#anything someone wants to give a shot so long as you feel like playing ping pong with me about it. I’ve always been an exceedingly social

[clawsextended]

on a note to all: my plotting style is something i like to call i have adhd and if i see you on the dash and have an idea chances are i’ll im you about it. i’m an anxious little dude who isn’t always active in a broad scope, and it’s always been my nature to reach out to people. that doesn’t make me even remotely anxious. not even remotely expected to answer me — i totally get it, sometimes you don’t feel the vibe — but a general psa about how i work. i come from the dinosaur era where the only way to communicate with one another on any level was to directly talk to them and frankly i don’t even know how else you’re ever supposed to plot with a person otherwise. like… how do you write if you never talk????

[araedi]

I promised an update on my life/activity and stuff, so here it is! I’ll stuff it all under the cut but the tldr is I’m still here just on a super slow. I’m always down for chats and interactions as long as you’re cool with that!

I’m quite private about myself online so gonna keep this brief (lol watch me do anything but), but I feel like I keep circling back to apologising every few months for not being here enough then punishing myself over it when I’m not magically active again. It’s ultimately a hobby but I still feel bad that people writing with me could be feeling let down/ignored, so I wanted to drop this rather than keep on cycling the same apology until it feels hollow.

Life’s a Lot right now: I’m currently juggling two part time jobs, pretty much full household responsibilities for three people, night-school with essays, and an emotionally intensive placement as part of my training which also involves paperwork. Home life is also less than ideal (won’t go into details). On top of this, I have chronic health problems alongside chronic pain so most days I’m just crabby and exhausted; my mental health could be better but rn it just feels like I’m treading water to get to a place where I’ll have fewer commitments.

Ultimately rp and writing/creative stuff in general is part of how I unwind so I’ll always be around because this outlet is so rewarding, but as it stands I’m just so mentally and pysically drained that when I do have the time I’d rather just switch my brain off and play a bit of a game and have a sliver of social life than try to force out writing which is gonna be sub-par. I’ve been feeling kinda down about my writing for a bit and just feel like I’m giving the same post over and over, which also isn’t helpful!

As for my activity and where y’all fit: I’m still around and intend to be; still responding to DM’s on Discord or IM’s on here (unreliable though they are -_-) just being ridiculously slow with replies and popping reblogs or replies out just as and when. I’m not the type to up and quit, hell I’ve been on this blog for years so I’m going nowhere, just on the go-slow with the odd spurt of like 3-5 replies.

Of course I 100% understand if this weird unpredictable activity doesn’t fit for you: we all have different needs and expectations with this hobby and if me only showing up now and again isn’t gonna work that’s totally ok and you don’t have to follow or write with me: it’s been a blast knowing you!

If you’re chill to stick around and deal with my slowness, please know I WILL get to replies, even if it’s at glacial pace. I’ll post a shot of my tracker/a list up in the future so I can be 100% on what I owe and know you can always check in with me/hold me accountable for stuff. Please know you can ALWAYS drop stuff in my ask boxes, whether it’s memes or questions for muses or just crack. It always puts a smile on my face <3 if I received it I’ll reply to it, so barring just a few memes I have nothing else waiting!

This all being said I would LOVE to build up more long term/in-depth character relationships and sustained interactions over multiple threads. I love getting to know my rp partners beyond the muses – it’s just that right now it’ll take six times as long to get anywhere. My door’s open for any chats r.e. any muses here or on the multi.

If you need my disco handle just ask/reply here or whatever and I can send it; if you need to get in touch for any reason and can’t seem to get through to me, just send a ping to the bestie Benevolentgodloki c:

If you read all this and are ok with sticking around know that you have my undying love lmao; I know it isn’t easy trying to build anything with someone who only posts once in a blue moon so your patience is appreciated and I’ll always appreciate having people to come back to on here <33

[tofueggnoodles]

Special Edition Drama (Volume 4 of the Reload Blast Anime BR/DVD): Ping-pong

Summary: The Ikkou explores a desolate town which used to be a tourist spot. Not long after they return to the inn, they begin to play a doubles ping-pong match in which Sanzo aims all of his shots at Gojyo’s forehead.

--------

Proprietress: Here is your room.

Goku: Awesome! It’s so big!

Gojyo: So it’s a room with straw mats. This feels like a traditional inn.

Hakkai: Are we really getting such a room at the regular price? This looks rather like a luxurious room.

Proprietress: Yes, of course! You are our only guests at the moment. It would have been regrettable to leave this room unused.

Hakkai: Is that so?

Proprietress: Yes! Please make yourself at home.

Sanzo (slurps his drink loudly): These are fine tea leaves. Are they jewel dew? [a fine and expensive type of shaded green tea from Japan]

Gojyo: There’s someone who’s already made himself at home.

Goku: What about the food? I’m hungry!

Proprietress: I’m sorry, but dinner will only be served from 7 pm on. That’d be about three hours later.

Goku: N–no way!

Gojyo: It’s just food. There’s no need to act as if it’s the end of the world.

Sanzo: There are some steamed buns served with the tea. Just stave off your hunger with one of those.

Goku: It’s not enough! Not enough!

Sanzo and Gojyo: Shut up!

Proprietress: Er....

Hakkai: I beg your pardon for the commotion. Dinner is at 7 pm, right? Where will it be served?

Proprietress: I will bring your meals to your room here, so it’d be fine as long as you’re present in your room ten minutes before.

Hakkai: Understood. Thank you very much.

Proprietress: Well then, I’ll be taking my leave.

(The door slides shut as she leaves.)

Gojyo: Around forty-one, I guess.

Goku: Eh? How could you tell her age?

Gojyo: When you’ve been around as long as I have, you’d be able to tell. Somehow, she seems to exude an immense sex appeal....

Sanzo: What a good-for-nothing.

Goku: Pervy kappa.

Hakkai: We’ve finally found an inn that’s still in business after a long search, so please refrain from behaving in a way that will lead to trouble, Gojyo.

Gojyo: Yeah, yeah. But, even though there are lots of inns elsewhere in this town, they all seem to be closed for business. I wonder what could have happened.

Hakkai: Apparently, this town used to be a famous tourist spot in the past. However, due to effect of the Minus Wave on the youkai, the number of visitors has probably decreased in this dangerous time.

Gojyo: I see.

Goku: Ah! Sanzo just ate my bun!

Sanzo: I didn’t eat your share of the buns.

Goku: But, there are only four buns and that one just now was your second bun.

Sanzo: Don’t worry. The one I ate was the damn kappa’s bun.

Goku: Oh? That’s fine, then. (starts to eat a bun)

Gojyo: That’s not fine! What are you doing, eating my bun without asking me first?

Hakkai: If you want to eat a bun that badly, I’ll give up my share to you, Gojyo.

Gojyo: Er, no, it’s not like I particularly want to eat it... not to that extent, anyway.

Goku: Then I’ll have Hakkai’s bun too. ♪

Gojyo: Monkey! You...!

Goku: But you said you didn’t want it.

Gojyo: I didn’t say that!

Sanzo: Shut up!

Goku: Aw!

Sanzo: You shouldn’t be making such a racket over a couple of steamed buns.

Gojyo: That’s because you ate my bun!

Sanzo: Hmmph. (gets up and slides the door open)

Goku: Where are you going, Sanzo?

Sanzo: I’m going out to buy some cigarettes.

Hakkai: Ah, I’ll do some shopping too. Sanzo, since you’re only getting yourself some cigarettes, you can pay for those with cash, right? Would it be fine to lend me the credit card?

Sanzo: Yeah.

Gojyo: Then, I’m going out too. That sure beats sitting idly in this room.

Goku: Me too! I’ll go out and amuse myself!

(The door slides shut.)

Sanzo: Don’t crowd round me!

Gojyo: It can’t be helped! There’s only one corridor.

Goku: I wonder if there’s anything delicious out there. Hakkai, does this town have a famous product?

Hakkai: Now that you ask.... It seems that in the past, food stalls used to thrive in this town. But, with the way things are now, they’re probably closed for business.

Goku: Eh? Is that so?

--------

Gojyo (sighs): What a depressing atmosphere. I can’t even get in the mood to hit on the ladies.

(Someone bumps into Gojyo as he walks into a shop.)

Hakkai: Excuse me! Ah, it’s you.

Gojyo: Oh, it’s Hakkai. So? Are you done with the shopping? Ah? What’s with this shady-looking shop? There’s nothing here but stuff that looks like plants and dried fish I’ve never seen before.

Hakkai: Ah, this shop sells medicinal ingredients. Coming across it has certainly saved me a lot of trouble. I was running out of items I need to make our medicines.

Gojyo: Is that so.

Hakkai: I’ve been toying with the idea of changing some of the ingredients in order to improve our medicines. They will be stronger and heal us faster.

Gojyo: By ‘stronger,’ you mean.... Don’t tell me you’re putting that weird-looking dried fish in our medicines. (retches)

Hakkai: Hmm? What’s the matter?

Gojyo: No, it’s nothing.

Hakkai: I think I’ll make a new mix for our stomach medicine. That way, we’ll never have to worry about an upset stomach or two anymore.

Gojyo: You have my thanks for that.

Hakkai: I’m done with my shopping, so I think I’ll return to the inn. What about you?

Gojyo: I’m going back too. There are no ladies to pick up in this deserted town anyway.

Hakkai: That’s laudable of you.

Gojyo: We’ve finally arrived at a town and I was so looking forward to some fun with a beautiful lady.

Hakkai: There, there. At least when we return to the inn, we’ll be able to have a nice bath and dinner. Why not just take things easy and relax without doing anything once in a while?

Gojyo: Relax and do nothing, huh? I’m not a geezer, you know. Only the likes of Sanzo can enjoy doing that to the full.

Hakkai: If Sanzo were to hear that, he’d tell you off.

Gojyo: It’s precisely because he’s not here that I said what I said.

--------

Sanzo: Hey, old man. I want a carton of Marlboro.

Shopkeeper: Yes?

Sanzo: Marlboro. One carton.

Shopkeeper: What did you say?

Sanzo: Marlboro. One. Carton!

Shopkeeper: We don’t sell marshmallows here.

Sanzo: Not marshmallow, Marlboro!

Shopkeeper: Ah! Alright, got it. Wait a moment.

(Sanzo sighs in irritation.)

Shopkeeper: I’ve never seen you around before. Are you a traveler?

Sanzo: Yeah.

Shopkeeper: In the olden days, this town used to be swarmed daily with tourists. Now, it has completely turned into a desolate town.

(Sanzo heaves another impatient sigh.)

Shopkeeper: Hmm? Hold on, what am I supposed to be looking for?

Sanzo: Oi!

--------

Goku: I’m hungry! Ah! Although there are lots of signboards advertising delicious-looking foodstuff, none of the food stalls are open for business!

Proprietress: Ah, welcome back.

Goku: Are the others not back yet?

Proprietress: No, it seems like they have yet to return.

Goku: Okay.

(A loud rumbling is heard.)

Proprietress: Er, about dinner – It will be ready around thirty minutes later. Would you like to have it served then?

Goku: Eh, really? Hooray!

Proprietress: Since that would be earlier than the time I previously stated, would that be fine with your companions?

Goku: It’d be fine! They’ll be back before long, so it’s totally fine to bring dinnertime forward!

Proprietress: Certainly! (hurries away)

Goku (walks down the corridor): Food! Food! 🎵 (stops) What’s this room? (reads the sign out loud) Recreation Room? (walks into the room) Oh, this is a–

Gojyo: What are you up to, monkey?

Goku: Ah, you’re back, Gojyo. And Hakkai too.

Hakkai: Oh my, isn’t this a ping-pong table? Come to think of it, I once played several intense matches of ping-pong at a hot spring resort in another town.

Gojyo: Yeah, I remember that. We switched from singles to doubles mid-game. And even changed the rules as the game went on.

Hakkai: The rules became useless after a certain point.

Goku: Hakkai’s serves at that time were awesome, weren’t they? Teach me how to hit a serve like you did. I want to do it too!

Hakkai: They’re not so impressive as to be worth teaching someone else the technique behind them.... Still, I’ll give it a try for a bit. Gojyo, would you be my opponent?

Gojyo: Okay.

Hakkai: First of all, a light rally as a warm-up. Here I go....

Gojyo: Roger!

(Hakkai takes a deep breath and hits a serve with a shout. The ball strikes the wall with a crunching sound.)

Goku: That was super-fast! Awesome, Hakkai!

Hakkai: Gojyo! If you don’t return the serve, it won’t turn into a rally.

Gojyo: You were the one who hit a killer serve despite claiming it was gonna be a rally. The ball has even gotten lodged in the wall!

Hakkai: Goku, did you follow the demonstration?

Goku: Yes! I got the rough idea.

Gojyo: Yeah, right.

Hakkai: Well, for this sort of thing, actually doing it yourself is a faster way to learn than watching. Therefore, since I’ll be the referee, would you please play against Goku next, Gojyo?

Gojyo: Hey, monkey! Don’t use Hakkai’s serve just now as reference. It’s only a warm-up, so make it a light serve. Make it light, okay?

Goku: Make it light?

Gojyo: Yes.

Goku: Got it!

(Goku takes a deep breath and hits a serve with a shout. A loud explosion follows.)

Gojyo: Didn’t I tell you to make it light, stupid monkey?

Hakkai: That was a powerful spin you put in the serve. There’s also nothing to criticize regarding your willpower. Keep it up, Goku!

Goku: Yay! One more time!

Gojyo: Hold on!

(Goku’s second serve is followed by another loud explosion and Gojyo’s shout.)

Goku: Don’t just move out of the way, Gojyo. You should return the serve too.

Gojyo: I’ll die if I get hit by that sort of serve! I said to make it light, so why did you have to hit the ball with all your might?

Goku: I did intend to hit it lightly but it’s hard to keep my strength in check. This is quite difficult, huh.

Gojyo: Give me the ball. I’ll hit the serve.

Goku: Okay.

Sanzo: What are you guys doing?

Hakkai: Welcome back, Sanzo.

Sanzo: Yeah.

Hakkai: You’re surprisingly late. Is the cigarette shop far from here?

Sanzo: Hmmph. Something like that.

(Gojyo and Goku converse in the background.)

Goku: Gojyo, make sure to return my shot, okay? If you don’t do that, we won’t be having a rally.

Gojyo: You’re the one to talk! Here I go!

(They hit the ball back and forth to each other.)

Hakkai: Is that so? Ah, would you like to play ping-pong too, Sanzo?

Sanzo: No.

Hakkai: I think you’ll find it fun once you give it a try though. Look over there. They seem to be having fun, don’t they?

Sanzo: How stupid. I’m going to take a nap. Keep the noise down.

Gojyo: Eat this, stupid monkey! Killer smash!

(Sanzo grunts.)

Gojyo: Ah.

Goku: W–where did the ball hit you, Sanzo? Your forehead?

Hakkai: Are you alright? That was quite a loud hit.

(Sanzo lets out a heavy breath.)

Gojyo: Sorry, Sanzo! It’s because this monkey failed to return my smash.

Goku: Don’t put the blame on me. You were the one who hit the ball in Sanzo’s direction.

Gojyo: If you hadn’t missed my shot, the ball wouldn’t have hit Sanzo.

Sanzo: Give me a racket, Hakkai.

Hakkai: Eh? Ah, okay.

Sanzo: You’d better prepare yourself, damn kappa. I’m going to shoot the ball through that forehead of yours.

Gojyo: Gek.

Goku: Whoa. Sanzo’s completely lost his temper.

Hakkai: Well, shall we play a doubles match? Sanzo will pair with Goku and I’ll team up with Gojyo.

Gojyo: Why are you so calm about it?

Hakkai: That’s because when I played against Sanzo in a singles match the other day, we couldn’t reach a decisive outcome. I’m thinking that this might be just the right opportunity to continue our match.

Gojyo: In that case, just play a singles match between the two of you!

Sanzo: Stop making a fuss. Hurry up and start already! (hits a serve)

Gojyo: Hey Sanzo! Don’t just aim your shots at my face. Aim them at the table. The table!

Sanzo: Shut up! You keep dodging my shots!

Hakkai: Gojyo, you’re moving way too far to the back.

Goku: Here I go! (hits the ball)

Hakkai: You’re being naively optimistic, Goku! (returns Goku’s shot)

Sanzo (misses Hakkai’s shot): Tch.

Goku: Ah!

Hakkai: With this, the score is tied at 7-7.

Gojyo (pants): I’ve have enough of this! My arm is tired already.

(Someone knocks on the door.)

Proprietress: Er, dinner is ready.

Goku: Eh! Really? The food is ready, guys. Food!

Gojyo: Nice timing there, Ma’am. Hey, let’s take a break!

Sanzo: We’ll have dinner after I hit your head and make mark on it.

Gojyo: This damn monk’s sure pig-headed!

Goku: I’m hungry!

Sanzo: Put up with it. I can’t let this end until I make this guy go through the same thing he did to me!

Gojyo: There’s no playing ball with this guy! ** Let’s break this off already, Hakkai.

Hakkai: I can’t do that. We’ll continue, Gojyo.

Gojyo: Why?

Hakkai: I told you already. I don’t want to defer my match with Sanzo again. Are you ready to continue, Sanzo?

Sanzo: How amusing. This might just be the opportunity for me to exterminate the kappa once and for all. Fine, I accept your challenge.

Gojyo: E–ehh?

Goku (as his stomach rumbles): I’ve reached my limit! I’m too hungry to play anymore. Hey Sanzo, what’s wrong with continuing after we’ve had our dinner?

