent her time looking after the kingdom instead.

But not everything was good all the time.  One day, about two years after Charming had married Cinderella, and after he had become king, he had to leave the kingdom for an important diplomatic trip. He would have loved to take Cinderella with him, but one of the neighbouring countries had a new leader who nobody trusted, so one of them had to stay at home, just in case.  

The king had been travelling for only an hour when he felt his coach come to a halt.  Before he could get out to see what was the matter, the door of the coach burst open, a bag was thrown over his head, and he was carried off kicking and struggling. His kidnappers threw him into another coach, and gallopped away.  

King Charming tried to keep track of the turns, and guess where they were by the feel of the road under him, but he lost track after a couple of hours.  His kidnappers rode with him all day.  The air had the chill of night again before the coach slowed and stopped.  They made him get out and walk, and he heard mighty doors close behind him.

After awhile, he was allowed to stop, and his captors pulled the bag off his head.  He was in an opulent throne room.  Standing over him was the ruler of the neighbouring kingdom, Jingo.  Once upon a time, Lord Dampnut had looked like everyone else, but he thought that he was better than everyone else, and went to extraordinary lengths so that everyone would know it.  He kidnapped faeries and forced them to make his teeth supernaturally white. Every morning he bathed in carrot juice to make his skin a gleaming orange, and he had a small, expensive dog that he kept right on top of his head.  “Hello, King Charming,” he said.  He had a very firm handshake.

[Image description: an opulent hall with a chandelier.  Donald Trump stands clad in fearsome spiky armour, and wearing a Pomeranian on his head. End image description.]

“Hello, Lord Dampnut,” said the king.  And because he was royalty, and expected to act very formally with other heads of state, instead of yelling and screaming and demanding why they’d kidnapped him and shoved a bag over his head, he said, “To what do I owe the honour of this... unexpected invitation?”

“I called you here to have a little conversation on my terms,” said Lord Dampnut. “You’ve been stealing water from the great republic of Jingo, and we won’t stand for it.”

“Goodness,” said the king, “please do tell me what’s happening.”

“The Elva River runs through Jingo,” Lord Dampnut said, “before it reaches Vingjarnlegur.”

“Yes,” said the king.

“Well?” said Lord Dampnut.

“Well?” said the king, aware that this was not good protocol, but a little at a loss for words.  

“You’re stealing Jingo’s water, plain and simple!” roared Dampnut.  “You suck it right out of our country into yours. And then it flows into the ocean, and you put boats on it, and let all the nations of the world sail on my water!  And mark my words, you’ll pay for it.  You’ll pay for the water you take, or we’ll build a dam, and you’ll pay for that.”

“Lord Dampnut,” said the king, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “what you are describing is simply how rivers work.”

“That’s the problem with you people!” Dampnut raged.  “You go on and on about how rivers work now, without ever thinking about how rivers could work.  My advisors tried to tell me the same thing, and you know what I did?  I fired them.  We need new people with new ideas.  And if you won’t do what’s right by Jingo, King Charming, I’ll rain down fire and fury the likes of which you have never seen before.”

“Do you have a cell for me?” the king said plaintively.  “I think I would like to go to my cell now.”

Dampnut’s men took him to the dungeon, and locked him in a cell.  There the king found the other people in his entourage: his page, his butler, the groom, the coachwoman, and some footmen. Most of them just sat there dejected. But one of them, a footman, jumped up when he saw the king coming.  His cell was right across from the king’s.  

The footman waited until the dungeon guards walked away.  Then he whispered, “Your majesty, I believe I can help.”

“Any help would be very welcome...”  The king trailed off, because he didn’t know the footman’s name. He wasn’t one of the ones the king had grown up with in the palace.  It was one of his wife’s people.  Nice fellow. Hard worker.  Vegetarian.

“Lenjimux,” the footman supplied.  “My name is Lenjimux.  I think I can get out of my cell later tonight, and go for help.”

“Can you get me out of my cell?” the king asked.

“Sorry, sire.  It doesn’t work that way.”

