#best rock from argentina

[seansmusichunt]

Odd Story of Pescado Rabioso | Luis Alberto Spinetta Documentary

The album “Artaud” released under the band name Pescado Rabioso is often considered the greatest rock album to ever come from Argentina but it wasn’t actually recorded by the band known as Pescado Rabioso. This is my second video about the bands of Luis Alberto Spinetta but you don’t need to watch the Almendra video to enjoy this one, so join me now for the full story of this fascinating…

[moonlightwonu]

전원우 // Jeon Wonwoo Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

나에게 어떤 슬픔도 없는 세상은  너니까~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“Play Again” by @shuarush

Fem!reader || Friends to coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mild angst || W.C: 37.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･after ten years of not seeing your high school crush you find yourself partnered with him at the company you work for. Since you've been rejected before, you try your best to not let any feelings flourish, but Jeon Wonwoo's charms make that attempt especially hard for you. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Underlying Pretense” (Part of the Game Over series) by @lovelyhan

Fem!reader || Streamer au, enemies to lovers, smut, fuck buddies || W.C: 10.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･being two of the most popular streamers across the board, your subscribers often speculate if your constant bickering with wonwoo has some underlying pretense. little did they know, the two of you have everything on display on a single, unsuspecting twitter account. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Favorite Poison” (Part of the Game Over series) by @/lovelyhan

Fem!reader || Streamer au, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, fuck buddies || W.C: 15.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial to his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.  

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Endpoint” by @highvern

Fem!reader || Uni TA au, FWB to idiots to lovers, fluff, smut, angst || W.C: ~19.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Heart of the Sea” by @/highvern

Fem!reader || Pirate au, Royalty au, Angst, Romance, Adventure || W.C: 22k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“34.6037° S, 58.3816° W” by @the-boy-meets-evil

Fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, angst || W.C: ~22.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“HER” by @chocosvt

[Series] || fem!reader || Uni au, slowburn, strong angst, drama, romance, smut || Total W.C: 140k || Parts: 6 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Payment Due” by @solarwonux

Fem!reader || Uni au, sexworker au, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 56.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･HYBE U one of the top highly prestigious universities in the country. A shit hole, a total money making scam that liked to sucked the life out of its students. Not being able to meet the funds to pay for your tuition your best friend lets you in a little secret. A way he’s been keeping afloat for years now, easy money. The problem is you want in. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Cats and Coffee for Two” by @multi-kpop-fanfics

Fem!reader || Coworkers to lovers, fluff, comedy, smut || W.C: 12.2k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Job hunting is a tough sport and Wonwoo has experienced it to its core. One fine autumn day comes where he's finally free from the shackles of unemployment, but he will soon find himself in the shackles of coffee, tea and cat hairs, But most importantly, he will have to share these shackles with you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Flower” by @wonwoonlight

Fem!reader || Exes to coworkers au, angst, slice of life, fluff || W.C: ~13k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Wanna be yours” by @viastro

Gn!reader || Uni au, childhood friends to strangers to loversish, angst, fluff, humor || W.C: ~9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you thought that growing up as best friends meant you’d stick together for as long as you could. you never thought of that exact chance for you and wonwoo until entering university, where you were nothing but his driver when he was out partying for too long. so why do you still pick up the phone when he calls you if he’s the one who left first?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Twisted Fate” by @smileysuh

Afab!reader || Vampire au, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, smut || W.C: 14.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･“He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“My Way to You” by @/wonwoonlight

[Series] || fem!reader || heir/heiress au, best friends to lovers, fluff, drama, angst || Total W.C: ~47k || Parts: 13(+1 epilogue) || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You don’t remember a time when you don’t have Wonwoo by your side. But when things happen and you’re left to deal with your feelings, you can’t help but wonder if what you have with him can be framed under the name of friendship after all. or, alternatively, Wonwoo’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember and he doesn’t know if he should be thankful or not that you’ve never suspected him for it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“By the Moon” by @/wonwoonlight

Werewolf au, fantasy au, angst, fluff, hurt comfort, action, suggestive || W.C: ~18k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“All My Love” by @pepperonidk

[Series] || Fem!reader || High School au, fluff || Parts: 10 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him. (alt. jeon wonwoo is mr. darcy incarnated… a fumbling nerd turned popular kid)

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[reddpenn]

Now that I'm back from the gem and mineral show, here are all the Cool Rocks I came home with!

A cute little coral fossil! He looks like a cauliflower.

A Keokuk geode! These geode beds aren't far from where I live, and it's always fun to have local specimens.

Phosphosiderite! This purple stone comes from Chile. It's so soft that it has to be stabilized with resin before it's cut. This one is a cross section of a botryoidial formation!

Speaking of botryoidial, this Hematite! Botryoidial means it has a bubbly shape kind of like a bunch of grapes. The faces of the bubbles on this pieces are super shiny and metallic.

Dendritic chalcedony, from Turkey! It's a white chalcedony full of dendrites - branching formations of manganese that look kind of like trees!

A cabochon for my cab collection! This one is made from a material sometimes called "ajooba jasper." The pattern is actually a cross section of a bunch of colorfully jasperized bivalve fossils!

Speaking of jasper, this one is Blue Mountain jasper, from Oregon! The circles in this stone are what’s known as an “egg pattern,” and jaspers which have them (Blue Mountain, Imperial jasper, and a few others) are collectively known as “fine jaspers,” the most valuable jaspers in the world.

Hyalite opal! This stuff forms water-clear spheres that look like jelly.

It fluoresces bright green under UV light!

Now to show off this year's haul of awesome agates!

Dryhead agate, from the Bighorn Mountains in Montana! This agate is named after the many bison skulls found in the area. A weird shaped guy with awesome red and orange bands.

Bou Lili agate, from Morocco! I like the name of this one. Soft banding and very subtle, muted colors. I've heard that this locale can produce peachy colors too.

Bear Canyon agate, from the Pryor Mountains in Montana! Agates from this locale have very stark black and white banding.

Red Fox agate, from Argentina! Sometimes this material is also called "crater agate" because the area it comes from is near the crater of an ancient volcano.

A Blue Sky thunderegg, from New Mexico! Thundereggs from this locale often have this two pointed, saucer-like shape.

It fluoresces really brightly!

Dulcote agate, from England! The bands of this agate are full of calcite, which gives them a strange, distinct texture.

Malawi agate, from Malawi! See all the cracks in it? Almost all Malawi agates have them. Frequent earthquakes due to the East African Rift cause these agates to crack and fracture.

Paint Rock agate, from Paint Rock Valley in Alabama! This agate is very rarely banded, and usually just contains swirls of red and yellow color.

A big, unpolished slab of Montana agate! This agate is known for its clear banding and black lines and spots, which are caused by manganese dendrites.

It's best viewed with some light behind it!

A smaller piece with really amazing dendrites!

Here it is backlit!

Fighting Blood agate, from Hebei Provence in China! This locale is known for its super saturated reds and yellows. This piece has purple amethyst crystals growing inside! They didn't photograph well; they are much more purple in person.

A really weird Fighting Blood agate! This one lacks the bright colors typical of this locale, but makes up for it with that super cool spiderweb pattern!

And finally, as is tradition, I came home with some Ethiopian opals! Here are the five I got this year.

And that's everything I got at the show!

[strawberryrafaxzd]

⋅˚₊‧ Oikawa Headcanons ⋅˚₊‧ Gn reader enjoy ⭑.ᐟ

✮Whenever Oikawa is with you, he lets his "tough guy" mask fall off. That's why, most of the time, you two tend to have calmer dates, deviating a bit from the usual, like picnics in parks, watching movies, and other things.

✮He likes to lie on your lap while you play with his hair. He complains about how he hates geniuses like his kohai Kageyama (ahhajaja lol) and other things that annoyed him. You just laugh at the cute and funny way he imitates them and give him a peck while his cheeks turn red and he kisses you back.

✮As silly as it may seem, he has some kind of shame about feeling this inferiority complex and hates showing that he feels insecure. The only person he feels safe to talk about this with is you, so be prepared to take his late-night calls and comfort him. Believe me, it will take hours for you to convince him that you are serious when you say he's an incredible player. Even if he thinks he will never measure up to the "geniuses," that's the biggest lie because he's already superior to them just by the effort he puts in "to reach their level."

✮Oikawa often gets "mad" and throws a tantrum because you refuse to go see him play and cheer for him because you're afraid that, one day, one of his crazy fans will throw a rock at your head out of jealousy (akhajajakakakak sorry, I had to write that). But it turns out he always convinces you to go by looking at you with his puppy eyes and that pout. No matter how hard you try, you always end up losing to your sweet boyfriend. But maybe it's not so bad to lose since, in the end, he will always be there thanking you for being the best girlfriend in the world, cheering for him while he showers you with kisses on your face.

✮When his family has special events, his mom always invites you. She definitely loves you, always saying how Toru finally found someone to straighten him out. The gatherings always end with you and his nephew doing his makeup and styling his hair with ribbons and braids. In the end, Oikawa always ends up toppling both of you over, tickling you until his mom sees the three of you sleeping on the floor hugging each other (she always smiles, sighs, and covers you with a blanket, saying,( "these young ones nowadays").

✮In that same vein, when Oikawa sees you and his nephew bonding and having fun, he thinks of one of his greatest dreams. Aside from his volleyball career, it's to marry you and have a family together. He definitely can't wait for that.

✮One of the dates you love the most is when Iwa joins you two. You always die laughing at their fights. You and Iwa get along very well. To be honest, when you buy or make sweets or any kind of food for Oikawa, you always make extra for (wa to eat too ;)

✮Omg, who is that person who isn't even from Seijou that is screaming nonstop in the Aoba Josai cheering section against Karasuno? Wait, the person just called Karasuno's number 9 an idiot.

(Stories say that when Aoba Josai lost, you cried more than the players themselves. Yes, you are Aoba Josai's biggest fan.)

✮One of the cutest things ever seen was you going to his school to deliver his glasses that he left at your game night on Friday and putting them on him, giving him a kiss in front of everyone during recess. By the way, he didn't use to wear glasses because he thought they looked ugly until one day he asked what you thought, and you said he looked "super hot" with glasses hehe (Matsun and Makki still wonder why

Oikawa suddenly decided to wear glasses every day and almost die when he forgets them).

✮Oikawa always wears the sweaters you wore and the ones you drew little stars on. When Iwa notices that he always wears sweaters with stars and a perfume that doesn't belong to him and asks why, he simply says, "it's my way of showing others that I belong to my angel."

Bônus ⊹˖ :

Iwa still has nightmares about the time when Oikawa had gone to Argentina and hadn't settled in yet. Only he knows what it was like to hear you crying out of longing when you went out to bars together after your video calls with Oikawa. At least now he can sleep well knowing that Oikawa is finally okay and has managed to take you to Argentina with him. Now it's Iwa who gets the video calls from the two of you😊🥹🥹

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚

Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language I hope you enjoy it, it's the first time I've written headcannos so it definitely wouldn't have been that good, I hope you enjoyed it

[earlycuntsets]

"your star

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

The Black Parade is Dead!

At this point, MCR needs no introduction. The band led by Gerard Way is an icon of current punk-rock and every day thousands of fans around the world join their "carnival". The good news is that the quintet will release The Black Parade is Dead! this month and we will invite you to its launch!

BY: XABIERA SAN MIGUEL B.

When My Chemical Romance visited South America with their world tour last February and we learned that Chile and Argentina were included in the tour, we perfectly understood that thousands of fans would fulfill their dream of seeing their favorite band live, however, not all of them could attend the event, and for that reason, when we found out that the CD+DVD The Black Parade is Dead! would be arriving in record stores on July 5th, we got our act together and got ex-clusive tickets for the launch. Yes, just as you read it, we will invite you to the premiere of My Chemical's new material…, but first things first, you should first know what all the musical fuss is about.

Why not miss The Black Parade is Dead!

To begin with, this is the second live DVD in the career of the quintet from New Jersey, which began its history in the winter of 2001. The first was Life on the Murder Scene and was released in 2006.

The dual-format material includes completely live images and sounds, and compiles two concerts from The Black Parade World Tour, but they are two completely different concerts from each other.

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

DEAD

The tour, which began in February 2007 and ended on May 9 at New York's Madison Square Garden, included 138 dates of electrifying concerts, in which Gerard Way, Ray Toro, Bob Bryar, Frank Lero and Mikey Way

they gave their best.

On the one hand there is the CD with the complete recording of the show that the band offered last October 7 at the Palacio de

www.theblackparadeisdead.com"

[next page]

The boys performed on October 24, 2007 at Maxwell's Club in Hoboken, New Jersey, in front of about 200 people.

The DVD was directed by Adam Rothlein, an expert in the field, who had already worked on DVDs for Green Day, System of a Down, All-American Rejects and Disturbed.

As this is a limited and collectible edition, edited especially for fans, the material comes in a digipack (cardboard box with two compartments, one for each disc) and includes a booklet.

20 pages with exclusive photos from both concerts.

The second envelope of the packaging includes a sheet printed on both sides, with thanks from the group and photos of the merchandising available online.

Mexico City Sports. On this occasion, MCR reviewed its entire album The Black Parade.

The album will be available at the Record Fair the first week of July and its reference price is $15,000. Both materials will not be sold separately.

On the other hand, there is the DVD that rescues the very intimate concert that

If you were one of those who attended the show that MCR offered in Santiago de Chile, you probably remember that on that occasion, unfortunately Frank Iero, the band's guitarist, could not be present. Well, this is your chance to see it in all its dimensions.

We invite you to the launch of The Black Parade is Dead!

For the only time in history, Warner Music has organised a DVD Avant Premiere as a DVD release, so you can watch the concert on the big screen! So pay attention and come get your tickets. Tú Magazine and Warner Music invite you to the DVD Avant Premiere

The Black Parade is Dead!

To attend the Avant Première, redeem

Free! This coupon for an invitation

for two people in our office,

Located at: Rosario Norte 555, 18th Floor.

Neruda Building. Las Condes, Santiago.

The function will take place on Tuesday

July 8, 2008, 7:00 p.m.

at Cinemark Alto Las Condes (Kennedy Avenue 9001, Las Condes. Santiago, Chile).

Don't be left out: We have 40

double invitations.

We will be open between 10:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m.

Promotion valid until Friday, July 7, 2008, or while supplies last

invitations.

On the day of the event, The Black Parade is Dead! will be sold prior to the performance."

tu mexico 06/2008

link to the black parade is dead full show with the mentioned maxwells hoboken nj 10/28/2007 show

[kingofech0park]

six ways to say you're my everything

iwaoi (wc: 6,442)

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four. Fourteen years later, he's moving to Argentina. Hajime has never been good with words, so how can he find a way to tell his best friend he loves him before it's too late?

Alternatively, a million times Iwaizumi tries to say I love you, and one time the two manage to get it right.

______

The new kid moves into the house across the street when Iwaizumi is four.

Hajime watches the big moving van pull up in front of the house with great curiosity. He likes trucks. This one comes with a big dining room table, a couch, a little-kid bed frame that’s just the same size as his– and a whiny brat with huge eyes like milk chocolate and brown hair that’s so shiny that Hajime wants to reach out and touch it, and find out if it’s real. The kid seems perpetually anxious, always hiding behind his mother when he makes accidental eye contact with Hajime through the windowpane but still peering out from behind her legs to catch another glance. 