Sanzo: If you hit Gojyo’s head with the ball, I’ll buy you all the meat buns you can eat once we arrive at the next town.

Goku: Eh? Seriously?

Sanzo: If you hit his forehead, I’ll throw in some pot stickers as well.

Goku: All right! Prepare yourself, Gojyo!

Sanzo: Give it your all.

Gojyo: Oi! Am I a dartboard?

Hakkai: The next serve is ours, right? Gojyo, if you don’t want to die from being hit by the ball, we’ll have no choice but to win.

Gojyo: Everybody’s just doing as they like! Take that! (hits a serve)

Goku: Rice cake ** fried rice ramen pot stickers smash!

Proprietress: My goodness!

Goku: Crap! The table is broken!

Gojyo: What were you doing?

Hakkai: It’s been perfectly split in two equal parts.

Sanzo: Oi, monkey! The thing you’re supposed to split open is that guy’s head, not the table.

Goku: Maybe I should have gone with the super king-size meat bun smash instead....

Proprietress: Er....

Hakkai: We’re in a fix, aren’t we? With this, we won’t be able to finish our rematch.

Gojyo: That’s not the most pressing issue here.

Sanzo: Shall we continue without a table?

Gojyo: That’s obviously impossible!

Goku: What should we do? How about fetching the table from our room?

Hakkai: The size is just right, but not the height. It’ll be impossible to play while standing up with that table.

Proprietress: Er, if I may have your attention?

Gojyo: Look! She’s gotten angry at us!

Hakkai: Ah, we’re truly sorry! We’ll definitely pay for the repair expense when we check out.

Proprietress: Thank you very much. If you’d–

Hakkai: Or would you rather we pay for it before we check out?

Proprietress: No, it’d be fine if you pay for the repair expense during checkout. What I wanted to say is: If you’d like to continue playing, we have a spare ping-pong table.

Gojyo: Eh?

Goku: You have another table?

Hakkai: Is that so?

Proprietress: Yes. How about it?

Sanzo: The answer’s obvious.

Goku: Of course!

Hakkai: Indeed.

Sanzo: We’ll continue the match!

Gojyo: Seriously?!

--------

(Round brackets): actions and sound effects. [Square brackets]: translator’s notes. Double asterisks **: Stuff I am not sure with. Suggestions for improvements and corrections are more than welcome.

[myrrhmaidwrites]

Ooh, you write JD and TZ? Yes!!! They're my faves!!

I do have a prompt idea which part of my brain is shy about but I will still give it a go:

"Jamie's birthday is coming up and it's the big 2-1, milestone. He thinks Trevor may have forgotten but no way does that happen. Trevor's just been sneaky planning a surprise."

Sorry this took me so long to get around to! I hope you don't mind that I took a few liberties with this prompt--namely, it's a college AU and a wlw AU.

Happy fucking birthday.

Jamie knew having her twenty-first birthday the day the playoffs started would mean a low key celebration. Fro-yo with the team instead of the customary trip to Spencer’s for a birthday shot.

There were other traditions too, but Jamie wasn’t supposed to know about them. Last year, after Trevor’s twenty-first, Trevor had snuck into her room after “dining hall meatloaf quality sex” (a direct quote) to snuggle Jamie, complain about the guy, and give Jamie a sneak peek into the other birthday traditions.

A sash was mandatory, as was birthday hat. Jamie wasn’t mad to be missing those.

But she was maybe feeling mad that the team seemed to have forgotten about her birthday entirely.

Sure, they all wanted to get focused and get to bed early. But like—not one gif in the team chat? Not one Instagram story? No messages except from her immediate family?

She might mention it after the game tomorrow. If they win, if they go out after, maybe she’ll buy herself a birthday treat.

For now, she doesn’t have the energy to do anything but finish her econ reading, do a halfhearted job on the quiz, and put on an episode of Avatar. It’s not late, but if there were going to be team plans, someone would have texted by now. She pulls the covers to her little dorm bed up under her chin and falls asleep to the sound of Zuko’s raspy voice.

A knock at the door wakes her. Netflix is still playing, so she hasn’t been asleep that long.

“Hello?” she calls.

Mason never knocks, since it’s her room too.

“Jamie?” Trevor says, poking her head in. “You asleep?”

“No, not really,” Jamie says.

Trevor invites herself in, flips on Jamie’s bedside lamp and turns out the awful overhead light.

“Have a good day?” Trevor asks, scooting closer.

Jamie swore she’d deal with the birthday stuff later, but her eyes won’t listen. She can feel them welling with tears, and she looks up at the ceiling so they won’t fall.

“Oh god Jamie are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she manages. She stops there for fear that her voice will break.

“You’re not sick? Hurt?” Trevor hops on the bed and tilts Jamie’s chin towards her.

“I’m fine, really,” Jamie says. She wrenches her face away and wipes at her eyes. “I just thought—I know it’s the playoffs, but everyone forgot about my birthday.”

“What? Jamie, no, no one forgot, they all wanted—I just asked them to—fuck, I’m so stupid. Here.” She hands Jamie a bag from Chipper’s, their local fancy ice cream shop. Earlier in the year, Jamie and Trevor went there after a social and Trevor teased her for ordering chocolate.

“It’s a classic,” Jamie said.

“It’s basic,” Trevor said, but after she tried a bite, she conceded that Chipper’s did have especially delicious chocolate ice cream.

Tonight, inside the bag, is one of their fancy small-batch alcoholic ice creams. Chocolate liqueur, reads the label, and Jamie remembers this flavor was their February special. Trevor must have bought it then and saved it until now.

“For me?” Jamie asks.

“Well—if you want. Or we can share it. Or we can call Mason and the rest of the team up here so you know they’re not all terrible friends—”

Just then, Jamie’s phone pings with a couple of notifications. People are tagging her on their Instagram stories, and there’s a couple of messages in the group chat, too. Trevor must have, like, coordinated this whole thing, let people know when the surprise was happening.

“No, that’s—that’s fine. It can be just us.”

“I should have planned this better. It’s just—I wanted to do this for you.”

“You have spoons? Come on, this ice cream won’t eat itself.”

It’s still the night before playoffs, and they’re using weak plastic spoons, so they don’t have more than a few bites each. Jamie insists on plenty of water to wash it down.

And if she spends maybe a little too long looking at a smear of chocolate on Trevor’s lips, well.

That’s between her and the ice cream.

[yourflowersfirst]

day 1,431

okay, i'm gonna speak to you very candidly. i hope that's okay. i think conversation type writing is fun, and i'm in the mood for it. imagine this just two guys, getting dinner, chatting. well. i'm talking at you; you're half listening, half noticing the hot bartender in the corner, not noticing me so much. you steal a few of my fries. whatever. i'll take what i can get.

i've been a little sick all week. good enough to still do my assignments and go for runs and work, you know, manageable. today though, i woke up with a throat so agonizingly painful i could hardly swallow water (let alone those big ass dayquil pills). (but seriously, why are they so huge? it's hell for a sore throat.) something something big thing in my throat, there's a funny joke to be made there if you want. i don't care.

maybe i should stop going for runs when i'm feeling even a little sick. they probably don't help me, and my immune system is already ass as it stands. just to brag a bit though, i ran 6.5 miles earlier this week. i got my hair done the other day, but i've felt too sick to even wash it. do you know how heavenly washing your extensions is? i cum a little just thinking about the concept. but i can't, because i had to be a stupid fuck who got herself sick. washing all of my hair is not only a 2-3 hour long process, but wet hair like that makes illnesses worse for me. yeouch.

i'm sick of things, too. myself, mostly. i'm sick of feeling rotten and not good enough for anyone, anything, any man. my grades are still okay despite me being so bleh i can hardly focus on anything. it'll be a miracle if this post even makes sense. anyway, point is, no amount of male attention could fill the hatred i have for myself in my heart. i'm sick of that. if you know how to fix this carnal need i have to please everyone and give away all i am for someone else, hit me up. tell me what to do.

yesterday after my run (that definitely made my illness worse), i went to get chipotle, as i do. i'm addicted, seriously. as i was walking to the building, a guy driving past me in the parking lot and shouted "BALLS!" at me after rolling his window down. i shit myself laughing. much better than some male attention i've gotten, as you well know if you've read my other posts on this pretentious little blog.

i go back to ohio 8 days from now. if i still feel like garbage even then, i'm rioting, and then donating my organs to science. shit. my lips are chapped because drinking water, as i said, it really fucking hurts. it's 105 ish degrees here every day now, and i can't keep myself hydrated. i don't genuinely pray to god much anymore but i have been all day, reciting mantras to heal my body, mind, and soul.

i'm gonna get my period any day now too. just icing on top of the cake. here's how i know: the other day, before my sickness worsened, i went to hang with vincent (ex roommate) at his new place. i brought fuji so she and lupita could play; i also brought cane's for us to enjoy. jesus. cane's and chipotle in one post, no wonder i'm huge.

so, i went to hang with the fella. he put on dawn of the planet of the apes. i'd never seen any of those movies and there's a new one in theaters right now, so i figured, why the hell not? it'll be a silly time. the movie was shockingly serious. i was invested. (spoilers) when caesar got shot, i yelled, "no!"

"i know, very sad," vincent said while stuffing his face with crinkle cut fries.

i felt my eyes welling with tears. "he was a good leader, how could koba do that?"

"whoa, dude, are you good?"

"he's just... such a good dad... but he was shot! it isn't fair! he just wanted peace with the humans!"

vincent patted my shoulder, confused. "there, there."

i swatted him away, tears falling. i wiped them with a greasy hand. "don't make fun of me! it's so sad. oh god. i need napkins."

my hormones love to go batshit crazy the few days leading up to my period, rattling around my endocrine system like ping pong balls. today i was crying because i just hate being sick so much. go figure. i need to stock up on sanitary napkins (hardy har) and get my heated pad ready.

when i was on birth control, my PMS was manageable. i'd never get upset, never cried over stupid shit like dawn of the planet of the apes. now look at me. 2022 me would be horrified. in the end, though, i prefer this to the nasty side effects of tri-sprintec.

why am i rambling about my hormones and my period? sorry. i'm truly sorry. i just find it amusing in a certain light. i've been listening to "somebody else" by the 1975 a hell of a lot, and it's got me all nostalgic and weepy. really reiterates the fact that i'm a tiny bit unlovable, but hey, fuck that. get money.

i try not to dwell on "situationships" too much, but i can't help it. hot, late summer nights are the perfect time to wallow in your own self pity. i'd smoke a cigarette but i don't wanna make my throat worse. i say that, but cigarettes cause throat cancer. my priorities are truly in order, my friend.

i'm gonna try to go to bed and sleep this shit off. it feels like strep or a sinus infection. don't worry, i'm gonna see a doctor tomorrow, even though i'm cheap and hate paying people to tell me what's wrong with me. ironically enough, this is also why i can't keep a therapist, minus the one i had in high school for my eating disorder. i saw her a bunch last summer, which was cool, except i was seeing her for **** trauma and PTSD so bad i'd have panic attacks every day. good times. i've come a long way in a year. i can't really trust any other therapist except her. why, oh why, must she only do in person sessions in ohio?!

okay, i don't know how to end this one. i'll just share a poem i like, hehehehe. i'm biased toward it, because i'm a redhead, but hopefully you like it too.

"Ash, ash—

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,   

A wedding ring,   

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer   

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair   

And I eat men like air."

-Lady Lazarus, by Sylvia Plath

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

going full breakdown mode because wowowow im ill and dizzy but shiramiya waits for no man

just starting from the top here: TASHIROOOOO!!!

also this:

On some level, Shirahama’s always been aware that he’s weak-willed. But this—this feels like something else.

just. such a great line from the very start. im so immersed already. carrying on

more tashirooooo and asking the important questions here. quick sidetrack but ive been obsessing over the new bits of characterization we've gotten from shirahama in these last few chapters, with him being such a hard worker seemingly even to his own detriment (and man he and hanzawa sure would have that in common. interesting. best not to think about that now.) i like how it seems so in contrast to his outside appearance. like harusono loves her contradictions, with her not-really-bad-boys and her hanzawa masato's, so it isnt too much of a surprise. but i still really enjoyed that he had that sort of passion in comparison to how lethargic he looks and acts. really good stuff there.

It’s a good question, but it’s not one that has an answer. It’s just—it probably isn’t anything serious, but Miyano hadn’t looked great, and what if it is serious? Even if his boyfriend’s taking care of him, it’ll be good for Miyano’s classmates to know how he’s doing. And that way he—they—won't worry.

oh boy... patting him on the shoulder this poor dude

“I don't know,” he says, and because he’s vindictive: “Why didn't you compete in the crossdressing contest this year? You seemed so pumped about it last time.”

SHIRAHAMA??? UNPROVOKED??!?!!?

Tashiro's hands stray to his hair, and he twirls a loose strand around his fingers. It vaguely strikes Shirahama that it’s not dissimilar to one of the sprites of the sporty basketball girl he’d romanced last week. “I didn't want to shave my leg hair,” he says, even though last year Miyano hadn’t shown a single inch of his leg.

guh. shots through my chest.

Tashiro’s just non-committal like that, Shirahama supposes—even now, he likes to act as if his ping pong captaincy just “happened” like an accident. He's spent three long-suffering years on the basketball team—he knows the apathy Tashiro unintentionally or purposefully projects is deceptive.

love that so much honestly, they know each other so well they call each others shit but also cant take that sort of conversation. spinning them around in my mind.

I wasn't thinking, he replies in his head, aware that it's a horribly strange conversation to be having, and the kind of shameless, setup-to-punchline answer he'd never give in real life.

he's so me

That courage immediately leaves him when the door opens with a sharp creak and he startles, hold almost slipping from the doorknob, but it's the pathetic thought that counts. Or something.

ough... but also uh oh that can only mean...

As he's about to slip in and shut the door behind him, a rustle sounds from one of the beds. The breath leaves Shirahama's chest, and he watches as Miyano's boyfriend—Sasaki, that was his name—emerges from the curtains, hair wild in a way that reads more like “bedhead” than “artfully tousled”—not that he'd say it was ever artful, but he's got no place to be critiquing Miyano's boyfriend's hairstyle…

haha oh shit sasaki and shirahama. dont know how to feel about that one. maybe scared. probably scared. uhhhh

—and speaking of. Sasaki’s staring at him. He sure is tall—for a moment Shirahama wonders why he'd never played basketball, but it’s the kind of wonder that’s paired with utter relief at the nonexistent situation. Then he feels very strange about that thought until Sasaki, with the sedate aura of someone who’s just woken up, blinks at him as if to communicate something.

mmm relief at the nonexistent situation meanwhile i feel anything but relief. why have you put that into my mind now. i am unwell...

Shirahama stares back, caught like a deer in headlights.

welp. youre trapped now.

“Close it quietly,” Sasaki says. Shirahama finally re-registers that his hand is hanging slack on the doorknob. “He's sleeping.” His voice is low, smooth, and deliberately softened to the point that Shirahama has to strain to hear it.

He wavers in the still-open entrance; his legs don't let him run away. The door closes with a soft click, but it may as well be a marching drum.

here lies shirahma, who died fearful in combat against his own bullshit. he lived as he died, wanting.

“I just… came to check in on him,” Shirahama says, too many beats late, careful to pitch his voice just above a whisper. He's not sure he manages. It's the “too many people” thing again, only concentrated—somehow, he’s the one out-of-place in a school he's attended for two and a half years.

Sasaki nods. “Thanks for looking out.”

ack conversation. shirahama you poor poor disaster zone. also loving this drum thing thats going on. very much making me feel all the same stresses he must be giving out in handfulls.

“Oh… no problem.” He represses the urge to throw up his hands in a sign of “I come in peace,” but he doesn’t know what else to do with them, so they hang limply and indecisively in front of him. Miyano's boyfriend is—it would be rude to say that he's scary, because he's seen the way he acts around Miyano, who doesn't seem to think he’s anything close to intimidating, but he's also Miyano's boyfriend, a term that feels—he shouldn't say it's strange. It shouldn't be any stranger than Kuresawa's girlfriend—bad example, because Kuresawa’s so weird, and Shirahama’s suddenly, overwhelmingly relieved that Miyano doesn’t make hour-long professions of his love—but the thought rests uncomfortably in his head. It's like there's an itch he doesn't know how to scratch.

flailing dying etc etc. how strange shirahama, care to examine why that may be? perhaps in front of an audience of many psychological researchers? for my curiosity's sake.

Sasaki takes the time to inspect him now, squinting at him with a look that’s not akin to judgement but does feel like some kind of thing, and Shirahama would be embarrassed about his inarticulacy if he wasn't already beyond embarrassed with himself. Though he's always hated the feeling of assessment, he does his best to not squirm under Sasaki’s gaze. What Sasaki's likely remembering is the strange hanger-on to Tashiro's high-five run and jump, but even if that's banal in comparison to, say, the date-spying—which is mortifying in retrospect and has given him an eternal respect towards Hanzawa, though he’ll never vocalize this to anyone for fear of the result—something about recognition is just sour.

first of all: hanzawa mention yoooo

second of all: i think we should start a countdown on how long it takes before shirahama starts to disintegrate into dust. mans is not lasting through this conversation lmao

“Ah,” Sasaki finally says, snapping a cord of tension in Shirahama's shoulders. “You're on the basketball team.”

A strange flush scatters across his neck. “You remembered that?” His voice cracks at the last word, and he tacks on a whispered “Sorry!” that Sasaki accepts without fanfare.

hm. well then.

“…Kagiura, right?” His voice settles. “You were looking for him.”