Dinner was curried chickpeas, because Lord Dampnut hated curry and he hated chickpeas, and he thought the two of them together were the worst thing he could feed to anyone.  The king rather liked it.  Then he sat down on the cold stone floor, and waited.  

He had been waiting for hours when all of a sudden, the clock struck midnight with a tremendous BONGing noise.  Lord Dampnut had insisted on the biggest, loudest, best bells, and never mind that they rattled teeth all over the kingdom.  Some people deserved to have their teeth rattled, he said.  

But Lord Dampnut was not worth paying attention to at the moment, because suddenly Lenjimux’s clothes collapsed, empty.  As the king watched, wide-eyed, a little grey mouse clambered over one sleeve.  He scurried under the bars and into the dungeon corridor.  He chirped up at the king, and then took off running. 

[Image description: in a dungeon, a mouse standing in front of a pile of discarded clothes. End image description.]

Cinderella woke early the next day.  She wasn’t worried about her husband.  In those days the only way to get a message anywhere was to have someone carry it.  The trip would take three days, and then it would take three more days for a messenger to ride back and let her know that the king had arrived safely.  She waited and hoped, of course, but she didn’t worry. It had only been a day, after all.

So she was quite surprised when a page appeared in the hallway, out of breath. “Your majesty,” the little girl wheezed, “urgent message for you in the drawing room.”

Cinderella went downstairs and found Lenjimux, also out of breath.  He was wearing only a burlap feed bag, and he was covered in dirt and bleeding from a dozen scratches.  The kitchen had already sent up a pitcher of water, and someone had put down towels so that Lenjimux could sit down without muddying up the furniture.  It must be very urgent, for him to need to see her before he’d had a chance to put on real clothes.  

“Coach ambushed,” he said, between gulps of water.  “Lord Dampnut.  I ran all night, but there’s only so far a mouse can get.  When the sun came up and I changed back, his police found me. They recognized my accent and I was afraid they would take me right back to the dungeon, but instead they said I didn’t belong in their country and threw me back across the border.”

“Lucky for us,” Cinderella said.  “What does Lord Dampnut want with my husband?”

“He thinks the fact that the Elva begins in Jingo makes it his river, and he wants us to pay for the water that flows into Vingjarnlegur.”

“What a silly man!”  Cinderella jumped to her feet.  “We have to get Charming out of there.”  She turned to the page.  “Your name is Hannah, isn’t it?  Please tell run up and tell my ladies’ maid that I require the dress and shoes I wore to my first royal ball.  Then tell the footman George to meet me in the stable.  After that, please go and tell Stu the coachman to saddle up my coach, with my old team.  Finally, fetch the Prime Minister, the Captain of the Guard, and my fairy godmother, please.  Tell them what has happened, but tell them that Cinderella is taking care of it, if you please.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the little girl said, and ran off.

Cinderella turned to Lenjimux.  “You’ve earned a nice long rest,” she said.

“Your majesty,” he said, “if I can have twenty minutes for a bath and some clothes, nothing would please me more than to accompany you.”

It took a little longer than that to get the coach out of storage and the horses saddled, but soon they were off.  The Prime Minister and the Captain of the Guard ran along behind, shouting bad words, until the palace was out of sight.  

Lenjimux slept in the coach.  Cinderella stared out the open window, partly because she was making plans and partly because nothing could get the smell of rotten pumpkin out of the upholstery.  

It had taken King Charming’s kidnappers all day to reach Lord Dampnut’s palace because they were avoiding the roads.  It took Cinderella only a few hours to get to the border Vingjarnlegur shared with Jingo.  She told the border guards that she was going to do some shopping, and they let her through.

Lord Dampnut’s palace was on a hill overlooking the busiest city in Jingo. Since there was nothing to be done yet, Cinderella spent the day shopping and making small talk with people in the city.  She learned all about the palace.  Lord Dampnut liked to tell everyone about it, including how many guards he had and where they all were.  

When the sun went down, Cinderella returned to the coach with dinner for everyone. She told them what she had learned. Under the cover of darkness, they slowly made their way as close to the palace as possible, and made plans.  