Hajime thinks he’s weird. He tells his mother this, to which she unceremoniously kicks him outside to go make a friend.

So he’s standing outside, scuffed velcro sneakers kicking a rock through the grass when it happens– New Kid is laying down in the grass across the road, looking through the green blades, and then he screams and sprints across the road without even bothering to look both ways. He’s weird. He also runs straight towards Hajime, screaming continuously and uninterrupted, and not even a full body slam into the other boy can get him to shut up.

“HEY!” Hajime shouts at New Kid, who is now fully on top of him and screeching still to heaven and earth and anyone else who could hear him (which is most everyone in Miyagi, Hajime is sure) and the New Kid pauses to take a breath, trembling and eyes huge and glassy with tears as he stares at Hajime momentarily. 

“I saw a bee .” New Kid whispers before the tears spill over and he begins wailing. Jeez. He’s so weird, Hajime thinks, but wraps him up in a hug anyway and pats his back with one tiny hand. The kid buries his snotty crying face into Hajime’s Godzilla t-shirt and as much as he wants to shove him off, the boy’s hair is just as soft as it looks and all up under Hajime’s chin.

“Did it even sting you?” Hajime questions, half annoyed, half jokingly.

“It DIDN’T.” New Kid looks up with indignation, already wiping away the tears. “But it’s a BEE and I don’t LIKE IT.”

“Were you scared? Lotsa people are scared of bees.” Hajime reassures him, patting his back again. The other boy swipes his hand aside.

“I’m not scared. I don’t get scared because I’m super brave!” It’s not a very convincing show, considering the flush on the boy’s cheeks from all the crying and the string of snot dripping from his tiny nose, but he seems dead set on this fact, so Hajime doesn’t push it.

“Well I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.” He says. “I live in the blue house.”

“Iwai… Iway-soomy?”

“IWAIZUMI.” He corrects firmly. New Kid looks like he’s about to burst into tears again as he tries to pronounce it, tongue stumbling over the Z, and Hajime relents. “You can just call me Iwa, I guess.”

“Iwa… that sounds DUMB.” New Kid sticks out his tongue. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.” Hajime is just getting ready to light into him for calling his name dumb when Oikawa says cheerily, “I’ll just call you Iwa-chan!”

“NO!”

“Iwa-chan!!” The new kid hits Hajime with this thousand watt grin, one that feels like sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and makes his heartbeat speed up, or maybe skip a few beats. He brushes off the feeling as best as he can and hides the sudden weirdness underneath a facade of annoyance.

“You’re just mad you can’t pronounce my name, Dumbykawa.”

“HEY! That is very mean.” Oikawa says, stomping one foot. “Iwa-chan is a meanie.”

“It’s IWAIZUMI!”

And so begins the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

Within a few weeks of the Oikawas moving in, Hajime has become Tooru’s brave knight in shining armor, and Tooru his delicate prince.

As much as the brunette claims to be big and strong and valiant, he screams when he sees ladybugs and the Iwaizumis’ dog and cries when Hajime reminds him that he’s shorter. “I’ll grow taller than you one day.” Tooru proclaims, cheeks pink and embarrassed, and shrieks at his Iwa-chan to stop laughing after.

Hajime has never had anyone to share everything with before. They eat melonpan and milkbread together in the green grass of spring and share watermelon popsicles when the sticky heat of summer comes around. Oikawa screams when grasshoppers appear before them as they sit on the curb and leaps into his knight’s arms, screaming “SAVE ME, IWA-CHAN.” as he hides behind tiny fingers. June passes fast and July faster, a blink of an eye in 31 long afternoons spent wading in the creek and catching dragonflies. Birthdays pass by full of excitement and cake and new toys to play with, but their new five-year-old status means something new: by August, the pair have a far greater foe than large bugs and thunder to reckon with. They are going to kindergarten. 

Oikawa doesn’t want to, vocally complaining every chance he gets, and Hajime doesn’t either– but he still holds his prince’s hand and tells him important things, like that it’ll be just fine and don’t you want to get super smart and big like your mom and dad? Tooru nods, face screwed up tearfully like it always is when anything remotely bad happens, and the two prepare for the first day of school of their lives.

The last sleepover of summer hurts in all the best ways. Oikawa is up in Iwaizumi’s godzilla themed bedroom with his alien patterned pillow under one arm and the two play trucks late into the night, the last sunset of freedom streaking gold and orange across the evening sky. They watch movies until too late, eat far too many sugary snacks, and as night falls, Oikawa snuggles into bed next to Hajime despite the existence of a perfectly good futon and whispers into his neck, “Iwa-chan, I’m scared.”

“Me too.” Hajime mumbles. He knows he’s the brave knight. He knows he’s supposed to protect Tooru, his sweet prince, but he’s scared. And they’re only five. And kindergarten feels like the biggest monster he’s ever had to fight, or maybe the end of the world.

“But I’ll be with you!” Oikawa looks utterly shocked, surprise written all over his five-year-old features, rosy cheeks so endearing, eyes so big and brown and warm. “Iwa-chan will protect me and I’ll protect Iwa-chan.”

“Yep! That’s a good idea.” Hajime feels the smile spreading over his face as the brunette snuggles closer. 

“We’ll be together forever, right, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks. His face is all pink and sweet and worried, and Hajime doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t have the words yet to say, of course. I want you with me always and forever and no matter what. Doesn’t know how to say I love you. So he just kisses his best friend on the cheek, short and swift, and hides under the covers.

“Yeah. Go to sleep, Dumbykawa.” He mutters, face flushed.

Iwaizumi is sure of the undeniable truth at that moment– as long as they are together, everything will be okay.

______

Elementary school comes and goes in a whirlwind of time after the two discover volleyball in second grade. 

At first, Iwaizumi is sure it’s another one of Oikawa’s phases that come and go– brief obsessions with constellations, with aliens, with dinosaurs, with drawing, with baking (the shortest, forcefully put to an end by his mother after he almost set fire to the kitchen) but the sport sticks in his life, a new and permanent fixture that changes their friendship in a thousand perfect ways. Time spent wandering through the creeks, Tooru complaining about bug bites, is now spent sweaty and starry-eyed as they both pull off their first decent receives, first basic serves, first sets and spikes that they cheer at, fist bumping as they raucously yell in excitement. Everything about volleyball is new to them both and yet utterly addictive, terrific, fitting into their lives flawlessly like the last piece of the puzzle. Childhoods always pass people by quickly, and theirs is a thing to behold; a thing to dream about in thirty years, a quintessential youth spent finding ways to fly.

But by the end of fifth grade, Hajime is already feeling it– the omnipresent weight of the growth to come, the transition to junior high marking an abandonment of childish freedoms. They have both changed so much since they have met, but volleyball remains, a remnant of a picturesque boyhood to carry onward. Oikawa has latched onto it like a lifeline, and Hajime has to stop him from practicing before he collapses on some worrying nights.

They still have sleepovers often. They practice volleyball constantly, but they still watch space movies at Oikawa’s behest, still share dorayaki and still buy ramune on hot days. But there are other, subtle changes now that they are older; his best friend has begun to sleep on the futon without complaint most nights, and their midnight chatter has become sprinkled with a new topic of conversation: girls.

“Do you have a crush, Iwa-chan? Don’t you think Ishida-chan from our class is cute? She looks at you all the time, you know, I bet she likes you.”

“Knock it off.” Hajime always says, pushing the topic of conversation off before Oikawa can probe too much. The problem with this whole situation is that he doesn’t have a crush. Girls don’t interest him. Boys don’t, either (and it would be sacrilege to admit it if he did). He really doesn’t know what it means to have a crush, anyway. Oikawa has explained it to him before, and he still doesn’t get it.

“It’s like, your heart gets all fluttery and you get excited and you just wanna talk to them! And get to know them. And you think they’re soooo pretty and like to look at them and stuff.”

“The only person I really get excited to talk to is you.” Iwaizumi mutters, voice gruff. “I don’t think I get this whole crush stuff.”

Oikawa looks at him, big brown eyes wide and so, so warm. “Does Iwa-chan have a crush on me?” It’s teasing, but there’s something underneath that Hajime can’t quite place.

“No, Stupidkawa. I don’t have a crush on anyone. You’re my best friend, is why,” He huffs, turning over on his bed. Oikawa sleeps on the futon again and doesn’t whine about being cold, not even once.

______

Tooru gets even more serious about volleyball somehow, once they’re in junior high.

Hajime has to personally drag him home from practice now that they go to Kitagawa Daiichi and are competing. The setter is always grinding himself to dust, trying to be better than anyone else, trying to bring out the best in every player, and trying to beat the Miyagi prefecture’s powerhouse junior high– Shiratorizawa. Oikawa is far from the little kid Hajime met– he doesn’t cry anymore, biting back every feeling instead; refusing to say if he’s hurting, refusing to admit he’s tired or hungry or has any kind of human need, like it would expose a weakness. Every time they have a sleepover now, talk of girls and crushes is a blip on the horizon of Oikawa’s infinite hunger to practice volleyball, get better at volleyball, be the greatest at volleyball, hit a perfect serve, throw a perfect set, c’mon, Iwa-chan please hit it for me just one more time, I want to make sure it’s perfect. It makes so much sense for him and yet is so puzzling to Hajime; the boy who cried in his arms because he saw a bee, not even getting stung, won’t admit when he’s overstretched the ligaments in his knees again, won’t admit when his fingers bleed as he wipes them surreptitiously on the inside of his dark blue uniform. There’s one incident, though, that really cements this new facet of Oikawa’s personality in Iwaizumi’s mind. It’s during a game.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are second years, and Kitagawa Daiichi is playing Shiratorizawa. Tooru is spinning the ball between his fingers, preparing to serve, and his eyes are locked on the enemy– Ushijima Wakatoshi, the left handed freak spiker decked out in purple uniform, eyes narrowed as Tooru goes in for his jump serve. He’s become great at those serves. What once was a cheer-worthy hit as long as it made it over the net is now insufficient unless he scores a service ace, and he’s been practicing for hours and hours, training to perfection, training to the point of injury.

Iwaizumi can feel it from his position on the court. Tooru’s knees are just the slightest bit wobbly as he makes his approach, leaping into the air for the jump serve and his hand hits the ball with a deafening crack, its trajectory poorly aimed but its speed and power immense for a middle school team. But Oikawa’s descent from the jump is wrong. It’s like Hajime can see it in slow motion: his best friend landing on both feet, and then his right knee giving out under his body weight, collapsing to the ground.

There’s some shouting and general commotion but the setter pulls himself to his feet, face screwed up in pain, and continues to move– preparing to set the ball, to score a point, to win the game. Determined to the point of detriment like always. But the color drains from his face when he puts weight on the hurt leg, and he is mid-hobble to a setting position when the time-out is called.

“I’m not hurt, please don’t take me out of play.” He’s begging, pleading, when Hajime walks up to him and grabs him by the arm.

“What were you thinking? Getting back up to play? Stupidkawa!” He’s trying not to shout at his best friend, who’s already in so much pain, but Oikawa just launches himself into Hajime’s chest, finally letting the tears loose. It’s a whispered admission, for him and him alone, into his shoulder that Iwaizumi receives: “Iwa-chan, it really hurts.”

“I know. I can’t believe you tried to keep playing.” Hajime admonishes, pulling his best friend up by an arm around his shoulder, helping him hobble out to the nurses’. Tooru is trembling, trying not to cry some more, but holds onto Iwaizumi like a lifeline. “I want to keep playing.”

“I know.” the spiker replies as he sits him down in the nurse’s office. “But you can’t keep playing if you’re hurt, okay?”

“Shit.” Oikawa mumbles weakly into Iwaizumi’s arm, and the spiker doesn’t know how to tell him: I care about you so much. Please don’t get hurt. I love you too much to see you hurt. I want you to be happy all the time.

So he just says, “Stupidkawa. Take better care of yourself.”

“I know.” Tooru mutters, voice distant. “I know, Iwa-chan.”

______

Hajime doesn’t really get all this crush stuff until he’s a first year at Aoba Johsai.

Oikawa definitely gets it. He’s always gotten it, literally. Confessions left, front, and center, Valentine’s day candy piled up on his desk. He loves sweets, and attention, so he doesn’t seem to mind the overload of girls following him around like lost puppies everywhere he goes. But he never dates any of them, citing he’s too busy with volleyball or some other reason that’s never quite sufficient for his suitors.

There are lots of changes now that they’re in highschool. Like the myriad of girls with one eye always on Oikawa (and by proxy Iwaizumi, because they walk together so much). Like their new teammates and fellow first-years on the team, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who are rapidly becoming their close friends. Like Oikawa growing taller than Hajime, for god's sake. But the weirdest change has definitely been this crush business.

Why does Iwaizumi get a sudden hole in the bottom of his stomach every time Oikawa is getting a confession? Is he worried that he might say yes?

He just doesn’t want to lose his best friend. That has to be it, right?

But the feeling continues. It happens when Oikawa gets excited about a heart-shaped lollipop someone gives him. It happens when Oikawa doesn’t throw away his confession letters and keeps them in a stack on his desk (“It’s not nice to throw them away, Iwa-chan! Just because you’re bad with the ladies doesn’t mean you shouldn’t respect their feelings). It happens when Oikawa goes on a cautious first date or two, never committing to a relationship but always dipping his toes in, toeing the line, something, never everything, and never nothing. And it definitely happens when Oikawa has his first real kiss and Iwaizumi feels a horrific twinge deep down in his gut that sounds exactly like, I’d feel gross kissing anyone unless it was Oikawa.

It hits him right then and there. And he doesn’t tell anyone his secret, but he’s always been a terrible liar, and the guilt feels so heavy, like an iron ball sitting in his esophagus whenever he swallows back his feelings: I have a crush on my best friend.

It isn’t a revelation in the sense that the feeling is new. It’s more of an epiphany, finally understanding something lost in translation for the last eleven years since they met, and it makes him a little sick to his stomach to finally know. Surely he had fallen for him, really, at a certain time, hour, day, minute. But the feeling seems to him to just be a natural way of being, an undeniable fact. It hurts around the edges, uncomfortable lodged in his heart now that he’s aware it’s there, but the world doesn’t end as much as Iwaizumi is sure it will, and he could never tell his best friend he loves him, so life goes on unchanged. 

Oikawa keeps saving confessions on his desk, until the pile has to be shoved into a drawer. He keeps rereading them sometimes late at night, when he’s sure he’s unlovable, and Iwaizumi keeps working to make sure his best friend knows that can’t be true. How can you be unloveable if I’ve loved you since the moment I met you? It’s what he wants to say. But he doesn’t have the words, and he doesn’t look for them. It wouldn’t change a thing. Iwaizumi would rather have him, incompletely, his best friend and everything and anything, then lose him to a stupid crush.

So he does his best to forget it.

______

It’s after the last game of an illustrious highschool career. A game against Karasuno. A game that means that Aoba Johsai’s team, and by proxy Oikawa and Iwaizumi, will never go to nationals.