At that, Sasaki falls silent.

cough. now what's that all about sasaki.

Shirahama almost offers to call up Kagiura, but they're not particularly close, and Sasaki's expression doesn't really read as “excited” or “pleased.” In fact it's kind of reading as “ticked off,” which doesn't bode well, because he's pretty sure that if he got into a fight with Miyano's boyfriend, he'd lose. Embarrassingly.

i dont think he can handle getting any more embarrassed rn he wont survive kiri spare my boy

also very interesting reaction sasaki. studying him like a bug.

Then, delivered in an unsettlingly flat voice: “I don't know him.”

lmao

“What?”

“Kagiura,” Sasaki clarifies, who indeed does say his teammate's name like he's never said those syllables in that order before. Come to think of it, he had called Kagiura by some kind of nickname, hadn't he? “I just… knew of him. Was just curious,” he mumbles.

lmaoooooo

“He does always get a bunch of confessions on Valentine's day,” Shirahama grumbles on instinct. Then he realizes there's a lot of terrible implications to that routine complaint and backtracks. “Not that—”

shirahama your phrasing!!! these guys are gonna kill me lmaooo

“He's popular?”

He feels, suddenly—not actually suddenly but an ebbing and flowing always—wrong-footed. “…Yeah?”  Huh, Miyano's boyfriend is kind of a weird guy. Whether this thought puts Sasaki squarely in the space of “not scary” is debatable. But it is some kind of comfort.

HELP. so true shirahama you get it.

There’s a rustling sound by the bed. The room falls silent in an instant, and Shirahama finds that he’s locked eyes with Sasaki. Something like meaning almost passes through there, but before Miyano's boyfriend can say something about needing him to be silent, or his unnecessary check-in, or his unwelcome presence, Shirahama tumbles out excuses in rush of whispers. “I’ve still got to help out with the festival—just thought I’d check—I’m sure you have it handled—I’m going to—I'll go.”

channeling my inner hirano here, sasaki dont try to project your thoughts into the people around you because of your boyfriend. that scares and confuses people.

but anyways shirahama kyouji takes his tactical retreat from whatever that was to probably spontaneously combust, more at ten.

He stumbles out of the office, thankful he hadn’t even taken two steps past the entrance, and closes the door as quietly as he can. His mouth is so dry he’s not sure any of those words he'd said were audible. It’s entirely likely he stood there, gaping and sputtering like a dying fish, before running away.

run shirahama run!! but you'll still be stuck in the same place in the end.

No one's there to look at his expression and tell him. Shirahama's glad for it and the fact that there's no mirrors in the hallway—the last person he wants to look at is himself.

and with that last sentence its time to begin burying myself in the ground. maybe put some purple irises around me to give it some color. anywho.

this is SO AWESOME KIRI!!! like i say this everytime i read something you write (because it's true) but you really did something so amazing here. i love the constant tension and conflict inside of shirahama that he doesnt, or maybe just refuses to, understand. i love sleeping miyano haunting the narrative in a way. i love the awkwarness between sasaki and shirahama who dont really know each other at all. i just loved all of this!!!

something there.

hello shiramiya fans. got inspired by ch 51 to write something. it is under the cut but you can also read it on ao3

—

On some level, Shirahama’s always been aware that he’s weak-willed. But this—this feels like something else. “Tashiro,” he says. “I'm going to slack off.”

“For the last time, I'm not—what?” Tashiro cuts his complaint short, turning to face Shirahama with a searching look.

Whatever this is, it sucks, that’s for sure. He grits his teeth. “I'm just—I have to dip out for a second.”

“Huh,” Tashiro says, the word suffused with both carelessness and judgement. His eyes flicker around their surroundings, and he adds, “Okay. It's not too busy, anyways… did you ask—”  

“I already asked Karasubara.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

It’s a good question, but it’s not one that has an answer. It’s just—it probably isn’t anything serious, but Miyano hadn’t looked great, and what if it is serious? Even if his boyfriend’s taking care of him, it’ll be good for Miyano’s classmates to know how he’s doing. And that way he—they—won't worry.

“I don't know,” he says, and because he’s vindictive: “Why didn't you compete in the crossdressing contest this year? You seemed so pumped about it last time.”

Tashiro's hands stray to his hair, and he twirls a loose strand around his fingers. It vaguely strikes Shirahama that it’s not dissimilar to one of the sprites of the sporty basketball girl he’d romanced last week. “I didn't want to shave my leg hair,” he says, even though last year Miyano hadn’t shown a single inch of his leg.

Tashiro’s just non-committal like that, Shirahama supposes—even now, he likes to act as if his ping pong captaincy just “happened” like an accident. He's spent three long-suffering years on the basketball team—he knows the apathy Tashiro unintentionally or purposefully projects is deceptive.

“What are you waiting for?” Tashiro asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Go.”

It’s enough of a push, and crucially: it feels like enough of an excuse.

—

There are too many people inside this school. Shirahama can hear Tashiro's voice in his head still, the strange wry twist that he'd clearly picked up from someone else, paired with his evergreen bluntness—what did you think was going to happen at a cultural festival?

I wasn't thinking, he replies in his head, aware that it's a horribly strange conversation to be having, and the kind of shameless, setup-to-punchline answer he'd never give in real life. But when he'd thought about the decorations, he'd mostly thought about having something that would look nice, feel nice, and have their class at ease. He hadn't been thinking about all the other people that would be milling about.

If they're staring at him, he certainly isn't going to chance making eye contact. So he ducks his head and soldiers on towards the relatively isolated nurse’s office, and in a sudden fit of bravery pauses for only a moment before opening the door. That courage immediately leaves him when the door opens with a sharp creak and he startles, hold almost slipping from the doorknob, but it's the pathetic thought that counts. Or something.

As he's about to slip in and shut the door behind him, a rustle sounds from one of the beds. The breath leaves Shirahama's chest, and he watches as Miyano's boyfriend—Sasaki, that was his name—emerges from the curtains, hair wild in a way that reads more like “bedhead” than “artfully tousled”—not that he'd say it was ever artful, but he's got no place to be critiquing Miyano's boyfriend's hairstyle…

—and speaking of. Sasaki’s staring at him. He sure is tall—for a moment Shirahama wonders why he'd never played basketball, but it’s the kind of wonder that’s paired with utter relief at the nonexistent situation. Then he feels very strange about that thought until Sasaki, with the sedate aura of someone who’s just woken up, blinks at him as if to communicate something.

Shirahama stares back, caught like a deer in headlights.

“Close it quietly,” Sasaki says. Shirahama finally re-registers that his hand is hanging slack on the doorknob. “He's sleeping.” His voice is low, smooth, and deliberately softened to the point that Shirahama has to strain to hear it.

He wavers in the still-open entrance; his legs don't let him run away. The door closes with a soft click, but it may as well be a marching drum.

“I just… came to check in on him,” Shirahama says, too many beats late, careful to pitch his voice just above a whisper. He's not sure he manages. It's the “too many people” thing again, only concentrated—somehow, he’s the one out-of-place in a school he's attended for two and a half years.

Sasaki nods. “Thanks for looking out.”

“Oh… no problem.” He represses the urge to throw up his hands in a sign of “I come in peace,” but he doesn’t know what else to do with them, so they hang limply and indecisively in front of him. Miyano's boyfriend is—it would be rude to say that he's scary, because he's seen the way he acts around Miyano, who doesn't seem to think he’s anything close to intimidating, but he's also Miyano's boyfriend, a term that feels—he shouldn't say it's strange. It shouldn't be any stranger than Kuresawa's girlfriend—bad example, because Kuresawa’s so weird, and Shirahama’s suddenly, overwhelmingly relieved that Miyano doesn’t make hour-long professions of his love—but the thought rests uncomfortably in his head. It's like there's an itch he doesn't know how to scratch.

Sasaki takes the time to inspect him now, squinting at him with a look that’s not akin to judgement but does feel like some kind of thing, and Shirahama would be embarrassed about his inarticulacy if he wasn't already beyond embarrassed with himself. Though he's always hated the feeling of assessment, he does his best to not squirm under Sasaki’s gaze. What Sasaki's likely remembering is the strange hanger-on to Tashiro's high-five run and jump, but even if that's banal in comparison to, say, the date-spying—which is mortifying in retrospect and has given him an eternal respect towards Hanzawa, though he’ll never vocalize this to anyone for fear of the result—something about recognition is just sour.

“Ah,” Sasaki finally says, snapping a cord of tension in Shirahama's shoulders. “You're on the basketball team.”

A strange flush scatters across his neck. “You remembered that?” His voice cracks at the last word, and he tacks on a whispered “Sorry!” that Sasaki accepts without fanfare.

A light shrug. “Just happened to.”

Shirahama throws his memory back to the interaction. He remembers the stray basketball, for sure, but on review something clicks into place. “…Kagiura, right?” His voice settles. “You were looking for him.”

At that, Sasaki falls silent.

Shirahama almost offers to call up Kagiura, but they're not particularly close, and Sasaki's expression doesn't really read as “excited” or “pleased.” In fact it's kind of reading as “ticked off,” which doesn't bode well, because he's pretty sure that if he got into a fight with Miyano's boyfriend, he'd lose. Embarrassingly.

Then, delivered in an unsettlingly flat voice: “I don't know him.”

“What?”

“Kagiura,” Sasaki clarifies, who indeed does say his teammate's name like he's never said those syllables in that order before. Come to think of it, he had called Kagiura by some kind of nickname, hadn't he? “I just… knew of him. Was just curious,” he mumbles.

“He does always get a bunch of confessions on Valentine's day,” Shirahama grumbles on instinct. Then he realizes there's a lot of terrible implications to that routine complaint and backtracks. “Not that—”

“He's popular?”

He feels, suddenly—not actually suddenly but an ebbing and flowing always—wrong-footed. “…Yeah?”  Huh, Miyano's boyfriend is kind of a weird guy. Whether this thought puts Sasaki squarely in the space of “not scary” is debatable. But it is some kind of comfort.

There’s a rustling sound by the bed. The room falls silent in an instant, and Shirahama finds that he’s locked eyes with Sasaki. Something like meaning almost passes through there, but before Miyano's boyfriend can say something about needing him to be silent, or his unnecessary check-in, or his unwelcome presence, Shirahama tumbles out excuses in rush of whispers. “I’ve still got to help out with the festival—just thought I’d check—I’m sure you have it handled—I’m going to—I'll go.”

He stumbles out of the office, thankful he hadn’t even taken two steps past the entrance, and closes the door as quietly as he can. His mouth is so dry he’s not sure any of those words he'd said were audible. It’s entirely likely he stood there, gaping and sputtering like a dying fish, before running away.

No one's there to look at his expression and tell him. Shirahama's glad for it and the fact that there's no mirrors in the hallway—the last person he wants to look at is himself.

[andypantsx3]

defiant | bakugou/reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

status: complete

length: 4,485 words

summary: There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place.

Katsuki, however, has other ideas.

tags/warnings: smut, arguing, possessive sex, light bondage, aged up characters, reader attempts to dom bakugou (keyword: attempts)

notes: This is based several years after the events of my fic savvy though you do not need to have read it to enjoy this one!! This is also unedited because I am too lazy, my apologies for the various mistakes within. I will come back and fix them at some point. Dedicated to @bobawithpomegranate​ for reminding me I was supposed to be working on this.

It was a Friday afternoon at approximately three p.m. when Bakugou Katsuki lost his fucking mind.

You knew this information because you had been watching the press coverage of your boyfriend’s latest fight, an operation in which he and Kirishima Eijirou had paired up to defeat a villain with an earthquake quirk.

Katsuki and Kirishima had taken the man down in record time, mere minutes after the reporters showed up. You’d watched them pound the villain into the very street he’d ripped up in the first place, and now Kirishima was puttering around in the background of the news coverage, smiling as he chatted up civilians against the wreckage of the city street behind him. Which left Katsuki to saunter over to the gaggle of field reporters and give the customary interview.

His blonde hair was disheveled, and his mouth was quirked up into a sharp smile, the way it always was after he’d just come out of a good fight. But he looked otherwise unharmed, just as intense and savagely handsome as always. He even looked like he might be in a good mood, pleased with the results of his fight, and you thought he might actually keep the swearing to a minimum this time.

He ducked under the police tape, flaxen hair glinting gold under the afternoon sun, and stalked over to the nearest reporter, already opening his mouth to crow over his latest victory.

Which is when something off screen caught his attention.

There was a muffled question from one of the reporters--not from the network you were watching or the mic would have caught it--and Katsuki’s scarlet gaze cut to the side. You watched in horror as his expression slowly morphed into one of apoplectic rage.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki snarled, eyes narrowing, an explosion already crackling between his fingers.

The camera jerked to the side, catching the startled expression of another reporter. He looked vaguely familiar to you--tall, handsome in a bland kind of way, teeth bleached for his job as a television personality. You thought you might have met him briefly at the last Hero’s Gala, but you didn’t have time to linger on the memory--Katsuki was already on the move, fighting his way through the pack of reporters, looking ready to commit a murder.

“--think you can just fucking talk to me, asshole?” you heard him shout.

“What did he say?” a voice murmured off screen.

“--he just asked Dynamight how he feels about his success today,” another voice uttered, closer to the camera, sounding bewildered and more than a little alarmed.

“You’re gonna wish you had never fucking been born, asswipe!” Katsuki shouted over them.

He’d nearly reached the reporter when there was a blur of red and Kirishima was there, one bulky arm seizing Katsuki around the middle. He hauled Katsuki out of the sea of journalists, even as Katsuki struggled, spitting and snarling like a wet cat.

“You fucking try that shit again and I’ll fucking blow your teeth straight into your brain!” Katsuki hollered, drowning out whatever Kirishima was muttering to him.

Your phone screen lit up next to you, several notifications pinging simultaneously. You let out a gusty sigh, glancing down at the contact names. News outlets, looking to scoop their competitors by getting the first statement from the Dynamight Agency on Katsuki’s behavior.

You swiped over a screen and dialed the number for the PR department, watching Katsuki continue to rage on screen, struggling against Kirishima’s hold. The crags in Kirishima’s skin told you he was close to going Unbreakable, and the sight sent a hot bolt of irritation through you.

You had no idea what the hell Katsuki thought he was doing, launching himself at a reporter like that. A reporter who had apparently done nothing but ask him how he felt about the success of his fight, a question Katsuki--the smug fuck--typically reveled in answering.

It had been a long time since Katsuki’s last PR disaster (tackling pro hero Deku over the side of a buffet table after an innocuous comment at one of their first Hero’s Galas), and you’d gotten him to promise you to be more careful after that. You’d honestly thought he’d pretty much moved past that sort of thing now. He’d grown somewhat calmer with age--though not less foul mouthed--and as his girlfriend, you were able to exert some level of influence over his actions, as each year, your understanding of how to play him grew deeper and deeper.

So what the fuck he thought he was doing right now was absolutely beyond you. And also absolutely not appreciated, as you had much better things to be doing than cleaning up after him for a shit fit that he definitely could have controlled.

If there was something bothering him, you were going to make him tell you. And if he was up to his old tricks, maybe he needed a refresher on exactly why it was inappropriate to go off like a bomb at every little thing.

As Katsuki’s primary PR rep picked up on the other end of the line, already speaking to you in a brisk tone, you resolved yourself to the task. You were going to get to the bottom of whatever had sent Katsuki into a fit--and you were going to remind him how and why to behave himself.

Whether he wanted to or not.

The trickiest part of your plan was catching Katsuki off guard.

That kind of a feat was nearly impossible, as Katsuki had reflexes honed by years of experience, an alarmingly keen intellect, and a single-minded determination that was frankly terrifying to contemplate. It had been years since he’d been outmaneuvered by anyone in the field, and the odds were against anyone who thought they could get the jump on him.

Luckily for you, you knew that his single-mindedness was the one thing that could also be used against him.

You left the agency slightly earlier than normal, shooting off a message to Katsuki to let him know you’d meet him at home. And then you yanked open your proverbial bag of tricks.

You helped yourself to a long shower, lathering on some of Katsuki’s body wash instead of your own, a trick that--you’d learned after once running out of your own--sent him into something like a possessive frenzy, knowing you smelled like him, that anyone you encountered would know you’d helped yourself to a man’s personal effects and understand that you were already spoken for.

Then you rustled around in your drawers for a nicer pair of lingerie--not anything super fancy that would suggest you were up to anything special, but nice enough that Katsuki’s interest would be piqued.

And then you dug around in the closet for the most essential element of your plan--handcuffs. Your face warmed with the memory of the last time these had been used--a blur of rough palms and sharp teeth all over you, while you all but sobbed for more--but you frantically quashed the thought. Tonight, if all went according to plan, you wouldn’t be the one strapped helpless to the headboard.

You weren’t the one with a lesson to be learned, after all.

The scrape of keys in the door sent you dashing to hide the handcuffs underneath your pillow, and then the stomp of boots in the hall told you your boyfriend had made it inside. You hastily yanked a sweater and jeans over your lingerie, then went out to meet Katsuki in the kitchen.

He clearly hadn’t had time to change after his fight, still slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed and scarlet eyes sharp as they narrowed in on you. His handsome features were twisted into a suspicious expression.

“The fuck’re you up to, ditching early? Thought I was gonna get fucking screamed at when I made it back to your office,” Katsuki growled, watching you intently as he stripped off his gloves and boots. They hit the ground with a dull thud.

Your heart shot into your throat, but you pasted on your best placid expression. “I ditched because I didn’t feel like dealing with every outlet in the entire country blowing up my office line. Thought I could get more done here where it’s quieter.”