The big bells startled all of them, and they jumped out of the coach, which was already going soft and mushy.  But they all knew what to do, and they were ready.  

The horses turned back into lizards, and Stu, now a rat, led them over the palace wall.  Lenjimux and George turned into mice.  Cinderella, now clad in rags, tucked her glass slippers into her apron, tossed the rotten pumpkin over the palace wall, and put Lenjimux and George into her pocket.

She waited a little while, and then walked barefoot to the main palace gate. Thorns and sharp rocks cut her feet, and she didn’t have to work too hard to look upset.  “Hello,” she said to the guards.  “I’m so sorry... I forgot the password to the servants’ gate, and I’m late for work already, and I’m going to be in so much trouble!”

[Image description: Cinderella, in a green dress, runs up a staircase.  Pasted around her are a couple of mice, a rat, and a rotten pumpkin. End image description.]

“Lord Dampnut despises tardiness,” one of the guards said.  

“That means he hates it when you’re late,” the other one supplied helpfully. “You’ll have to go straight to him and report yourself.”

“Where do I find him?” Cinderella asked.  

“If he’s still awake, he’s in his study.  Go and see him.  He’ll probably fire you.”

“Thank you,” said Cinderella, and tried to look tired and humble and downtrodden as she walked up the front path.

“Not that way!” one of the guards cried.  “Around through the servant’s door, like always!  Do you want someone to see you?”

“Oh… oh, of course,” she said quietly.  Well, that had been silly.  She would have to make everyone believe she was a servant to do this properly.  

She slipped in the servants’ entrance.  It led straight to a stone staircase.  Now, all she had to do was find the dungeonmaster, get the mice to take his keys, and…

A hand fell on her shoulder.  “Oh, thank goodness,” a woman’s voice said.  “Here, you take his tray to him.” Someone put a tray of pastries in Cinderella’s hands.

“To who?” she asked.

“To Lord Dampnut, of course!  The situation with Vingjarnlegur has him just beside himself!”

“Will you walk with me a little while?” Cinderella asked, groping around in the darkness of the stairwell.  “I’m new, and I don’t know how to find the room yet.”

“Of course, dear.  I’m Rose.”

“Cin--”  She stopped. Cinderella was not a very common name. “Cindy,” she said.  “What is the situation with Vingjarnlegur?”

“His Excellency is in the middle of some very tense negotiations with the Vingjarnlegurian king,” said Rose.  “The king is still saying no.”

“I see,” said Cinderella.  “Well, I hope that right wins out in the end.”

“Me too,” said Rose.  She opened a door, and suddenly they were in a regular palace corridor, wide and gleaming with expensive fixtures.  She pointed at a door.  “He’s just over in that one.”  There was a loud crash, and both women winced.  

Cinderella thanked Rose, and took the tray to the door.  She stopped partway, as if to straighten her ragged skirts. Really, she was taking the mice out of her pocket.  “Find the dungeonmaster,” she whispered to George and Lenjimux.  “Get his keys.  I’ll find you.”

She picked up the tray again, and knocked on the door.

Lord Dampnut flung the door open.  “Finally!” he roared.  “I called you fifteen minutes ago!  Were you having your nails done or something?”  He snatched the tray out of her hands, grabbed her by the arm, and shoved her towards the fireplace.  “It’s filthy.”

She got down on her hands and knees.  “Someone’s been burning grease in it,” she reported.  “It gunks up everything.”

“It’s not my problem,” he shot back.  “It’s your problem.  My problems are real problems.  My problem is the safety and security of this great nation.  I’ll tell you what I should do… I should just announce that we have a trade deal and invite everyone to the castle.  His wife and everyone.  Then he’ll have to say yes.”

Cinderella was pretty sure it wouldn’t work that way, but she kept her mouth shut.  Lord Dampnut was ranting like she wasn’t even there.  

The fireplace really was filthy, so she was still cleaning it when two little faces nosed into the corner.  “Did you get the keys?” she whispered to George and Lenjimux.

[Image description: a cutout of a ragged Cinderella scrubs the hearth, with a bucket on one side of her and two exceedingly blurry mice on the other. End image description.]

