#fire high score

[crystalelemental]

I can't front.  I hate this one.

General Overview This one's weird, because it's not as though I don't have many EX Fire types.  I have more of them than I do Water types.  But somehow, Fire feels like a nightmare.  I didn't bother trying on Electric, I know that's worse.  But I didn't expect the Fire run to be so...terrible.

Problem 1: Fire supports suck unless they're SS Morty.  Kiawe doesn't do enough in one action, Evelyn is sturdy but not good at survival, while MC Torchic and Marley absolutely suck ass.  Anything above like 300 Strength may as well instantly kill those two.  And my Marley is EX, there is no excuse.

Problem 2: There is like nothing technical in this type.  SS May is a good example.  Like oh good, defense debuffs.  Except there aren't.  They're all single-target, and unless partnered with NC Leaf, she's kind of atrocious at her job.  Anni N is super slow to debuff anything, so even with his Sp Def drops against Kiawe, he can't get to it because oops, too busy having to Noble Roar.  Serena's sleep is borderline useless with Resilience and she's not a good damage dealer, Lodge Irida has a 50% flinch rate instead of 60% and somehow this is noticeable, etc etc etc.

Problem 3: some of these stage conditions are a nightmare.  Removal of 80% sync damage is absurd against Flannery, while Flint's removal of healing is absolutely disastrous.  Debuffs should be the answer to him, but it's not great, because you have only two options to work with.  And guess what.  One of the stages cuts Striker stats, so good luck with that.

Fire just feels like it sucks.  I can't figure out a good means of approaching half of these stages.  I have ideas, but they're clearly not working. This is about as good as I can do without investing more resources, and guess what I don't really want to do.  The supports suck, there's not really any good technical utility, and the stage conditions are nightmarish.  So I feel like this one's particularly rough.

And yet apparently it's not, and I'm just dumb!  I am super far down the ranks despite this score!  Honestly I don't know why.  Outside of the Master rank, sure, I'd buy that.  But down in Great?  You're telling me there's like 40k+ players out there that have performed better than this?  I don't think my Fire roster is lacking, so I admit, I'm legitimately stunned.  It's Challenger Gloria, isn't it?  I didn't get her, I don't like that outfit and don't like Cinderace.  But I'd bet that's a huge part of it.  How absurdly frustrating.

I may try to push a bit higher.  But I'm tempted to stop here just to keep the rounded number of powerup tickets.  Not like I need the Master medal, this is just pride.  And I find myself crankier than I want to be with this, so I'm not exactly keen on it.

Vs. Kiawe (MC Torchic, Anni N, Serena) This is the "Strikers get fucked" match, so I put Anni N here expecting the spread damage to matter.  It doesn't.  Anni N kinda sucks horrifically, you know?  So slow to set up, attack only has 85% accuracy by default, he's too busy.  Serena seemed like a good disruption call, but frankly the spread sleep is terrible.  They all recover simultaneously and it's too much for Torchic, and god forbid Anni N burns.

Vs. Blaine (Kiawe, Leon, Eevee Lucas) This one could be achieved much more easily with investment.  I have no doubt that this would generate a good amount more if I just bit the bullet and invested.  Leon's able to take the sync with Eevee Lucas' Atk debuffs, and his Earthquake/Hurricane combo is supereffective against everything.  But, because Leon and Lucas are 1/5 non-EX, they can only get so far.  If I were really aiming to push the score, this would be the solution.  And who knows, maybe that would fix the godforsaken gauge issues too.

Vs. Flint (Evelyn, Hilda, NC Leaf) No healing is a brutal condition in Fire.  With Anni N accounted for, the only other offense debuffer was NC Leaf.  Without healing, the options for support were Marley or Evelyn, and I went Evelyn for the defensive ability.  I slightly regret it.  Part of my problem here is that Hilda mostly exists just to sync, but truth be told she's not the best pick.  Without healing, all this Potion goes to waste.  But my other options aren't EX either.  I haven't EX'd Ethan, I won't EX SS Red, and I highly doubt Lodge Calem or Blarcanine are going to accomplish anything.  But really, this fight is...bad.  I think it might legitimately be in my best interest to drop Leaf and put in someone else, as Flint also uses Fire-type sync, and it's brutal.  But I can't think of anyone who stands a chance.  The problem with this mode is that it's all bulk.  They deal good damage, you do not, so it's an endurance contest.  Guess what doesn't work in your favor when you can't heal.

Vs. Chili (Marley, SS May, Lodge Irida) SS May really should be better than she is, but here we are.  I tried to get Irida to flinch for some extra turns and boy did that not accomplish shit.  Marley is frail beyond belief, and without debuffs, we're all just corpses in waiting.  Nothing in this fight works in our favor.  I can't even say there's a good SS May approach, since the only possible partner she works well with is NC Leaf.  I could make that shuffle, but it's not great.

Vs. Flannery (SS Morty, Silver, SS Hilda) SS Hilda deals great DPS, and that's really the aim here.  Flannery syncs Rock, which means Sun does little for her.  Silver can take every sync after first, since the damage won't matter, while Hilda beats everyone down.  Problem: spread damage from Searing Shot is required.  V-Create will not get the job done, and you will not have a good time against full HP sides.  Even with his bulk, Morty can only accomplish so much when the strength values start flying.  I honestly hate it.

Final Thoughts I think I'm legitimately mad about this one.  I have more EX Fire types than Water, but Water had nearly 80k more points out of this event.  I held Master rank with Water.  I don't even like Water.  I like Fire.  I was kinda looking forward to trying this one.  But I think I hate it now.

This is an excellent showcasing of how badly you need good supports.  Water thrived because it's got plenty of great support options to choose from, while Fire here is a nightmare.  While I admit I could push score pretty dramatically with the right investment, I don't really want to do that.  I don't care to invest in Leon, SS Red, and Eevee Lucas, just for this.  I don't want to use my candy on this.  So this is probably right where I'm staying.  Which annoys me.  I feel like I should be able to do better, but I don't think I want to try.

[milo-is-rambling]

Who was gonna tell me that reading is fun sometimes

[einsatzzz]

im halfway through the study material covered for the exam next sunday, then around 2/3 done with this one comic wip 🥴🥹🥹🥹✨✨

drawing comics rlly does make u improve, the lines feel a bit less stiff for me now. but i did go for simple poses, close-up shots, etc since i can't do anything too complicated/ambitious yet due to time/energy constraints. (it's webtoon format but not full color, i find paneling in that style easier lmao)

i tried cleaning up the lines as much as i could but at the same time, i try not to get too attached and just move on to the next panel to get it over with 😂😂😂 otherwise i won't ever finish

it's been a long time since i drew a long one like this (i think the last one was for my xlmi chrono crusade au)

i also have another set of wips from the white day art bases that i found, but those ones are colored so i'll just do those after this one.

i'll try to finish the comic b4 i go inactive for a few days to cram even more for the exam. if i don't then i guess it'll be a birthday post that i'll speedrun right after, because the exam is on my birthday lol (how lucky)

[blazehedgehog]

Soaking this in

If you don't know what this is, here's an explanation: Both Fortnite and Call of Duty employ something called "Skill-Based Matchmaking" (SBMM for short), and it has become the bane of a certain subset of players who very vocally yell about how it is ruining multiplayer games.

In short, the game secretly and quietly keeps track of your "skill level." Even if a game has both ranked and unranked modes, it is always tracking this skill level stat that reports back how quickly and easily you're getting kills. When you connect to a new match, it tries to group you with players near your skill level.

The idea being you start with zero skill stat, and by playing the game well, your skill stat levels up until you eventually plateau and you are forever playing the game with people that are just as good (or bad) as you are, within some level of variance.

This means if you're one of these career streamer guys or a Youtube clip compilation sort of dude (or both), then you very quickly get put into high tier matchmaking pools with all the other career streamers and wannabe esports pros. Hence the very loud, very vocal complaints, because if you're one of those guys, the idea of having a "casual match" goes away. Everybody is always firing on all cylinders and you're expected to do the same in order to keep your rank and not look embarrassing to your captive audience.

So Activision apparently ran an experiment per Charlie Intel (article here) where they reduced SBMM's effectiveness, meaning the big fish pros and the little tadpole casual players were thrown into more games together.

The result was a sharp uptick in players rage quitting matches early, some even quitting the game entirely and never coming back. The report notes that while player retention for players with a high skill rank was improved, they make up such a small percentage of the player base (apparently less than 1%; the article has some grammar problems) that servicing them really doesn't make sense.

As it turns out, low level players don't want to get hopelessly destroyed by wannabe esports pros. And those pros make up such a small percentage of the player base it doesn't make sense to keep feeding them more low level chum, even though they are the hungriest for it. As more and more low level players permanently leave the game due to frustration, it turns into a wasteland where high level players are getting mad at each other until they also get frustrated and leave as well. SBMM ensures long term health for a game's multiplayer ecosystem.

And being a Fortnite player, it's so validating to hear this. "SBMM is ruining multiplayer" was always a narrative coming from streamers and youtubers who were frustrated by having to actually TRY instead of being able to score easy clip compilation fodder on clueless newbies.

Enjoy sticking to your smurf accounts now, I guess.