You didn’t mention exactly what you planned to get done here, hoping Katsuki would assume it was all PR and damage control.

In a way, it was damage control. Just...not via traditional methods, exactly.

Katsuki’s eyes tracked you closely. He still looked skeptical. “You gonna let me have it then, princess?”

Oh you were gonna let him have it, alright. He just had no idea.

You watched him for a while, pretending to contemplate unloading on him the way you wanted to. “Just...not now. I’m too tired, I don’t even want to deal with it.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You live for giving me shit. Fucking out with it.”

You glared at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders. And if I was gonna say anything before I’m certainly not now. Now go clean yourself up. I have work to finish, thanks to someone.”

You retreated back into the bedroom, smothering a grin.

Nothing got Katsuki jumped up like defiance. Years into your relationship, he knew on some level that he wasn’t actually in charge of you, but he still got just as worked up when you got mouthy with him as he had on day one. It wouldn’t be long until he came back in, trying to pick the same fight, altogether too interested in the attitude you’d give back to him.

He was such a boy.

You lounged around on the bed, pulling out your work laptop and firing off a couple emails while you waited, just for something to do. Katsuki’s PR rep seemed to have things well in hand, but you helped where you could.

Soon enough, Katsuki was stalking back into your room, hair dark from a shower, looking like he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before stomping back in. He wore only a dark pair of sweatpants, the hard planes of his chest on full display--you suspected he’d foregone a shirt on purpose, knowing how the sight of him usually distracted you.

Which it still did, somewhat, but you were too heady with your own plan to truly be diverted.

You smothered a laugh at the way Katsuki’s eyes immediately honed in on the lace of your bra strap, strategically peeking out of your sweater as you had arranged it.

Two could play at that game.

“Think you’re real fucking smooth, don’t you, princess?” he demanded, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely threatening manner. You caught the clean scent of his body wash, just a hint of his syrupy sweet quirk under that.

Your thoughts fogged a little with his proximity so you pretended to ignore him, typing out some nonsense notes into your calendar for something to keep your attention off of him. The less you looked at him, the easier this would be. You were weak to his appearance, it was true, and nothing riled him up like not having your full attention.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said vaguely, doing your best to sound distracted.

A rough palm shoved your laptop closed. “Oh I think you fucking do, princess. Think you’re gonna get all dressed up for me and then ignore me?”

You looked up into his face, just as his arms came down around you to cage you against the mattress. A thick spike of arousal jolted through you, but you pushed it down. Much as you were into this, he was not going to be in charge for much longer.

“And if I did?” you asked, victory surging through your veins at the dark look that entered his eye.

He leaned down, putting his face near to yours. “Gonna be real hard to ignore me when I’m fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone on such thin ice,” you breathed. You didn’t even have to pretend at being affected by his choice of words, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Katsuki wasted no time covering your mouth with his. The weight of him pressed you back into the mattress, your laptop tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Rough hands trailed up your sides, gathering up the fabric of your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Carefully, you eased him over, kissing him as hard as you could, so that you were the one on top, your knees braced on either side of his slim hips.

Katsuki swore, pressing you down on him with a rough palm on your back, evidence of his interest hard between your thighs.

And that’s when you struck. Using his momentary distraction, you pulled the handcuffs from beneath your pillow, weaving them through the headboard. You grabbed his hands as firmly as you dared, pressing them up over his head.

Katsuki noticed what you were doing the second before the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, nerd?” he demanded, flexing against the tight hold. You watched with interest as his bicep pulled with the effort. “Unlock these or you’re in for it.”

You sat back on his hips, smirking down at him the way he usually did at you. Triumph swelled in your gut like a symphony.

“No, you’re in for it, Katsuki. What the absolute fuck did you think you were doing today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I was just gonna let you get away with throwing a tantrum on national television for no discernable reason?”

“That’s none of your business,” he ground out. A bright spark lit up the skin of his palm, a sharp crackle slicing into the silence of your room. “Now unlock these while I’m still asking nicely.”

You trailed absent fingers down the warm skin of his abdomen, watching appreciatively as the muscle tightened under your touch. Katsuki hissed out a sharp breath.

He might be threatening, but he ran the risk of blowing off his own hands if he resorted to using his quirk right now. You didn’t think he’d chance his own skin just to get out of this situation.

“I’m your manager and your girlfriend--it’s one hundred percent my business. You’re not getting out of those until you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing,” you promised darkly. You let your nails scrape over the skin of his hip, just under the band of his sweatpants.

You felt his hips shift in interest.

“You’re really asking for it, huh, princess?” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not gonna be gentle with you when I get out of this.”

“Keep avoiding the question and you’ll never get out of this,” you said. You let yourself lean over him, reveling in his minute intake of breath as you pressed a kiss over his neck. “You want something, I’ll give it to you. But only if you tell me why you did it.”

“It’s between me and that fucking slimeball and that’s all you need to know,” Katsuki snarled.

You let your teeth scrape over his skin, the way he usually did with you. “Not good enough,” you said.

Katsuki’s hips shifted again as you pressed back harder onto him. You felt your own abdomen coil tight with hot excitement at the unconscious little circles he was making. But you couldn’t be distracted--you had a mission to accomplish.

“Mind your damn business you fucking nerd,” he growled, defiant to the last.

Well, you hadn’t thought this was going to be easy.

“You are my business,” you informed him tritely. “And if you ever want me to take care of your business again, you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

“Fuck,” he said instead. “You’re so hot when you get mouthy.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” you told him. You shoved down the hot flush that tried to rise through you at his admission. Even years later, you were weak to his praise and he knew it.

He bucked a little under you, like he was unable to help himself. “Let me touch you, princess.”

“Still not an answer,” you intoned. You held very still, careful not to squirm like he was making you want to, even as his thrusts grew more deliberate.

If he would just hurry the fuck up and give you an answer, you both could be getting what you wanted. But everything had to be a production with him, as usual.

He was lucky he was so hot, and so charming on the rare occasion when he wanted to be, because he really was a piece of fucking work. You deserved some kind of sainthood for your service to him.

You slid forward on his chest a little when he gave a particularly strong thrust, bracing your hands over his sternum, and the abrupt show of strength had you clenching your thighs unthinkingly around him.

Katsuki’s mouth twisted in a savage grin, like he knew exactly how he was affecting you. “This is your last warning, princess. Let me out or you’re fucking in for it.”

You frantically schooled your features back into some form of haughty disregard, reaching down into your nightstand for the keys. You twirled them absently around your fingers.

“I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in,” you said firmly. “The only way you’re getting what you want is if you tell me what kind of stick that reporter stuck up your ass. Or maybe he didn’t, and you’re just being a fucking brat. Either way, you’re not in charge here--I am, and you are the one who’s in for it.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, however, than the tang of hot metal met your nose. Katsuki’s savage smile was bordering on feral now. You looked up in alarm to see that above his head, he’d worked his palms over to press to each opposite wrist, but he wasn’t blowing through the cuffs like you’d known he couldn’t. Instead, he was melting them.

You swore, scrambling off of him. You threw yourself off the edge of the bed, racing for the door like the devil himself was behind you.

You weren’t fast enough.

The world upended, the white of your ceiling paint swirling up over your vision. The next thing you knew, you were thrown flat on your back in your bedding, bouncing a little from the impact against your mattress.

Katsuki braced himself over you, hands firm around your wrists, eyes alight with the challenge.

“You were saying, princess?” he asked smugly.

You wiggled underneath him, trying to work a leg underneath his hip to kick him off you the way you’d learned in self-defense. Katsuki just shifted into the cradle of your hips, huffing out a rough laugh.

“I fucking taught you that move, nerd. Think you’re gonna get me with it?”

His hips pressed forward, his body a hot line all along yours, and you suppressed a groan at the feel of him hard against your core.

“That’s right, princess,” Katsuki breathed, pressing his face into your shoulder to bite at your throat. “Now I’m going to remind you who’s in charge here, and you are going to be good for me and take every single thing that I give you.”

He gathered your wrists in one hand, reaching down with long fingers to work off your jeans.

You shivered in delight at the thought of his dark promises, but some other, more stubborn part of you resisted. You had a fucking job to do, and no way was he going to reroute you so he could get out of talking about things.

“You’re not giving me shit until you tell me exactly why you tried to blast some innocent reporter into the sun,” you said hotly.

Katsuki paid you no mind, too focused on pulling your jeans off over your ankle, so you leaned in and bit his shoulder.

“The fuck--?” he demanded, reeling back.

“I’m serious, Katsuki,” you said, irritation rising. “You tell me what is going on this second or it’s just you and your hand for the next month. I’m not fucking around.”

“He’s not some innocent reporter, he’s a piece of shit,” Katsuki said. His fingers worked at the clasp to your bra, like he thought that was enough of an answer.

“And you know this how?” you asked, trying to shift to crush his fingers underneath your shoulder.

He glared at you for a long moment, red eyes hot on your face, looking like he was strongly considering just abandoning the conversation altogether and stalking off to blow something up instead.

“I know,” he finally ground out, looking like every word cost him, “because I overheard him in the men’s room at the last Hero’s Gala.”

So you did know the reporter from the Hero’s Gala. A dim memory came to you of shaking his hand, leaning over to get Katsuki’s attention to get him an answer to some question he’d asked. You were fuzzy on the details, as you’d had other things to worry about that night--the Hero’s Gala had ended with Katsuki in some kind of mood with Kirishima, the arm of Kiri’s suit burnt off, and Katsuki had refused to say more on things. They’d patched things up almost immediately after so you hadn’t pried, but now you wondered if there wasn’t more to the story--more including this reporter.

“Overheard him what?” you asked.

Katsuki’s fingers resumed their questing, releasing the back of your bra with the ease of constant practice. You let him, considering he was still giving you answers.

“Overheard him fucking talking about you,” Katsuki growled, his fingers digging into your waist, his touch turning more possessive.

You froze. “What?”

“Saying the nastiest shit about how you looked in your dress, what he’d like to do with you if you didn’t already belong to me,” Katsuki said, sounding disgusted. “Wanted to incinerate him but fucking Kiri got in the way. Told me I’d lose my license if I attacked a civilian and he took me to court.”

“Which you would,” you pointed out, your tone going breathier than you wanted when Katsuki slid his fingers up to pluck at your nipple. “That--um--that was still the case today, too. What did you think you were doing?”

“Didn’t think,” he grunted, palming your breast. He didn’t look like he was thinking a lot now either, eyes turning on your chest with that single-minded focus he was famous for. “I just saw him and saw red.”

You were starting to see colors too--white, mainly, as Katsuki released your wrist to trail his other hand over your panties with obvious intention.

“Oh, um. Well I’m glad you didn’t kill him and have to lose your license,” you said, your breath hitching when Katsuki found his way into your underwear. “I’m gonna--have to--ah--thank Eijirou.”

“You belong to me,” Katsuki announced imperiously, leaning back in to bite at your throat again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with him, now. Instead, his words relit some fuse within you, your arousal sparking back to life behind your navel.

Katsuki’s fingers curled within you and you couldn’t hold back a pleased little noise, shifting your hips to allow him better access.

That was all the affirmation he needed. In mere minutes, he was working you up to the edge of your pleasure, fingers hot and skilled and exactly right inside you. He trailed soft bites and hot kisses all over your neck and shoulders, looking supremely satisfied with himself every time you caught sight of his face. His thumb worked tiny, maddening circles over your clit, just like he knew drove you fucking insane, and he had you writhing and squirming underneath him embarrassingly fast.

Soon, he was hitching your leg over a broad shoulder, sinking into you right where you wanted him.

“That’s right, princess. You’re mine. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it,” he promised, already working up to a brutal pace that left you short of breath.

Your vision swam as he ground into you. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, in sharp contrast to the wicked thrust of his hips.

“Look at you,” Katsuki said around your breast, scarlet gaze burning into yours. “Spread out and trembling. Look so fucking good for me, only for me.”

“Katsuki--ah!” you barely managed the syllables of his name.

“So fucking hot when you think you’re in control. So fucking mouthy--” his fingers brushed over your mouth “--I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you can’t even string together a sentence anymore.”

You rather thought he’d already achieved that, considering you could barely manage anything other than single syllable words now--nothing but there and more and please and oh!

Katsuki gave a particularly hard thrust, snarling your name--and your climax hit you like a truck.

You cried out, writhing, and his hands came up to hold you down against the mattress, still fucking into you hard like he meant to fuck the sense right out of you. He fucked you straight through your orgasm, and only when you were gasping from the aftershocks, shivering and near tears, did he follow you, flooding your insides with warm heat.

“That shut you right up, didn’t it, princess?” he said smugly as he rolled off of you, leaving another love bite over your shoulder on his way.

You groaned. It had been fucked up but kind of romantic that he’d attempted to murder a guy for you, but he was really killing the mood now.

“Is there anything that would shut you right up?” you replied, still catching your breath.

Unexpectedly, a smirk twisted your boyfriend’s mouth, and his hand trailed carefully down your thigh.

“There is, princess. Too bad it sounds like you can still string together a sentence,” he said, watching you intently.

You stared at him, wondering where he was going with this.

Until he moved, shifting backwards until his chin met your thigh, still watching you intently with those scarlet eyes.

“I can think of something that would fix both of those problems,” he said, his voice rough even as his hands came up to gently pry your thighs apart. “Now you have thirty seconds to call out of work tomorrow before I finish punishing you for that little show earlier.”

Your breath caught in your lungs again. You didn’t waste precious time defying him.

This time, you obeyed.

Deleted scene: What did Deku say to Bakugou that got him tackled over a buffet table at the Hero’s Gala?

[bored-mumma]

Text Message Part Two - Chris Evans x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

TITLE: Text message CHAPTER NO/ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 WORD COUNT: 2104 (I got carried away) ORIGINAL IMAGINE: This by @theartofimagining13​ NOTES/WARNINGS: Swearing. Arguments. Gaslighting and toxic behavior. This is the final chapter for sure. Also I wrote this so quickly it just kind of flowered I bloody loved it. Maybe some proof-reading errors. 

Small patches of light crept in through your window, barely being blocked by the blinds. Birds sang their songs from outside, trees swayed gently in the breeze. Everything indicted a calm, warm morning. Except that was far from how things were for you.

Last night, you told your boyfriend, Chris, to not bother coming home if he's going to continue to accuse you and ask to check through your phone. And he didn’t come home. You stayed awake for a long time after getting home. By the time you calmed down, had a bubble bath and watched some TV, it was three in the morning and still no sign of Chris. With a sad sigh, you turned off the telly, rolled over and attempted some sleep.

Now it was nearly nine in the morning. You awoke with groggy eyes, feeling extremely deflated and your cheeks dry from the tears you shed last night. You weren't used to waking up in a cold bed alone. Usually, Chris would awake first. He would roll over, wrap his arms around your waist and gently wake you with his warmth and kisses to your cheek. It was a wake-up call you always adored, no matter what time it would be. But today just felt cold and lonely.

Sitting up, you reached to grab your phone from your bedside table, your stomach turning as you remember more of the argument from the night before. Half of you hoped you would see some messages from Chris, maybe some missed calls. Something to tell you he was sorry and saw the error of his ways. But as you scrolled through all your notifications, you realised there was nothing from him. You debated whether or not to be the bigger person, to text him first and apologise but your stubborn side came out to play before you could - you technically didn't have anything to apologise for! He was the overly jealous one. He was the one who ruined nearly every date you had with his accusations. He was the one who wanted to breach your privacy. You were nothing less than a faithful girlfriend who fell in love with a man with a lot of emotional baggage.

That morning dragged like crazy. You took a shower to try and clear your mind, even ordered in your favourite breakfast from the diner down the street. But your mind always wandered back to Chris. You realised you weren't even sure where he stayed! Was he safe? Just as panic was starting to flow through you, your phone pinged.

Can we talk?

Chris had text you first. Part of you was so happy he did. Maybe that meant he realised he was the one in the wrong and therefore he was the one who had to make the first move to make it right! The other part of you hated the vague words of the message. Can we talk? Does that mean Chris wants to make things better or... No, no it must mean he wants to make everything better. You two were an amazing couple, fully infatuated with each other. It just Chris' insecurity got in the way sometimes. You felt for him and the heartbreak he must have felt when he discovered his ex-fiancée was having an affair with his best friend and you understood how that would affect his ability to trust. But this was getting too much for you to handle. He was right. You guys needed to have a nice long, good talk.

You text him back asking what time he could come home and he replied saying he can be there in twenty minutes. You pottered around as you waited. Made some tea for you both, quickly did some tidying, basically did what you could to try and not overthink what you will say to Chris. However, before you knew it, you heard a key in the door and Chris stepping inside. You walked over to see him and the two of you stared at each other for a moment.

"Hi." He said at last.

"Hello." You replied. The air felt awkward and thick. You hated it. "Take a seat, I made you some tea." You scurried out into the kitchen as Chris made himself comfortable. You took your time grabbing the tea, your heart was beating like crazy from nerves. You didn't know what you wanted to say. All you knew, was you desperately wanted things to change. You were so unhappy and that wasn't fair for you! You came back into the living room with the tea to see Chris sitting on the armchair, still wearing his coat and shoes indicating he doesn't plan on staying for very long.

"Thank you," He said, taking his mug. "Look, we need to talk about what happened last night." He sounded quiet, his voice hoarse. As you listened, you noticed the bags under his eyes and how his clothes, the ones he was wearing last night, were all dishevelled, like he slept in them. "This is not how I want my relationship to go," He continued. "I love you. I just... I struggle to trust you. Which is my problem! I know that! And I'll work on that. But you have to meet me in the middle here."