They’ve all cried already. Iwaizumi has already cried into his best friend’s shoulder, wiped Tooru’s tears, compartmentalized all of this as what it is– a childhood dream gone unfulfilled, a good memory to keep nonetheless, and the last volleyball game of his highschool career with his favorite team he’s ever had the joy of playing on. And the last real game with his best friend. But they’re walking home and Hajime knows his best friend’s eyes are too hard to reflect acceptance; he grieves hard and slow and leaves a mark for himself to remember being hurt. 

“You know, you probably won’t be truly happy until you’re really old.” Iwaizumi says, trying to break the silence.

“Iwa-chan! What kind of curse is that!” His best friend’s voice is playful, but it’s off. The loss is still aching. Hajime knows him.

“No matter how many tournaments you win, you’ll still be that annoying guy who chases volleyball forever.” Iwaizumi is trying. He wants to tell him, you’ll be doing this forever. He wants to tell him, you’ll get another chance to win. And another and another and I know you won’t stop until you win everything. And I believe in you– but the words are failing him just like always.

“You always have to throw in an insult.” Tooru rolls his eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say–” Hajime’s brow furrows in frustration, the irritation getting to him. “Keep going without a second thought, anyway.”

Oikawa comes to a pause in the middle of the sidewalk. Does his best friend know how beautiful he looks in the moonlight? The flush in his face, the redness near his eyes from crying, lashes long and still wet, his soft hair swaying slightly as he walks. Hajime wants to tell him all of the most important things. He’s going to lose him soon. They will go their separate ways for the first time in fourteen years. I love you, he wants to say. You’re the love of my life. You’re going to be incredible anywhere. You always are. You’re every star in my sky. Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. But he tries, just like always.

“I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner.” He says. “And you’re the absolute best setter.”

Iwaizumi Hajime does not know how to say it yet, how to say I love you , but he can see in his best friend’s eyes that it reaches him anyway.

______

Everything is changing all over again. Iwaizumi is moving to California for university. Oikawa is leaving, too, but even farther somehow– twelve hours of time difference away from the street with their two houses in Miyagi, to Buenos Aires, Argentina. The setter will train and train, train with José Blanco and train on the beach and grow huge wings that will fly him to the moon and stars. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he won’t need a knight in shining armor by his side any longer.

It’s all happened too soon, and the unspoken confession weighs too heavy, too noticeable in his throat, bleeding all through the spiker’s lungs and skin as the date creeps closer and closer like a scheduled execution– the day his best friend, and possibly the love of his life, boards a plane and disappears to a far-off land to chase stars all by himself.

Iwaizumi has been taking care of Oikawa his whole life. Defending him from ladybugs and holding his milkbread and bandaging his scraped knees and helping him to the nurses’ office. Humming him to sleep on rough nights, spiking every set he throws at him, helping fill out a thousand forms for volleyball team applications. He’s never been good with words, but his love has been spoken through a million actions, a million moments caring, protecting his best friend from bees. Even the ones that didn’t sting. Hajime hopes, prays, pleads, that it’ll be enough. The date of departure creeps closer and closer, and the confession aches as it grows, always too close to the surface to swallow, never close enough to say.

The night before the light of his life vanishes into a memory, though, Oikawa Tooru knocks on his window and ushers him into the muggy midnight of a last Miyagi summer.

Iwaizumi gets out of bed slowly, groggily, rubbing his eyes. They come into focus to show pale, perfect setter fingers pressed up against the glass, cheeks flushed, the prettiest brown eyes on earth staring back at him. He cracks open the window. “What are you doing?”

“Iwa-chan!” His best friend smiles that thousand watt grin that got him so whipped fourteen years ago. It still fills Hajime with that big feeling, a swelling thing that makes him feel invincible, like his soul itself was buoyant, unencumbered by any evil of the world. Light. Free. But Tooru is taller now; there is a smugness in his eyes, muscles rippling along his arms, a full set of grown-up teeth between those pink lips Hajime wants to kiss so badly. His prince has grown beyond where he can reach.

That’s okay. He’s proud of him.

Iwaizumi shoves on scuffed white sneakers and swings one leg, then the other, out of the window and lands in the grass. They’ve snuck out like this hundreds of times before; at six, looking to hunt for fireflies in the stickiness of post-bedtime July; at nine, gazing up at the same constellations they always saw while Oikawa pointed out the Little Dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion’s Belt, Ursa Major. Asking if Iwaizumi thought aliens would come and kidnap them if they stayed out too late. Constantly at thirteen, Oikawa throwing set after set tirelessly or practicing his serves until his muscles ached and his knees were scraped on the pavement, Iwaizumi chastising him for his stupidity and holding his hand while they crept home; drinking at seventeen, sharing a secret sip of stolen beer under the light of a half moon, dew catching on the grass, always sharing Iwaizumi’s big green scarf that kept them both warm even if Oikawa had to lean on his best friend’s shoulder to fit. And now, at eighteen; Hajime feels his heart catch and tear on the jagged ribs that cage it. Maybe because it’ll be the last time this will ever happen, and he is not ready to let go.

“It’s my last night, Iwa-chan! Don’t you want to go out with a bang?” Tooru whispers. His voice is hushed and yet so electric; an undercurrent of excitement and passion and the slightest hint of his petulance. So, so easy to love.

“It’s the middle of your last night.” Hajime mutters dubiously. “Doesn’t your flight leave at 10am? Have you even packed?” 

The silence is loud. Iwaizumi looks at his best friend incredulously. “You really are a dumbass.”

“Shut it!” Oikawa retorts, ever so slightly whining, and God, Hajime loves him. “I wanted to go get snacks first! And you can help me pack, Iwa-chan.”

“I am not helping you pack.” Hajime snorts.

“Yes you are. You adore me.”

They walk to the convenience store with those words ringing in his head. They have far too much weight, and they’re so casual, but so true. How do you say I love you to your best friend after fourteen years of knowing it? How can you even start to explain the way you feel? Hajime could tell him lots of things. He could tell Oikawa his stupid hair is so soft and perfect even when he’s slept on it and that it doesn’t matter how much he fiddles with it, his anxiety is pointless. He could tell him that his eyes are warm like milk chocolate and fringed with lashes and that’s what makes all the girls orbit around him like he’s Jupiter, ninety-five moons always circling and never quite touching the planet’s surface. He could tell him that he hates the way he works himself so hard, hates the way he treats himself. Iwaizumi could say that he hates the way that he has to lose him, hates the way that he will let him go, every time, because Oikawa deserves to chase and pin down every dream he could possibly conjure; win everything, all of it, have the world and all the stars in the sky that Hajime dreams of hanging in those big eyes.

Tooru rushes him in the store, proclaiming various things like time waits for no man! and, it’s the last night of my childhood! as they pick out milkbread and pocky and lychee ramune and all the other things Oikawa won’t have in Argentina. They’re still poking around six minutes before closing, and the cashier gives them a withering glare that sends the setter into a fit of quiet giggles. Oikawa’s laughing is pretty, and Hajime resigns it to memory, keeping careful note of it for later– even though he’d really prefer to keep it, to have and to hold forever. They crack the cold ramune open outside and it fizzes sticky all over the setter’s slender fingers. Iwaizumi calls him an idiot like always and everything in the world is right. 

They wash their hands in the Oikawa house upstairs, quietly so as to avoid detection. The setter’s room is a mess– luggage only half packed, Aoba Johsai jersey slung across a chair, glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling from when he was scared of the dark peeling, everything unkempt. Socks aren’t in matching pairs in his suitcase, his Best Setter Award from junior high hanging tilted on the wall, blankets askew. It really only hits when he sees Oikawa’s volleyball shoes tucked neatly into the suitcase: he’s leaving. Possibly forever.

Fuck. Hajime loves him and he’s never gonna know.

Tooru decides after half an hour that packing is boring and also sad and it feels like a sear, red-hot and electric when he grabs Hajime’s hand to pull him outside. Too close. Not close enough. He hops onto his bike, Aoba-Johsai teal, and tells the spiker to get on, right behind him.

“We’ve tried this before. You always get too tired.”

“Iwa-chan, I’m big and strong now and I can totally cycle you to wherever I want to go.” Oikawa protests. He’s right, and Hajime isn’t sure he wants him to be.

“Besides,” The setter continues, “It’s a surprise.”

Despite his insistence, Hajime is the one pedaling uphill with Tooru’s arms wrapped around him within five minutes. His calves ache, burning under tan skin, a sheen of sweat along bare arms. The workout still isn’t enough to distract him from the secret buried inside his voicebox, though, and his best friend’s arms glow pale in the moonlight, fingers pressed into Hajime’s torso. They burn holes right through to his skin, cool through his shirt which is altogether too thick and far too thin. Oikawa’s chin rests on Iwaizumi’s bare shoulder, scorching and distracting, and the setter murmurs a myriad of facts Hajime won’t remember in the morning, pointing out constellations and telling him about the Mars rovers; Iwaizumi is too busy noticing the starlight that catches in Oikawa’s eyes, soft on his skin, reflecting off his hair, to care about anything in the sky. The pair emerges at the top of the hill and Hajime curses as he throws the bike aside, muscles aching, Tooru scrambling off him and the burn of his touch ebbing. Oikawa grabs his face. “Look, Iwa-chan,” he whispers, and tilts Hajime’s chin towards the sky.

He is sure the earth must be a tiny dot. The darkness stretches from end to end and the milky way is sprinkled across it like salt or snow, a trillion celestial suns dotting the cosmos. The moon hangs heavy and cold and Iwaizumi is reminded of the Chinese fairytale of Chang’e, the memory flitting by from a mythology elective. She steals a pill of immortality and is banished to the moon for all eternity. Her husband Hou Yi watches her from earth anyway. Hajime wonders if the trajectory of their lives is the same as his own, Oikawa always chasing things that cannot be held, trapped on the moon for eternity. Hajime will watch him from earth anyway. Hajime will watch him in Argentina from the TV, watch him lose and lose again until eventually he wins, watch Tooru win everything and anything forever and ever and love him all the same from his view on the ground. But just for a little longer, the moon is far, and they can look at it together.

The cicadas are chirping and the two lay in the grass, sipping the last of their ramune, passing the box of pocky back and forth as they stare at the stars. Hajime stares at the empty bottle like it has answers.

“I wanted to take you to the planetarium, before you left.” He admits, voice gruff. “They have all the shit you like, the constellations and stuff. I wanted you to see them.” He does not say, I wanted to see them together. He does not say, I wanted to capture all of those stars and hang them in your eyes. He does not say, I wanted those eyes full of stars to close for a moment so I could kiss you, find a way to say I love you, hold you, never let you go. But all the love he feels is laced into every word, hoarse with adoration, and he wonders if Oikawa catches it. He doesn’t look over in time to see the setter’s face screw up in tears, flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Fuck.” Tooru mumbles, finding his way into Hajime’s arms just like he always does. “I’m so happy I have you, Iwa-chan. I don’t know how to tell you, I just–” He wipes his eyes, cheek burning against Iwaizumi’s bare collarbones. “Thank you for being the greatest best friend in the whole wide world.”

Hajime feels his stomach twist, but his heart still beats warm and steady and certain that he is home.

“And,” Oikawa murmurs, head nestled against his best friend’s shoulder, “We have all the stars anyone could want right here.”

The silence is almost comfortable, almost perfect, with the boy he loves tucked safely up against his collarbone, brown hair tickling his jaw, the warm summer night brushing up against their skin and soaking through. But Iwaizumi’s skin is being burned everywhere Oikawa touches, where his cheekbone sears against his neck, where his chin surely scorches his bare shoulder through his tank top, where his arm wraps around his back and clings to his side, where their legs tangle oh-so-slightly in the grass. The smolder coalesces into a glassy marble, hot on Iwaizumi’s tongue: I love you. It aches. Everything aches, yearning, hungry for just a little more than he can have, insatiable by nature, stinging around the edges. I love you seems serrated now, thorny and caught in the flesh of his tongue, unable to escape and begging to be released. The silence is almost comfortable. But it hurts, too, clawing its way into his flesh with the longing for just a little more.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words. Oikawa tries, just like always.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa breaks the spiker from his anguished reverie. “Iwa-chan, this isn’t enough.”

Hajime turns his head to examine his face, swallowing the panic that threatens to explode. “Huh? What does that mean?” He says flatly, emotionless, bracing himself for the sting.

“Fuck. That came out wrong, fuck, it’s just, Iwa–” And for the first time, Iwaizumi really sees him. The boy he loves, shaking. Face flushed. Eyes shining. The tremble of his lower lip, moreso on the left side. The goosebumps on his pale forearm even on such a warm night. Oikawa bites his lip, hard, fingers trembling against his best friend’s skin.

“Iwa-chan, you’re the greatest best friend in the entire world, and it’s not enough.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi mumbles after a moment. “Obviously. You have dreams, and there’s Argentina, obviously–”

“No– fuck– I mean–”

Hajime stares at the ground. Hard. “It’s fine, Shittykawa, I get it–” 

He is cut off by a kiss.

Oikawa Tooru crushes his lips into Iwaizumi like he is dying. His fingers find purchase, clinging onto the black tank top, tangling in his hair, finding lines along his jaw, begging, pleading, stay . Let this be okay. His lips are soft against his best friend’s chapped ones and he squeezes his eyes tighter closed than they need to be, too afraid to see. It’s I love you in a thousand ways that neither of them are quite sure how to say. Hajime tangles his fingers in the other boy’s hair, pulling him close, holding all of him, and Tooru is the one to pull away. The one to confess a secret held and kept for as long as he can remember. “Iwa-chan. You are the greatest best friend in the whole wide world, and I don’t want you to be my best friend.” The setter is shaking. Tears threaten.

“I’m in love with you, Iwa-chan.” He whispers. 

Dead silence.

“Tell me it’s stupid.” Oikawa laughs brokenly. “I know it’s stupid, Stupidkawa being stupid, I know, I know– ”

Hajime kisses his best friend again, every cell in his body screaming to pull that boy closer, hold him tighter, cling to him until he never thinks he’s stupid ever again. It’s rough and hungry and confused and scared, and Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words but he’s sure he’ll die if he doesn’t say it, sure he’ll explode.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” Hajime tells him, holding him so close, staring at those big brown eyes. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Oikawa, I love you more than anything.” 

Tooru’s face is pink and sweet and wet with tears and he whispers, “I love you more than anything, too.”

“Can I kiss you again?” Hajime’s voice is rough. He isn’t good with words. He doesn’t know how to say everything he feels and knows to be true. Doesn’t know how to tell Tooru he’s the center of the universe. But he can see in his best friend’s eyes and all the sparkle in them that he already knows.

“Yeah.” Oikawa whispers, and for a moment, everything in the world is right.

So continues the greatest adventure that never truly ends.

______

The new kid moves away from the house across the street when Iwaizumi is eighteen.

There’s no moving van this time. Tooru hugs Hajime tight in front of the blue Iwaizumi house and they hold hands the whole car ride in the backseat. They both do their best not to cry. Change is a part of life, one they’re both well aware of by now. 