[wickedhawtwexler]

watching the movie contagion while sick with the plague. that feels so fitting

[finnickodaiir]

Perfect weather for a nap, but I have to study

[teamatsumu]

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A Democratic media strategy to save journalism and the nation

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/12/the-view-from-somewhere/#abolish-rogan

As unbearably cringe as the hunt for a "leftist Joe Rogan" is, it is (to use a shopworn phrase), "directionally correct." Democrats suck at getting their message out, and that exacts a high electoral cost.

The right has an extremely well-funded media ecosystem of high-paid bullshitters backed by algorithm-gaming SEO dickheads. This system isn't necessarily supposed to turn a profit or even break even: the point of Prageru isn't to score ad revenue, it's to ensure that anyone who googles "what the fuck causes inflation" gets 25 minutes of relatable, upbeat, cheerfully sociopathic Austrian economics jammed into their eyeballs. Far right news isn't a for-profit concern, it's a loss-leader for oligarch-friendly policies. It's a steal: a million bucks' worth of news buys America's ultra-rich a billion dollars' worth of tax-cuts and the right to maim their workers and poison their customers for profit.

Meanwhile, the Democrats have historically relied on the "traditional media" to carry their messages, on the ground that reality has a well-known leftist bias, so any news outlet that hews to "journalistic ethics" will publish the truth, and the truth will weigh in favor of Democratic positions: trans people are humans, racism is real, abortion isn't murder, housing is a market failure, the planet is on fire, etc, etc, etc.

This is a stupid policy, and it has failed. The "respectable" news media hews to a self-imposed code of "balance" and "neutrality" that is easily gamed: "some people say that Hatians don't eat pet dogs, some people do, let's report both sides!" This is called "the view from nowhere" and it gets Democrats precisely nowhere:

http://archive.pressthink.org/2008/03/14/pincus_neutrality.html

Balance and neutrality are bullshit, an excuse that has been so thoroughly weaponized by billionaires and their lickspittles that anyone who takes it seriously demonstrates comprehensively that they, themselves, are deeply unserious:

https://www.techdirt.com/2024/12/10/la-times-billionaire-owner-hilariously-thinks-he-can-solve-media-bias-with-ai/

Press neutrality – the view from nowhere – isn't some eternal verity. In terms of the history of the press, it's an idea that's about ten seconds old. The glory days of the news were dominated by papers with names like The Smallville Democrat and The Ruling Class Republican. Most of the world boggles at the idea that a news outlet wouldn't declare its political posture. Britons know that the Telegraph is the Torygraph; that the Guardian is in the tank for Labour (and specifically, committed to enabling Blairite/Starmerite purges of the left); the Mirror is a leftist tabloid; and the Mail is so far right that its editorial board considers Attila the Hun "woke."

Writing for The American Prospect – an excellent leftist news outlet – Ryan Cooper proposes a solution to the Democratic media gap that's way better than the hunt for the elusive "leftist Joe Rogan": sponsoring explicitly Democrat news outlets:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-12-12-democrats-lost-propaganda-war/

The country is a bleak landscape of news deserts where voters literally didn't hear about what Trump was saying he would do, and, if they heard about it, they didn't hear from anyone who could explain what it meant. The average normie voter doesn't know what a "tariff" is, and chances are they think it's a tax that other countries inexplicably pay for the privilege of selling very cheap things to Americans.

Ironically, this news desert is also a crowded field of hungry, unemployed, talented journalists. What if Dems funded free newsgathering and publication in news deserts that told the truth? What if these news outlets, by dint of being an explicitly partisan, party-subsidized project, refused to adopt all the anti-reader practices of other websites, like disgusting surveillance, intrusive advertising, AI slop, email-soliciting pop-ups, and all the other crap that makes the news worse and worse every day?

Cooper recounts how this was actually tried on a small scale, to modest good effect, when the Center for American Progress subsidized Thinkprogress, an explicitly leftist news outlet. This was going great until 2019, when corporate Dems and their megadonors killed it because Thinkprogress had the temerity to report on their corrupt dealings:

https://www.thedailybeast.com/thinkprogress-a-top-progressive-news-site-is-shutting-down/

And, Cooper points out, this isn't what happens with far-right subsidy news. Right wing influencers, personalities and writers can stray pretty far from the party line without getting shut down.

I love the idea of a disenshittified, explicitly political leftist Democratic news media. Imagine a newsroom whose purpose is to get its message repeated as widely as possible. It wouldn't have a paywall – it would be Creative Commons Attribution-only, allowing for commercial republication by anyone who wants to reprint it, so long as they link back to it. It wouldn't wring its hands over AI ingestion or whether a slop site that rewrote its articles got to the top of Google News. That's fine! If the point is to get people to understand your point of view – and not to attract clicks or eyeballs – other people repackaging your content and finding ways to spread it is a feature, not a bug.

Back in the Napster Wars, entertainment industry shills – like Hillary Rosen, who oversaw a campaign to sue tens of thousands of children before becoming a major Democratic Party power-broker – used to tell us that "you can't compete with free." That's not entirely true, but it's not entirely false, either. If your news is a loss-leader for a democratic society that addresses human flourishing and a habitable planet, then you can make that news free-as-in-speech and free-as-in-beer, and avoid all the suckitude that makes reading "real" news so fucking garbage.

For the past five years, I've been publishing a newsletter – this thing you're reading now – that has no analytics, ads, tracking, pop-ups, or other trash. As a writer, it's profoundly satisfying and liberating, because all I have to care about is whether people engage with my ideas. I literally have no idea how many people read this, but I know everything people say about it.

That's how the news worked back in the good old days that everyone says we need to return to. Writers and editors measured the success of a story based on how the public reacted to it, not based on clicks or metrics that told you how far someone scrolled before they gave up on it. The supposed benefits of "data-driven" editorial policy have not materialized – the "data-driven" part is the search for an equilibrium between how surveillant and obnoxious a website can be and your decision to stop reading it forever.

Outlets like Propublica have done well by adopting much of this program, albeit without any explicit leftist agenda (the fact that they seem leftist reflects nothing more than their commitment to reporting the truth, e.g., Clarence Thomas is a lavishly corrupt puppet of billionaires who've showered him with riches).

The fact that they've been as successful as they are on a national beat – and partnering with the scant few regional papers to do some local coverage – just proves the point. The Democratic Party doesn't need its own Joe Rogan – they need a nationwide network of local outlets, sponsored by the party, committed to never enshittifying, bringing relevant, timely news to a nation in desperate need of it.

[lilacgaby]

title: entranced.

pairing: katsuki x fem! reader.

through all stages of his life, katsuki was entranced with you.

katsuki was destined for greatness. everyone told him so, it was engrained in his mind from the moment his quirk manifested.

as a kid, he was top of the hill always, king of his crew, every game they'd play would leave him the champion. he was the fastest, the strongest, the coolest.

his ego fluctuated with every new person he'd meet, how he felt none could match up to the god-given power of his, until his last year of junior high you joined his class.

you, who hung around deku, not minding that he was quirkless.

you, who he found so entralling.

you didn't really socialize to the other classmates, so he didn't know what your quirk was..

at least not until the teacher announced you and deku were applying for U-A beside him. he scoffed, "you two? heroes? don't make me laugh, maybe you'll be lucky enough to be assistants at my agency, and that's a huge if, quirkless idiots."

"i'm not quirkless, and midoriya isn't an idiot. so take your foot out of your ass and learn to respect people." you grabbed midoriya's hand and guided him out.

that was the first time you ever spoke to him and he didn't have a rebuttal.

he glared as you two walked out the hallways together, his pack of goons followed him as he walked down the alleyway. they ran away when he got captured by the villain.. but you. you and deku ran against the crowd to go save him. despite how he insulted the two of you.

that was the first time he'd seen your quirk. behind deku who was aimlessly scrapping the gooey flesh of the villain attempting to take him over, you had taken to making magma rock, that turned to lava upon contact, and burned the flesh of the villain. this caused the villain to create an opening, that allowed allmight to save him.

he didn't talk to you after that, he didn't have the chance. the most you'd given him after that was a nod.

he saw you everywhere and in everything now. in the orange flowers, in the dandelions, in the way the clouds shaped.

he wasn't looking for you in the entrance exam, no way. but when he saw the familiar silhouette of your body next to deku's, he felt his heart race. you looked amazing, your body a bit more toned now, he assumed youve been training alongside deku all this time.

he wasn't looking at you.. but, he saw the look on your face as you pouted, mouthing to deku the session you were placed in. he was in the same one.

he wasn't looking for you or anything, but when he spotted the aftermaths of your quirk, referring to the massive amoungs of molten iron from the pointed robots, he sped up.

the sight of you in action sent cupid's arrow through his heart.

you, now covered in the magma rock yourself, with your hair being the main source of the lava pooling around the exam center. the robots turning to nothing as you blast each shot with pinpoint accuracy, the small sighs you'd occasionally let out birthing fire from your mouth.

there was now a range of symbols, red and apparent, marking your body. from your face to your arms and even your legs. he was in utter awe of the chaos, yet elegance of your quirk.

you were breathtakingly horrifying.

as soon as time was up, he'd gotten the top score of course. but it wasn't by a landslide as he'd hoped, because you were only 0.5 points away.

he'd hoped to see you again. and he did, in class 1-a, you'd taken a spot next to deku again, and a girl with pink cheeks. he tsked as he put his feet on his desk, prompting a guy with engines on his legs to reprimand him.

he was deeply moved whether you used your quirk, whether it was in the quirk physicals, team battles, or mock missions.

he didn't know how or why, but he'd managed to become friends with you. along with the rest of his group, or the people that followed him around and forcibly made him their friend, you'd hang around.

his conversations with you were usually short, he didn't know how to talk to you. you made him feel weird, a feeling he never really understood.

not until their first encounter with villains that is.

the second they were teleported, he was on a mission to look for you. kirishima walking behind him as he tried to find you and make sure you were okay.

but when he saw you cornered by a group? he went rabid, sending shot after shot onto them until they were unconscious. he helped you stand up. "you okay?" he held your hands in his.