"Meet you in the middle?" You asked, shaking your head slightly with confusion. Chris took a deep breath before he explained.

"I feel like it's unfair you wouldn't let me have your phone last night." He said it like it was so obvious. It took all your strength not to interrupt him, telling him to stop talking before he starts pissing you off. "I mean, I let you use mine all the time. You know I have trust issues, I was just asking for a little help to deal with that."

"I shouldn't have to give up my privacy to help you with your issues." You said, a little more harshly than you intended. "How about couples therapy? Get through this without breaking any boundaries." You tried to reason but it became clear that was not a good route to take. Chris stood and started to pace around the chairs.

"Why do you need privacy from me? I'm your boyfriend! We don't need to waste our time at therapy. All I'm asking is for one simple thing. You can look through mine and I'll look through yours." He stood in front of you now, his frame towered over yours which was still sat on the chair. "You wonder why I get so jealous or - or possessive and then go pull some bullshit like last night!"

"I didn't pull any bullshit!" You said, standing up to meet Chris' harsh gaze. "I asked you to sort your shit out. What about this screams like a good relationship to you Chris? The yelling, the accusations, the constant checking up on me!"

"I don't check up on you." He looked at you like you were mad.

"You call me about fifty thousand times a day, Chris. Which I wouldn't mind so much if you didn't get neurotic every time I accidentally missed a call or took too long to answer a message." You felt tears start to sting your eyes as you finally allowed all your frustrations out, voice getting louder with each word. Usually, you would just try and help Chris in any way you could but no more. No more would you roll over and let him have his way. "You're controlling and jealous all the god-damn time Chris and I can't cope with it anymore!"

The two of you stood still, staring at each other. Both knowing what was coming, neither wanting to be the one to do it. Eventually, you took the jump.

"I don't..." You swallowed, trying hard to not let too much emotion out. You knew if you did, you would break down crying. "I don't think this is working anymore, Chris." You looked away, not bearing to watch the tears that were starting to drop from his eyes. He stepped closer to you so that your bodies were touching. You could smell his cologne, feel his warmth. My God you loved him. "I think our time together is done." You felt his hand under your chin, two fingers holding it and tilting your head so you looked up at him. Using his other hand, he brushed some hair from your face. You felt the familiar tingle on your skin where he touched you. Even after all this time together, he still made you giddy. You stared at him in the eyes as he held you.

"Who is he?" He whispered.

Your head span when he asked. What? What the hell? Who's who? You realised what he meant. Even now, he thinks there's someone else. Even when his possessiveness has pushed you so far to the edge you had no choice but to jump. He still believed your heart belonged to another. You realised right then, nothing will ever make him believe you. You could stand here and rip your chest open, bleeding out as you gave him your heart and he would still tell you it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. His trauma was too much for you to handle anymore and it was finally time to start putting yourself first again.

"I know you probably won't believe me Chris, but I need you to listen to me." You took his face in your hands, making sure to make strong eye contact as you spoke. "I love you. No one else, ok? Never anyone else. I was faithful. I was strong. I loved you more than I thought I ever could." The tears started to fall from both your eyes at a much quicker pace. "None of the incredible things that have happened to me in the past few years would have happened to me without you. I owe you for that. But I owe myself to be happy too." You used your thumb to wipe away some of the tears from his cheeks. "I love you. So much. But we need to end. I can't do this anymore." Chris took your hands in his. He pressed his lips against them both as a way to muffle his cries. "I'm so sorry." You sobbed. "I'm sorry Chris. I wish I was strong enough to keep going but I'm not. I love you."

Chris dropped your hands and grabbed your face, bringing it towards him as he hurriedly captured your lips in a breath-taking kiss. He held you close to him, your kiss becoming salty as your tears mixed on your tongues. He tasted of his usual toothpaste along with some of the tea he barely touched. His hair felt soft as you ran one of your hands through it, using the other to grab his coat and pull him closer. When the need for air became too much, you pulled away, chest rising and falling as you both tried to catch your breath. You stared at him, debating whether this was the right choice. You loved him so much your heart hurt. But what came next... you knew you made the right decision.

"Does he kiss you like that?"

Your mouth dropped at those words. Nothing would ever change. You walked away from him, picking up his keys from the table and handing them over to him.

"I'm at work tomorrow, I'll make sure your stuff is packed and ready for you to collect whilst I'm out." You muttered. You had cried too much all ready for a relationship that died months ago. You refused to cry anymore. Chris took the keys from your grip and stared at you. His jaw twitched. Clearly words were trying to escape from his lips but he wouldn't let them. You had never seen Chris like this. You couldn't tell what he was feeling. But that was no longer your problem.

"I hope he breaks your heart like you did mine," Chris said at last. When you didn't reply, Chris let out a dry laugh before walking out of your home. For the very last time.

You finally allowed yourself raw emotions. You collapsed onto your sofa, hands scrunched over your face as you bellowed, cries echoing off the walls. You could feel your heart breaking in two as you realised he would never hold you again. That you would never wake up to his hugs, that would never taste his lips on yours again. But it was for the best. You deserved someone who would trust you and that someone, sadly, would not be Chris Evans. No matter how much you loved him, he was not the man you were destined to be with.

A/N: Oh I’m sorry you wanted a happy ending? We don’t do that here.

[fumingspice]

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests. 

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched. 

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for. 

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

[fruitydiaz-archived]

97 — “It’s not that easy.” for @eddie-diass

from this prompt list

Eddie thinks this should be easy. He’s spent the last three years of his life not thinking about Buck romantically.

Not that he really succeeded in stopping the thoughts all together, but he did succeed in distracting himself from them, from diving into them and figuring out what they meant. That should be the easy part — finding a distraction. He’s always been good at that.

He wishes he didn’t have to, is the thing. He got out of the hospital and started healing his busted shoulder and realized that life was short and he could die at any second and broke up with Ana and turned around to find his best friend locking lips with Taylor Kelly. Literally, he showed up to work on his first day back to find Buck leaning against his car with Taylor pressed against him like this was an 80s romcom and they were a bunch of lovesick high schoolers.

It stung. It made him bitter and jealous and angry — like he was a lovesick high schooler.

“You’re mad that I didn’t tell you about Taylor,” Buck had said later, when he approached him in the locker room. Eddie rolled his eyes and kept his head in his locker, refusing to look at Buck.

“No, I knew there was something going on. She was at my damn welcome home party, Buck. You’re not subtle.” Buck grimaced.

“You had enough going on, Eds. It just didn’t seem that important to bring up.”

Eddie spun around and stared at him, a little dumbfounded.

“You didn’t think your new relationship with your girlfriend was that important?”

Buck froze. He stared blankly at Eddie before his gaze shifted away and his shoulders dropped a little. Eddie watched him run a hand through his hair, step into the locker room and slide onto one of the benches.

“Wrong choice of words, maybe,” Definitely. “I just didn’t want to bother you with it. You were my priority, you know? Helping you feel better. Still are.”

Eddie’s thought about that line an infinite number of times since it left Buck’s lips.

You were my priority, you know? Helping you feel better. Still are.

Eddie doesn’t know how to tell Buck that that’s weird. That the fact that Eddie, who had a girlfriend at the time, was Buck’s priority, when he also had a girlfriend at the time (and still does, as Eddie’s brain keeps helpfully reminding him), is fucking weird. And it’s probably not fair of him to even try since he just came to the realization himself that the way that they’ve been acting for the last three years is weird as fuck and not the way two best friends who want to stay best friends and only best friends act.

It just hurts that he came to the realization too late.

One day, when Eddie’s stewing up in the loft, trying hard not to be bitter over the fact that he and Buck were about to throw down in a battle of ping pong when Taylor stopped by and swooped him up and out to her car for a chat, and failing — Hen settles down next to him.

He glances at her and she shoots him a sympathetic smile, offering to share the bag of chips she’s snacking on. He shakes his head but thanks her anyway.

“Must be really bad,” Hen says, focusing on her bag of chips. “To turn down your favorite chips.”

“How do you know they’re my favorite?” Eddie raises an eyebrow. He checks the bag again and — she’s right. They are his favorite, from his childhood. He never eats them around the station because he likes to save them for special occasions, ones that make him feel like he’s young and naive again.

He has a bag stored at the back of his pantry at home right now. But he’s pretty sure Hen’s never seen him eat them.

“Buck put in a special request with Bobby to get them stocked up. He said they’re your favorite. Something about a childhood treat.”

Eddie doesn’t remember telling Buck that. He’s sure he must have, in passing at some point, probably during his recovery, but he didn’t know Buck had latched onto it like that.

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut. It’s been 10 minutes since Buck left with Taylor. Eddie’s getting antsy. He can’t help it when he glances in the direction of the garage again.

“You should tell him, you know.”

Eddie stares at her, raising his eyebrows again. He can play stupid.

“Hm?” Hen stares back at him.

“Buck. About how you feel.”

Eddie feels the blood drain from his face. He looks away from Hen quickly, dropping his eyes to his lap.

“Yeah? About what?”

“Oh, geez, Eddie, come on. Don’t make me spell it out for you.” He doesn’t say anything. Hen softens her voice. “Listen, I know the way that you’re feeling is scary, I know it’s probably new to you. But you and Buck have a relationship like no one I’ve ever seen — and I’m including all the married couples I know.”

Eddie shifts in his seat and keeps his eyes averted.

“Seeing him with Taylor is cutting you up inside, Eddie. Every time you see her I’m afraid to cross through your line of sight because I’m not trying to get caught in the crossfire of those little eye darts of yours.”

“So what?” Eddie cuts her off. He’s never liked people throwing his feelings back at him, not when they’re already uncomfortable enough to face on his own. He looks up at her and sets his jaw. “I appreciate your concern, Hen, okay? But I’m not going to tell Buck that I don’t like his girlfriend just because...just because…”

“Because you’re in love with him, Eddie.”

Eddie stills. He feels his brain shut off and the panic spike in his chest, feels the fight or flight response kicking in instantly. He struggles to breathe.

“I’m not…”

He is.

“Eddie. It’s okay. I’m not telling anyone. I’m just...telling you what I see.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Eddie lets her words settle over him, squares his shoulders and confronts the fact that this is reality. He can’t hide from his feelings.

“I can’t lose him, Hen,” Eddie says after a moment, his voice so quiet that she barely hears him.

“Watching him with Taylor isn’t losing him?” Hen counters. “Look, I get that you’re scared that you’ll tell him how you feel and then it’ll ruin your friendship forever — but it doesn’t have to.”

“It’ll change things.”

“Maybe not the way you think,” Hen shifts so she’s looking Eddie straight in the eye. “The way you look at him when you think he’s not looking? That’s the same way he’s looking at you when your back is turned. Trust me. I’ve been watching it for years.

“Eddie, you both went through something traumatic together. You got shot and Buck watched you bleed out. You both thought you were gonna lose each other. In a way, your relationship became stronger after that. But you also realized how important he is to you. And he realized the same thing. Why do you think he rushed into his relationship with Taylor?”

“Because he’s wanted her for years?” Hen gives him a look.

“Because she’s safer. If Buck loses her, it’ll hurt like hell but he’ll move on. If anything were to happen and he lost you...we both know what would happen.”

“So why would I tell him?”

“Because you both love each other. I like Taylor and I’m glad she and Buck are happy together. But they’re not gonna last, Eddie. That boy would die for you. No one is ever going to mean as much to him as you and Christopher do, we all know that.”

“...It’s not that easy,” Eddie says quietly. He looks over as Buck skips back into the garage, shining and grinning big, like he always does after he sees Taylor. Eddie’s heart settles in the pit of his stomach like a rock.

“Be right up there to kick your ass at ping pong, Diaz, don’t think I forgot!” Buck calls, before he takes off to the locker room. Eddie swallows.

“The things that are worth it are rarely easy,” Hen says to him, setting her hand down on one of his and squeezing gently. “He loves you too, Eddie. Trust me.”

And with that she’s gone and Eddie struggles to pull himself back together before Buck comes back up the stairs.

He’s not gonna tell Buck how he feels. He’ll probably have to, eventually, and it terrifies him to think that that might be soon, since apparently everyone around them can clearly see the thing that they keep dancing around.

But he can’t do it while Buck is dating Taylor. If Hen thinks they’re not going to last long, then he can wait until then.

Buck’s happy with her, and Eddie thinks he should be allowed to have someone that makes him feel happy.

Even if it’s not him.

[probsjosh]

Just a Bit More

Three times you were out here flirting with Sapnap on stream and the fourth time when ya'll straight up confessed to eachother

AKA Flirtationship but with a lot of Mutual Pining

Sapnap × GN!Reader

No warning! All fluff :)

@svgarbees I love your writing challenge bro <3

-----------

The first time Sapnap had met you it was very briefly, as George had been placed on your team for MCC and Sapnap had come into the discord call to taunt him just before the games began. 

"Well if it isn't Team Bottoms."

The second the taunt was out in the open air, a roar of protests came from George and Antfrost. BadBoyHalo sat in some confusion, "Bottoms? Bottom of what?" was all he asked, and after he didn't receive an answer, he shrugged it off and quickly muted to talk to his chat. You, however, were practically wheezing, desperately trying to get air into your lungs as you laughed at Saps opening line, causing the other three to pause their bickering long enough to ask if you were alright. "I'm fuckin' great- I don't know who you are dude, but I think I already love you." 

Sapnap laughed lightly as his face turned a light shade of pink, "If you liked that one so much I have a lot more where that came fro—" He was cut off mid-sentence as he was kicked from the call back to his own teams vc. 

"We are not 'Team Bottoms'," George scoffed out, as the MCC timer got to zero.

"George. We totally fuckin are," You laughed out as everyone rushed inside.

"Language!" 

~

The second time had been when George invited you to play Proximity Chat Among Us on stream after realizing they didn't have 10 people to play a full game. You two had actually hit it off really well during MCC and stayed in contact afterwards, but this was the first time he had invited you to play anything with his group of friends.

After happily agreeing, you received the game code and joined the vc, only to be greeted with George desperately trying to tell everyone to shut up for just one second and Sapnap loudly arguing that George wasn't the boss of him. It was only after you'd joined the game and let out a soft, "Hello," did he shut up.

"Oh-" Was all Sap could get out before George cut him off, "Yeah 'oh', that's what I was trying to tell you. Everyone this is y/n, y/n this is everyone," 

There was a chorus of greetings as everyone welcomed you to the soon to be shitshow. The smile on your face didn't fade once the entire time, being able to properly introduce yourself and crack jokes with everyone once you were in game. The one person you weren't surprised to see you were getting along with amazingly was with Sapnap, immediately remembering him from your first unofficial meeting.

"So you think I'm a bottom Sapnap?" you questioned as you caught him in a room by himself. "I- uh- why? Are-are you a bottom?" He asked, a hesitant grin on his face, he wasn't sure what boundaries he was pushing, but he was certain he was toeing the line. Luckily for him, you let out a laugh before you teased him, "Wouldn't you like to know." Suddenly feeling more confident in himself he hummed before teasing right back, "I mean, with your consent, I would." 

Your laugh sounded out as you tried and failed to stutter out a response when someone walked into the room and yelled, "George! Sapnap is flirting with your friend!" They ran away yelling for George as Sapnap laughed and ran away,  chasing after them, "Don't snitch on me you bitch!" 

You stood there in the middle of the room giggling as Sapnap quickly ran back into the room, "If George asks, I'm totally telling him you hit on me first." 

"Okay sure, Mr. I'd Like To Find Out If You're a Bottom," You both laughed as a body was reported and you were thrown into a meeting.

From that moment it had become a running bit for you two to needlessly flirt with eachother at any given moment, and by the end of the stream every chat was filled with debates on what the ship name should be. 

After saying your goodbyes and leaving for the night, you sat in your chair thinking about Sapnap, and trying to ignore the butterflies in your tummy as you thought about every exchange you'd had with him that night. 

~

The third time had been the first time you logged on to the Dream SMP after George had very sweetly asked Dream to whitelist you, because he missed playing the Craft with someone he now considered a close friend to him. 

At first it was just George and yourself sitting in a call as he gave you a very messy tour of the world that consisted of a very bad history lessons of the lore. "I'm not very involved in the storyline so I don't really know what happened," George explains as he leads you over to the now crater of L'Manberg, "But I do know that, canonically, Dream is crazy." 

The familiar sound of someone joining the call sounded out, followed by a very familiar voice, "George, Dream is crazy both in game and out, you give him too much credit." 

There was soft laughter before you spoke, "Sapitus Napitus!" the happiness in your voice evident, and George chuckled, "What? You miss your boyfriend?" Despite how flustered you'd gotten you managed to bite back, "What? Jealous I got a boyfriend before you did, Georgie?" 

Sapnap joined in as well, "Yeah Georgie, at least we have a significant other for Valentines day. Not our fault you broke my boy Dreams heart by turning him down." 

We all laughed at that as Sapnap joined the game as well as the tour. At first, it had seemed like you and Sap had fallen back into your endless flirting to annoy George but after a while it just became a casual thing between the two of you, compliments and innuendos being tossed between the two of you.

All three of you had actually become really comfortable with one another over the course of the accidental five hour stream. So comfortable in fact that before you left to end your stream George sent you off with a final tease, "Of God, I'm never gonna hear the end of this from either of you am I?" You and Sapnap glanced at each other in game before turning to George, "What do you mean, Gogy?" Sapnap asked carefully, as he slowly scrolled through his hotbar to pull out his sword. George, oblivious to this, continued, "I mean you two blabber on and on about each other to me all the time, why don't you two just talk about how much you like each other to each o–" George cut himself off with a scream as Sapnap went after him with the intent of murder. 