Hajime gives the love of his life one last secret kiss in the airport. Their fingers untangle as Oikawa says goodbye, vanishing into a dream. But he’s never really gone. He’ll be scared of stupid things just like always, work himself to the bone just like always, get stupid confessions just like always. Hajime’s prince is becoming a king, and he couldn’t be prouder. And when Tooru has caught every shooting star he’s ever wished on, won everything and flown to the moon a million times, he’ll come running home. Gold medals will hang from his hands and clank together with the sound of victorious return, that thousand-watt smile on his face even after all this time, his hair still soft and shiny as always, milk chocolate eyes still the prettiest sight in the whole world.

Iwaizumi Hajime has never been good with words, but he says I love you at the airport anyway.

And, goodbye.

And, I can’t wait to see you again.

______

I hope u guys liked it! I got so obsessed with telling their story over time and it ended up being thirteen pages long on google docs, font size eleven in the span of about 24 hours lmao.

Also, I'm not 100% sure it's technically six of anything. six ways to say you're my everything just sounded like a cool title. roll with it pls

Thanks for reading !!!

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

could you write a lioness!reader x harry imagine about her winning the euros and harry being there and being really proud and the games leading up to the final he shows on stage and runs out when she scores and then he’s actually at the game for the final and he holds to trophy and he’s just really proud of her

His Lioness.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thinking of creating a series based on harry dating a lioness, due to the women’s world cup currently taking place. let me know !

this is also a instagram x real life sort of one, so there will be dialogue.

word count - 3.5k

in which, harry is dating the captain of the england women’s national team, and the euro final is taking place very soon, this is a selection of moments from the duration of the tournament.

face claim - leah williamson.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

26th July, 2022.

As the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you. Today was the day of the Semi Final of Euro 2022, and you were going to represent the England women's football team in a crucial match. But despite your skills and experience, the pressure was getting to you.

You knew just the person who could calm your nerves—your husband, who was currently on tour in Argentina. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialled his number. As the FaceTime call connected, your heart skipped a beat, and you eagerly waited for him to answer.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked up after the fourth ring. His familiar face appeared on the screen, and you couldn't help but smile despite your jitters.

"Hey, m’heart. Is everything alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he noticed the nerves etched on your face.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I'm just... really nervous, H. It's the Semi Final today, and the pressure is getting to me."

Harry's comforting smile spread across his face as he leaned closer to the camera. "You've got this, baby. You've worked so hard f’this moment, and you're an incredible player. I have no doubt that y’and the team will do great today."

You couldn't help but feel reassured by his words, the sound of his voice calming your anxious heart. "I know, but what if something goes wrong? What if I make a mistake that costs us the game?"

Harry's eyes softened as he spoke, "Listen, even the best players make mistakes sometimes. It's a part of the game, and it doesn't define y’as a player or a person. What matters is that y’give it your all, and I know y’will. Just remember why y’play this beautiful game in the first place—because y’love it and y’passionate about it."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. "You're right. I do love football, and I've dreamed of playing at this level since I was a kid."

Harry's smile widened, and he nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. Hold onto that passion, and remember that no matter what happens out there, I'm proud of you. We all are—y’team, y’family, and y’fans. You're a champion, and nothing can take that away from you."

A surge of warmth and love filled your heart as you gazed into his eyes through the screen. "Thank you, H. I needed to hear that."

He chuckled softly. "Anytime, love. Now, go out there and show them what you're made of. Play with y’heart, and enjoy every moment. I'll be cheering for y’from here in Argentina."

Feeling a newfound sense of confidence, you smiled back at him. "I will. And I'll make sure to FaceTime you right after the match to share the joy of victory with you."

Harry grinned, teasingly adding, "And if it doesn't go as planned, I'll be here to give y’a’virtual hug and tell y’how amazing y’are regardless."

You laughed, feeling the nerves starting to fade away. "Deal. Thank you for being my rock, Harry."

"Always, love. Now, go conquer that pitch and make us all proud!" he cheered, giving you a virtual thumbs-up.

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ynandhazupdates, Photos of (Y/N) in training ahead of the euro 2022 semi final taking place tonight! via @lionesses

tagged, yourinstagram

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username, I swear to god if we don’t get to the final I’ll actually cry.

username, her smile is adorable

username, she always manages to spot the camera.

username, just like her husband

username, soulmate type shit!

username, it’s a styles thing. 🤷‍♀️

username, her muscles in the first picture 🤭

username, how can someone whose running about in the sun look so good?

username, is harry going to be there?

username, he’s on tour!

username, he’s a lucky lad.

username, god, she’s gorgeous!

username, women playing football still doesn’t seem right to me.

username, it’s 2022 stop being sexist!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The stadium was alive with energy as the Semi Final of Euro 2022 kicked off. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you took your position on the pitch, representing the England women's team in this crucial match. The cheers of the passionate crowd fueled your determination, and you were ready to give it your all.

In the twenty-eighth minute, the moment you had been waiting for arrived. Your teammate, Beth Mead, skillfully passed you the ball. With lightning reflexes, you controlled it with your foot and set off on a sprint, leaving the Swedish opposition players trailing behind you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you dribbled with precision and agility, feeling the ball close to your feet, like an extension of yourself.

As you neared the goal, the defenders closed in, but you stayed focused, keeping your eyes on the prize. With a quick feint to the right, you left them off balance, and in one swift motion, you found yourself in a clear path towards the net.

The crowd roared in anticipation as you aimed and unleashed a powerful shot. The ball soared through the air, and the goalkeeper leaped desperately, but there was no stopping it. The net bulged, and the stadium erupted into an explosion of cheers and applause.

You could hardly believe it—your goal had just given your team the lead in the crucial Semi Final. Your teammates rushed toward you, their faces filled with joy and excitement. They tackled you with hugs and shouts of triumph, celebrating the incredible moment together.

Amid the euphoria, you basked in the joy of the moment. The elation was contagious, and you felt the unity and camaraderie of the team enveloping you. All the hard work, the training, and the sacrifices had led to this moment, and you couldn't be prouder to share it with your teammates and represent your country on this grand stage.

As the cheers of the crowd echoed in your ears, you took a moment to soak it all in. The sight of your team celebrating, the sound of the fans chanting your name, and the feeling of achievement coursing through your veins—it was a moment you would cherish forever.

The Semi Final was far from over, but your goal had set the tone for the rest of the match. With renewed determination, you returned to your position, ready to continue the battle with your team by your side. As the whistle blew, you knew that whatever the outcome, this moment would be etched in your heart—a testament to the magic of the beautiful game and the incredible journey that brought you here.

liked by username, username and 7,319 others

ynandhazupdates, HARRY RUNNING ON STAGE TODAY CELBRATING (Y/N) SCORING IN THE SEMI FINAL OF THE WOMENS EUROS! via @username

tagged, harrystyles

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username, stop right now, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!

username, he’s so supportive of her.

username, I’m in tears.🥹

username, he looks so happy!

username, omfg, what??

username, he’s actually so in love. 😭

username, i want a love like there’s so bad

username, such a proud husband.

username, the whole tour crew cheering for (Y/N)🥹🥹

username, i want a hype man like him

username, if my husband ain’t like that i don’t want him.

username, preach!!

harrystyles via instagram stories.

Sitting in the changing room after the intense Semi Final, you were still buzzing with excitement from your team's victory. As you changed into your England tracksuit, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you had played a significant role in securing the win. The camaraderie among your teammates was palpable, and everyone was in high spirits.

Just as you were about to head to the coach back to the hotel, your teammate Rachel Daly approached you with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Hey, I've got something to show you," she said, holding her phone out for you to see.

Curious, you took the phone, and Rachel played a video that a fan had posted online. As you watched, your eyes widened in surprise and delight. It was a clip of your husband's fans watching the Semi Final on a big screen he had set up on stage before his show in Argentina. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the excitement emanating from the screen.

Then, the moment that made your heart soar arrived. The video showed the crowd erupting with cheers and applause as you scored the opening goal. And there, in the midst of the ecstatic fans, was your husband, running across the stage, celebrating your goal with unbridled joy. His arms were punching the air in a gesture of triumph, and his infectious smile lit up the entire arena.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

30th July, 2022.

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ynandhazupdates, Harry spotted arriving at Heathrow this morning!

tagged, harrystyles.

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username, the arm. 💪💪

username, what’s in that damn tote bag?

username, smash.

username, is that the daddy hat that he got on stage?

username, yeah, he’s probs gonna show it to (Y/N)!

username, the tank top.

username, daddies got a private jet.

username, do y’all think he’s going to the euro final?

username, most likely. 🤷‍♀️

username, the most supportive husband!

username, his hair. 🤭🤭

username, fuck my soul.

username, being a supportive husband is what we like to seen

username, ^^

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

31st July, 2022.

Today was the day.

It was the euro 2022 final.

In the back of the taxi that was cruising along the streets of London to Wembley, Harry sat quietly, his mind seemingly occupied with thoughts.

His mother, Anne, noticed his unease and gently placed a hand on his arm. "Harry, darling, is everything alright?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

When England made it to the final, there was no doubt that Anne was missing you play, you were like a daughter to her so she knew she had to be there.

Gemma would have been there as well but she was currently on holiday with her boyfriend, Michal.

Harry hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to share his worries with his mother. Finally, he decided to open up.

“M’just feeling a bit nervous, Mum," he admitted. "Today's game means s’much to (Y/N), and I can't help but worry about how she'll handle it if the team don't win."

Anne smiled reassuringly, understanding her son's concern for his partner.

“Love, I know how much (Y/N) means to you, and I'm sure she knows it too," she said comfortingly. "She's a strong and resilient person. Win or lose, she'll be alright, and you'll be there to support her."

Harry nodded, appreciating his mother's words of wisdom.

“Y’right, Mum. I just want this victory f’her so badly. She's worked so hard, and I don't want her t’feel disheartened if they don't make it," he said, sincerity in his voice.

Anne patted his hand softly. "I understand your feelings, dear. But remember, it's a team effort, and they’ve all put there best into getting to this final. Focus on playing your best and enjoying the game. The outcome is not entirely in your hands, and that's okay."

As the taxi continued its journey to the stadium, Harry and Anne talked more about the match, memories of their own experiences flooding their minds. Anne shared stories of his childhood football games, reminding him of the joy he felt on the field. It lightened Harry's heart, and he started to relax, ready to face the game with a newfound perspective.

liked by gemmastyles, masonmount and 25,931 others

lionesses, Your #Lionesses for the #WEURO2022 final!

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username, yasss, ellen white is starting!

username, you’ve got this girlies!

louist91, it’s coming home.

username, nahhhhhh, he commented!

username, LOU BEAR!

username, is he there aswell?

username, the best players!

username, (Y/N). Captain, Leader, Legend.

harrystyles liked this comment.

username, Earps is defo gonna get angry at one point during the match today. 😭

username, COME ON ENGLAND!

username, why is russo not starting?

username, she should have started over Styles tbf. 🤷‍♀️

username, russo is a forward and styles is a defender, there completely different positions.

username, lotte wubben-moy, wubben-moy! lotte wubben moy!!

annetwist, ❤️❤️

username, you’ve got this ladies!

username, (Y/N) is a right smash.

harrystyles liked this comment.

username, Sweet Caroline!

username, DUN DUN DUN!!!

As the Women's Euro 2022 final reached its intense 62nd minute, the tension on the field was palpable. The score was zero-zero and both teams were in a tight battle, and you could feel the weight of the moment as you received the ball in the midfield.

With determination in your eyes, you spotted your teammate Ella Toone making a daring run towards the German opposition goal.

You swiftly passed the ball to her, watching as she skillfully controlled it, dribbling past defenders with finesse. The German goalkeeper, sensing the threat, came out of her goal to narrow the angle. In that heartbeat, you knew Ella had an opportunity to make something special happen.

As the goalkeeper advanced, Ella made a split-second decision and skillfully chipped the ball over her head. The crowd gasped as they saw the ball floating towards the net. Time seemed to slow as everyone's eyes followed its trajectory

And then, the stadium erupted in cheers as the ball gracefully sailed into the net, scoring a remarkable goal. You couldn't help but burst with pride as you saw Ella celebrating her incredible achievement. Running towards her, you joined the team in congratulating her.

"Holy moly, Ella! That was absolutely brilliant!" you exclaimed, beaming with excitement.

Ella's face lit up with a mix of joy and disbelief as You pulled her into a tight hug.

Tears of happiness glistened in Ella's eyes as she embraced you back.

The team's celebration continued as you all rallied around Ella, knowing that her goal had put you one step closer to becoming champions. The remaining minutes of the match were intense, with both teams giving their all to secure victory.

In the 79th minute, the unthinkable happened. Despite your best efforts as a defender, the German team managed to break through England's defensive line and score a goal. As they celebrated, a heavy feeling of disappointment settled within you, and you couldn't help but feel responsible for not preventing the goal.

Feeling crestfallen, you stood near your position, replaying the moment in your mind, questioning if there was something more you could have done. That's when your teammate and fellow defender, Millie Bright, approached you with a reassuring smile.

"Hey, it's not your fault," Millie said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "They were just too quick.”

You looked at Millie, thankful for her comforting words but still feeling a pang of guilt.

"I know, but I should have been faster, more alert," you replied, your voice tinged with disappointment.

Millie shook her head gently.

"Listen, we all have moments like these in football. It's part of the game," she said reassuringly. "You've been an amazing defender throughout the tournament, and one goal doesn't define your skills or our team's efforts."

As you listened to Millie's encouraging words, a sense of relief washed over you. She was right; football was full of ups and downs, and even the best players experienced setbacks. It was essential to support each other and learn from every situation.

Millie continued, "Remember, we still have time to turn things around. Let's focus on regrouping, communicating, and giving our all for the rest of the match. We can do this together."

The game was in full swing when the the next ever occurred. As you skillfully controlled the ball, a German player launched a hard tackle, taking out your legs from under you. You fell to the ground, clutching your shin in pain, wincing at the impact.

Your teammates rushed over to check on you, concern etched on their faces.

“Are you okay? Can you stand up?" Georgia Stanway asked, reaching out to offer support.

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to assess the extent of the injury.

"It hurts, but I think I can stand," you replied, gritting your teeth through the discomfort.

The referee, witnessing the tackle, quickly ushered the medics over to assess the situation. The medics approached you, kneeling beside you to examine your leg carefully.

"Can you tell us where it hurts the most?" they asked gently.

You pointed to your shin, wincing as they touched the affected area. "Right here, it's quite sore," you explained, trying to keep a brave face.

After a thorough assessment, the medics gave you some encouraging news.

“Luckily, there doesn't seem to be any major injury. It might be painful, but you're still able to play," they said, offering a reassuring smile.

In the private box overlooking the pitch, Harry sat with his mother Anne and your parents, engrossed in the Women's Euro 2022 final. As the game reached its intense moments, he couldn't help but feel the tension rising in the air.

And then, it happened. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the brutal tackle unfold on the field. From where he sat, he witnessed the German player taking out your legs, causing you to fall to the ground in agony, clutching your shin.

"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, jumping up from his seat in reaction to the rough challenge. His heart raced with concern for you, seeing you in pain from the tackle.