"i.. im fine bakugo. thank you."

he felt his face flush, he was lucky his hands were covered by his outfit, because he was sweating inhumanely. you finally let go of his hands, making him sigh before you suggested, "let's go regroup with the others, k?"

he nodded, and joined back in the fight.

he got more comfortable with you after that, holding your hand seemed to be casual for you two now. he sat beside you at lunch, his hand on your thigh as you two ate. you trained together, studied together, hung out in his room together.

napped together once, his heart leaping out of his chest when he realized it wasn't a vivid dream, and that you really were next to him.

when he was kidnapped you were apart of the group who saved him, giving all for one a nasty burn on his bald head.

after that, he realized how you were on his mind constantly.

he wondered if you ate, if you slept, if you studied, how you scored.

when you were training at the agencies if you'd be safe, he knew you were capable, but because of the destructive quality of your quirk you couldn't use it often.

he'd confess his nightmares to you on late night calls. how the phantom pain of being suffocated would sometimes come back to him, how he hated being approached from behind.

and he'd go to bed, his heart racing when you confessed yours. "honestly.. my biggest nightmares are about losing you."

you were even on his mind when he died. alongside all-might and deku, stood you. he wanted your validation, he wanted to be a hero to you, that's what he thought about in his last moments.

when he was revived, he saw you in the hospital. you were alive. except for the severe burns on your arms from your body's over exertion, the only other wound was in your stomach.

his heart ached as he saw you. there was a gash in your stomach.

after weeks of rehabilitation, he couldn't take it anymore.

he bowed his head to you, confessing his feelings that had been boiling over for years. your arms were still bandaged and one of his was still in a cast. you grabbed his face, pulling him up to yours before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. you kept him there after, looking into his red eyes.

"i've liked you too for a while, bakugo."

"katsuki."

"...katsuki."

you started dating. he worked to strengthen his hand, as you worked to up your bodies tolerance for your quirk. throughout the years you'd grown even closer. he got you a gorgeous promise ring, scratching the back of his head as he said, "it's just a placeholder for the next one. so, sorry if it's--" you cut him off with a hug and a kiss.

you graduated alongside eachother, where he gave another speech and you had to try your hardest not to burst out laughing at the memory of his first one.

you both worked hard, becoming pro heroes, and surprisingly

becoming popular because you two were dating.

you'd constantly be caught out together. photos of katsuki's smiles as you smear frosting on his nose, you two laying down on a picnic blanket and staring into each others eyes, you two walking around the streets.

sometimes you'd catch him watching your fights. could you blame him? he thought you were gorgeous, always. but especially when you were fighting. the look on your face, your actions, your confidence,

it'd send him spiraling.

you attended gala's together, him at your side. you've received thousands of modeling contracts, but you only accept ones that'd let you pose with katsuki.

you still made him nervous after all this time, so he'd audibly gulp whenever you circled him, striking poses so he'd laugh.

you became the nation's couple, which shocked the two of you to no avail.

he proposed to you on your 5th anniversary. true to his word, the ring was extravagant, it glimmered from all angles. he explained, looking into your eyes as he held your hand, "i could never find anything as gorgeous as you, but i hope it comes close."

your wedding was huge. you actually had two, one for close friends and family, where his mother took the reign to plan everything since you two were so busy.

and a huge public one, media and journalists allowed to see the million dollar wedding you two had to celebrate your years together, and katsuki's undying infatuation with you.

he was wrong though, because he did find something as gorgeous as you.

your beautiful baby girl that you welcomed to the world.

[crystalelemental]

Fire High Score event information is up, and that means teambuilding. Unlike Electric, Fire is a type I respect and invest in, so I feel like this one I can do better at.

MU Torchic, Anni N, Serena vs. Kiawe (needs Sp Def drops) Condition is "Strike pairs lose 80% of their stats." So Tech it is.

This is by far the shakiest of the fights, because I personally think MU Torchic sucks ass as a support, but it's literally all we have to work with. I am hoping, foolishly, that Anni N can manage its HP needs with Noble Roar. If the Eevee Day stuff runs into the end of this, I may try with a 3/5 Eevee Lucas. The spread debuffs will really accelerate N's offensive presence, which might be better than relying on survival. The goal is fairly simple. Serena can hit all foes with Sleep, stalling out a few extra turns while N debuffs and Torchic caps its needed offenses. Once we get to Blue Flare spam, N has Pep Rally and Sp Def debuffs to offset the stage's gimmicks. Because of resilience, I expect Serena to contribute little beyond some target DPS on Overheat. If we can hit 350 strength on this one, I'll feel good about it. Torchic will want to use Flamethrower for some burns, since we get an extra 1k from a burn landing.

Kiawe, Leon, Silver vs. Blaine (Evasion and Ground weak) No conditions. Just a straight brawl.

Blaine's team is 100% weak to Leon, so this feels like the obvious call. Kiawe is the best Leon partner among the supports, being able to top off crit rate and hopefully offenses without another use of TM. Leon's Max Move on Ground will give the team added Sp Def bulk, which hopefully assists with survival. The one thing about Leon is that his sync sucks. I am supplementing that with Silver, who has a pretty solid sync nuke, and supplies Sun. Admittedly, I am not in love with this solution, but it's the solution I have on hand right now. And who knows, maybe Sun-boosted Inferno is just better than the on-type damage. At least until he rolls SEUN. If we can get 400 strength, I'll be happy with it. I'm probably not going to be happy with it. In fact. If Serena works out up there. I'm putting Eevee Lucas over Silver. It'll likely achieve comparable results, but it gets the Main Character condition in.

Evelyn, Hilda, NC Leaf Vs. Flint (needs Burn and pre-sync) No healing. *sigh*. Okay, so there goes the Potion support for Evelyn.

The condition fucks Evelyn up like crazy, but she's the strongest raw defensive booster in the type. NC Leaf's debuffs also feel ideal here, minimizing the damage we're likely to take. Hilda may not have Potion, but she's self-sufficient on boosting and has a decent spread nuke for after Leaf's first setting the rebuff. I am hopeful we can achieve 500 Strength here, but lack of healing may hinder us.

Marley, SS May, Lodge Irida Vs. Chili (needs Def drops) -2 move gauge. Alright, deal.

Now this one I am substantially less confident in. Marley is EX, but even with that, she's frail as sin. Which seriously limits our potential for higher strength clears, because she's just gonna die. SS May is not know for her speed of debuffs. However...that's why Irida's here. Irida has flinch, which is a wonderful tool to stall out those extra turns for May to kick things apart. Irida can also supply some really nice secondary DPS in Flare Blitz when we get down to the wire, and has a solid 50% burn rate for that extra 1k points. Marley will want to grid Flag Bearer to maximizing Atk for the team. Much like MC Torchic, I feel like this is not a team built for true success, so if we can hit 350 I'll be satisfied.

SS Morty, SS Hilda, Ethan Vs. Flannery (Need Sun) 80% reduction in ally sync nuke. Motherfucker.

SS Hilda's the only sensible solution. Given her raw DPS on V-Create, this is the highest base damage we can toss around. I am choosing, very hesitantly, to go with Ethan and his Eruption. But I am, at a moment's notice, ready to swap him for SS Red. While I hate to say it, Red has better move damage, and Ethan is Rock-weak so he might just die against Flannery. But god I am hoping I don't have to use Red. Please game, you can't make me do this. Red would be a good call though. He doesn't really need his sync beyond transforming, so Supports are good here. NC Leaf with Role Cake is probably great on this too. Given Morty's defensive profile, I am very much hoping for a 500 strength clear here. The main problem I have with this team is the Burn. While I don't think he's great due to the lack of sync damage, Silver could supply more Sun and has a 50% burn rate, so maybe I'll shuffle him here over Ethan? Though Ethan's Flamethrower isn't a terrible burn rate.

[welcometothejianghu]

We! Rate! Eunuchs!

Sure, we all love eunuchs. But have you ever found yourself with an emptiness in your heart because you were unable to objectively measure your eunuchs? Well, now you can! Thanks to our handy Eunuch Measuring Scale, you can visualize your eunuchs and even see how they stack up against other eunuchs. Enjoy this handy demonstration of how it works!

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty

Sleuth's eunuchs are absolutely unmatched in the complexity and fuckability departments, and also get full schemesy marks. Their style is sharp but not particularly varied, and while they do call on their beloved emperor, they don't particularly get a good solid holler going about it. Still, Sleuth's little meow meow eunuchs are high-quality, top-of-the-line eunuchs, practically the industry standard.

The Blood of Youth

Imagine -- eunuchs that not only have stunning outfits of their own, but that coordinate with their coworkers! Hats with architecture that defies logic! It's the style score that makes the Blood of Youth's eunuchs truly stand out. While they are admittedly less fully realized than their Sleuth counterparts, one must chalk this slight deficiency up to how difficult it is to get any screen time in a show with eight billion other characters. They're still full of schemesy goodness, though, leaving you always wanting more.