They shook their little heads no.  

“Did you find the dungeonmaster?”

They nodded.

“And he didn’t have the keys?”

They nodded again.

Dampnut was still blustering.  He was pacing back and forth.  “I could send for his wife.  I could tell her I have her husband, and if she doesn’t agree to everything I say, I could just never let him out.”  He rattled a set of keys, and chortled.  “But that would never work.  She’d see how big my palace is, and see that it’s the best palace, and she would fall in love with me instead.”

Cinderella stifled a laugh, turning it into a sneeze instead.  And then she froze, because she realized that she’d just heard him jingling keys.

George and Lenjimux had already darted out past her.  She heard Lord Dampnut cry out, and jumped to her feet. His eyes were very large, and the dog on his head was barking furiously.  “Mice!” he said.

“Why thank you,” Cinderella said, curtseying a little, to buy the mice time.

“Not nice, you ninny, mice!  There are mice in my study.”  He started to turn around to show her.

“It’s very nice in your study,” she pretended to agree.  Lenjimux and George were up on the table now, pulling the keys along.  “The painting above my head, is that a Renoir?”

He waved a hand in dismissal.  “I don’t know.  It went with the drapes.  That’s not the important thing.  The important thing is that there are mice--”

The keys fell to the ground, and Lord Dampnut turned.  He gave out a shout, and started for George and Lenjimux.

Cinderella pulled off her glass slipper and threw it at him.  It missed him, and shattered on the stones.  The mice darted forward with the keys, and she scooped them back into her pocket, careful to avoid the broken glass.  “Let’s go!” she said.  

Lord Dampnut tried to run after her, but jumped back with a yelp.  “I cut myself!” he whined.  “Somebody? Someone come and clean up this glass!” He called after Cinderella, “You’re fired!  You hear me? You’ll never work in this town again!”

Cinderella followed the mice down the servants’ staircase to the dungeon.       There were a lot of people heading for Lord Dampnut’s study, but none of them paid attention to the ragged barefoot girl covered in soot.  

[Image description: Two illustrations side by side.  In one, two mice hold a ring of keys in their mouths on the table.  In the other, in a stone corridor Prince Charming’s butler opens a dungeon door while Cinderella (in black and white) looks on.  End image description.]

The dungeonmaster was nowhere in sight.  He hadn’t really wanted to give his keys to Lord Dampnut, and when Dampnut insisted, had gone to bed in a huff.  In the dungeon, Cinderella unlocked the butler’s door first, and gave him the keys.  He continued unlocking the doors while she went to her husband’s cell.  

“Cinderella!” the king cried, leaping to his feet.  “I knew you’d think of something, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon!”

She gently patted her front pocket, and Lenjimux and George squeaked a greeting. “You forget, I have some advantages.”

The butler didn’t just free the entourage; he freed the whole dungeon. Lord Dampnut, it turned out, had very funny ideas of who was a criminal and who wasn’t.

It was the middle of the summer, and Cinderella had seen the sky turning pale in the east on her way down.  Now, she hustled the freed prisoners to the end of the hall.

There were noises, and the dungeonmaster appeared, yawning and blinking, holding a candle.  He looked at the several dozen prisoners thronging the corridor.  “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this,” he announced. He started to shuffle back to bed, and then seemed to think it over.  “Would you have room for an extra person?”

“You’re welcome to come with us,” said the king, “but we don’t, er, really keep anyone in our dungeons.”

“I can be useful in other ways,” said the dungeonmaster.  He waved Cinderella and the king into his rooms. For a moment they wondered what they were doing there, but then he opened a door to the outside of the castle.  He had his own private entrance.  While Cinderella and the king ushered everyone out the door, the dungeonmaster quickly packed a bag.

[Image description: in the stone corridor, a massive man in an executioner’s hood stands holding a pastel rainbow rolling suitcase. End image description.]

Outside, it had gotten light enough to see.  The palace grounds were very quiet.  Lord Dampnut thought gardens were boring, so he had had a golf course put in instead.  The escapees had to creep very carefully.