Anne, equally worried, reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“Take a deep breath, love. Let's hope the medics can assess the situation quickly," she said soothingly, sharing his concern for your well-being.

Your parents also watched with anxious expressions, their hearts going out to you on the field.

"I hope she's okay. She's a tough one, but that looked harsh," your dad said, his voice reflecting the worry in his eyes.

As the referee and medics rushed to your side, Harry's gaze remained fixed on the field, anxious for any signs of improvement. He wanted to jump down and rush to your aid, but he knew the medics were well-equipped to handle the situation.

"Y’think she'll be alright?" Harry asked, his voice trembling slightly with concern.

Anne squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Let's trust the medics to take care of her. She's a strong player, and I'm sure she'll do her best to get back on her feet," she said, trying to comfort her son.

Amidst the tension in the box, the medics gave their assessment, and it was a relief to hear that the injury wasn't too severe.

“She can still play," Your dad informed the group, echoing the news from the medics.

liked by username, username and 4,317 others.

ynandhazupdates, Harry spotted at the Women’s Euro Final today!

tagged, harrystyles

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username, we all love a supportive husband! 👏👏

username, the girl infront is totally oblivious to who is sitting behind her. 😭

username, that would definitely be me.

username, Jeff is there aswell?

username, his face. he’s like a love sick puppy!

username, he’s sat next to Anne. 🥹

username, this photo was taken when (Y/N) got tackled and the medics had to come onto the pitch.

username, holy shit is she okay? I’m not watching the match because of the time zones.

username, yeah she’s still on the pitch playing!

username, he’s so smitten by her.

username, he’s wearing an England shirt. 😭😭

username, the wedding ring is making me sad.

username, same girl, same.

In the intense 110th minute, with the score still tied, your teammate Lauren Hemp delivered a corner kick. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as players from both teams crowded near the goal line, vying for an opportunity to make a decisive play.

Amongst the hustle and bustle, Chloe Kelly managed to find a small opening amidst the sea of players. With precision and finesse, she gently touched the ball, guiding it over the goal line. As the ball nestled into the back of the net, she let out a mix of joy and relief, starting to celebrate. However, amidst the chaos, she wasn't entirely sure if the goal was inside or not.

In that moment of uncertainty, the referee made the crucial decision, pointing to the centre circle and giving the goal to your team. The stadium erupted in a thunderous cheer as the realisation dawned that your team was now in the lead.

Seeing Chloe's celebration begin, you and the rest of the team joined in the excitement, rushing towards her. The pure elation of the moment overcame any doubt, and you all embraced Chloe, celebrating her crucial goal. Her shirt flew off in the midst of the jubilation, leaving her in her sports bra, but in that moment, it didn't matter. It was a raw display of emotion and camaraderie, and everyone was ecstatic.

Chloe beamed, tears of happiness mingling with her smile. "I couldn't believe it went in! We're winning!" she said, her voice filled with disbelief and elation.

The entire team shared in the celebration, hugging, cheering, and jumping in unison. This was the moment that could potentially seal your team's victory in the prestigious tournament. It was a culmination of all the hard work, dedication, and teamwork throughout the competition.

Amidst the jubilant chaos, the referee restored order, and Chloe managed to retrieve her shirt, chuckling at the unplanned but unforgettable moment. As you all returned to your positions, the renewed energy and spirit fueled your determination to defend the lead until the final whistle.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the final whistle echoed through the stadium, marking the end of the Women's Euro 2022 final, a wave of emotions washed over you. The deafening sound of cheers and roars from the crowd engulfed the air, creating an electric atmosphere that seemed to vibrate through your entire being.

With tears welling up in your eyes, you fell to the ground, facing the sky, and sobbed uncontrollably. It was a moment of overwhelming joy, relief, and pure elation, all merging into a cathartic release of emotions.

You couldn't believe it – you had won the final! The realisation of your team's triumph, after an arduous journey and hard-fought battles, was a dream come true. The sense of accomplishment and pride was indescribable.

Around you, your teammates embraced each other tightly, tears of joy streaming down their faces as well. The collective effort, the sacrifices, and the sheer dedication had paid off. You were champions, and the world recognized it.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, you took a moment to breathe in the significance of the victory. The memories of the challenges faced during the tournament, the long hours of training, and the unwavering support of your team and loved ones flooded your mind. This victory was not just for you, but for everyone who had been a part of this incredible journey.

Harry, watching from the stands, saw you on the ground and knew the tears were tears of joy. His heart swelled with pride, witnessing your triumph from a distance. He couldn't wait to rush down to the field and embrace you, to share this moment of pure bliss together.

As you wiped the tears from your eyes, your teammates gathered around, offering hugs and congratulations. They understood the magnitude of this achievement, and each embrace felt like a warm embrace of validation and camaraderie.

liked by niallhoran, harrykane and 67,310 others

lionesses, 🏆 OUR ENGLAND. OUR CHAMPIONS. 🏆

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username, YASSSSSS

username, CHLOE KELLY!

username, I’m sobbing.

harrystyles, well done, ladies.

username, omfg.

username, there’s tears in my eyes.😭

username, you did us all proud.

username, when Kelly took the top off. 😭😭

masonmount, what a team!

username, ayo!

username, the Germans should have won. 🤷‍♀️

username, when the final whistle got blown, I almost fainted.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One by one, each member of the team received their well-deserved medals. Your heart swelled with pride as you watched your teammates' faces light up with joy and their hands clutching their medals tightly.

As the captain, you were the last one to receive your medal. The weight of responsibility and pride bore heavily on your shoulders as you stepped forward to accept the recognition. The medal felt like a symbol of the incredible journey you had all embarked on together.

With the medal gleaming around your neck, you turned your attention to the next significant moment—the presentation of the trophy. With steady steps, you made your way to the trophy stand, knowing that this was the culmination of your team's hard work and dedication.

The trophy, a symbol of triumph and achievement, glistened in the spotlight. As you reached out to hold it, a surge of emotions washed over you. This was not just your victory, but a testament to the unwavering spirit and unity of the entire team.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face your teammates, who were lined up on the podium, waiting for this unforgettable moment. The joy and camaraderie amongst the team were palpable, each player beaming with pride.

Standing in the middle of your teammates, you lifted the trophy high above your head. The stadium erupted in a thunderous cheer as confetti filled the air, creating a dazzling display of colors. It felt like time stood still as you basked in the glory of this triumphant moment.

The deafening roar of the crowd was music to your ears, a testament to the love and support you had received throughout this journey. Each cheer felt like a nod to the sacrifices, sweat, and tears that had gone into reaching this pinnacle of success.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After the trophy celebration, you stood on the pitch, still buzzing with adrenaline and the overwhelming emotions of the victory. Your teammates were exchanging hugs and high-fives, relishing the moment together. As you were talking with one of your teammates, Beth Mead suddenly interrupted, "Hey, (Y/N) look who's behind you."

You turned around, somewhat incredulous because you were sure Harry was still on tour in Argentina. But there he was, walking towards you with a big smile on his face, his eyes shining with pride and love. The sight of him standing there, present for this unforgettable moment, took your breath away.

You ran straight over to him, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. All the excitement and emotion that had been building up throughout the match now found a release as you sobbed into Harry's neck, holding him tightly. He wrapped his arms around you, comforting and embracing you, knowing how much this victory meant to you.

"I can't believe you're here," you managed to whisper amidst the tears, your voice filled with astonishment and happiness.

Harry chuckled softly, his hand gently caressing your back. "Surprise! I wouldn't have missed this f’anything," he replied, his voice warm and reassuring.

Through the tears, you looked up at him, trying to make sense of the moment.

“I thought you were still on tour," you said, your heart filled with gratitude for his presence.

"I had to be here to support you," Harry said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y’were incredible out there, and m’so, so proud of you."

His words only made you cry harder, but they were tears of overwhelming joy and love. You buried your face back into his neck, feeling the comfort of his embrace, knowing that he was here to share this special moment with you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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harrystyles, My Lioness.

tagged, yourinstagram

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username, ‘my’ 🥹🥹

username, so proud of her!

username, champions of Europe, you know what we are!

username, a moment I’ll never forget.

username, he hardly ever posts (Y/N)

username, it’s came home!

yourinstagram, my biggest supporter. 🫶

liked by harrystyles.

harrystyles, always have and always will be.

username, EEEEEKKKK

username, couple goals!

username, if the women can do it, why couldn’t the men?

username, 🏆🏆

niallhoran, it should have been Ireland in the final.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[makeila04]

More Graves headcanons (sorry I love this man)

-He is approximately 40 years old

-He give me that vibes like he was born at lates 70's or earlys 80's

-The scar on his face looks like a bullet (or maybe a knife) but because of the depth I think whatever it was was a hand-to-hand combat or at very close range

-He is not married, and no, I am not just saying this because he doesn't have a ring but, think about it, he lives in the combat field and enjoys the adrenaline. Knowing that it is a full-time job, could I really have time for a marriage? I don't believe it. He is a workaholic who has had sporadic relationships but nothing more, he is not looking for a serious commitment.

-I feel that being from Texas (BTW I'm not from Texas but from a city and province in Argentina that is quite similar) he could have an apartment in the city but also a country house/farm where he would actually spend more time

-He enjoys country music a lot but more rock. And he loves band's or music from 80s (queen, guns and roses, kiss, that type you know what I mean)

-He drinks but he doesn't smoke (or don't do it at long time ago)

-Likes to ride a motorcycle, car or horse

-Knows how to cook although he doesn't consider himself a chef

-Eat whatever, doesn't matter. Not a picky eater

-He has his own collection of guns but he doesn't use them to hunt or kill but rather they are "in case" of emergency"

-Beyond his character and arrogance, he is actually someone who is quite calm, although he always makes jokes or comments that are funny (or that he thinks are funny)

-He likes to read, the type that when he is calm before going to sleep he has a book in his table next to the bed. Night reading you now.

-He likes to exercise of all kinds but most of all he goes to the gym, weights and goes running for many kilometers and for hours (daily and strict exercise routine) (Me parece que esto es bastante real por como se le marcan las venas en los brazos ufff🔥🔥)

-He is a dog man (big dogs like German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers, Dobermans, Rottweilers, those types of dogs) but he doesn't dislike cats. In general he likes most animals.

-After the missions he makes sure to ask all his men how they are back at the base AND ASKS THEM ONE BY ONE TO EACH SHADOW

-He is a very available person, whenever a shadow has a problem or something urgent he will make sure to address the matter as soon as possible.

-Takes good care of and trains the younger shadows, whether for the reasons they have decided to join, he will make sure that they know what they are doing and he will keep a little more eye on them or put someone he trusts in to keep an extra eye on them you know if they are young or more inexperienced

-It is not about having long-term relationships, it is more about casual relationships if there is time left after a mission

-THIS MAN definitely LIKES WOMEN MUCH YOUNGER THAN HIM

-I would be more like a sugar daddy

-He's not much of a social media person, he tries to understand it and trends or those things, but sometimes he doesn't understand the most modern jokes. But if you explain it to him he'll do his best to understand the joke (and he'll laugh if that makes you feel better)

[kirschteinoir]

[5] you're here, that's the thing.

post-timeskip osamu miya x reader.

❝he brought his other hand, not yet blessed by you, to cover his eyes as he waited for his cheeks to cool and his heartbeat to become steady again.

this was going to be a long summer.❞

when life in the city becomes overwhelming, your grandmother decides to sign you up for a summer in the countryside working at onigiri miya, the best onigiri place this side of hyogo! you're not the biggest fan of the early starts and long hot days at first, but your attractive new boss may change your mind...

wc; 5.4k

[ending things with a bang (or a kiss in this case)! also i have no idea how sports commentary works so my bad if it's inaccurate. cameos from literally all the hq characters who went pro + kuroo lmao]

chapter masterlist.

𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙁𝙄𝙑𝙀. 𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣.

for the last two weeks, you and osamu had been avidly watching the olympics - especially the men’s volleyball events. after the revelation in july had thrown you off your feet, osamu had steadied your uneasy world by filling you in with everything you’d missed since you’d left him and atsumu behind all those summers ago. unbeknownst to him, it was a comfort to you to know that he’d grown up well and that his relationship with atsumu had remained relatively the same since your childhood. you were happily surprised when osamu had told you that he’d played on his high school volleyball team as an outside hitter, with atsumu as the setter.

onigiri miya became overwhelmingly busy during this time too. you found yourself lost in the sounds of the sports commentary and the chatter of the customers as they chowed down on osamu’s revered rice masterpieces. as they tried to spark a conversation with the boss, he would don his signature lazy smirk and make a dig at atsumu. even with the jokes, you knew osamu couldn’t be prouder of his brother and you always smiled to yourself when you saw how animated he became whenever he talked about ‘tsumu making it to the national team.

the sun still blazed above you even at eight in the evening and you wince in discomfort, sweeping the sweat from the base of your neck with a napkin and trying your best to focus on counting the change in the register. you didn’t see osamu steal glances at you as he mopped the floor, almost breaking the handle in two as he tightened his grip on it. you were oblivious to how he would swallow thickly and tilt his cap to hide you from his view, cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

on the day of the japan vs argentina game, you’d opened shop an hour early. even then, there was a small crowd of people waiting outside as you’d rocked up to work. you greeted them with a smile of gratuity, promising them that they would be able to escape the morning heat soon.

osamu was there even earlier than you and you greet him cheerfully as you entered the kitchen. he's practically elbow-deep in a large bowl of rice, his hands working deftly to make thrice more onigiri than usual. he nods in your direction, watching as you hang your bag up on the makeshift hooks he’d installed a couple of months ago and press your apron to your front, going to tie it in the back.

“wait-” he starts and you pause, looking up at him with expectant eyes.

“everything okay, ‘samu?”

he looked troubled and nervous but also… shy? you swore you could see a blush forming but you couldn’t be a hundred percent sure.

"i- uh… i have a gift for you.”

your interest was properly piqued now and you threw your apron onto the countertop, skipping over to him in excitement. he seemed to fidget more as you close the distance and you can’t help but feel concerned. you stop a few paces away from him.

“a gift?”

he nods, pulling off his plastic gloves to rinse his hands under the tap for a few seconds, before wiping them on his towel. his movements were more deliberate than normal and you wonder again why he seemed so tense. in the end, you chalk it up to the game and decided not to make it personal.

you watch on eagerly as he reaches into his own bag, bringing out a heap of black fabric. as he brings it over to you, your eyebrows quirk and he's somewhat hesitant to pass it into your outstretched hands.

“just for today. y’know, for the game,” he mumbles.

you take the fabric from him and the waft of his detergent has your heart stuttering against your ribcage. he watches you intensely as you unfold, revealing a black jersey with white accents and letters. you had conveniently opened it so that the front was facing you: your gaze field of vision was obscured by the number ‘11’ in white block print and you turn it around to read the lettering on the back: ‘inarizaki high’.

you gasp as you realise what you’re holding.

“this is-!”

“yeah,” he interrupts you breathlessly. “my high-school jersey.”

the two of you stand in silence, trying to comprehend the situation. osamu seems to realise that you don’t know why he’s suddenly presented you with a relic of his short-lived volleyball career.