Nirvana in Fire

Nirvana in Fire presents a special eunuch challenge, as there's only really one eunuch to speak of: Gao Zhan, the emperor's loyal attendant. While his primary function in the show is to feign ignorance so he doesn't get into trouble, he can fretfully wail for his head of state like none other. It's tough to singlehandedly bear the responsibility of all eunuch represenation in a property, but Gao Zhan performs admirably in all areas an emperor could desire.

Story of Yanxi Palace

In contrast to Nirvana in Fire, Yanxi Palace has a substantial number of eunuchs, and every one of them is absolutely plotting something at all times. While the sex appeal of these identically dressed eunuchs is on average low, Yuan Chunwang brings the fuckable score up single-handedly by being the rare canonically fuckable eunuch. Note that the Yanxi Palace eunuchs lose a few points on a technicality: By the time they're around, the emperor is a huángshàng, not a bìxià, and it's much more difficult to get a good mournful cry going when you can't exploit the natural trajectory of two falling tones in a row.

Sleep better at night knowing you can now objectively measure your eunuchs along these six important axes! I know I will!

Eunuch Measuring Scale: because dudes gotta measure something

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: An opponent gets angry at you

If you weren't so massively pissed at yourself, you could accept that the goal was beautiful.

Playing Manchester City wasn't for the weak, at least for a goalkeeper, and a pass to one of your defenders was intercepted and the shot came in quicker than you could move.

The City player came celebrating straight in your face, really rubbing it in.

That was the first straw.

The second straw came during injury time of the first half.

Another ball slotted neatly past your outstretched gloves.

She celebrates in your face again.

The final straw happens nearer the end of the match.

You save the goal on the line.

It's a near miss for you but you get it.

The City girl, the one that's been pressing you all match, doesn't think you saved it on the line. She thinks it went in.

She gets up into your face about it.

She's yelling something, hands waving around wildly.

Pernille watches anxiously.

You don't like being yelled at. You used to cry as a child whenever she and Magda so much as raised their voices. You used to keep your head down, folding your body in on itself and lowering your head. You used to sniffle for a few moments before bursting into uncontrollable sobs.

Even as Pernille yelled, her heart would break just because you seemed so broken up by it.

Not many people can match your height. You usually tower over everyone but this time you can't.

This girl seems even taller than you as she yells right in your face, jabbing you in your chest.

She's taller but you're stronger.

You square your shoulders, not even moving as her jabs get a bit more aggressive.

Pernille would be annoyed too, she thinks, if she'd already scored two goals, potentially a third and her team was still nowhere near Barcelona's six shiny goals.

Pernille would be angry too if her third shot was saved on the line.

But she'd never try to instigate anything. She would never start yelling at the keeper, trying to get needlessly aggressive.

Emotions run high on those first leg Champion's League semi-finals.

No one wants to go into the second leg with such a large deficit.

But aggression has no place on the pitch.

The girl shoves you back but you still stay strong, simply rocking back on your feet for a moment before righting yourself again.

There's a reason people call you a brick wall.

"Just shove her back," Pernille hears Magda mutter next to her.

"Magda!"

"What? That girl's gone crazy! She won't listen to reason. Fight fire with fire."

Pernille raises a brow. "Our daughter? You think our daughter will be shoving anyone?"

"Our daughter won't," Magda says confidently," But her girlfriend will."

The ref is coming towards the group from the halfway line.

So is Talia.

Talia gets there first.

She wiggles her way between the two of you and you give her the space to do so.

The City player is yelling.

Talia is yelling.

The City player shoves.

Talia shoves back.

They're up in each other's faces and it's like this referee is the slowest ref in the world.

"Go on," Magda murmurs," Get her! Get her!"

"Magda!" Pernille says again," Stop supporting violence!"

"I'm not! Just making sure she gets a taste of her own medicine! It was on the line! It didn't go in! She's just wasting time now."

Thankfully, it doesn't get any more violent than a few shoves and finger jabs but both Talia and the City girl get yellow cards.

The City girl walks off in an angry storm.

Talia takes it on the chin, a devilish smirk on her face and another goal slotted into City's net before the game is up.

"She looked a tad angry," Pernille notes as you amble towards her at the end of the match.

"Emotions are high, I guess," You say with a shrug, eyes darting to the side," Spot in the final up for grabs and all that."

"She was yelling. I know you don't like yelling. How are you feeling?"

You glance at her, shrugging again. "Sometimes, when people yell, I wonder what they'll do if I start crying at them. Like, if they continue to yell then they're an asshole but if they don't...What are they meant to do? Hug me?"

"An apology would be nice," Pernille teases," But, seriously? Are you okay?"

"I'd probably be worse if we'd lost but we didn't. We're in a good position for the second leg. Yeah, it was a good game. I'm okay."

Pernille holds your face in her hands for a moment, staring into your eyes to see if you're lying.

She can see no deceit in them so just pulls you into a hug.

"Yeah," She hears Magda say next to her," She's lucky I'm not playing anymore. Squaring up to my kid like that? I'd have swung at her."

Talia laughs. "I nearly did."

[jayflrt]

a stoner’s guide to starbucks

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader (ft. enha, winter from aespa, beomgyu from txt, and dino from svt)

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), crack, fluff, stoner au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, zero braincells, limited knowledge of the starbucks corporation, weed consumption, dumb shenanigans, ignore timestamps!

SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i am alive (real) also i was so committed to the bit that i got high to make this <3 shoutout @hoonbear for the Extensive Starbucks Knowledge 🫡 i would also like to note that i am NOT doing a tag list for this smau. also please note that this is a fictional setting and to boycott starbucks in real life for firing their workers over their pro palestine speech. remember to do your daily click!

INCOMING MESSAGES !

TEASER

PROFILES ONE | TWO

01. weed guy beomgyu

02. red bitch with the freckles rizz

03. starbucks public enemy #1

04. 50% cut ???

05. lee heeseung: upstanding citizen, NOT murderer

06. clearing up misunderstandings with an aqi under 50

07. chat is this real

08. daddy’s home 2

09. biodegrade ur chance at romance

10. triple filtered reverse osmosis water filtration system

11. losing the idgaf war

12. crazy gets u bitches

13. banned in the name of love

14. riki s worded irl??

15. 8ball brings nations together

16. killing myself postponed tonight repostponed

17. scheming sponsored by crazy bitch 62 and unimportant goon

18. the do-over date to end all first dates

19. seek BetterHelp.com

20. quarterly store meeting (remote)

21. WHAT ARE WE

22. heejake support group for heejake victims

23. bro fumbled the unfumbleable

24. sunghoon is the new Papa John

25. according to penal code 837 🤓☝️

26. jungwon pulls bitches (the duolingo owl) too

27. someone PLEASE take jungwon to see the teenage mutant ninja turtles movie

28. 14th date’s the charm

29. doc mcuggo

30. nothing to write home about

31. LONDON I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL I LOST MY QUEEN TOO

32. starbucks double chocolate brownies

33. having a kid together before dating is next level

34. tweaking out on 5 hour energy

35. 7.83 inches

36. The Milk Makes The Man, And The Man Makes The Milk

37. sunghoon from papa john's from starbucks

38. then who's flying the plane???

39. league of legends quarantine ex girlfriend

40. WELCOME HOME CHEATER 😐

41. unknown evil forces (chaewon)

42. friends to rivaling coffee shop employees au

43. do NOT get the weed frap

44. now on channel 9 news

45. choose your fighter heeseung tit variation

46. kitten i'll be honest, daddy's about to kill himself

47. a fire can be put out but missing a bereal is forever

48. baby's first customer connection score

49. #STARBUCKS_FIRST_WIN

50. epilogue

UNCUTS !

weekly weed check 🗣️

SUNGHOONXJLAW

happy weedsgiving

minjake texts

the Sunghoon Special

goons vs baby shark movie

COMPLETED 12/1/23

[eskumii]

yandere!genin!sasuke uchiha + darling who's secretly half uchiha hcs

TITLE: " LIKE WATER, LIKE BLOOD " — navi. — general yandere!sasuke hcs.

NOTES: i've been randomly feinin over naruto again and this idea just won't leave me alone :'D don't press me on lore specific stuff i just yap and pretend it's true ok. also i accidently posted this b4 it was finished ... if you read that, no u didn't.

☆ you're no stranger to the fact that your mother had an affair with an uchiha man a few years before the entire clan was slaughtered like cows. your father had been a high-ranking official in fugaku's inner circle, but you had never learned his name, even when he secretly visited you and your mother on weekends between his missions and clan dealings.

☆ this is not to say, of course, that he was a bad man. he often tried to instill core uchiha values into you (never dishonor the uchiha clan name, always seek to carry on its legacy and strength, etc..) but nothing ever seemed to stick. you were more interested in the little trinkets he would bring you: necklaces, bracelets, hair ribbons, hand fans, and various other accessories that were often branded with the uchiha symbol. none of it was ever worn out in public, though, so you just hung them on your walls instead.

☆ after your father's death, you eventually distanced yourself from the uchiha side of your identity as it had always been steeped in secrecy and the fear of scrutiny from the third hokage/konoha elders/villagers who felt strongly about the nine tails attack. after all, you aren't supposed to exist. you're not sure what your mother was thinking when she got knocked up at such a politically fragile time, when the uchiha clan were still under fire for conspiracy and treason.