Cinderella followed the smell to the rotting pumpkin.  The rat and the lizards were all there.  Now all they had to do was wait for the sun to come up.  They hunkered down against the palace wall, whispering back and forth.

Gradually, the sun’s rays crept over the horizon, and then over the wall. First they struck Cinderella, and her dress went from rags to the finest silk.  The soot vanished from her face and hair, and her glass slippers appeared on her feet, the broken one made good as new.   Next the sun hit the pumpkin.  For a moment it smelled worse, and then it billowed outward, turning into a magnificent coach with velvet seats.  It still stank faintly of rotting vegetables.  The lizards became a team of the finest horses, the rat turned back into Stu the coachman, and Lenjimux and George were footmen again.  Their clothes had been neatly folded, and they dressed in a hurry.  

[Image description: a super fancy black and gold coach at the foot of a brick wall.  End image description.]

But now that Cinderella’s glass slipper was back on her foot, there was nothing keeping Lord Dampnut in place.  The coach was ready to move when he limped out onto the green, brandishing a golf club.  “All of you stop!” he roared.  “If you no-talent, low-IQ losers think you can beat me, you’re sadly mistaken!  I have the best army and the best dungeon, and you have nothing at all!”

The dog on his head snarled, and bit his ear.  

Lord Dampnut hooted and clapped a hand to his ear.  His guards were visible, pouring out of the palace, but they were too far away to do anything as the horses started forward and the coach set off.  Cinderella, the dungeonmaster, the footmen, and the king and his entourage were crammed into the coach, and behind it ran the other prisoners.

They approached the palace gates.  Faced with a fast-approaching coach and no instructions to the contrary, the gatekeepers opened the gate.  The coach surged out, and the freed prisoners behind it.  By this point the gatekeepers suspected that something was amiss, but by the time they closed the gate, the only person they stopped was a furious Lord Dampnut, who bounced his golf club off the wrought iron. “This country doesn’t deserve me!” he bellowed, loudly enough for everyone on the other side to hear him.  “I’ll find a new country, a better country! I’ll make it the best country in the world!”

[Image description: two pictures side by side.  In the first picture, Donald Trump stands in front of a huge mansion, wearing spiky black armour and a cape and brandishing a golf club.  The dog on his head is furious.  In the second picture, Trump stands in front of wrought iron gates making a ridiculous face, and the dog still looks menacing.  End image description.]

On the other side of the gate, the freed prisoners dispersed, some going home to their families, and others walking along the road that would eventually take them to Vingjarnlegur.  

Cinderella and the king hung over the backs of the seats, watching them go. Finally they turned around and sat properly.  The coach was very crowded.  

“So,” Cinderella said, “I think we should be careful about our future dealings with Jingo.”

“Lord Dampnut was right about one thing, though,” the king said.  “That poor country does not deserve him.”

“I’d be surprised if he’s still in charge this time next year,” said the dungeonmaster.  Ex-dungeonmaster; he had been talking with the king’s groom about horses.  “You might have noticed, he’s not very good at getting people to like him, and he’s only getting worse.  We’re all very lucky that your wife came to get you, your majesty.”

“We are!” King Charming agreed.

“It was a group effort,” Cinderella said modestly.

They crossed the border into Vingjarnlegur before midmorning. It was a relief to be home, and when her own familiar palace came into view, Cinderella was so happy that she thought she might cry.

Then there were shouts outside.  People were watching for the coach, and had spotted it.  When the travellers disembarked, the Prime Minister, the Captain of the Guard, and Cinderella’s fairy godmother all started talking at once.

Cinderella held a hand up, and they all fell silent.  “I don’t know about anyone else,” she said, “but I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”

Everyone else agreed that this was a very wise thing.  And I don’t know if Cinderella and the king lived happily ever after, but they did take a good long nap.  

[Image description: a couple stands between two pillars, silhouetted against a castle.  It’s actually the cover of The Princess Bride with the background cut out and replaced with Neuschwanstein again. End image description.]

The End.

[cryoculus]

i'm back fool may i request headcanon or scenarios for the hq captains (or honestly whoever u wanna add) finding out their fem crush does hardcore parkour as a hobby. At school she wears the cute uniform but after ???? It's bad bitch time. Adidas sweats, the tank top for guys (under armour idk what's it called).