“the number is the same as ‘tsumu’s. eleven,” he points out somewhat dumbly and he internally smacks himself for sounding so tactless. you nod slowly and a smile creeps onto your face; osamu’s heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his throat.

“jeez, thank you, ‘samu! i’ll put it on right now.”

his mouth hangs open as he watches you race into the storage room to change. his cheeks are uncomfortably hot as his mind runs a little too wild for nine in the morning and he gulps down some water from the tap to cool off, pulling himself back together. he waits for you like a dog, nervously toeing the linoleum with his sneakers.

“tada!”

he hears your voice first and has no time to prepare himself when you appear in the doorway, hands clasped proudly on your hips. his jersey is a little too large on you but clearly you aren’t bothered by this in the slightest as you proudly show it off. you even do a spin for him, pointing at the lettering on the back.

“whaddya think?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

osamu just stares at you. if he were a cartoon, you’d probably have to pick his jaw up off the floor. he hates how unaware you seem to be of the effect this is having on him and he feels like he’s going to choke if he tries to speak. was the kitchen always this hot? he needs another drink.

“uhhh… osamu? earth to miya osamu?” you say, cautious of his stoic response to something you thought would please him. did you look bad? was he already regretting lending his precious jersey to you? you shrank into yourself a little, suddenly self-conscious.

“anyway, than-” you attempt to ease the tension that had settled

“ya look good.”

his words catch you off-guard and you clam up immediately as your cheeks begin heating up.

“o-oh. thanks…”

his lips flicker into a smile before the kitchen is plunged into an awkward silence. your mind scrambles to think of something, anything, to say but one glance at osamu’s crimson cheeks (and the way he’s trying so hard to hide them from your prying eyes) has your words falling short and your own pulse quickening.

the beeping of the rice cooker snaps you both into reality again and you wipe your clammy hands on your apron. osamu jolts in surprise, remembering that he's standing in the kitchen of his shop only thirty minutes before opening. he nods at you from across the room, wasting no time turning his back to you. you take this as your cue to tidy the shop floor instead of linger in the kitchen unhelpfully, absentmindedly dusting surfaces that osamu had gone over already.

every time you moved your arm, the soft fabric of osamu’s jersey would brush against your skin, wafting the woody scent of his cologne up to your nose like a rolling tide. your cheeks heated again and you scold yourself - today of all days, keep it together!

it didn’t take very long for the place to become packed, the very building itself coming alive whenever the floorboards would creak or the curtains would sway, beckoning customers inside. the television was at full volume and yet the chatter of the diners threatened to drown it out.

the place collectively holds its breath as the commentators introduce the jpn vs arg match. you slide a plate of umeboshi onigiri towards shinsuke, who’d taken the day off especially for the game. he smiles at you gratefully, cheeks rosy as he takes his first bite.

“...great team here today, japan have really put their best foot forward!”

“most certainly! the roster includes some big names from the leagues and i think today’s match will be a close one. not to mention this team has been trained by none other than iwaizumi hajime! after interning under takashi utsui, the father of ushijima wakatoshi, hajime is a force to be reckoned with.”

“i’ve heard that iwaizumi and oikawa, of the argentinian national team, were on the same high-school team! i wonder if there’s any rivalry there…”

laughter ripples around the room.

“with the japan national team in good hands, let’s introduce some of the players! jersey number one and possibly the current best opposite hitter in the world, we have ushijima wakatoshi! he’s joined by his previous teammates of the schweiden adlers, korai hoshiumi and kageyama tobio, jersey's five and nine respectively. what a place for a reunion!”

“they’re not the only ones reuniting on the court today. several members of the MSBY black jackals are here to represent japan. outside hitters kotarou bokuto and sakusa kiyoomi, jersey’s four and fifteen, as well as setter atsumu miya, jersey eleven!”

osamu suddenly appears beside you and kita, grinning wildly as atsumu’s face flashes on screen with a smile. the whole room erupts into cheers and whoops at the mention of the other miya twin and some even clap osamu on the back, their fingers grazing over the number1 printed on the back of his shirt.

“repping ‘tsumu’s number too, huh?” kita mumbles to you softly as he eyes your top with familiarity. you grin, nodding proudly.

“yep! that snotty little brat has come so far!”

the rice farmer laughs, wolfing down the last of his onigiri. osamu watches from his peripheral vision, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“hey, don’t do that!” you whisper, brushing against the material of his compression sleeve. “you’re hiding the number!”

immediately he brings his hands to his hips, puffing his chest out instead. you bite back a smile.

“there’s no shortage of incredible opposite hitters in this line-up! shoyo hinata, from asas sao paulo, formerly of MSBY black jackals and kageyama tobio’s high-school teammate, is jersey number ten!”

osamu leans down to mutter into your ear.

“we played those two one year at spring nationals. they were a freak duo, f’sure,” he chortles and kita nods in agreement, his lips pursing into a line at the memory. you laugh along, feeling flustered by his closeness.

“not only does japan have a strong offence, but their defence is nothing to laugh at! with yaku morisuke, number seventeen, and motoya komori, number nineteen, argentina definitely have a tough game ahead of them. now for an exclusive court-side interview with kuroo tetsurou of the JVA…”

kuroo’s interview was mostly lost on you as you found yourself swimming in volleyball terminology, some of which osamu patiently explained to you. you would nod along, only half-understanding, and he would laugh affectionately at your cluelessness.

suddenly, the camera pans to atsumu, who’s doing some last-minute stretches. he regards kuroo with familiarity before turning on the charm for the camera. you hear osamu scoff beside you but when you look up at him, he’s grinning uncontrollably. even kita is failing to remain stoic, laughing at atsumu’s unrefined charm.

“if ya ever in hyogo, go ‘n visit onigiri miya! and make sure you tell the owner that i sent-cha!” atsumu announces, waving a little at the camera. osamu pretends to be unimpressed but you can tell he’s secretly preening at the shoutout. 

“and say hello to the pretty new employee too!” the blond twin finishes with a wink, before walking back to the rest of the team.

suddenly, every pair of eyes in the building is fixed on you and you feel yourself crumbling under the intensity of it. someone whoops and osamu groans loudly, apologising on atsumu’s behalf.

“sorry y/n. i may or may not have mentioned ya in my last phone call t’him,” the brunette tells you and you shake your head, telling him that it was nothing to apologise for. thank god atsumu didn’t mention that he actually talked about you non-stop.

“well, alright then, thanks atsumu!” kuroo says, turning to face the camera with a lazy smirk. “i can personally vouch for onigiri miya though, osamu is a wizard in the kitchen. now, let me introduce the starting line-up…”

the electric atmosphere of the court seemed to seep through the glass of the screen as the small onigiri shop all the way in hyogo burst at the seams with energy. osamu swelled with pride as he watched his twin set up perfect, medal-winning spike after spike. he never strayed far from your side either, turning to you to celebrate atsumu’s performance almost reflexively. in those moments it would feel like it was just you and him in the room, everything else drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your chest as your gazes connected and his smile would widen into something you only saw in romance movies.

hardly a week had passed since the game when things were already back to normal. occasionally a customer would mention the game to osamu and they would discuss it in solemn tones before the next person would enter.

“yo, y/n! ‘samu!”

it was right before closing when the sing-song voice of japan’s national setter easily commanded your attention. you jump up at the sound of your name from where you're crouched behind the counter refilling the pile of plastic carrier bags and your head appears over the edge of the counter almost comically as the one and only miya atsumu slides into a nearby stool, a lazy grin on his face.

“a-atsumu?” you breathe, shocked that the charismatic face from the dusty television screen was now in front of you. it was jarring how much he looked like osamu, even though you knew they were identical twins. but evidently it’d been a while since you’d actually seen them both in the same room.

“y/n-chan! it’s been a while, yeah?” he drawls and you pull a face at the cutesy nickname, like you’d remained friends all your life and this wasn’t the first time you were seeing him in person since you were five or six.

“we’re the same age, idiot,” you mumble, slipping around the counter to give the blond an affectionate bear hug. similarly to osamu he towers over you as he squeezes you back, pleased to be reunited with you again. he almost ruffles your hair but chooses to rest his chin atop your head, fearing you'd disapprove of the former option.

“no fraternising with the customers please.”

osamu’s usual scolding tone has hidden mirth as he appears from the kitchen, slinging a towel over his shoulder. his expression of mock annoyance quickly melts into one of happiness as he grins at atsumu.

“hey 'samu! how ya been, bro?” atsumu asks, clapping his brother on the back. “business as usual?”

osamu shrugs half-heartedly, downplaying his recent boom in business.

“yer lil shoutout at the game was funny,” he replies. you nudge his side playfully before turning to the blond.

“he means to say ‘thank you’,” you say, mildly surprised at how little the miya dynamic has changed since you last saw them.

atsumu just barks a laugh, stretching his arms languidly as he sits back down. as osamu flips the sign to ‘closed’, you duck back behind the counter.

“what can i get you, ‘tsumu?” you ask, slipping on a plastic food glove and grabbing a serving plate.

atsumu pretends to ponder his options, rambling about all the new flavours osamu added whilst he was away training. the twin in question merely shakes his head, plopping a plate with three special onigiri down in front of his brother. you didn’t recognise any of them from the display cases and realised osamu loved atsumu a lot more than he ever let on.

“the miya atsumu special,” he comments, pushing the plate further into atsumu’s outstretched hands. “on the house, of course.”

“of course,” the blond echoes, digging right into his specially curated treat.

you bite back a laugh at how voraciously atsumu devours the onigiri in front of him - the plate had barely touched the counter before they were gone. you almost felt inclined to clap as atsumu licked his fingers clean, soaking in your praise. osamu, on the other hand, only looked mildly disgusted as he swept the plate back to the kitchen.

“idiot,” he mumbled as he walked past the two of you and you laugh again.

“tasted even better than the last time,” atsumu comments after a moment.

as sharp as always, the setter had noticed your rosy cheeks and the longing look you'd sent after his twin before he’d disappeared through the curtains. you raised a brow at the sly grin on his face, wondering what he was calculating now.

“he’s never made me my own onigiri before. you’re lucky,” you tell him, folding your arms over your chest as atsumu shrugs and pretends he isn’t proud of the fact he was the only one with a special recipe, courtesy of osamu himself. 

feeling sufficiently fed, the blond stands up and swoops down to pick up his gym bag. he makes a small huff as he hoists it onto his shoulder, despite his lithe arms and broad chest indicating that he lifts much heavier weight on a regular basis. still, the noise is cute and you can’t help but smile as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket.

“you on your way already?” you ask, your voice softening as you realise you hadn’t really gotten a chance to catch up with your childhood best friend and now he was going to disappear on you much like you had done to him all those years ago. karma, you supposed.

“yep. i wanna go before ‘samu comes back out so he won’t make a big deal out of it,” he snickers, carding a hand through his fringe to keep it out of his eyes. you thought the blonde really suited him, and it made it miles easier to tell the twins apart - a deliberate decision.

“pfft, i wouldn’t struck ‘samu as the emotional type.”

atsumu shakes his head and scrunches up his face as he mulls over the best way to explain it to you.

“i don’t mean in that way… it’s more like he’ll make me feel guilty for leaving already? He offers with another jerk of his shoulders, the movement appearing uneven due to the bag weighing down his right side.

“then…don’t go yet?” you offer, looking at the blond over the counter with your hands slightly clasped in front of your chest. he suddenly becomes bashful, probably not expecting such a blatant desire for his presence. he can't deny he adores your attention though, grinning as as his cheeks pinken.

“ya drive a hard bargain y/n, but i gotta head back to tokyo early tomorrow morning anyway. the olympics ain’t over yet!”

you throw your hands up in defeat, acknowledging your lesser power over the authority of atsumu’s hectic life as an olympic athlete. returning his smile warmly, you reach into the back pocket of your trousers.

“at least give me your number before you go! when i head back to tokyo we should catch up properly.”

something flickers across atsumu’s face as he notices your definitive choice of language but as quickly as it’s there it’s gone and he’s back to his usual smug self.

“sure.” he taps his number into your phone and takes a blurry, dimly lit selfie to set as his contact icon. “see ya, y/n!”

onigiri miya feels uncharacteristically quiet as atsumu disappears into the humid evening and you feel as though this is a good a time as any to close shop. your thoughts are interrupted by osamu's voice thundering from the kitchen.

“did that bastard just leave?!” he yells, squinting into the distance at the ghost of atsumu’s figure. you muffle your laugh with your hand and nod.

“yep. he did it on purpose to avoid you, i’m afraid,” you reply, much to osamu’s chagrin. he makes a ‘tch’ noise and goes to turn back towards the kitchen. however he remains rooted to the spot beside you for a moment, his fist clenched awkwardly by his side. you wondered what had hardened his expression so suddenly.

following his gaze with your own, you land on the tearaway paper calendar hanging by the entrance of the kitchen. august was fast coming to close, signified by the rows of red crosses staining the paper. the 31st was circled, with the words ‘last day at OM!’ written in your own handwriting. embarrassment washes over you as you think about how osamu must’ve perceived your childish excitement to escape from something he was dedicating his entire life to. when you realise how late into the month it is already, the feeling of returning to your lonely, cramped apartment that you had no real attachment to was not a pleasant one.

the realisation of your changed mind hits you like a truck and you grip the counter to steady yourself, world spinning as you confirmed what had become a fact to you since time had gone on: you don't want to go back to tokyo. you want to be here in hyogo serving onigiri to sweet old customers and you wanted to do it with osamu.

with osamu.

you feel compelled to reach for him now, his nickname leaving your lips softly.

he knows you caught him eyeing up that red circle, an ugly reminder that his time with you was always going to be limited. he knew he was being childish as he maintains a cold front with you.

“make sure you lock the register this time, y/n.”

his sharp tone strikes you like a dagger and you physically recoil from him, your throat squeezing.

“wait, osamu! i have something to tell you-” your tone is frantic as you feel him slip further and further out of your grasp.

he ignores your pleas, brushing past your outstretched hand as he enters the kitchen. overcome by helplessness, your feet are rooted to the spot and anxiety starts infecting the rest of your sound mind like black ink blotching a perfectly written letter right at the very end.

no, you weren’t going to let him leave you behind again this time.

as you gather the shreds of your courage, your fingers shake and you untie the apron from around your waist, throwing the coarse fabric on the counter as you stalk after osamu, yelling his name again as you enter the kitchen.

“osamu! wait!”

but the kitchen lights were off. part of you considered that he might be hiding from you in the dark but you knew there was a limit to his immaturity. still, you check every crevice of the room and even the storage room in case he’d decided to fold himself between the piles of ingredients. it was quickly becoming apparent that he was nowhere to be found and now you were genuinely worried.

“osamu?” you call again, more agitated than before. there was no response except for the wind whistling through the back door, which was slightly ajar.

you continue onwards in your search for your childhood friend-turned-boss-turned-crush (again), stumbling into the august evening air. you grimace when you already feel perspiration on your forehead as you look for osamu in the dim light.

it quickly becomes evident that you have no idea where you are on the OM premises, evident by the way you stumble about. you curse as you end up down some alleyway, a shiver running up your spine as you squint at what you hoped was the streetlight across the road from the shop. the gravel crunches underneath your sneakers as you walk towards it hopefully.