☆ at the academy, you intentionally avoid sasuke. you've probably spoken to him a handful of times—many of which were him telling you to get out of his way, or to shut up if you were talking too loud with your friends (your assigned seat was directly behind his, unfortunately).

☆ it isn't until much later after you graduate from the academy and are placed into teams that sasuke somehow finds out you're also an uchiha. whether someone told him or he just... knew, you do not know. at this point, you haven't seen him in months (you're on different teams), so him appearing on the landing outside of your open window is a very startling jumpscare.

☆ he takes one look around your room, which has uchiha merch strung up all over the place, and is immediately pissed at you. all this time there was another surviving member of his clan and he had no clue? and it was you, of all people?

☆ sasuke always thought you were weird and suspicious during your days at the academy. whenever he interacted with you, you would cower from him, almost looking ashamed. you were adept at everything he was and, as much as he used to hate admitting it, you were often his competition when it came to scoring at the top of various skill tests. looking back, it all makes sense: the blood in your veins is special, as uchiha children often are. as he is. and now, instead of callousness, he feels a kindling of pride at your excellence.

☆ it takes no time at all for everything to change between you and sasuke. after he barges his way into your room (you don't how he found out where you live in the first place?!), he forces you to explain why you lied about being an uchiha. you have no choice but to comply after his threatening glares pin you into submission and he refuses to let you past him until you talk.

☆ sasuke really doesn't care that you're a "half uchiha." you descended directly from a member of the uchiha clan so as far as he's concerned, you're his kin through and through. this discovery immediately sparks something primal in sasuke, like a desprate clinging to preserve what has been, and to protect what can be.

☆ you're often dragged away to secluded places by sasuke—the training grounds, usually. you try to fight but sasuke is just stronger than you and you are easily wrestled into defeat; a reoccuring pattern that makes you feel unsafe around him. but despite your growing feelings of contempt towards sasuke, he is brutally relentless in his pursuit of you or, rather, his pursuit of molding you into a proud uchiha who is willing to restore the legacy of his clan with him.

☆ the uchiha boy is a little worried that you lack so many of the values that he himself has been taught by his parents and itachi. you don't know much about the sharingan nor the clan's signature great fireball technique. so he starts there.

☆ let's be honest though: you're not interested in being lectured on the history of the clan by sasuke, but you're not entirely opposed to learning a new jutsu so you allow him to train you for now. whenever you mess up or ask too many questions, he'll sigh in very clear annoyance but bites back any insult as a mercy to you.

☆ you notice how much more patient he is towards you. how he quietly praises you when your little flame grows, how he immediately checks on you when you're winded from using too much chakra. there's a general closeness that never existed before (sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, physically guiding your hands into signs, or poking your forehead when you say or do something he thinks is dumb). it's all strangely... intimate.

☆ the frequency of his visits begin to increase as the days go by, and there were a few times where you would wake up in the middle of the night to see him standing over you. obviously, this scares you, and you have to keep sasuke's sudden intrusions into your bedroom a secret from your mother, so you begrudgingly agree to his strict schedule of meeting at his apartment at least four times a week instead of him breaking into yours.

☆ in the following months, you see a side of sasuke that you're sure no one else has seen. one that isn't carefree, but deeply emotional and reactive, especially when it comes to you. soon enough, he reveals his plan of revenge against itachi to you. you're shocked that he would go to such a length, and the sentiment is not shared by you at all.

☆ before sasuke leaves the village, he of course tries to convince you to come with him. you aren't a fool, though. despite settling into your uchiha heritage at this point, you're no destined avenger. you followed along with sasuke's strange intrusion into your life thus far, but this is where you draw the line. you refuse.

☆ "no? what the hell, [name]? you're an uchiha." he'll spit heatedly, arresting you by the hand when you turn to walk away from him. "your duty now is to kill itachi and restore our clan. don't think for a second that you can just run away from this. from me."

☆ and... he's right. one way or another, you find yourself a traitor to konoha for the sake of the blood that binds you to sasuke. what happened to his family, he won't let happen to you. this time, he's the one who'll kill to protect the one he loves, even if you hate him for doing it against your will.

[lonelystarrs]

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮’𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 prt 1.

Barou Shouei x FemReader (slight x Nagi Seishiro in prt 2)

it all started because he bullied your brother, it all started when 12 year old you kicked a ball into his face. Growing up with your eventual sweetheart wasn’t all smooth sailing, life was full of lessons but through the rough and smooth one thing Barou always knew; you were always his girl. Sometimes though even a king needed to lose his throne to realise his true royalties were what built it.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI + virginity loss (both 18+) + angst with eventual comfort + fluff + long fic / Tugs & Texts expansion + established relationship with Barou + smut +

Word count 11.4k

Barou was always king of the field since he started at 6 years old and discovered how good it felt to win, how natural he was at this sport and it was his domain; it was where he belonged. 

This discovery meant Barou dominated the field wherever he went, crushing anyone who crossed his path for the next six years.  

Until one day he happened to crush the wrong person. 

He’d kicked the ball hard towards the goal aiming for it to be a score but some brave kid decided to block the strike. 

He walked over, looming over the boy as he curled into himself holding his face, blood and snot gushing from his as is skin burned bright red. Barou’s hands shoved into his pockets as he half leaned over him. 

“Tsk, what a donkey thinking you’d block that, learnt your lesson?” 

12 year old Barou with his new lingo, new insults to throw at people, left the field and thought nothing of it, just another who got in his way and learned to stay out of it; until the next day he met his karma. 

“You!” 

Barou had been taking part in his strict training routine in the rain, at 12 years old he set his mindset and goals high; creating a routine that he researched and put together through PE, his favourite subject in school.

Red eyes turned to the girly voice that called out angrily in the rain but instead of meeting who was calling him, his face was met with a ball, smacking him clean in the face and actually making him take a few steps back. 

“You asshole! Thinking you can treat people like you do, you hit the wrong boy yesterday Shouei! I’m gonna make your life hell!” 

He never even seen you coming, a mere voice in the rain and suddenly blood gushed from his nose; his hand clamped over it to stop the bleeding. 

Eyes wide he pulled his hand from his face to stare at the fresh blood, even his damn teeth were hurting. 

Barou met your eyes for the first time in his life, shocked to the core a freaking girl had kicked the ball that hard.

“who the hell you supposed to be, the babies girlfriend!?” 

“That was my brother and he’s only 8 you idiot!” 

Barou straightened as he took you in, you looked roughly around his age definitely not as young as the kid yesterday. That fire in your eyes was burning but what Barou was more impressed with was the accuracy and strength of your strike with the ball. You stood in the rain, practically steaming as it hit you because you were so angry. 

Then you spun and disappeared leaving 12 year old Barou with sore teeth, bleeding nose and pounding head. 

Perhaps even his heart thumping more than it should be.  

—0—

You certainly kept your promise; making Barou Shouei’s left hell for the next four years. Although at this point he was convinced it was just habit, no one could hold a grudge for this long surely?

The fact he could see that damn gleam in your eye, those lips twitching in a little smirk when you pushed his buttons, when he squared up to you pressing his forehead to yours and you only pushed back was proof you were enjoying it. 

So he tried to not feed it.

He was the better person, walking away or ignoring you. He did best to avoid you, but found him you always did!

The only one really brave enough to bother him, to get in his space was you. Girls were too scared to approach him in person, deflated by love notes left in his locker; he simply threw them away never even opening them.  Even the guys stayed away from him unless it was his soccer team. 

He became a bit of a loner, seemingly content in his own company or focusing on his football dream. His arrogance and ego grew into something rather ugly, adopting manners of being a king, everyone being a peasant or a donkey.

You’d stood up to Barou from day one, the only reason you survived it was because his patience and morals were incredible; he didn’t believe in hitting girls. Even if you standing up to him wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

However, being sixteen and hormones arriving changed things up.

Where things remained very much the same for you towards him, Barou’s teenage boy mind was starting to mess with his exchanges with you. He’d started to really try to stay away, his gaze noticing things in you he hadn’t before and it disgusted him.

Like how you standing up to him, never backing down and being just as stubborn as he was shifted from annoying to endearing. He argued back less, unable to form insults when eyes dropping down to your shirt that was getting too tight on your chest, your skirt dancing on your thighs, how your waist dipped showing curves.

He was successful for a time, keeping distance from you and avoiding any heads butting. But this week, much to poor Shouei’s dismay, the teacher thought it was a good idea to pair you both together for a project. 

even the whole class fell silent, awkwardly looking between each other. No other teacher was brave enough to pair up you both, but this one seemed to twinkle something mischievous in her eyes over it.

Barou had been unusually quiet with you for the last two weeks and he had been avoiding you like the plague. 

Why? You had no idea. 

You didn’t really care either.

“Get into your pairs and decide what you’re going to do for the arts project.” 

Barou’s eyes darkened as you stood from your seat knowing he wouldn’t move towards you, the rest of the class moved and chatter started throughout the room making sure they had distance from you both. The occasional side glances to see if you’d killed each other yet.

You slid into the high stool next to him with a little too much sass, red eyes glancing down at your school skirt riding up, thigh high socks squeezing the tops of your thighs and he groaned, turning away to glare at the wall and fight the heat crawling up his neck. 

“So Barou,” you sang, he inhaled deeply arms crossing tighter against his chest that was getting bigger every passing month, it was impressive how the guy had shot up like he had. He was so freaking tall and growing more muscle by the week.