HHHHHere it is 

Ushijima

He doesn’t believe it at first when Tendou tells him about it. You were practically Shiratorizawa’s resident goody-two-shoes and because you were his classmate, he knew you to a certain extent. There was simply no way you’d be a closet parkour artist.

Tendou always insisted that Ushijima would come along with him sometime after school so he could show him, but he was simply in denial™ and thought Tendou was being obtuse. 

He eventually caved though.

Ushijima didn’t really know where to look when Tendou said, “Here we are,” after bringing him smack in the middle of a busy Sendai intersection. But then he saw it. 

A couple of teenagers were jumping buildings like it was nobody’s business – and to his utter disbelief, you were there. There was no trace of the adorable classmate whose charm was unparalleled. 

Tendou had to drag him by the arm so they wouldn’t lose track of your group, which was difficult because this six foot bag of meat was probably twice his weight. 

Your session ended at a nearby park, doing backflips from memorial statues. Ushijima thought that was a little disrespectful, but he couldn’t put a thought into it because he was gaping at you. 

“Tendou-kun, you said you wouldn’t tell!” you whined, hitting the middle blocker in the chest. 

“What can I say, Wakatoshi-kun has to know about his crush’s secret identity right?”

“Tendou,” Ushijima cautioned. How could he just rat him out right there?

 But you were blushing at Tendou’s proclamation. Your outfit may suggest otherwise, but you were definitely the girl who had put him under your charms.

“Ushijima-kun, you won’t tell, right?”

He nodded. He wouldn’t want anyone else getting to know you this way, anyway. 

Oikawa

Outside volleyball, Oikawa was known to be Seijoh’s local playboy. Though he only had one girlfriend, he did have many notable conquests because of his flirtatious nature.

But he seemed to be having trouble trying to woo a certain first year student.

“I heard she was an exhibitionist,” supplied Hanamaki when he asked his friends what they knew about you. 

“What kind of exhibitionist though?” Iwaizumi asked. 

Matsukawa snickered. “Maybe she’s a gravure model.”

Oikawa punched Mattsun on the shoulder. “Don’t besmirch (Name)-chan in that kind of light! She’s practically a saint.”

You were at the top of your class, the year-level representative, and volunteered for charity. And you were only a first year. 

“I dunno, Oikawa,” Makki sighed. “She seems a little too good, don’tcha think? I bet she’s got some weird secret she doesn’t want everyone to know.”

That actually made sense. So, he tried offering to walk you home that day to try and smooth talk some answers out of you, but you politely declined, to his chagrin. 

“Sorry, Oikawa-senpai, I’m meeting some friends at the park today,” you explained.

Any normal person would just suck it up and accept it right? 

Oikawa was not a normal person.

So, he went to the park that afternoon after school to see what was so important that you denied a walk home from the Oikawa Tooru. But the sight that beheld him nearly made his jaw drop.

You and a couple of older looking boys were climbing up the walls of an abandoned building with the swiftness of felines. Once you reached the top, you all hopped off the roof and landed gracefully on the cobblestone path. 

You saw Oikawa hiding behind a lamp post though. He gaped when you approached him with a cheery smile.

“Still like me, senpai?”

He threw his arms around you.

“Duh.”

Sawamura

I personally headcanon Daichi as someone who has some experience with parkour ‘cause of those  t h i g h s.

Anyway, he has a huge crush on Kiyoko’s cousin, who’s also a third year in Karasuno. Where Kiyoko was the graceful character, you were a bit more of a girl who was the actual definition of “kawaii-desu~ xD”

And not in a cringey way.

You were so ridiculously adorable, a lot of boys from Karasuno swooned over the sight of you.

But one day, Asahi managed to get him into parkour again. 

“Asahi, you know how my stunts were a bunch of failures back then, right?”

Asahi laughed. “We were first years. Surely with all this training, our bodies have better coordination.”

So they contacted the guys they used to do parkour with back then and to their surprise, they began recruiting girls as well.