Before you could fully process the words that had come out of George's mouth, you phone pinged, alerting you that you needed to end stream. "I'm sorry guys, I gotta go, I have something I need to do." Both boys stopped in their tracks to give you a proper goodbye, "Bye, message me when you're free again," George said innocently as he crouch walked away from where Sapnap stood turned towards your character. "Or you could message me–" Sap said, the cheeky smile on his face falling as George teased him again, "Yeah you wish, Snapchat." 

And with that Sapnap returned to his assassination attempt as George screamed for his life. You laughed before mumbling a goodbye and leaving both the game and the call.

After ending stream you walked over to your bed before falling face first into the mattress and screaming. 

George really had to out you like that huh?

~

The fourth time was just a couple days after the third. You had been streaming for a little bit, your first grind session on the SMP to get yourself started, when George entered your voice channel and startled the hell out of you. 

"HI y/n!" he greeted innocently as you yelped, hitting your desk and nearly spilling your water everywhere. "George! Dude, you have to stop scaring me like that," you tried to scold him but your laugh broke your angry facade. "Sorry, sorry, I hadn't meant to scare you- hey is Sapnap online right now?" 

"Um," you glanced over at your chat briefly before pressing tab, "Yeah, he's online, why?" You didn't receive an answer as George disconnected from the call abruptly. "Wow okay, rude." was all you commented before returning to entertaining your chat as you mined away. 

A couple minutes later you were startled yet again as George reconnected, immediately letting out a loud yelp, as a skeleton shot you simultaneously. "George!" you panicked as you swiped your sword at the skeleton, going down to threw hearts before finally killing it. "I'm sorry! I don't mean to scare you, I just wanted to tell you that Sa–" He disconnected again mid-sentence, this time your curiosity was peaked. 

"If George reconnects and scares me one more time, I'm flying to his country to kick his ass." You laughed as your chat began speculating what he wanted to tell you, and clipping your scared reaction.

It was peaceful for a while, you had been caving with not trouble, but eventually you ran out of food and needed to resurface. Unfortunately for you, a loud ping from Discord sounded out, distracting you long enough for a creeper to sneak up behind you and kill you before you had a chance to react. "George I'm buying a plane ticket to go kick your ass, I swear to..." a soft laugh makes you trail off. "Well, I'm not George, but I'd love to see you kick his ass," Sapnaps voice rang out and you slapped a hand over your mouth. 

"Fuck, sorry, sorry Sap, George has just been coming in and out of the vc and scaring me" You clicked respawn and began running back to your things. "Yeah, sorry about that, I kept pulling him out of there because he's trying to embarrass me." 

"Embarrass you? How?" You found the cave you had gone down and made your way to your things. 

"Well, um, he- where are you? On the server I mean." It was a bit odd to you that he was stuttering this much, he was usually very confident in himself, but you made no comment on it. 

"I'm in a cave getting my things back, I'll put my cords in chat, I'm not far from my house," You gathered your things before quickly typing into chat, and running to the mouth of the cave to get back home.

There's a beat of comfortable silence as you emerge seeing Sapnap running towards you in the distance. 

"Hi, hello!" You crouched at him once he'd gotten close enough. He giggled and answered back, "Hi," as he crouched in return. 

"So why's George trying to embarrass you?" you asked making your way back to your house, Sapnap following close behind. "He keeps saying some bullshit that I don't believe, so I've come to just- just ask you." 

Your stomach began to fill with butterflies, but you shot down your hopes and tried to keep a level voice, "Oh? What have you come to ask me, Mr. Sapnap?" You opened the door to your house and entered to turned around to face him once more.

He crouched his character and took a breath, "George has this idea that when we- when we flirt, it's not just a bit. And, I just wanted to ask you," he comes closer a bit, as your air catches in your throat, "is it just- do you see it as just a bit?"

'Because I don't,' the words die on his tongue, not wanting to sway your next words.

You sat for a second, thoughts going a million miles a minute as you finally find the will to say, "Sap, I–" 

"Its okay if you do, I mean yeah, like if thats how you see it then that's how I see it too, yknow? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything and the last thing I want to do is ruin the friendship we just started like a week ago, and I–" His nervous ramblings are cut short when you hit his character, a smile finding its way onto your face. 

"Sap, we really need to start letting people finish their fuckin sentences," you laugh, your nerves building again but you decide to say fuck it and push through before you chicken out, "I was going to say… I don't know if it's just a bit or not but, if you're okay with it… I wouldn't mind taking the flirting a bit more seriously?" A nervous smile settled on your features, the butterflies in your stomach going wild, as you waited for his answer. 

Another beat of silence as Sapnap gathered his scattered briancells to finally form a coherent thought. "I- yeah, yeah, I'd love to," a relieved laugh turns into a genuine one after he realizes, "Oh my god, George was right." 

You grin, nerves now mostly gone, "Motherfucker really was tired of our bullshit, huh?" Easy laughter flowed between you two before another Discord ping rung out.

George had joined the call, presumably to gloat about being right, but instead: "Hey uh, y/n? You do realize you're still streaming, right?"

[bluerose5]

First Impressions (Part 1)

Word Count: 1,726

Rated T (Warnings for Swearing, Canon-Typical Violence)

Summary: What if, after receiving that call from Garrus while he was pinned down on Omega, Castis tries to track him down?

"Are you sure it was him?"

"I'm sure." Alec's smile turned mocking, the vitriol directed more towards himself. "I'm no Shadow Broker, but I still have my list of contacts here on the Citadel, even if it's dwindling by the seconds."

"Alec—"

"I don't need your pity, Castis." His smile fell, a subtle frown curling at the edges of his lips. "Besides, I'm doing this as a favor for a friend. Father to father. You know how it is."

"Yeah," Castis Vakarian sighed, "so I do."

It had been quite some time since the elder Vakarian graced the Citadel with his presence, but ever since he received that call...

"You finish up what you have to do there, and then you come on home to Palaven. We have a lot to sort out."

Even now, the echoes of gunfire rang in his ears, but not as much as the resignation in Garrus’s voice.

"Target practice," Garrus had called it.

As if an experienced C-Sec officer with common sense couldn't tell the difference between target practice and an all-out gunfight.

Even now, Castis's chest tightened.

The thought of losing Garrus now, especially when his mother's condition wasn't showing any signs of improvement—

Castis couldn't stand the thought. He couldn't lose both his wife and his son all at once.

When Garrus never reported back, he had to do something. After he spoke with some old friends on the Citadel, Alec Ryder put out some feelers of his own at his friend's request. For a while, there was nothing.

Then, they got a hit.

The Normandy SR-2, arriving to the Citadel from Omega. A ship flagged by Citadel Control's security algorithms for having alleged ties to the pro-human extremist group known only as Cerberus.

It was under the command of no other than Commander Shepard.

Why was Castis not surprised?

Between his and Alec's contacts, they had been able to discern that there were indeed aliens listed as part of the ship’s crew. A surprising move, given the organization's history, but Castis was far from calling them friends. Just because they expanded recruitment beyond their own species did not make them allies.

Add in a Spectre miraculously back from the dead, and the whole situation reeked of trouble.

Alec agreed, so they approached the matter with caution.

Thankfully, Solana understood when Castis had to drop everything and go. All that she asked was that he return home with the knowledge that Garrus was safe. That's it.

Of course, that wasn't enough to satisfy him.

Castis knew that Garrus was alive now, but that wasn't enough.

The next time he and Alec were pinged, they received intel stating that Garrus was spotted poking around the shipping sector of Zakera Ward with Commander Shepard, seeking out a notorious forger. For what? Spirits only knew.

The only other info that they had was that there was a drell and a quarian accompanying them as well.

While they awaited positive IDs on those two, they continued following Garrus’s trail, questioning the loose-lipped volus who was more than happy to give up Fade's position after his lousy bodyguards wandered off for a break.

Eventually, they were led to Harkin's position. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out that Garrus had already been there, what with the trail of bodies and mechs they left in their wake.

Seeing Harkin curled up on the floor, the bastard took one look up at them, then swore under his breath.

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me," he spat. "First your son, and now you? Haven't you Vakarians done enough?"

"Heh," Alec chuckled. "We're just getting started, tough guy."

Tapping at his omni-tool, Castis sent out an alert. While he dealt with Harkin, Alec approached the open console nearby, downloading all of its content, including the most recent call to a client.

"Have fun explaining yourself to C-Sec, Harkin, or is it Fade now?" Castis paused, crossing his arms over his chest as he peered down at him. "You can't resist making a fool of yourself for even a second, can you?"

"Hot take, coming from you." Harkin sneered. "You can't even keep that hot-headed son of yours on a leash. Bet C-Sec was glad to finally have his insubordinate ass off the force."

Castis saw red.

He took a step forward, but Alec's hand came down onto his shoulder, stopping him in his path.

"He's not worth it," Alec reminded him gently. As C-Sec swarmed the area, Alec jerked his chin in the direction of the door. "Come on. Let’s go find him before it's too late."

They strolled out together, heads ducked close and voices kept low.

"Did you find anything?" Castis asked.

"More than enough," Alec assured him. "Garrus is looking for a turian by the name of Lantar Sidonis."

"Can't say I've heard of him."

"Hmm..." Alec hummed thoughtfully to himself. "There was a location sent to set up a meeting. Orbital Lounge."

"Good work," Castis said, but Alec shrugged off the praise. "Let's go."

They stopped to make a quick change in a clothing store along the way. They got dressed in casual attire, posing as a couple of friends enjoying the sights.

By the time they made it to the lounge, Castis was already getting antsy. He struggled to maintain his cover, his eyes darting this way and that.

Alec elbowed him in the side.

"Calm down," he warned. He turned towards a random window display to glance over the selection of model ships. "Maintenance walkway above. Over your shoulder and to the right."

Castis snuck a peek as soon as he had the chance to.

He felt all of the blood drain from his face.

Turning quickly back towards the display, he hissed under his breath, "He has a rifle."

Alec shushed him before they could attract too much attention.

"I know, but do we really want to announce that little fact to the entire plaza?!" he whispered frantically.

Right.

Taking a deep breath, Castis composed himself. Usually, he wasn't this bad at remaining undercover, but the stakes were too high —too personal— to ignore.

It was hard to remain calm when your son was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Killing in a public place...

What happened to make him fall so far?

"I spotted someone up there with him," Alec said, breaking Castis of his reverie. "Shepard, maybe?"

Looking around at the crowd, Castis shook his head a moment later.

"No, not Shepard. Look. To your left."

Alec followed his line of sight, then ducked his head back down.

"Her, the quarian, and I'm assuming that's Sidonis," Alec said, counting them off one by one. "Which means that might be the drell up top with Garrus. A lookout, perhaps?"

"Hmph."

That was when Castis noticed the spotting laser.

His pupils narrowed into thin slits.

"No."

Alec stopped him again, stepping out in front of him with his hands spread wide.

"Wait, wait, wait," he ordered. "Let's see how this plays out first."

Castis turned on him with a glare.

"My son is about to commit a murder in plain sight, and you want me to wait?" he snapped.

"I want you to think clearly," Alec corrected. "Take another look at who the spotting laser is trained on."

Staring him down, Castis huffed impatiently, but quickly complied. They couldn’t afford to be stuck at an impasse at such a crucial moment.

One look was enough to clear up the image that had been blurred by emotion.

What in the—

"No." Castis shook his head in disbelief, but that didn't change what he was witnessing. "No, Garrus is too fond of the Commander. He wouldn't hurt her."

The conviction with which he spoke surprised even himself, but Garrus's attachment to Shepard was undeniable, as much as he was loath to admit it.

Even then, he couldn’t deny what was right there in front of him. The spotting laser was focused on the back of Commander Shepard’s skull, clear as day.

However, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

When Sidonis moved, Garrus followed him, but the Commander was instantly there to block his opening.

There were a few tense moments where words were exchanged, far too quiet to hear from where Alec and Castis were positioned. They went back and forth for a bit, and Castis admittedly feared for the worst when both Shepard and Sidonis started to leave.

The second Garrus had a clear shot at Sidonis, Castis held his breath.

But the shot never came.

"Well," Alec muttered, "that was anticlimactic."

Castis glared and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"That's my son, Ryder."

With a grumble, Castis dragged Alec along. Their hunt wasn't over yet.

"You should meet mine. I feel like if Scott would've let him go, then he would have somehow managed to pull the trigger by accident. A real stroke of bad luck, that one."

"Spirits."

Strolling through the crowds, they laid low for as long as they could.

By the time they found Garrus again, he was talking with the others by a skycar terminal, presumably waiting on a cab.

A whole flood of emotions came crashing down on Castis at once, and there was no holding back. Not anymore.

Ignoring Alec's warnings not to do anything rash, Castis stormed off in their direction.

Insane how, after so many years of being friends, the N7 was only choosing now to try to be the voice of reason when Castis wanted to be anything but.

Out of everyone, the drell noticed him first, regarding him with suspicion.

Before he could warn him, Castis called out, "Garrus!"

The other three instantly froze, right before they turned to face him.

Garrus’s eyes widened, his mandibles falling slack as he gaped.

"Dad?"

"'Dad?!'" Shepard and the quarian echoed, shocked by such an unexpected turn of events.

The drell, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit perturbed.

"Ah, his father," he hummed, nodding in understanding. "Your presence in the lounge makes sense now."

Alec's brow furrowed.

"Hold up, you knew we were there?" he asked skeptically.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call you two 'subtle.'"

"That doesn't matter!" Castis snapped.

Clenching his jaw, his mandibles were clamped down tight.

Time to get this meeting back on track.

"Garrus, we need to talk."

[marvelslut16]

I trust you

Prompt number: 31 “I trust you”

Fandom: Marvel

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

Part two to Trust me for once.

Rating: T

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions blood, violence, and death. A lil angst. 

A/N: I just want to write for Bucky for the rest of fictober, someone stop me please. I don’t know why I love this fic so much, but I do. Maybe it’s my lack of sleep messing with me lmao. I passed 500 followers and I can’t possibly begin to explain how much that means to me and how much I love each and every one of you! When I started my Tumblr last year to write some shitty self indulgent fanfics I never thought anyone would ever read them. I never imagined having 500 people following my shitty blog. 

In the week and a half since Hydra had captured you, Bucky has been spiraling. When he got to the quinjet and turned to look for you, his heart fell into the pit of his stomach when he couldn’t find you. Everything you had said to him in the warehouse started to make more sense, you phrashed things a specific way; ‘so long as it gets you out of here safely.’ He knew you weren’t coming, but he still made Steve keep the quinjet there and wait until it was almost too late and the team was under attack again.

Back at the compound Bucky spends all of his time in his room or down in the gym punching- and breaking- one of the many punching bags, throwing his knives at targets, and working on his shooting. He isn’t sleeping and he isn’t eating, he won’t even talk to Steve when the super soldier tries to get him to talk- whether it be about what happened in the warehouse or anything in general. 

Steve, Sam, and Tony are exhausting every resource they have to find you, Hydra had moved you to another location as soon as the quinjet was out of sight of the base. On the rare occasion Bucky isn’t in the gym or his room, he's hovering over the shoulders of the three men hoping he’ll see something they missed. He doesn’t, and only succeeds in annoying aforementioned men with his brooding stares and silence. 

Bucky has nightmares on a daily basis again, something that his time in Wakanda with Shuri and T’Challa had gotten rid of. The only difference this time is he doesn’t see himself. He sees everything he went through, all the tourture he endured and the innocent bloodshed, but instead of him you’re in his shoes. He watches you get your brain turned into mush in the damn chair. He watches you forgetting everyone- forgetting him- and then going after the Avengers because you don’t know any better. He can never wake up from the nightmares, he’s stuck in them until he watches you die or you kill him. 

Twelve days after you’re taken, Bucky's down in the gym, sitting on a chair because the memories of you in the warehouse are consuming him. You saying that he hates you and to just trust you for once are playing on repeat. How could you think he doesn't trust you?

“I trust you!” he screams into the empty gym, wishing he’d told you so in the warehouse, hurling the knife that was resting in his hand into the wall across from him. He goes to run his hands through his long strands of hair, forgetting he had cut most of it off, something you would refer to as pulling a Britney. He has no idea what that even means, but you say it everytime you or Nat impulsively cut your hair super short. Instead he pushes the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to push the memories away. “I could never hate you.”

Steve enters the gym quietly, observing his best friend for a few minutes. He’s never seen him this bad before, not even when he was consumed by guilt when he realized all of the innocent lives that were lost by his hands. Steve was aware that Bucky has had feelings for you since he saw you, immediately becoming infatuated with your beauty. His feelings continued to grow when he learned your humor, sarcasm, intelligence, and saw your skill in battle. Steve knew Bucky was intimidated and nervous, not as skilled with the women like he was seventy years ago and that’s why he didn’t talk to you, but Steve never realized that Bucky cared this much. 

“Hey Buck,” Steve finally speaks, causing Bucky to stand up and pretend he wasn’t just having a breakdown. “We’ve got something.”