“What’cha wanna do with your favourite subject?” 

“Like hell I know. You do it, keep that shit off me.” 

He hated arts and crafts because it was so damn messy, he was already glaring at the paper on the table and the different pencils, charcoals and paints lined up to use. 

“Awh c’mon!” You grabbed the charcoal pencil and started to press it hard on the paper, gathering a nice little patch of black dust before placing it down and pressed your index finger into it. 

Barou actually gritted his teeth at the mess, eyes tearing from the page to look else where whilst you started to draw something with the charcoal. 

You were always good at portraits or forms of the anatomy, he’d seen you work with charcoal a lot and despite its mess the end results were always good. 

He’d give you that.

“So, I’m surprised you haven’t kicked off being paired with me.” 

“You’re good at the subject, you’ll get us a pass. I’m not foolish enough to not take the best in here, means I don’t have to touch this shitty stuff either.” 

Your silence and lack of work on the paper made him turn to look at you, only to see you looking at him suspiciously. 

“The fuck you starin’ at?!”

“Where’s Barou?”

He scoffed and looked away realising he’d just somewhat complimented you to your face. You laughed and scratched your cheek with your finger forgetting about the charcoal coating the pad. 

“I’ll get us passes useless Barou! Don’t you worry!” 

You returned your attention back to the paper and Barou’s eyes moved to you when you weren’t looking. Red gaze watching your face, your tongue sticking out a bit as you concentrated with a small smile on your lips. Eyes beaming with joy at you setting your skills on something you enjoyed. 

Damn it you’d grown up so much, he wasn’t the only one who’d shot up. You started to lose that baby fat on your cheeks, your hair had got longer and you always smelled so damn good. Your shirts were always ironed and perfectly white, he’d notice the material hugging you more as your breasts had started to grow, the shape of you changing as you both hit 16. 

His eyes moved to your face again, noticing a few strands of hair had fallen from your successful attempt of a messy bun to stop it getting in the way whilst drawing. 

He then noticed the black smudge on your cheek and he glared at it, his hand twitching already to remove it. 

How had you got that on your face so damn quickly! 

“Ta-da!!!” 

You held the page up, a dust of black cloud flying off causing Barou to shoot from his seat quickly. 

“Watch it you slob!” 

You looked over your shoulder with a dry expression, 

“You’re such a princess Barou,” 

“Piss off.” 

You blew him a kiss and looked back at you work, your photographic memory paying off as you grinned at it.

“Hmm, just needs a title, how about….” You pondered for a second before lighting up and grabbing a pencil, scribbling down before sliding it to him. 

‘The King’s Strike.’

Barou stared at the page, you slid in front of him. The perfect striking pose, shirtless with just shorts, his long socks, shin pads and soccer boots. Muscles drawn perfectly, the twist of the body and shadowed with the charcoal. The ball moving towards the goal, every detail was there.

Then his hair.

It was him. Striking a goal. 

“It was you at the game last week,” you said boredly, “-s’yours if you want it.” 

“You were there?” He looked at you finally and you shrugged, looking off across the class. 

“Since last year,” 

“Every game?” 

“Uh -yeah. The girls like watching you lot, I find it boring but seeing you prance around like a show pony is midly entertaining.”

Shit why did he suddenly feel so hot? He didn’t even give a shit that you’d insulted him, he was so focused on the fact you’d been watching him and he never knew.

His hands got clammy, his heart accelerating in his chest like it did after he scored at the same time he felt fucking nervous. The bell ringing broke his gaze on the drawing, you jumped down from your stool and turned to leave. 

Barou had other ideas, grabbing your wrist before you got too far you spun back and looked at his grip on you to him. Frowning you opened your mouth to say something but Barou dragged you down with him to grab his bag. 

“You scrub you can’t just leave like that, you’re gonna get that shit everywhere! You’re fucking filthy!”

Pulling out a pack of cleaning wipes you stared at him like he’d grown three heads, before snorting a laugh, then it went full blown. 

“You carry those in your school bag?! Hahahahaha!” 

“Shut it you slob.”

Heat crawled up his neck but he battled it down, his hand lifted your wrist to clean your fingers with the wipe. What the hell was he doing?

“It’s even under your fucking nail -ugh this is disgusting.” He was grumbling to himself and you froze staring at him, he was surprisingly gentle actually, you thought he was finished until he grabbed your cheeks, pushing them together causing your lips to perk and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched in your throat as the closeness.

Reaching up with a new wipe to clean the smudge on your cheek. 

“I gotta game Saturday,” he grumbled, voice deep and gruff, refusing to look at you longer than a glance. You were worried he could feel your heart thumping in your chest, or how hot your cheeks felt under his fingers. 

“You comin?” 

You nodded dumbly your eyes taking in his features being this close. Completely forgetting if you even had any plans this weekend, you felt blank at the moment, heat stirring in your chest and you actually rubbed your thighs together.

When did this guy get so damn handsome? His eyes were so… red, his hair looked so soft, he’d grown substantially and he absolutely towered over you now. 

“Front row on our teams side,” 

His eyes flicking to your mouth before locking with your eyes. 

“-got it, girl?” 

Barou released your cheeks and grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder and leaving the room; you stood dumbfounded at what the hell just happened. 

You looked to the table, he’d taken the drawing. 

Unknown to you, the old lady art teacher was chuckling in her seat, fingers pressed together and her glasses glinting watching you both. 

“I knew it.”  

—0—

You’d attended his game, sitting where he told you to and you watched how each game turned him more into an asshole on the field. He was cruel, selfish and egotistical yet you couldn’t stop watching him. 

You’d made a mess more often in arts because he couldn’t stop himself from cleaning you up, accidentally spilling things on your hands and making art class extra messy. Even when you weren’t paired together he’d storm across the room when everyone left.

You’d make sure your tie looked off when you seen him and he’d straighten it because it drove him mad. It amused you endlessly, weirdly liking it each time he got closer to you. 

It all started from Art classes, graduating closer to you, using the excuse he knew you’d make a mess. It started simple, minor until it progressed into pairing with you for projects. Glowering down at whoever was next to you and getting them to move. They were scared whilst your eyes twinkled in amusement up at him, until he glared at you for staring at him.

Where it began it arts to spread to each class he shared with you, seating next to you or keeping you as a study partner. You didn’t find yourself questioning it, a light tease every now and then which he found himself not biting to.

The day he caught you walking home in the rain without an umbrella he let you stand under his, belittling you the entire walk home for being a dumbass and forgetting it.

Your heart racing when you seen his shoulder wet, hanging out from the umbrella to keep you dry. So you made him a bento as a thank you, he was skeptical at first, looking at it with disgust and you didn’t think he’d eat it, until he handed it back clean and empty the next day.

That one walk turned into him waiting at the gate no matter the weather, he’d listen to you ramble on about absolute bullshit wondering why he tolerated you above everyone else; perhaps your amazing bento boxes he had daily now were the reason.  

The morning he caught you running on the weekend during the summer; those shorts riding fair too far up your thighs and ass leaving nothing to the imagination. He couldn’t shift the image of your sweat glistening skin, chest heaving as you sucked air back in, your sports bra pushing everything up and playing on his teenage mind.

He started running with you, leaving his headphones in whilst you had yours in. Every weekend morning he’d be waking you up at stupid times to run and you kept up with him. You’d both stop at a shop to buy a drink on the wall home to cool down. 

“My feet are buzzing!”

“Get better trainers then you idiot,” 

“I did! They haven’t arrived yet.” 

“Then why are you fucking running if they’re hurting?” 

You pouted and prodded his bicep,

“-and miss our morning dates, getting all hot, sweaty and out of breath with you? Pft!” 

Barou handed you a cold bottle of water, pressing the cold bottle to your forehead whilst gulping down his. You side glanced watching his Adam’s apple bob with each swallow. 

His shirt was off, tucked into his waist band of his shorts and sweat dripping down his body. The temperature was already getting unbearable this early in the morning. Ditching his empty bottle he started to walk forwards, glancing over his shoulder at your slower pace and fiddling with the bottle. 

“Don’t say a damn word,” He sighed in annoyance and stopped, crouching to his knee he glared over his shoulder. “-up.” 

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, wrapping them around his sides and feeling you press your body flush against his back, arms wrapping lazily around his neck and resting your head on top of his.

People started gossiping, started suggesting that Barou had his eyes on you, the mutterings and the rumour of being Barou’s girl started circulating around. 

It was all talk, nothing had actually happened between you both but you’d noticed the change in him as much as you had yourself, it was slow but each week over the last year progressed into something. From enemies to practically seeing each other daily, to him eating your bento boxes and being at each game. 

Then a day came after you both turned 17 and attended a certain game that changed it all, sat at the front on his teams side like you always had done for the past year since he first told you to. 

This time you weren’t alone, some guy was sat next to you and you were polite enough to speak with him when he tried to talk with you. He was funny, polite and kept you company. You laughed with him, probably flirted a little bit because you were a natural flirt, what? It was fun! 

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the red eyed king on the field. Anger boiled in Barou each time his focused slipped to you and by the end of his match he was seething despite winning the scores, his usual fans screamed and wailed for him but it did nothing to distract him of that image with you and that guy.

Barou ignored his team cheering, stomping over he removed his jersey from his last game, sweat and muscles grabbing eyes and girls squealed at the view. 