“gah!” 

you jump as your shoe hits something and a strong hand reaches out to grab you before you can faceplant the ground. you recognise it as osamu’s and visibly relax, taking a moment to compose yourself and stand up to your full height again. the lighting was abysmal here and it didn’t help that osamu seemed to purposefully stand in the shadows where the artificial glow of the streetlight could only smooth over his cheekbone and the side of his nose.

“samu? that you?” you ask, even though you know it has to be him. who else would be sulking in the hidden alleyway by onigiri miya? He was upset at you, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“did you lock the register?” he mumbles gruffly and you have to fight the urge to laugh at his ridiculousness. you try to find the playful glint amongst the stone-grey irises you had become so familiar with these past four months.

“yes,” you breathe with a chuckle. “yes i did.”

he nods at your response, his hair rustling from the small movement. once again, the silence swallows you both as you stand opposite him. his hand is still clutching your upper arm, the only sign that he was truly afraid to let you go again. you fold your arms over your chest to emphasise that you were going to stay here and talk to him. he seems comforted by that and loosens his grip ever so slightly.

“why’d you go cold on me?” you finally asks, your tone cautious at the risk of upsetting him again. he huffs quietly before answering, his eyes cast at something behind you.

“dunno. was silly of me though. m’sorry y/n.”

your heart melts at how apologetic he sounds and you reach out to touch his cheek, your hand trembling as your skin meets his.

osamu sucks in a sharp breath not expecting you to touch him, but he doesn’t pull away and allows his cheek to be caressed by you, easing the pout on his lips just a little.

“c’mon ‘samu, don’t you think i haven’t learnt a little bit about you after working by your side for four months? we both know what’s on your mind…” you sigh, alluding to your upcoming departure back to tokyo.

“yeah… yeah."

his head tilts towards your hand again, almost as if he were nuzzling it. however the movement is constrained, showing some internal conflict and you wonder what he’s thinking right now.

“d’ya have to go? y/n, i really like having you around,” he mumbles, allowing a sliver of vulnerability to bleed through his words. his hand tightens around your bicep again, tugging you a little closer than before.

“actually,” you laugh, and osamu wonders what could possibly be so funny. “that’s what i want to talk to you about.”

eyes immediately dart towards yours and his mouth falls open slightly. he stares at you intently in a silent plead for you to put him out of his misery, his eyebrows furrowing beneath his fringe. you have to clear your throat softly before you continue, flustered by how helpless he looks before you, hanging onto your every word.

“i-i want to stay. here in hyogo.”

the soft flesh of your upper arm is at his mercy as he tenses and relaxes his hand, making sure he hadn’t misheard you. your own hand drifts from his cheek to his jaw, barely grazing the skin there as you take a deep breath.

“i want to keep working for onigiri miya too. if you’ll let me i mean-”

“yes,” he breathes quickly, interrupting you. you stare at him in shock and he quickly composes himself, eyes darting away from yours for a moment.

“o-okay then. i’ll stay at onigiri miya. there’s nothing for me in tokyo, anyway, and i really like it here with my grandma. goodness knows she’ll need someone to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble,” you smile, finally relieving your shoulders of the weight of your decision to stay in hyogo. you're lighter than air now, never feeling more sure of something in your life. “thanks for installing the doorbell for her, by the way. and the security camera, too.”

osamu chuckles despite himself, nodding as he accepts your thanks. then the same desperate look from before settles across his features again.

“are you sure? that you want to stay here and work for me?” his voice is barely a whisper. “with me. work with me,” he corrects himself.

you grin, your fingers splaying across his chin in a feather-light touch. it’s like you’re making sure that he's in front of you, that he won’t bolt away from your advances again.

“can i get a promotion?” you ask and he smiles again, your index finger brush over his bottom lip as he does so.

“if that means you’ll stay, then yes.”

you giggle a little, the sound mingling with his bated breath as his eyes flicker across your features, comparing the 'you' in front of him to the one from four months ago, and even the little brat he knew in childhood. his heart soars and he feels as though he may fall to his knees in prayer any second now, especially when your hand cups the back of his neck, pressing into the strong muscles that had been built from years of high-school volleyball with inarizaki and now the physical labour that came with running onigiri miya.

you see his expression fall a little, his eyes flickering again to the wall behind you, and gently tilt your head in a silent desire to know what is bothering him.

“‘samu?” you murmur, your worried expression mirroring his.

he flinches, startled by your voice even though you had purposefully kept it soft for the opposite outcome. for some reason he’s struggling to maintain eye contact with you and your fingertips warm up as they brush over his pink cheeks.

 you’re about to utter his name again when his large hands suddenly move to cup your face. his calloused fingertips press tenderly into the softness of your skin, savouring the pillowy feeling of your entire face fitting sweetly into the palm of his hands.

“s-sorry y/n…” and you wonder what on earth he could be apologising for at a time like this. “but i need to kiss ya right now. like real bad.”

his brazen admission has your own cheeks darkening, practically glowing in the fluorescent light that was swallowing you both. your mouth hangs open in a mixture of shock and want, and osamu can’t help but groan inwardly at the sight. he begins leaning in, still muttering against your mouth.

“i can’t hold back anymore. yer just too cute-” he breathes, his thumb shifting slightly to sweep over the edge of your bottom lip. you can just about squeak his name out in response before he closes his mouth over yours.

the kiss is a mixture of sweetness and something else and you grip at the collar of his shirt as he kisses you with fervour only a miya twin could have. his hands still cage your face in a display of desperate possession and even as his lips envelope yours, he's still afraid that you would slip through his finger again, seeping into the cracks in the road as you find your way back to tokyo. his lips push against yours slightly harder at the thought and you have to stand on your tiptoes to gain some ground back from him.

your head begins to spin with the lack of oxygen flowing to your lungs but you don’t care - the only thing you were concerned about was the feeling of osamu’s lips melding against yours and his thumb holding your chin to firmly guide you against him.

when you sigh his own name into his mouth so sweetly that his grip on you tightens, movements growing sloppy as he chases and chases your saccharine lips, you can confidently conclude that it never hurts to do something new.

[thank you for all the support on this mini series! it's been very enjoyable to see your reactions to each chapter hehe. also my requests/ask box is open if you want to leave anything! <3 ]

about me. 

ao3 link.

[wearelatinamericanrockers]

Luis Alberto "El Flaco" Spinetta was a Argentine Jazz rock singer-songwriter, considered one of the most important and respected musicians of Argentina, Latin America and Castilian for the instrumental, lyrical and poetic complexity of his musical works, both in his multiple groups and as a soloist. The Argentine government established January 23 as "National Musician's Day" in honor of his birth. The initial years, Spinetta formed various rock bands in the 60s and 70s that would be extremely influential and important in the evolution of national and latino rock, such as Almendra, Pescado Rabioso and Invisible, El Flaco would publish his second album as a soloist, "Artaud", considered the best album in the history of Argentine national rock and a masterpiece of Latin music.

in 2008 he released his final album "Un Mañana". His famous songs are "Rezo por vos", "Bajan" and "Seguir viviendo Sin Tu Amor". Propaganda below;

"Su trabajo con Invisible es fantastico, el anillo del capitan beto es una de mis canciones favoritas, ESCUCHENLO PLOX" "No es una banda pero prácticamente lo es por sí solo. Cantó desde pura poesía hasta canciones de sexoooooo. Manic Pixie Dream Girl si fuera un vago flaco y argentino. El hombre más geométrico de la historia." "Nunca me salió el anillo del capitán Beto en la guitarra. Para mí que ese señor tenía un dedo de más en las manos para llegar a esos acordes. Also es un poeta" "Es uno de los rockeros más conocidos de toda la Argentina y latinoamerica en general. Y con razón. Canta como un ángel, toca como una bestia si las bestias sabían acordes raras, y escribe letras que solo tenían sentido por él pero suenan bastante bien. También es famoso por ser una persona re simpática a todos, amar a su familia, preocupar por la salud de sus amigos rockeros, y escuchando con paciencia y cariño a sus fans. Y CREO, porq eso es MÍ propaganda, que debe ser conocido por su Autism Swag™️ si todo fuera justo en este mundo. En conclusión Luis Alberto Spinetta es mi Babygirl de todos los tiempos ESCUCHEN CANTATA DE PUENTES AMARILLOS LOCOOOOOO" and thats all im including cause this man got submitted so much that this post would be way too long

----------------------

Pitty is a Brazilian Metal rock singer. She is been a soloist since 2003 and started her career when she was 17 years old.

Pitty began her career professionally in 1997, working as a drummer for two years in the punk rock band Shes; Despite performing some shows, the band did not record any album. In 1998, she joined the hardcore punk band Inkoma, this time acting as a vocalist, where she recorded a studio album, becoming quite popular in the underground scene in Bahia.

In 2002, Pitty received an invitation from musician and producer Rafael Ramos, who intended to produce his first solo album, accepting the invitation, signing with the record label Deckdisc in the same year, where she released her first single in 2003, "Máscara ". The song gained high rotation on the radio, on May 7, 2003 she released her first solo studio album, Admirável Chip Novo, selling 250 thousand copies and becoming the best-selling rock style album of 2003 in the country.

Her most famous songs are "Na sua Estante", "Me Adoro" and "admirável chip novo". Fansubmitted propaganda below;

"shes such an amazing singer and her songs are so good and go so hard and she sings a lot about society and i'm honestly just a big fan. i went to see her show and she's just so stunning. pls listen to "admirável chip novo" it's like one of her most popular songs and with reason!" "Um marco na música brasileira, a cantora mais foda desse país, formou uma geração e as músicas são atemporais. Shout out pra as crianças que choraram com o clipe de Sua Estante. Pra quem não assistiu, vale a pena conferir: https://youtu.be/DP3j6hgS4VY?si=4PJ6cSc_TwEf7vyV"

[toastedcinnamonflakes]

Books around the world

A while ago, I made a post that I want to make a list of books from every country of the earth. The qualifications are rather simple: The author needs to be from that country and the novel needs to take place in that country. The books themselves don't need to be the best from that country, just something I've read. They need to exist in a language that I can understand (which, for me, are German, English, Norwegian and Swedish).

If you have any suggestions, please send them to me 😊 So, without further ado, here is the list! (Books that I've already read are bold, books I have picked out for the country but haven't read yet are not)

Abkhazia:

Afghanistan:

Albania

Algeria

Andorra

Angola

Antigua and Barbuda

Argentina

Armenia: The Gray House, Marjam Petrosyan

Australia: Picnic at Hanging Rock, Joan Lindsay

Austria: Liebelei, Arthur Schnitzler

Azerbaijan

Bahamas

Bahrain

Bangladesh

Barbados

Belarus

Belgium

Belize

Benin

Bhutan

Bolivia

Bosnia and Herzegovina

Botswana

Brazil

Brunei

Bulgaria

Burkina Faso

Burundi

Cambodia

Cameroon

Canada

Cape Verde

Central African Republic

Chad

Chile: The House of Spirits, Isabella Allende

China: Beijng Comrades, Bei Tong

Colombia

Congo

Costa Rica

Croatia: Marble Skin, Slavenka Draculic

Cuba

Cyprus

Czech Republic: Valerie and her world of wonders, Vitêzslav Nezval

Denmark: Vintereventyr, Karen Blixen

Djibouti

Dominica

Dominican Republic

East Timor

Ecuador

Egypt

El Salvador

Equatorial Guinea

Eritrea

Estonia

Eswatini

Ethiopia

Fiji

Finland

France: The End of Eddy, Eduard Louis

Gabon

Gambia

Georgia

Germany: Krabbat, Otfried Preußler

Ghana

Greece: Medea, Euripides (I would love to read a contemporary greek novel tbh, please recommend me one!)

Grenada

Guatemala

Guinea

Guyana

Haiti

Honduras

Hungary

Iceland: Moonstone - The Boy Who Never Was, Sjón

India: The White Tiger, Aravind Adiga

Indonesia

Iran: Reading Lolita in Teheran, Azar Nafisi

Iraq

Ireland: Skulduggery Pleasent, Derek Landy

Israel

Italy: Swimming to Elba, Silvia Avallone

Ivory Coast

Jamaica

Japan: Convenience Store Woman, Sayaka Murata

Jordan

Kazakhstan

Kenya

Kiribati

Kuwait

Kyrgyzstan

Laos

Latvia

Lebanon

Lesotho

Liberia

Libya

Liechtenstein

Lithuania

Luxembourg

Madagascar

Malawi

Malaysia

Maldives

Mali

Malta

Marshall Islands

Mauritania

Mauritius

Mexico

Moldova

Monaco

Mongolia

Montenegro

Morocco

Mozambique

Myanmar

Namibia

Nauru

Nepal

Netherlands

New Zealand

Nicaragua

Niger

Nigeria

North Korea

North Macedonia

Norway: Vildskudd, Gudmund Vindland

Oman

Pakistan

Palestina

Panama

Papua New Guinea

Paraguay

Peru

Philippines

Poland:

Portugal

Quatar

Romania

Russia: Demons, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Rwanda

Saudi Arabia

Senegal

Serbia

Seychelles

Sierra Leone

Singapore

Slovakia

Slovenia

Somalia

South Africa

South Korea: The Vegetarian, Han Kang

South Sudan

Spain

Sri Lanka: Die sieben Monde des Maali Almeida, Sheban Karunatilaka

Sudan

Suriname

Sweden: Herrn Arnes Penningar, Selma Lagerlöf

Switzerland: Homo Faber, Max Frisch

Syria

Tajikistan

Tanzania

Thailand

Togo

Tonga

Trinidad and Tobago

Tunisia

Turkey

Turkmenistan

Tuvalu

Uganda

United Arab Emirates

Ukraine: Kult, Ljubko Deresch

United Kingdom: Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

USA: The little Friend, Donna Tartt

Uruguay

Uzbekistan

Vanuatu

Venezuela

Vietnam

Yemen

Zambia

Zimbabwe

I am also including some parts of the world that are not independent countries, but that I want to have in this list:

Faroese Islands

Greenland: Blomsterdalen, Niviaq Korneliussen

Scotland: The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner, James Hogg

Wales: Fire and Hemlock, Dianna Wynne Jones

[6okuto]

beach date where you and your partner try to find rocks that look like the others eyes. with Hinata in Brazil, Kageyama in Italy or Oikawa in Argentina

gn!reader | BWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!! /pos.

hinata is vaguely aware of the stares he’s getting as he jogs up and down the shoreline, eyes scanning the sand as if he could spot buried treasure below if he squinted and glared hard enough.

the sun warms his back and a breeze blows his hair across his forehead. it’s a good day to be out here, he thinks. the sand is warm under his feet and a wave rolls in to hit his ankles, pulling him to see what the sea could offer under its water. was there always this many rocks on the beach? if he weren’t on the lookout for ones the same shade as your eyes, would he have noticed how many reminded him of you?

“there’s no winner, sho. i just want to see what we can find.”

“hmm…alright! but watch, i’m still gonna find the best one.”