When the two of them arrived at the meeting place on top of a corporate building in the main district, Daichi nearly choked when he saw you in the small crowd, talking to one of the members. 

But before he could tell Asahi about it, the guy overseeing the whole thing pulled them to the side and gave a quick briefing.

“Oh, and for saftey purposes, you’ll be getting a guide,” he smiled before calling out to someone, “(Name), come here would you?”

Asahi shot Daichi a knowing look and, the next thing they knew, you were their temporary coach. But you didn’t really provide them with any useful information besides:

“Don’t weigh me down.”

When the practice exhibition went underway, Asahi was performing fine but Daichi had to put his back into catching up with the rest of the group. His eyes were glued on you, who jumped each and every obstacle with unparalleled grace. Was that really Karasuno’s sweetheart?

 Right before the beam exercises, he decided to chat you up and asked how long you’ve been doing parkour.

“None of your business,” you deadpanned.

As you walked away, Asahi nudged him. 

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Kuroo

Kuroo had pretty high standards, if he did say so himself.

He wasn’t easily enamored by a pretty face unlike a certain brunet setter from Miyagi. But of course, he was still human and could still fall prey to that inevitable force called feelings.

It started when this shy girl transferred into Nekoma at the beginning of his third year. You were his seatmate and he’s convinced that, if you were assigned a different place to sit, he would’ve never interacted with you unless needed.

But since you were given the pleasure to be seated close to his glory, Kuroo decided to befriend you. 

You were ridiculously timid and Kuroo was perfectly fine with that, since his own best friend shared the same personality trait. He knew how to handle you without making you feel like he’s overstepping his boundaries.

Whenever he didn’t have practice, he offered to walk you home ‘platonically’ since you lived in the same neighborhood as him and Kenma. But strangely, whenever they dropped you off at home, he’d see you sneaking out of your house to go out. 

He thought that maybe you just had somewhere else to be and was too shy to decline his offer to walk you home.

“She’s hiding something,” Kenma flatly concluded.

Amused, Kuroo questioned, “What makes you say so?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who kept telling me she’s basically me. I’m sure I’ll notice when I’m hiding something.”

“Touché.”

So, when Kuroo walked you home the next time without Kenma, since he didn’t want to involve himself in Operation: Find Out What (Name) Does in Her Free Time, he tailed you at an inconspicuous distance. 

But then, you had travelled all the way to an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the city. Were you involved in some criminal activity? Concerned, he decided to step inside.

Someone nearly kicked him in the head from propelling yourself on top of an unused cargo carrier. 

“Sorry!” you apologized profusely, helping him back onto his feet. Your entire face was flushed crimson at Kuroo’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” he inquired.

“I-I-I uh do p-parkour as a hobby,” you stammered, fidgeting with the hem of your tank top. “Keeps m-my blood circulating.”

“Keeps your blood circulating?” he echoed with a smile. It reminded him of the words he’d tell the team before a volleyball match.

He grinned. “Can you teach me some of your moves?” 

Bokuto

He always prattled endlessly about his newfound crush to Akaashi when he met you in the cafeteria one day. 

“She accidentally poured piping hot coffee on my uniform, but she was so cute, Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-san, could you please focus on the game? The opponent is at a match point.” 

Since he had the attention span of a goldfish, Bokuto would always find his thoughts drifting back to you, someone he barely even saw in the halls of Fukurodani.

Eventually, he got “deprived” of your beauty and decided to hunt you down, asking various friends of his if they knew who you were. 

“Ah, (Surname) from Class 1? She rarely comes to school.”

“I heard she was a delinquent.”

“No, her dad’s part of the yakuza!”

“Someone told me she was a spy deployed at our school.”

“I think I saw her on a porn movie once.”

In short, no one really knew your true identity and you didn’t make a lot of friends. The information more or less put Bokuto in a dejected mode like no other, which irked Akaashi very much when his performance dwindled during their practice matches.

So, for the sake of the revival of his captain’s volleyball prowess, Akaashi took it upon himself to do his own investigation regarding a certain (Surname) (Name). When he finally got intel on where you were usually seen, he gave Bokuto the address. 