Bucky doesn’t verbally respond, instead he brushes past Steve and walks out of the gym. Steve quickly leads the way to the lab, filling Bucky in on the new development. Hydra is streaming a live feed of you chained to a chair right to every computer and television screen in the compound. When the two get to the lab, packed with the rest of the Avengers huddling around the same screen, Bucky see’s you for the first time in twelve days. The first time you aren’t a figment of his imagination. You’re bruised and bloody: split lip with dried blood on your chin; dried blood on your forehead from where you must have wiped the blood from the cut on your eyebrow so it didn’t drip into your eyes before you were chained to the chair; you’re left eye black, blue, and bruised; your skin has a yellow hue and your cheeks are hollow from malnutrition. 

Bucky wants to scream, he wants to put a fist through a wall, and he wants to kill whoever laid a hand on you. The Avengers watch quietly as he squeezes through the gaps in the group's huddle so he can be by the screen. By you. You aren’t staring at the camera, instead staring straight in front of you, where he imagines Hydra agents are standing. 

“You don’t want another Winter Soldier,” your voice is the exact opposite of your appearance, it’s still so strong and determined. “You want the Winter Soldier. You wanted us to intercept the messages and show up at the base, it was an ambush.” 

“Very good, Ms. (Y/L/N),” a man speaks off screen, he has a thick Russian accent, but Bucky doesn’t recognize it. “The only problem was that you seemed to figure it out that day, and ruined our plans.”

“Oops?” your sarcasm garners another slap, the ring on the man's hand causing a gash on your cheekbone. “It’s been what, over a week? How long are you gonna keep me?”

“Until Soldat switches places with you,” you let out a loud bark of a laugh that echoes off the walls in the small room. 

“Bucky, your Soldat, he won’t sacrifice himself for me,” you laugh at the man interrogating you.

“We learned of his affections for you-” you cut him off with another laugh. 

“You need to fire whoever told you that,” you can’t stop laughing at the absurdity that came out of the Hydra agents mouth. And you don’t care if he becomes angry and annoyed with you, you’re gonna get killed no matter what. Your eyes quickly flick to the camera set up on your left, the one the Hydra agents thought you hadn’t seen, before continuing knowing the Avengers had to be seeing all of this. “The only affection Bucky has for me is hatred. He hates me, there’s no way he’d switch places for little old me. You should have captured literally anyone else if you wanted him to be upset. He can’t stand me! We can’t even hold a simple conversation, and he always leaves the room when I’m in it. We were only paired up on this mission because of a fluke accident. Face it, you fucked up. I’m worthless to your Soldat.”

“That’s not true!” Bucky feels like he’s yelling it at the screen, but his protest is only a whisper. The rest of the team watches him with sad eyes, he’s looking at you so longingly. Trying to will you to understand how he feels about you through the screen. As if on cue, you glance at the camera again, giving it a sd smile, accepting your fate. A loud ping comes from one of the computers in the lab, but Bucky keeps eye contact with you, even though he knows you can’t see. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it until his flesh hand is pressed against the television.

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yells, already calling for his suit. 

“Then you’re worthless to me!” the hydra agent growls, stopping the team in their tracks who were on their way to change. 

“No,” Bucky pleads, when he hears the safety of a gun clicking off.  

“Any last words for your precious Avengers?” the man asks you, gesturing to the camera, he hadn’t noticed you’d already seen it. 

“I’d say tell my family I love them,” you’re openly talking to the camera now. “But I don’t have any. So thank you for being the family I never had, and the family I always wanted. I love every single one of you.”

A tear slips from your non swollen eye, a matching one rolling down Bucky’s cheek. The screen goes black, a gun goes off, and then the feed cuts completely. “No!” he screams, going to punch a hole in the television, but his fist goes right through due to it being Stark technology. 

“Where are you going?” Steve calls as Bucky heads to exit to the lab, no one else moving, too shocked to register everything that just happened. 

“Let’s go kill those bastards,” is his gruff response, heading towards the hanger with the Quinjet since he’s already dressed in his tactical gear from his time in the gym. 

Steve and Tony are the first ones dressed and ready to go, but the latter hangs back so Steve can talk to his best friend privately. Steve doesn’t say anything when he sits beside the brunette, he doesn’t know where to begin. 

“(Y/N) died thinking I hated her Stevie,” Bucky’s voice breaks. “I kept my distance cause I didn’t want to hurt her. And then I saw her with Sam and I was jealous so I started to ignore her more. I pushed her away because I was scared and jealous. And now she’ll never know that I love her.”

--

A shot rings through the small room you’re stuck in, the bullet lodging into the wall beside your head. You glance at the camera, finding the red light off. Your team, your family thinks you're dead. That was his damn plan, he knows they’ll come to avenge you. 

“Sit tight,” he smirks, the barrel of his gun coming into contact with your skull, effectively knocking you out. 

Your head is heavy and pounding in pain when you finally come to. Outside the door you can hear screams and guns going off at rapid speed. You cringe away from the sound when someone uses their body to break open the door to your room. The sound of familiar footsteps clomping towards you causes you to perk up, it’s Bucky. You can’t open your eyes or even move your head towards the sound to alert him that you’re okay, but you hear a whispered “thank god,” when he hears your steady heartbeat. From the crunching sound you can tell Bucky used his vibranium hand to crush the handcuffs keeping you attached to the chair. 

He picks you up bridal style, holding you close to his warm chest. You involuntarily cuddle into the warmth, causing Bucky to smile lovingly down at you. “I’ve got you now,” he whispers, hand caressing your cheek, careful not to put pressure on your many cuts. 

When you wake up again, you're in the familiar sterile medbay at the compound. A heavy weight is on your hand, looking over you notice it’s Bucky's hands clutching yours, his head tipped back on the seat he’s in.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Sam smirks at the scene from the doorway, holding a falcon stuffed animal. You playfully roll your eyes at the gift, but reach for it with your free hand. Bucky starts to stir, so Sam gives you a kiss on the forehead and heads for the door again. “Tinman’s whipped.”

The first thing you notice when you glance at Bucky again is his hair. He cut it all off when you were gone. As much as you loved his luscious locks and thought he was hot with them, he’s undeniably sexy with the short hairstyle. “You cut your hair,” Bucky immediately wakes up the rest of the way at your voice, ocean blue eyes staring into yours. “It looks good on you.”

“You could have died,” his voice exasperated. “And the first thing you mention is my hair. I’ve been worried sick, (Y/N)!”

“I was fine,” you roll your eyes, trying not to think of just how close to death you came. “I’m fine now.” 

“Next mission I get to call the shots,” he grumbles. “I’m not having the woman I love almost die for me again.”

“I love you too Buck,” you ignore the fact that he didn’t mean for you to hear his confession. “Why else would I be willing to die for you?”

He shoots out of his seat, eyes wide as he stares down at you. You push up to a sitting position, moving to the side of the bed, motioning for Bucky to lay beside you. He seems to debate with himself about whether he should or not, before finally laying down and gently pulling you into his arms. You crane your neck up to look into his eyes, he leans down and your lips meet timidly at first. It quickly turns into a slow loving kiss, the two of you wanting to prolong for as long as you can. You reach a hand up, caressing his face before slipping it through his now short locks.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​ @mrs-malfoy-always​

[inkdemonapologist]

Tfw it’s like 6am and your penpal shows up at your hotel room but he’s like partially a demon and also won’t stop smiling????

Hi again Allison we’re all Very Normal

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

ANYWAY HAVE SOME, OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES for Session 6!!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[GM] You said you were there for... inSPECTION?? [Jack] In hindsight, that must've been a HECK of a Fast Talk considering half the group is in pyjamas.

[Henry] It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to sacrifice Henry.

[GM] *about Sammy's sacrifice attempts* He was very polite about it. [Sammy] Yeah, he was! [Henry] He was very polite, he gets points for politeness. [GM] And then he got yelled at, so unfairly! By someone. [Sammy] And then melted! So everyone was on the whole very rude about it. It's your own fault he's like this now.

[GM] We'll say it's ajar, how about that? [Joey] Oh, I thought it was a door.

[Sammy] You can spend Luck!! [Jack] Do I want to use Luck points, though? Here's the problem, I'm the person who finishes the JRPG with twelve thousand healing items, and has used TWO. [Sammy] Here's my counterargument: if your Luck gets really low, you start failing Luck checks, and bad things happen to your character. [Jack] ...that's a perfect counterargument, I'm going to do it.

[GM] You both spot the hat with the press card! Lying on the floor, over by one corner of the sliding doors. [Jack] Oh that's BETTER than taking sanity damage! [Sammy] EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!

[Joey] There's another jug of space juice. [Sammy] I don't want space juice!! I WANT PAINT.

[Henry] *tired* Hey, Sam. [Sammy] What providence, my little sheep! [Henry] ...Good to see you too.

[Sammy] Go into the other room and introduce yourself! [Joey] With two hats on. [Sammy] ASSERT DOMINANCE!

[Jack] Jack is going to take the hat. He's going to have, uh, at least one emotion. [Jack] Maybe more [Jack] Imagine

[Joey] Joey is immediately going to clamp his hand onto Sammy's shoulder, and ask him if he can feel it. [Sammy] UHHH? His... hand...? [Joey] Not-- No, the stone. [Sammy] OH

[Jack] Jack, how are you going to communicate this if one of your hands is taken up by a hat? [Joey] Interpretative dance! [Sammy] Put hat in elbow while writing, you can juggle stuff, [Henry] Put the hat on. Over your other hat.

[Sammy] Sammy will scurry with or without the sheep, but they are his navigation system, so,

[Joey] That is a place we are known to be by the people who tried to... murder us?? Or something. Snake us??????? [Jack] (Snurder.) [Joey] Snurder us.

[Henry] We're just gonna grab our stuff and head out and... let you finish dealing with the sNAKE, I guess!! [Jack] (the snake has already been dealt with!) [Henry] Okay, but the aftermath of the snake! The snaftermath.

[Sammy] In case we get grabbed by an Angel [Sammy] the much less well-liked sequel to Touched by an Angel,

[Sammy] You traitorous sheep, this is not what I asked you for! [Joey] Do you want to die. Is that what you’re interested in?! Just, sacrificing yourself, without doing the proper rituals, not getting anything done--?! [Sammy] What do you know of proper rituals?! [GM] (....quite a lot, actually,) [Joey] Yeah! Much more than you do! And I will make an intimidation roll! [Jack] Boys,... you’re both pretty,... it’s okay....

[Joey] We’re pretty sure there’s Angels.... does she know how to kill them. [Jack] What a first thing to—! No pleasantries, no “please excuse the fact that I’m grinning and have weird eyes and also Sammy has weird eyes and also I have a tail,”

[GM, speaking for Allison] She would like to know what all this is about! [Joey] We’re having problems— [Sammy] He tried to contain something that should not be contained!! [Joey] Shut up, Sammy! We’re having problems!

[Joey] Joey is just going to quickly explain that he.................... [Joey] *mumbling to himself* how do you explain this???

[Joey] Um... I guess he’s going to mentally ping Bendy and ask him how he would describe himself? Like... what was his job, I guess?? Security??? [GM] Bendy says that he’s an eldritch construct that was defending a cult... and now he is something else! That he doesn’t have a word for. [Jack] !! He’s a FRIEND now!!! [GM] He’s friend-shaped! But not at the moment. [Joey] No, right now he’s Joey-shaped.

[Sammy] I mean the whole body is garbage but you apparently want Sammy to wear clothes, so whatever.

[GM] Allison adds that she thinks she might have a connection to get you guys in to the party, if you need that -- [Joey] Wouldn't hurt! [GM] -- so long as you don't mind pretending to be the help! [Joey] ...hm,,,

[Joey] Admittedly, having two angles would be better than one. [GM] Two angels, what? [Sammy] There's an "I can be your angle or yuor devil" joke somewhere in this campaign...

[Sammy] Well, we've learned how to bind an angel, [Jack] Gotta teach the angel proper binding techniques!

[Sammy] Sammy will thank Allison for her help. [Joey] Oh god, there IS something wrong with him!

[Joey] Let's go get Norman tied up in this more! So we can hire him later!!

[Sammy] Jack over there like "I hope it doesn't taste bad" meanwhile Sammy's been grimacing as he swallows paint for the last two hours, [GM] Ink is much better, didn't you know! [Sammy] Ink is better... this tastes wrong... [Joey] I just really love the idea of Sammy longingly looking at Joey's flask like, "aw, you have the good medicine, mine tastes like the terrible cherry crap!"

[GM] So you all have shots with Allison! Space juice shots. [Jack] What a way to start the morning!

[Jack] These boys are gonna heckin' pass out! [GM] They got, what, maybe 3 hours of sleep? [Jack] And all of Jack's sleep last night was sat upright in bed, with his glasses on, surrounded by notes, [Henry] sounds like college [Jack] You're exactly right, Jack's sleep was exactly like college! He was stressed, he didn't sleep for very long, he was surrounded by notes, Pete was there,

[Joey] *saying farewell to Allison* Keep yourself safe; don't go out where we're going. [Joey] Unless we don't return, then pLEASE COME OUT AND FIND US,

[GM] Norman says, "Oh, I see you're back with your friends, Smiley." [Jack] I love the concept of Norman calling Sammy "Smiley," and then Prophet Sammy, in response to this, smiles, and Norman has no idea if this is like, weird? or some kind of strange power move to assert dominance.

[GM, as Norman] When I said I saw things happening on the 2nd, you're the one that went pale! [Joey] How's Prophet Sammy's cONCEPT OF TIME, [Sammy] Not great!!!! [Sammy] I don't think he... knows when the 2nd was.

[Sammy] Forgive my memory. That doesn’t ring a bell! [Joey] He's... a little affected right now. [Norman] ...you don't say...

[Joey] Listen. I have $75 here for you, to take us out to the lake, as soon as possible. [a couple minutes of googling later] [Jack] That's equivalent to $1,464. Joey. [Sammy] CAN YOU IMAGINE?? "We need you to take us to the lake please" "Alright, but explain to me what's going on?" "SORRY, the guy who said that is clearly HIGH OUT OF HIS MIND, here's A THOUSAND DOLLARS, take us to the lake please!" [Jack] its a trip to the lake, what could it cost, $75 [Joey] *laughing* I should've looked up how much money I was saying before I was saying it, [Sammy] No, no, I think this is accurate to JOEY DREW

[Henry] Henry is just watching everything happening... [Sammy] Henry is waiting for the next video game breadcrumb trail to show up. [Henry] YEAH, [Jack] “Oh! Looks like I need to put three gears in this thing!”

[Sammy] I'm so angry on Sammy's behalf that you've made him meet two different people like this.

[Joey] If he does ask for money later, Joey's going to give it to him, because he has no concept of.... money.... [Sammy] No concept of GIVING OUT ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS [Jack] Can Joey Drew meet me, in real life, please? [Joey] I don't know if you want that to happen,, that might be more of a curse,,, [Jack] I'll take a curse! Gimme money! [Sammy] vOICE OF EVERY JDS EMPLOYEE

[GM] And you've got suits, and dress shoes...... [Sammy] We are not dressed for this. [Sammy] ...We are more dressed for it than we were earlier. I promise you, Norman, this is a step up, believe it or not.

[Sammy] Probably making a face because it tastes bad. [Henry] Tastes like paint! [GM] The cab driver might just wonder if that's a new drink this year. [Sammy] If nobody jumped on top of Sammy to stop him from using his mouth, he would probably say something with vibes of "this is beyond your comprehension" [Joey] Joey might try to stop that, and instead just be like, “Yes. It is.” [Henry] He's high. Don't worry about it. [Jack] Driver's just like "oh, I should try some of that when I get off work, seems like a good time!" [Sammy] You should! It'll open your eyes! [Sammy] (I'll stop evangelising the cab driver now.)

[Henry] Henry is: Sims Tense Moodlet.

[Joey] Joey instantly does not like this, and it is apparent on his face, if Sammy can see it in the mist. [Sammy] Probably not! [Jack] You could say he mist it!

[Henry] We need to hurry—! [Sammy] *screaming* THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!!!!!

[Sammy] Sammy will be, sort of... whispering reassurance? I don't know how reassuring it actually is, [Henry] I'm sorry Sam, nothing about you is reassuring right now. [Sammy] Just kind of like, hush hush, come my sheep, that sort of thing, [Joey] Prophet ASMR Channel! [Jack] I'm sure Jack would appreciate this actually, it's a shame he's not the one getting this, [Joey] No, he's getting whatever comfort Joey can offer, which, uh, [Sammy] Well, and I will say, he's not like, whispering it in Henry's ear, like-- [Jack] I don't think Sammy in any form is capable of whispering. [Sammy] ...y'know [Sammy] that's fair

[Sammy] Well everyone's doing alright! We're doing great, it's going great! [Jack] Nooooo! No going great! I want more insanities! [Jack] ...I can stop at any time, I swear.

[Sammy] We can hold Norman's hand if you want, like, that's up to you. [Joey] Roll for gay, Norman! [Henry] Take him to dinner first,

[Sammy] This is such a bad idea that we're having.

[Joey] Joey is probably at this point holding onto someone else to guide him, and more in his head than not. [Sammy] Sammy's out of hands at this point, Joey, so you'll just have to figure this out. [Sammy] Got his hands full of sheep.

[Joey] Did Norman drink the juice. [GM] Did he...? Did he...... I think he was convinced enough by “this drink will save your life” that he does take a drink! [Joey] I'll roll intimidation if that helps! [GM] Yeah, you can roll to see how quickly he does it, or if he drinks enough of it. [Joey] *rolls* That's an EXTREME SUCCESS. [GM] Well, there we go; there's a preview, Norman, of your work environment!