Before you knew it a sweaty ass jersey had collided with your head, scrambling to remove it only hearing Barou’s pissed off voice.

“Oi, you fucking donkey get lost, she’s taken.” 

Stunned and embarrassed by the show in front of crowds you were left gawking as Barou made his way off the field with his team behind him.

The next day had you stomping up to Barou whilst training, he was warming up by himself as usual taking up his strict daily work out routine. 

Jesus even in that baggy hoody he was wearing he looked massive, his back looked huge as you stomped up to him, inwardly feeling your confidence shaken as you drew closer suddenly feeling smaller with each step. 

“Oi! King douche!” 

Barou grunted and looked over his shoulder at you with a bored expression, eyes giving you a once over before half turning to you; the only one he’d paused his warm up for even if it was only a few moments.

You marched to him, gripping his hoody at the front and pulling him down to your height. 

“What the hell was that about yesterday huh?” 

Barou glanced down at your hand gripping his hoody before meeting you again, eyes bored he cocked at eyebrow. He could have easily pulled back but he remained half bent to your height. 

“Mind telling me who exactly I’m taken by? Cause I seemed to have forgotten that happening.” 

“By me,” 

You sputtered at his bluntness your grip loosened on him and you leaned back. 

“What? You- I- what are you talking about? That’s a two way conversation Barou! You never asked me an-“ 

“Date me then,” 

“Will you stop being so blunt! At least act like you’re actually interested!” 

“Date me, I can tolerate you.” 

You deadpanned at his lazy bluntness and released your grip on him, stepping back you went to leave. 

Barou heard your grumbling about him, his eye twitched at you walking away from him. 

“Always so fucking stubborn.” He sighed, his hand grabbing your wrist he spun you back, other hand threading through your hair into a grip and pulling you to him.

His mouth pressed to yours in a movement too smooth for someone as belligerent as Barou to pull off, but he made up for it with how roughly he kissed.

You could taste the mint on his tongue, his lips were so damn soft, he was uncoordinated and rough, teeth biting your bottom lip too hard and his tongue running over it as if it was apologising. Greedy, messy, impatient and rough yet some kind of softness under it all —exactly what you’d expect from him.

His hand at the back of your head kept you from leaving as he pulled back, his lips shining from spit and your lip gloss. He pressed his forehead against you, eyes peering into you as he towered over you. 

“Got it, girl?” 

“Barou, was that your first kiss?” 

The heel of his hand pressed to your forehead replacing his and he pushed you backwards. 

“Get lost I have training to do.”

It totally was, you snickered and turned to leave, failing to see Barou’s thumb swipe his bottom lip, tongue following savouring the taste of you and your lip balm. A smirk twitching on his mouth as he looked over his shoulder to see you walking away with a little bounce in your step. 

 —0—

Baron always thought the act of kissing was pretty disgusting, the germs and how unclean it was to swap spit, eighteen years of that thought it was all thrown out the window when he realise the taste of your lip balm was addicting. That subtle hint of cherry lingered more than your usual strawberry flavoured one and he groaned into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip. 

The little moan that left you made his hips roll up into yours, that bulge in his shorts running painfully tight against you, his hands gripping your hips with the intent to bruise. 

You’d come over to his house surprising him in his room when he returned from a shower, the little running shorts you had on were far too short, the loose fitting white sports top and red sports bra underneath left little to the imagination also. The towel thrown over his shoulder, stood in his gym shorts and listening to the giggles of his little sisters signally they were the ones who let you in. 

The distance between you lasted seconds after his door slammed shut, he only half turned around to see you’d strode up behind him, throwing your arms around his neck and jumping up knowing he’d catch you. 

It hadn’t taken him long to walk to his bed blindly, hands gripping your thighs and you kissing him like you hadn’t seen him only yesterday. He turned, fell to his bed and let you straddle him as he sat up, you’d been kissing since, rolling your hips against his.

“So birthday boy, you’re finally eighteen,” 

Barou sneered, rolling his eyes as you lowered your lips to his jaw line, rolling your hips against the bulge in his shorts causing an airy moan to leave him.

“You’re little over a month older, stop acting so superior.” 

You laughed against his neck, straightening yourself and leaning back, his hands sliding up to your lower back to aid your angle, you hands linking behind his neck. 

“Speaking of which, did you know our star signs are the best match?” 

“Don’t start with this shit again, its bullshit-“ 

You laughed, eyes gleaming and his softened watching your pure amusement above him, skin still glistening with sweat from your run here, lips plump from kissing him so hard. 

And his poor heart kicked in his ribs, a sudden burst of emotion swelling up his chest and it spread like heat. 

“I was thinking of what to get you for your birthday-“ you wiggled off him, his grip on you a little reluctant to let you go but your hand pressing against his hard cock made his jaw clench, “-you locked the door right?” 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

It was finally happening huh? It wasn’t often Barou felt himself caught off guard, or any confidence shaken because he was pretty grounded, but his nerves jumped not showing it in his expression and yours didn’t falter either. 

You’d both decided to wait until you were eighteen, given you’d turned that age a little over a month ago he didn’t think you’d be so literal in the agreement when he turned it.

When you dropped to your knees between his, hands gliding up to the waist band of his shorts that were doing very little to hide his dick, you tugged and he didn’t move for a second, red eyes looking down at your pouting face, his hair still down from his shower as it draped over his broad shoulders. 

His hand cupped your chin locking gazes with you. 

“Ain’t no pressure or rush, shouldn’t be doin’ it just cause its my birthday,”

“Your dicks literally flexing under my hand-“ 

“That ain’t the point!” He seethed, other hand gripping your wrist pulling it from his cock and you pouted at him, actually fucking pouted and he sucked his teeth, his self restrain faltering for a second at your pouty ass face.

“You even know what you’re fucking doin?” 

“Kinda, but it gets me off trying it for the first time so, think of it as a joint birthday present!”

You’d watched Barou’s jaw tightened, red eyes sliding off to look at his door in concern knowing his little sisters were running around due to his parents being out, his attention quickly brought back to you when you tugged at his waist band again. 

“I put frozen on for them and bought a bag of sweets -we have two hours.”

You heard Barou click his tongue and he stood, tilting his head down to watch as you leaned back onto your ass, knees still on the floor and looked up at him all doe eyed. His black hair falling to the side he tilted and his thumbs ran under the band of his shorts, pulling it down low enough so his little trimmed snail trail appeared before the head of his dick rested over the band. 

You groaned and licked your lips, reaching up to skim your fingers along his hips. 

“B please,” his jaw clenched, nervous for reasons he didn’t quite understand but he hid it well, his cock flexing at your tongue licking your swollen lips, eyes glazing with something he hadn’t seen before and your whiny little beg. 

“Take it easy-“ one of his thumbs pushed his shorts, releasing his cock with a heavy slap to his stomach, a sticky line of pre linking to his dick and your eyes widened, a smug smirk gracing his face and his ego soared at your shocked expression. Confidence taking over his concern at you faltering, his other hand went for your pony tail, twisting it around his hand and pushing your face to the hilt of his cock, “-I ain’t small so don’t get carried away.” 

His confidence faltered when yours overtook his in strides, tongue pressing to the gap between his shaft and balls, licking a thick, slow line up to the head of his dick before swirling your tongue around it. Barou watched the pre melt on your tongue, you moaned and he fucking melted. 

You laughed when he let out some choked noise at the feel of your tongue swirl around the head of his dick, before kissing the underside of it looking at him like you were in love. 

“Taste good B-“ you hummed against it rising a hand to wrap around his dick not even managing to touch your fingers because of his sheer girth, you pumped up and his body jolted forward the hand tightened around your hair, “-can I suck now?” 

“F-Fuck,” you took that as your go ahead and wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his cock sinking down enough so you were comfortable at your limit, his dick flexed in your warm mouth and when you moaned around his cock Barou was finished, both hands held either side of your face and you gripped him tighter refusing to budge.

“G-Get off, fuck- Hold on,-“ your name left his mouth in a such a whiny tone you looked up to check this was actually Barou, only smirking around his cock at his expression. Eyes blow and wide, mouth agap and he was damn drooling. 

Your eye contact with him, his thick cock in your mouth, hand wrapped around him and that little smirk would stick with Barou until his dying day he was sure of it, he came so quickly he didn’t even have to warn you, your expression changing to shock as thick ropes of cum spilled into your mouth so hard it shot to the back of your throat. 

Hips jolting, six pack flexing as he released his first orgasm with you, lasting less than five minutes in your mouth for the first time. 

You didn’t stop, spit and cum creating a sloppy mess down your chin, hollowing your cheeks and tongue rubbed against the head of his dick you bobbed on his cock; his voice broke as he tried to growl out your name, hand gripping painfully now on your hair trying to pull you off.

Looking back up at him you almost laughed, his eyes borderline cross eyed, drool now spilling to his chin and his hips bucking with each stroke of your tongue. You were overstimulating him and you knew it, you were clenching around nothing and you could feel yourself soaked through your running shorts. Spit and cum dribbled down your neck into your cleavage, knowing Barou would have a fit about it when he managed to uncross his eyes. 

His body recoiled and he sat back on the bed, panting like he’d just finished a soccer match and sweating as much. You rose your hand to wipe your mouth on the back of it, eyes glazed and looking at Barou like he was prey, red eyes drinking in the mess you made but unable to ignore you licking your lips. 