“shoyo, i—okay, alright.”

both of his pockets are slightly weighed down—as evenly as possible, so he could feel balanced and keep jogging well was his explanation of the physics to himself—and his fingers are wrapped around a couple more rocks themselves.

there’s only a few minutes left before you promised to meet up and show what you found, and he’s determined to pick out the best from his search. he kneels where he is and empties his pockets, laying the rocks across the sand in rows for the best view.

his face is disproportionately serious for his goal. his brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed, his left index finger and thumb rubbing his chin as he picks up each one and squints to examine them.

too dark. too light. the specks aren’t right. how did that one even get in his pocket? too jagged or an odd shape—would you be offended if he showed you this? it’s about the colour, but what if you found the rock itself ugly? these were all important things to consider.

your voice rings clear in the air, and shoyo turns to see you awkwardly jogging your way toward him, feet trying to find place in the sand. the rocks you’ve picked are hidden from view as you clutch them close to your chest, and excitement blooms in his chest to see what you’ve found. “y’find anything good?” he yells.

by the time he’s picked out his top rocks, time is up.

“shoyo!”

“better than what you got, yeah!”

he grins at your taunt and moves to meet you halfway. “oh yeah? prepare to—no!”

“shoyo?”

“don’t look! close your eyes!” he yells, panicked, after dropping a rock onto the ground then dropping another in shock.

“while i’m running?”

“run backwards!”

“that is not safer!”

he scrambles to hide the rocks once again and whines your name as you laugh at him, slowed down by the need to take breaths in between.

and even as he pouts at how you’re still laughing by the time you reach each other, shoyo thinks while he’s sure his rocks can’t be beaten, he’ll be a winner either way at the end of the day as long as it ends with you.

[frozenwolftemplar]

Comfortember Day 14: Late Night Phone Calls (A Carmen Sandiego ficlet)

Because I read the prompt list and instantly realized it would be a crime to let ^this prompt^ go by with nobody writing anything for our favorite master thief and hacker. 😊

+++

“…and I said that I didn’t see how he could without his keys.”

Player clapped a hand over his mouth, forcibly smothering the laugh rolling on his tongue lest he wake his parents. He’d expected chaos of some variety when Zach and Ivy, with their newly-minted ACME mentors Chase and Julia in tow, paid Buenos Aires a visit, but a highly-competitive rock-paper-scissors match between ‘the guys’ over who got to drive back to the airport that culminated in the one who’s license should have probably been revoked back in San Francisco winning?

Yeah, that wasn’t on his bingo card. “So then what happened?”

He could hear Carmen’s smirk. “He spent the next two minutes turning his coat pockets inside out while I tossed Zach his keys.”

Laughter rippled across the midnight shadows spanning the miles between Canada and Argentina, quiet and careful but no less joyous for the consideration of sleeping parents and children (oh to have been a fly on the wall when that happened; or better yet, hacker who wasn’t stuck in a study group). “Hey, Red?” Player said once the laughs had tapered off into an easy silence.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

A chuckle filtered through Player’s phone, along with a faint rustling, and in his mind’s eye he saw her on her mother’s couch, wrapping an arm around afghan-covered knees, the moon catching the playful light frisking in her eyes. “What, stopping Chase from terrorizing the good people of Buenos Aires from behind the wheel?”

“That.” Honestly, it would be far from the least of the public services she’d done. “But also…you know, this.”

“There’s no one I’d rather talk to, Player,” Carmen said, the smirk softening into something gentler most of the world never got to see. “You know that. And that you can call me any time.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” He leaned back against his headboard, staring at the night curling across his ceiling, letting the sounds and comparative calm of ‘the unholy hours,’ now familiar as daylight, wash over him. They didn’t need to do this anymore, what with Carmen’s retirement from being a globetrotting crime-fighter and both of them now being in the same time zone, but years of being an insomniac didn’t disappear overnight, and when a bout struck, well, there had always ever been one thing that helped.

“Not every best friend takes late night phone calls, you know?”

She did.

[iwaoiness]

Hugging and golding

When the ball hits Poland's area with a powerful cross spike, the immense stadium falls into a second of intense silence before the crowd unleashes waves of euphoria, drowning out the final whistle that signals the end of the match and heralds Argentina as the undisputed victor.

Gasping for breath, Oikawa’s heart pounds in his throat, swear trickling down his face like rivulets, cheeks flushed with exhaustion, arms numb, legs burning with fatigue. He’s in a state of assimilation that last only a bit when his entire team throws upon him in a collective embrace joined by the entire coaching staff. He’s engulfed in sweaty arms, sobs of joy, tousled-damp hairs, heartfelt praise and we won, we won the gold.

And Tooru returns the hug, overlaps the sobs with laughter, returns the compliments and adds that obviously we won, you idiots, aren't we the strongest team?

But there is a void in the celebration. Someone is missing. His arms know it and have been missing him for months. His name repeats in his mind on a loop like the lyrics of an old song.

Hajime. Hajime. Hajime. Hajime.

His teammates begin to disperse, Oikawa breathes a little easier, and his eyes immediately scan the stans restlessly. He knows Iwa-chan is there. Throughout the match, he felt his gaze on him, giving him the push he needed to make one of his best settings that led them to victory. Amidst the cheers, he heard Iwa-chan’s voice, rallying him with every serve, his hit ‘em until they break! And during each break, he saw his figura in the crowd, laughing with his family, Mattsun and Makki.

"Tooru!" Oikawa's head whips around at the sound of the familiar voice to his right, and his lips tremble as he sees Hajime leap over the advertising boards and run towards him. Iwaizumi’s wearing his Argentina national team shirt, with the flag on the chest and the number 13 in the middle, snug fit around his broad shoulders and chest, but also a little bit long, the fabric bunching up at the waist of his dark jeans.

With shaky steps, Oikawa begins to move towards him, his legs trembling beneath him until he collapses under the weight of his emotions. But there, as always, is Iwaizumi, ready to lend his support, his arms reaching out just in time to envelop Oikawa in a comforting embrace. Oikawa stifles a sob, tears threatening to spill over as he buries his face into Hajime's shoulder.

He’s here. You are here.

He feels Iwaizumi's arms wrap around him as an angel's wings would; one at his lower back, another between his shoulder blades, clutching him tightly, keeping him upright. And then, shortly after, a hand in his hair, gentle fingers sinking into the tangle of his locks. The weight of Hajime's chin on his shoulder, his warm breath caressing his ear as he repeats i'm so, so fucking proud of you, my love, you did it over and over again in a voice charged with affection, with pride, with adoration. And Tooru laughs through his tears, sinking deeper into the embrace, wanting to melt into Iwaizumi until he fits into the hollow between his heart and soul and stays there for eternity.

"We did it" he marks because is unable to think of a victory without Hajime.

Iwaizumi was with him since his hands wrapped around a volleyball for the first time, he was with him through every victory and every defeat at Kitagawa Daiichi and Seijoh. He never allowed him to plummet to despair, never enabled self-loathing or blame to take root within him.

Hajime is the clean air of the Miyagi’s hills, the fresh earth after the rain, the final surge toward the finish line, the resolute headbutt, the voice of reason and calm, the sound of undisturbed river, the firmness of a rock.

"Idiot" Oikawa hears him smile, feeling his big hand caress his back now. "The gold, you’ve clinched the fucking gold" He breaks away, just a little, just enough to interlock gazes, bright and glittering as if they've stolen all the stars from the sky.

His hands cradle Oikawa's face, his thumbs wipe away his tears and Tooru nods, laughing again.

"But now my whole-body hurts, Iwa-chan" He protests childishly, but his voice sounds genuine, happiness imbuing each word.

"Whiner brat" Hajime teases, pinching his nose gently before leaving a soft kiss on his lips. "You're my proud," he whispers against his mouth, low and sharp tone that resonates deeply within Oikawa’s soul. He fights back tears, whispering an earnest i love you so so much and hugging him tightly. Hajime is what he has made Tooru to be, the silent guardian who has nurtured Tooru's growth.

...

i'll never be tired of this two

u can find this and find me on my ao3 🍉

[elbiotipo]

hello mr fernando my friend i hate to remind you of the man more than you already are but on javier's fake news instagram post he has '14. milei hate the quartet' what does this mean? is it slang for the family? is it a string quartet? or is it a sex thing

algún cordobés que quiera educarlo al anon

Just kidding, I'll do my best... Cuarteto is a music genre from Argentina, but more specifically from Córdoba province where it is a part of local identity. It began as a fusion of tarantela and other Italian and Spanish rhytms, more modern examples have influences from cumbia and rock. Despite the name, it's not defined by being a quartet, but rather by it's fast paced style and characteristic dancing, it is a music MADE for dancing and partying.

There are a lot of examples, but I'll just leave you with the classic one; Rodrigo "El Potro"

so yes, it is a sex thing

[nobodyimportant41]

The Jack Stauber's legacy challenge

Jack Stauber is my favorite solo artist, and i been wanted to write another legacy challenge for a while now. So i checked if someone wrote it already and it looks like no!

Before starting...:

I'm only doing micropops ONLY because they usually larger and have more of a story

Im from Argentina, so i may spell some things wrong

As always, i may change some lyrics or interpret them on my own way

The generations will not follow their launch order, the order will be only for storytelling

Non-heir sims don't have to have names related to others songs, but i would recommend for having more fun!

Enjoy!

WARNING:

This challenge contains sensible topics such as domestic abuse, low self love and others. Don't read if your sensible

General rules:

Sims don't have to represent their songs phisically, but you can do it if you want to

You choose if the heirs will have the names of their songs or they not (you don't have to put the whole song, for example, for gen2 you can just call they Hamantha)

You can choose the lifespan or edited with MCCC, but i recommend using "normal"

Heir sims can look whatever you want and have any gender/sexuality, but they MUST reflect their personality with their looks

You may use cheats for storytelling

OPTIONAL: each generation must have a different type of teeth

Of course, if you don't have certain DLC, you can change/skip certain goals

Packs:

Ep: Seasons (gen 1 and 2), Be famous (gen 2 and 10), Get to work (gen 3) , Snowy Escape (gen 4)

Gp: Parenthood (gen 8)

Sp: Vintage glamour (Gen 9)

Gen 1; Bumblebees are out:

Story: Your mother died when you were very young and your father started drinking WAY too much nectar and he started to physically abuse you... luckily, one time when he passed out decided to escape to never go back. You were only yourself and your will to become someone better than your parents...

Traits:

Paranoid

Childish

Loves the outdoors

Goals:

Complete the freelance botanic aspiration

Max the gardening and fishing skills

Max the gardener career (any branch)

Start this challenge running away from your home

Have a bee box

Rescue a stray cat or dog

Gen 2; The ballad of Hamantha:

Story: You grew up with people telling you how pretty you were but it doesn't matter how much thry told it to you, you still felt ugly.. you only dreamed of becoming the best film star in the world! Will you finally achieved it with what you call your "fat like ham face"?

Traits:

Gloomy

Ambicious

Loner

Goals:

Complete the world famous celebrity aspiration

Max the acting and singing skills

Max the acting career

Get struck by lighting at least once

Die before/during being an elder

Gen 3; Doctor:

Story: You were always a serious person which all that matter to them was becoming an succesful doctor, you only cared about studying medicines and sickness, until you met that coworker, it was love at first sight, even if that person only wanted to have fun and become a jokestar AND after being hurt by your teen love?

Traits:

Bookworm

Genius

Loner

Goals:

Complete the soulmate aspiration

Max the logic and wellness skills

Max the doctor career

As a teen, be into a toxic relationship and break with them as a young adult

Marry a coworker with an opposite personality

Gen 4; Fighter:

(This is the best Jack's song and i will not elaborate)

Story: Since you were a kid, you always loved your bestfriend; MORE than just like a friend. You wanted to show them how "strong" and brave you were! But each time you tried to impress them, you became nervous by their presence and end up ruining EVERYTHING. You were pretty ashamed of yourself but they found it adorable! No matter what, you said to yourself that you will show them that you were a strong fighter!

Traits:

Active

Self centred

Clumsy

Goals:

Complete the body builder aspiration

Max the fitness and rock climbing skills

Max the athletic career (bodybuilder branch)

Marry your childhood best friend

Win as few fights as you can

Gen 5; Baby hotline:

Story: Romance has always been your favorite topic besides technology. You could spend days thinking about how cute couples were!.. but there was a problem with you, you didn't wanted to have a partner, you wanted to have lots of them! Maybe you could create a hotline for singles...

Traits:

Geek

Romantic

Non-commital

Goals:

Complete the serial romantic aspiration

Max the charisma and programming skills

Work as an freelance programmer

All your apps you create must be romance related

Watch the romance channel at least once a week

Gen 6; Dinner is not over:

Story: Your parent had MANY partners at the same time while you..well..the fact that they bring a new sim EACH NIGHT made you dislike the idea of romance. Whats the idea of having a relationship if it doesn't matter? You could use that time on cooking!

Traits:

Un-flirty

Foodie

Snob

Goals:

Complete the master chef aspiration

Max the gourmet cooking and mixology skills

Max the culinary career (any branch)

Revive after becoming a ghost

Never got into a serious relationship before passing to the next gen

Gen 7; Cupid:

Story: you were always a cruel secret agent with a stone heart, if you had to get to that secret file, you WILL get that secret file, nothing did matter! Until you met THAT sim, you thought you had found your soulmate! But later than sooner you discovered that they were only using for information...Why did cupid had to be this cruel?

Traits:

Materialist

Unflirty

Paranoid

Goals:

Complete the mansion baron aspiration

Max the charisma and mischief skills

Max the secret agent career (villain branch)

After divorcing, never get into a relationship again

Have twins

Gen 8; Cheeseburger family:

Story: you grew up in a not so happy household because your parent was mostly crying. So your sibling and you tried cheer them up! Sadly, that never happended... you just wanted to have a BIG happy family and cook for them each day...

Traits:

Glutton

Slob

Family oriented

Goals:

Complete the big happy family and cheese sandwich aspirations

Max the cooking and parenting skills

Be a stay at home parent

Have at least 5 kids

Adopt at least one pet

Gen 9; Keyman:

Story: You grew up in..not the whealtiest household but in a really happy one! Of course, having many siblings, its hard to stand out, but for you, it was pretty easy! You could write the first thing that come at your mind and your parents will celebrate it! Your sibling weren't very happy...but you didn't cared!

When you moved out, you started falling in love with your neighboor! But when they moved with you and decided to hire a butler, you notice that you ALSO found the butler quite cute...

Traits:

Romantic

Self centred

Creative

Goals:

Complete the best seller author aspiration

Max the piano and writing skills

Max the writer career (journalist branch)

Marry one of your neighboors

When married, cheat with the butler and have a kid with them (this kid MUST be the next heir)

Gen 10; There's something happening:

Story: Your family situation was never great since your step parent didn't really like you and your other parent (gen 9's butler) didn't wanted to aknowledge you... but luckily, your classmates really liked you and your extravagant fashion sense! You always told the world that they were looking at the next best fashion designer of the WHOLE simworld!

Traits:

Self-assured

Outgoing

Childish

Goals:

Complete the fabulously wealthy aspiration

Max the Photography and knitting skills

Max the fashion influencer career (stylish branch)

Become at least a 3 starts celebrity

Marry someone who shares at least one of your traits