“Really Akaashi? You’re really going to let me see her?” Crocodile tears ran down his cheeks. 

“Please, before I change my mind.”

Bokuto did as instructed and headed out to Akihabara Park. He looked around, eyes carefully scanning the area for a familiar face, but then his attention got snagged by a couple of people doing parkour stunts near the multi-level parking lot.

You were scaling the building without any protective gear whatsoever. Your feet disengaged fluidly with each jump you made to reach the bottom. The finishing move was a flawless backflip that Bokuto thought would go awry, but you landed on your feet without fail. One of your companions pat your shoulder for a job well done and you grinned. 

But then you locked eyes with Bokuto. 

“What’re you doing here?” you asked when you jogged up to him.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he admitted in a trance.

You blinked, attempting to let his spur-of-the-moment confession sink in. “What?”

“I’m. In. Love. With. You.”

An unattractive snort escaped you. “I’m sorry. Bokuto, was it? I only date guys who can keep up with me.”

With that, you went back to your little parkrour group for your next set of stunts, but that’s until Bokuto ran to catch up to you.

“I won’t disappoint you!” 

[imaginezimbits]

Bitty (or Jack u choose) gets a hickey and Samwell (and Falconers if Jack) chirp him nonstop

This was so much fun, I love writing chirpy boys!

Read it on AO3

Jack rolled up to Friday’s practice running late and notably disheveled.  He jogged into the locker room and tossed his bag in his stall, ripping the zipper open and pulling out his under armour.

“Well well, look who showed up late with Starbucks?” Poots chirped him from across the room.  Jack grunted and yanked his shirt over his head, then hurriedly shoved his jeans off.  True to form, ignoring the chirp only made his teammates more determined to get a rise out of him.  Tater and Marty, already dressed for practice, sauntered over to him.

“Hey kid, what kept you?”  Jack turned to answer Marty, eyes going a little wide.  Even though they both wore the A on their jerseys, there was still that nervous rookie feeling whenever Marty seemed to disapprove of something.  Nervously flashing back to the real reason he was late - Bitty’s smooth skin glowing in the morning sunlight, his voice rough with sleep as he pleaded with Jack to snooze the alarm just this once - he stammered as he tried to think of a less chirp-able reason.  

“I - uh, the um…My car…” Unfortunately, the way he was turned towards Marty left Tater with a fantastic view of Eric’s…goodbye.

“Ahhhh, say no more Zimmboni.  Tater understands.”  He grabs Jack’s shoulder and turns him so Marty can see the purpling mark low on his neck.  “Brings new meaning to name ‘Zimmboni.’”  The guys who were close enough to hear started laughing.  Guy was actually cackling.  

“Oh my god,” Jack felt his face burning up as he ducked out of Tater’s grip to grab his pads.  

“Ah kiddo,” Marty patted him on the back, choking down a laugh but not managing to wipe the grin off his face.  “Just take your chirping and extra laps-”

“Extra laps!?”

“-and we’ll all move on.  But yes, extra laps.  Tardy is a tardy.”

“Just shut up and take the laps, bro!” Poots shouted, shaking his hair back into place as his head pops through the collar of his jersey.  “Do you have any idea how many suies I’d do to be getting consistently laid?”

“Yeah, fuck you and your blissful monogamy,” Snowy scoffed, grinning all the while.  “Some of us still have to fend for ourselves over here.”  Thirdy pointed at Poots and declared,

“We are gonna make you are gonna eat those words someday, eh Zimmboni?”  And just like that, Jack felt like he had his footing back here.  He was a captain on this team too, and he could give as good as he got with these guys.

“Oh you’ll think twice about wheeling a puck bunny anytime soon, that’s for sure.  And Snowy, there’s no shame in playin a little five on one; we can’t all have game.”  Marty wheezed, the laughter tried to come out so fast, and Thirdy gave him an approving little nod as the rest of the guys joined what was now a chirping free-for-all.

Until the coaches came looking for their team, all of which was now late to practice and owed so.  Many.  Laps.

[trusttopia]

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