[nyan-koii]

Hashira ft. Sabito as genshin impact players

aunotes : Bad grammar ahead! I didnt proofread it so be aware of brain damage. plus i initially wrote it at the 1.6 update

PART 1 : T.Muichiro, R.Kyojuro, K.Shinobu, S.Sanemi, U.Tengen 

Muichiro : he probably would be uninterested at first. He's more to first person shooting game or anything other than this concept of farming or investing. So that's why when he saw yuichirou banging his fist on his desk, trying to get his fav character, he would simply just watch

"Fck this game, i've had enough,"

"But you havent finish your wishing things yet,"

Stares. "How about you give it a try mui. You might get the character i want,"

"You sure about that? You might get angry at me," "better than nothing. Now go go, get em you donkey,"

His first ten pulls on the game brings out a light we all want to see

"Eh is tha-" "AAAA A FUCKING 5 STAR FCK FCKFCK,"

Apparently, it was one of the luckiest wish yuichiro had ever seen so far

"OHMYFUCK, you GOT A GODDAMN KLEE, QIQI AND SUCROSE WTFF???"

"I think i get your fav character?"

"Yeahh!! More than that to be honest. I want klee but you brought me two more person," sniffles and cries "you're really lucky mui. You should try and play the game,"

"It's probably the system. I doubt im that lucky tho,"

Nah, he really is lucky. Apparently he wished for his friends and got what they all really wanted for so long

"Thank you for getting me the aquila favonia, muichiro,"

"It's nothing really. I just simply press the button. It might be the system that's giving you the thing you want when i wish,"

"But still, even if i were to wish, i can get really scared and paranoid over it,"

"That's bad. You shouldnt invest yourself that much in the game tanjiro. It's just a game,"

"Ehehehe, i guess so. But you're really good at it muichiro! If you download it, we can play together :D!"

!!!!

It took the word "play together" to get muichiro down on his knee for that game. Usually the idea of playing with your friends is not that interesting. So when tanjiro said that, you bet he's going to play it

Type of player

Extremely lucky it's not even real. He got a five star on the beginner's banner

Fast farming. He probably will complete all the quest and become an endgame player within one month

"I just wanted to play with tanjiro..." bashfully

He's really good with whatever he's doing. Attack combo, dodging, elemental reaction and all sorts of stuff. If he invest more of his time on artifacts, he would probably even one shot it!!

He's very lucky. Very

Kyojuro : he wouldnt even know the existence of this game. Well, he took a glimpse of it one day and boom, heart stolen. Maybe it was the fiery burning passion in bennett that made him play the game.

'oh wow!! What a determined young boy! Even though he has a very bad luck he still keep pushing forward! Amazing!!'

'I want to be like him'

Kyojuro's the type of player to read and pay attention to every single lore of his fav character. Bennett, oh my how he wish he could've had bennett in his team. Every wishes he made would make him a c6 bennett main if only barbara wont stop coming home

"I really like you barbara but i dont want you!! Thank you for the c6 though!! I promise to use you in the future but just-" he prepares to wish

"not NOW!!" Clicks

The highest con of bennett he had ever gotten is probably c1. One day the paimon's bargain shop offered bennett as their monthly character. Kyojuro had never been so excited over a game before. He usually perks up over academics and not this kind of thing. But it's bennett, the character he admires the most.

Unfortunately he couldnt get it due to low currency. He had never feel so sad in his life.

"I shall not give up. Dont worry, i will be a c6 bennett main!!!"

He will be a c6 bennett haver!!

Type of player :

Carefully reads every stories and listens to their lines attentively. He finds it amazing how the company spent their everything on this game. It amazes him. From the stories, lores and lines, he truly appreciates it.

Balance his team pretty well. He mains bennett so he doesnt need that much of a healer in his team.

Enjoys bennett's hangout very much!! He tried to not get him killed by the dungeon's trap but ended up having to sacrifice him which ultimately ends the route. He had never felt so down and guilty before.

Not much of a damage dealer. He prefers to play it in normal mode and doesnt care that much about one shotting monster.

He feeds his character three meals a day!! If only there's a sleep option, he would be sending bennett to sleep first before the rest.

Everyone loves his teapot

Shinobu : found the game while she's scrolling through the app store out of boredom. Initially she played it on her phone but due to the fps and a really bad ping, so bad that douma wouldnt find her interesting anymore, she finally downloaded the game on her pc where things has starting to get real

"Ara, shinobu chan, it's lunch time already. Come downstairs please,"

"Sis give me five more minutes, JUST FIVE PLEASE I NEED TO KICK CHILDE's ASS,"

"he's not going anywhere sweetie,"

"yEAHH BUT MY BP IS,"

'Bp?'

"DIE DIE DIE!!" Aggresive clicking intensifies

"Shinobu chan dont hurt the keyboard that much!!"

She got lucky on the beginner's banner too and pulled a 5 star along with bennett and noelle. Who's the 5 star? Diluc Ragnvindr in all of his glory. Shinobu benched him sadly. She prefers sword over any other weapon

"I mean he's cool i guess but i just really dont get that 'WOAHHH COOL' vibe from him you know?"

"then give your diluc to me! I really want him so bad shinobu chan!"

Deep sighs "yeah sure. You can have my c2 diluc mitsuri..."

Loses 50/50 to diluc everytime everyone would think she either is lucky or cursed by the amount of that man greeting him on the screen. She still bench him though, sadly

"Im begging you, give me jEANN THE GRANDMASTER I NEED HEALER iN MY PARTY TO DO ABYSS

Type of player :

Suffers a lot in the abyss because she just want the primos which is a valid reason to do because that's the only thing that keeps her going

She's a sword character main. She'll properly build every character as either support or dps. The support would be kaeya and bennett, and her main dps ayaka

Ayaka main btw

Honestly at some point she wanted to quit the game because of how tiring it is but then inazuma came out

Fragile resin = 0

Resin = 160/160 happens once in a blue moon

"i should probably control myself with the amount of resin i've used,"

"But i cant,"

Hates domain but always can be seen playing in there

Only coops if mitsuri is there

"So that someone can calm me down,"

"That's not a really good reason shinobu chan,"

Sanemi : dude probably know the game through obanai. He watched the latter play and finds it interesting on how high the numbers he dealt. He loves challenges so a game like genshin impact would probably satisfy his need.

"Obanai, are you hearing this shit?"

"What is it sanemi, im busy doing this event,"

"That loser giyuu is also playing the game,"

"Oh yeah i know,"

"YOU KNOW? WHY YOU DIDNT TELL ME??"

"i just know right after you told me,"

"...."

Sanemi's a meta but a mediocre one. He's meta but he doesnt show it that much. Probably buys welkin once in every three months or when he really needs it same goes with battle pass too. Honestly, he really just use his money when he really needs something

"Donno if my allowance can buy me a welkin so i'll probably skip,"

"But the next banner is zhongli's,"

"....."

"Ah fuck it," buys

My man cant dodge after he got zhongli. Its very painful because he used to studies the enemies movement in the early game so that he can utilizes it on the team but zhongli's shield is so tank he forgot that dodging exists

"Im gonna kill you and you and you hhahaahhaah just you wait im gonna shred all of yo- oh shit zhongli's shield. puT IT BACK PUT IT BACK ON,"

That one event where zhongli's shield plays an important role in the domain? Yeah, he felt like a god at that time. Even got his c2 on his rerun. Sanemi just really like zhongli because it kinda reminds him of himejima. Calm and wise and strong too. He looks up on that kind of person

"Zhongli sama, im in debt for all of your hard work protecting my team," bows and wipes tears

Type of player :

Spends a little money on the game to get what he wants

Zhongli main

Is that one player that has hoards of food but doesnt even use it

"Why need healer when you have zhongli's shield,"

Compare to kyojuro, he doesnt even touch the teapot because he finds it ridiculous and bothersome to create and design everything in it

Loves one shotting bosses and compares it to giyuu. He ask for advices from obanai regarding team build supports and stuffs

Doesnt do character's story quest. The key is full every single time. He unlocks it but leaves the quest like that.

"Ah shit, i accidentally activate the quest,"

His friend list only has obanai in it. Whenever people sent him friend request, he wouldnt hesitate, more like wouldnt care to accept it

They either have to coop in obanai's world or his world and after that, unfriend immediately

Says thank you after coop because he has manners and then completely disappears

"Zhongli main forever,"

Tengen : played since 1.0 this madlad has been staying loyal to the game ever since. Quite huge amount of money he spend on this game to be honest but he never gets broke by it. You can see his regular donation to the game by purchasing welkin and battle pass and some genesis crystal too. He's loaded with money, he didnt know what to do with it.

Uzui also plays honkai impact and guns girl Z so when he saw the unknown god at the intro , he was not surprised.

"Oh we have to pick between the siblings? Cool cool co- oh hi kiana,"

"Thats so herrscher of void hahahahah,"

Although he is a loyal fan to MihoYo games, he lost his composure when he saw the 1st genshin anniversary reward because what was that. Imagine getting billions of money and they give us this? Tengen cant believe this shit

"Oh god wtf was that reward, i have to draw to get a welkin and some primos?? aND I ALSO HAVE TO BE LUCKY? WHAT-"

"WHERE'S MY FREE MONA,"

In need of mona. He needs mona so bad he literally spent his money on standard banner to get mona but always ends up with qiqi. Not that he's complaining but he just wants the astrologist to complete the support team

"GOD QIQI YOU AGAIN? WTF WFF WTF-" converts genesis crystal to primigems

"Tengen, you should control yourself!"

"SHUT UP KYOJURO, IM GONNA WASTE MY MONEY TILL I GET HER,"

"yeah but my f2p ass is hurting with how many bennett cons you got," droops

Tengen sees potential in every character. Everyone has their weakness and strength so when kokomi comes out, he diss her at first but then realize maybe its a new way for a character. Adds the uniqueness if he may say so.

"Meh i dont care honestly. You guys should pull whoever you find nice or beautiful. Like me ;)"

"Who do you main uzui?"

"Beidou,"

Type of player

Spoils the storylines, lores, leaks A LOT THE REST HAVE TO BLOCK HIM ON SOCIAL MEDIA

Speed runs the game and has become an endgame player ever since but he still does his daily commission and helps people with domains and stuffs

R5 every battle pass weapon

Fights azhdaha for fun and to test out his characters rather than ruin guards and stuff

Mona wanter

Puts traveller as the pfp and doesnt display any showcase of his characters and namecards. You can only see his achievements and spiral abyss ( 12-3 ). Says its for fun and mystery

Throws a lot of pickup lines and roleplays a lot. Spams your chatbox messages with stickers and censored stuffs

Probably steals your ores and exotic things like violetgrass, qingxin and silk flowers

Screams in the chatbox whenever he saw Mona until Kyojuro had to calm him down

Changes signature every single time and sometimes put spoilers in it

In every survey he would complain "MihoYo where the fuck is my Mona,"

Doesnt heals his characters

[uswntxfootball]

Working Overtime (USWNT x Reader)

request: @ko5-greyson​ ; You could do a uswnt x reader where they are overworking themselves with soccer and staying up to late with school work. they don’t notice cause she doesn’t have a roommate and stuff. Everything else is up too you if you want. (This post is way to long sorry)

word count: 1368 ish

the team was prepping hard for the upcoming olympics, including extra practices and trainings every week. for the other players, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but for you, the 20 year old forward who is also currently attending stanford university, that means staying up until 4 am for classes. 

a/n: for anyone that’s confused, your classes are all online! (also i’m kinda a very big press stand if y’all haven’t noticed :D) also this is a pretty bad imagine so just bear with me here :/

----

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath as you check your watch. Your chemistry lecture had started twenty minutes ago, and you were just now getting out of training. You run out of the weight room as fast as you can, cursing under your breath when you forget your bag, coming back to pick it up, then sprinting out of the weight room and across the street to your hotel. Your teammates stared at you with heavy interest, no one daring to stop you. When you’ve made your way out of the room, it’s Pinoe who’s first to break the silence. “What’s with her?” Everyone shrugs and shakes their head in an “I don’t know” motion. ~~ Everything for the first two years had been smooth sailing, but with the additional practices and trainings for the upcoming Olympics, your life quickly began to spiral out of control. You take a glance over at your clock, sighing when you realize it’s already 3 am. You were thankful you didn’t have a roommate, as your late night study sessions would most likely be of annoyance. You had yet to figure out the last few chemistry problems assigned that day, but unfortunately for you, you had training the next morning at 8. Vlatko would kill you if you missed practice, and your professor would kill you if you didn’t finish the homework. You set an alarm for 4 am, promising yourself to work just one more hour, so then you can arrive to practice with...a healthy...3 hours of sleep..? When 4 am hits, you (thankfully) finish everything, and as soon as your back touches the mattress, you’re out. You arrive to practice the next morning with heavy bags under your eyes, religiously chugging coffee in an attempt to make up for the lack of sleep you’d gotten the night before. Practice was a mess, you were a clumsy mess around the ball, missing shots you’d normally never miss. The team could tell you were off your game, but they just assumed you were up partying and were hungover or something, and so no one commented anything on it. When you’re dismissed and practice ends, you feel like you’ve just run a marathon. You’re ready to pass out from exhaustion, and you want nothing more than to lay down and sleep. But as soon as you step into your room and lay on your bed, you suddenly remember that it’s finals week in two weeks, and you had a lot of catching up to do, after missing your bio labs and physics labs during the time of olympic qualifying matches. You let out a groan and shove your head under a pillow, cursing the gods for making your life so miserable. ~~ With finals week approaching, your life has just gone from busy, to I barely have time to breathe. You got 20 hours of sleep total in the next week, with you pulling all nighters here and there. And as a result, you started arriving to morning training later and later, with a cup of coffee in hand and heavy bags under your eyes. By this point, the team began to worry about you. You were always very adamant about being on time, as you always chided them (particularly Ash) for being late, saying, “Early is on time, and on time is late.” So Friday morning when it’s 8:35 and you still haven’t shown up to practice, the team began to panic. “Do you think she’s okay?” Kelley asked Mal, who gave a halfhearted shrug and whispered, “I hope so.” “She doesn’t have a roommate does she?” “No she doesn’t.” “Should we go check on her?” The duo brought up their request to the team, the team nodding and let them go as they were equally worried about you. And so here they were, Kelley and Mal making their way up to your room, keycard in hand. ~~ What greeted them was the sight of you passed out on your desk, textbooks open and pencil still in hand. The sound of the door closing is what wakes you from your sleep, your eyes widening when you see the two girls standing in your room. You glance at your watch and realize that practice is over. You weren’t just late, you had missed it. “Shit.” You muttered, trying to pack your bags to maybe talk to Vlatko and somehow make up your missed practice. “Y/N.” Kelley says, bringing you out of your desperate scrambling. You pause your efforts and look up. In your hurry you had completely forgotten about the two girls standing here before you. “I’m so sorry.” You stammer apologetically. “I stayed up late studying and I just lost track of time and I j-“ “Y/N.” Mal says sternly, cutting you off. “What’s keeping you up anyways?” Kelley inquires. “I’m studying chemical engineering at Stanford and finals week is coming soon and it’s kicking my ass.” You say with a sigh, missing the way Kelley’s jaw drops in amazement. “You’re studying chemical engineering.” “Yes.” “At Stanford.” “That would be correct.” “While training for the Olympics.” “Yup.” “You’re insane.” “Trust me I know. I just didn’t want Vlatko or my professor or you guys to treat me any different so I haven’t told you all anything...” You look off to the side awkwardly. “Oh Y/N...” Mal moves to give you a hug, with Kelley following suit. “We’ll figure something out okay? We don’t want you killing yourself over this.” You nodded into the hug, unable to keep a tear from falling out. You were so tired and so stressed, it was a miracle you hadn’t fallen apart (completely). You stayed there for a little bit longer, reveling in the warm embrace of your friends. ~~ “You’re studying WHAT?” Vlatko exclaims in surprise. “Chemical engineering” You say softly, worried about his reaction. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?? I mean you’re in your junior year already.” “I just didn’t want to be benched or taken off as a starter because I was in school...” You trailed off. “Especially not for the Olympic roster.” You add. “I see..” Vlatko states, fingers gently drumming on his chin. “Well, I’ll figure something out.” “I’m sure you will. Come to me if you need anything.” “Will do, coach.” ~~ “You’re WHAT??” Your professor exclaims in shock. “I’m a forward for the USWNT and I’m training for the Olympics currently.” You say softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t want any extensions or extra credit just because I was on a national soccer team..” A similar conversation with Vlatko happens with your professor, and you’re thankful that both your teacher and your coach were so understanding. ~~ “I’m rooming with you now.” Christen declares, bursting into your room at 4 pm. “What? Chris?” You ask, taking your earbuds out. You were in a lecture currently, and you certainly didn’t expect someone to bust into your room. “Oh and me too” Tobin waves from behind Christen. “As your appointed team moms it is our job to make sure that you’re sleeping well and eating well and are healthy so that is exactly what we are going to do.” Christen states, dragging her suitcase through the door. And do that she did, for the next week up until finals, Christen made sure you slept at 11, so you would have enough energy for practice. She made sure you drank plenty of water, and managed your time efficiently to get everything done. With Christen by your side, the next week was a breeze, and you felt less stress than you ever had in your life. Tobin of course, sat around doing Tobin things, playing ping pong against a wall whilst juggling a soccer ball non stop (though Chris would push her out of your room whenever you were in need to study). So when finals week hit, you were more than prepared, all the while tearing up the field during practice. And a week later when you saw the Olympic start up with your name on it, you squealed and hugged Christen and Tobin tight, muttering a million thank yous. You were glad that you had people that cared about you.