“Maybe the film I picked was too long-“ 

You shouldn’t have doubted Barou’s ability to recover, you shouldn’t have been snarky. He growled and your face faltered for a second, all amusement or taunting left you, blinded with being too cocky and confident with your actions to think that you’d had ever beaten Barou Shouei. 

“You’re dead-“ 

You stood up quickly, a little wobbly from numb knees on Barou’s bedroom carpet and turned to leave, hoping to seek safety in his little sisters downstairs, he was quicker, a thick, strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him with a half screaming leaving you.

“Shut the fuck up-“ his mouth pressed to your ear, his deep warning made bumps rise over your skin, his hand clamped over your mouth stifling your noise and holding you in place whilst the hand around your waist dipped into your shorts. Barou wasted no time in roughly sliding a finger clumsily down your clit right to your hole, your hips jolting forward and your cry was muffled under his hand. “-you’re soaking.”

He growled into your ear, deep voice making you clench around nothing but Barou felt your pussy pulse against the pad of his finger resting at your entrance, he rolled it gathering slick to glide it back to your clit and the pace he set was cruel. You didn’t know if it was lack of experience or because he was trying to be mean, but he was rough with your clit, rolling circles around it with one finger your hips stuttering and legs threatening to give out from under you as you struggled to stand. 

You were begging him but his hand blocked any clarity from your words, your hands finding grip on his forearm across your chest trying to pull it from your mouth. It made you realise how strong Barou was, he was solid, unmoving and had you against him with no match on his strength. His finger suddenly dipped down to your hole and pushed in to the knuckle, your eyes widened and you screamed under his palm, his lips pressed to your temple, tears blurred your vision from the over stimulation and the need to cum.

“Not so cocky now are you?” You weren’t expecting him to roll his hips into your lower back, hard cock gliding along your spine above your ass, “You’re cryin’ from a finger, how you gonna take this?” 

“Mock me again and I’ll put you in your place, nod if you understand and I’ll let you cum.” 

Tears had spilled down your cheeks at this point, weaving between his fingers mixing with your drool under it and guilt hit him, his ego too large to back down resulting in him kissing your cheeks, kissing the tears away and giving you a shhh to try and sooth you. When you finally nodded he sighed and pulled his finger from your pussy, pad rolling back to your clit where he ran soothing circles around it. A relieved sigh left you under his hand, soft moans vibrating against his skin and his only sign before you came was your hips starting to roll desperately. 

“Nod if you’re gonna cum,” you did and he hummed against you, picking up his pace, “-cum f’me then.”

Barou groaned against you as your body stuttered against him, your hands gripping his thighs behind you to support yourself and he caught you when you went slack in his arms, pulling his hand from your mouth he hooked it around your waist to hold you up. The other from your pussy he rose it to his mouth cleaning his fingers off. 

“Shit, you taste good.” 

The slamming on his door made you both jump and his grip on you tightened in response.

“Big brother! Mummy and Daddy are home, so stop smooching your girlfriend!!” 

“Fuck-“

“Don’t swear big brother!”

“Get lost brat!” 

You heard some kind of grumble under her breath as one of his sisters stomped off back down the stairs, seeing Barou flustered was rare and watching him grab clothes to put on, hard dick bouncing with each stride made you cackle. Earning a glare over his shoulders as he pulled a top on. 

“Fuck you find so funny?”

You shrugged and adjusted your shorts before pulling your pony tail back to to tidy up. 

“You’re still hard-“

“Yeah? No shit,” 

Barou sneered under his breath as he sat on the bed to pull his socks on, dressing to go out on a run to match your attire because apparently that’ll hide the suspicion of both your flustered faces. You walked over and leaned down, tucking his hair behind his ear. 

“I like your hair down, never seen it like this before. You’re real handsome you know that?” 

He blushed, Barou Shouei fucking blushed, you didn’t mock or tease him on it, your soft eyes looking directly at his and they had a teary glaze over them. He blinked at you in surprise before rolling his eyes and returning back to his socks.

“Know its my birthday but stop with the crap. Coulda just got me some damn cleaning stuff, I don’t need all the compliments n’shit.” 

His voice was low, trying to sound harsh but he just couldn’t, he just wanted to try and deflect that damn look on your face because it looked like some girl looking at the love of her life in corny romance show. His nerves kicked under his skin, his heart racing and he felt the heat in his cheeks but when he watched your eyes glisten and he hated it. 

He’d known you since he was 12, he’s bullied you, called you all sorts of names. Hell he’s seen other girls get nasty to you but you’ve never cried, you’ve never had those pretty eyes glisten with tears. 

He stood, rare concern suddenly fleeting over him and he cupped your face, thumbs wiping over your cheeks as the tears spilled down them, for a second he thought it was him -maybe he was too rough with you, too forceful and let his ego drive him. 

“M’sorry its so fucking stupid,” 

Barou Shouei was a deep thinker, his mind raced more than he let off and it started to, to the point a fleeting thought of you breaking up with him actually surfaced by his building paranoia. Even if it didn’t make fucking sense that you would, it still annoyingly crossed his mind. 

“What’s stupid?” 

“I think I’m in love with you, B.” 

Shouei stopped breathing, he froze, eyes widening as they locked with your glassy ones and you laughed through crying. 

“Happy Birthday, Barou!” You mumbled through silly tears, trying so hard to deflect it with your shitty humour but watching you laugh through tears almost made a smile form on his own mouth. 

“The hell you damn cryin’bout it you idiot?” 

You opened your mouth to respond but his covered yours before you could start blabbering something out to him, the kiss was slow and messy but it was his own way of responding to your confession. He could taste himself on your tongue, mixed with that cherry lip balm and he groaned into you.

“You’re my girl,” he spoke against your mouth before planting a kiss to your forehead and pushing you towards the door.  

—0—

Blue lock was a shock. 

It wasn’t easy to suddenly have Barou gone from your life when you were so used to having him around for the last seven years, but perhaps it was a good thing. Soccer was his priority and you knew that from day one, you never thought you were above it and quite frankly you didn’t care. Some of your girlfriends didn’t get it, perhaps they were more needy, wanting to enjoy their youths with boys and having that American dream. Driving in cars late and night, recreating the titanic scene with the steam window and hand prints. 

You used the opportunity to do the same as Barou and that was focus on yourself, you concentrated on your studies you perused what you wanted and you taught yourself not to rely on him. 

You sent him a text every Friday about your week, you sent him texts when you were horny, you sent photos, videos but there was never a delivered messaged, never a response. You tried to keep positive, you tried to not let his lack of existence bother you. 

But it was hard, some nights you teared up and called yourself selfish, sometimes you scolded him for not even trying to contact you. What kept you going was coffee and that his future was about to take off with the dreams he had. 

He simply had to do it and you knew he’d be recognised, he’d be successful. 

The day he called without much to say was the day you knew something was up with him. 

“Well, I’ll let you go king~ keep devouring, keep pushing yourself and keep learning Barou. You’re gonna eat them alive and when you’re back, you can eat me alive again~! Turns out that unholy mouth of yours really does show me heaven~!”

You laughed as you hung up and sure enough after he earned his phone back that day, after he asked for a photo of just you -nothing sexual, nothing crude, just a simple photo of you in a summer dress you knew he was missing you. 

He never told you he loved you back but you never felt unloved by him. 

He’d text you occasionally, sounding blunt and trying to come across like texting was taxing on his time, even though he was the one who often messaged first. Waking up at an ungodly hour to say good morning and texting before you even ate with a goodnight. 

When the two weeks off from Blue Lock arrived and Barou appeared at your new apartment, moving out of your family home and the visit was anything but tame. You’d still not had sex before he left and he was about to change it, hearing some of the guys talking in the lockers, seeing your messages and photos, missing you in general made for a messy and truthfully painful first experience. 

“Gotta let me in,” his third finger entered you, twisting before spreading them and you bucked up into him, panting as you gripped the pillows behind you, “-think I’m gonna fit if you're this tight around my fingers? Open up girl,”

His tongue pressed against your clit and your eyes rolled back, pussy spread out from his fingers exposing your hardened bundle of nerves to him. 

“M’cumming Barou!” 

He hummed against your clit, red eyes peering up at you from your pussy as his tongue swirled on you, watching your chest heaving, body stuttering as you came down from another high. 

Barou withdrew his fingers, wrapping it around his cock and he pumped a few times, spreading slick across the head of his dick before pressing it to your entrance. 

“You got the birth control, right?” 

You nodded dumbly, still panting from orgasm and almost too fucked out to process that he’d pressed his thick head to your already swollen hole, until he started to push forward and you tensed at the stretch. Barou clicked his tongue, eyes focused on wanting to watch his dick sink into you for the first time, it flexed at the thought of being the one to spread you open. 

But your struggle made something conflicting lurch in his chest. 

“I-I know you wanna watch b, I need your help though —it’s too big.”

He groaned at your pleading tone, damn well melting for you and sourly reminding him just how easily he’d put you first compared to anyone else in his life, including himself.

Barou shifted, one arm resting above your head to hover over you, the other moved down to press a thumb to your clit and your hips bucked at the sensitivity. 

“Look at me,” 

You did as he asked, teary eyes meeting his and you hiked your knees higher up his sides, one leg curling around his back, sitting next to your hand gripping his ass, the other holding his wrist to tug it off your clit, lacing his fingers through yours and placing it near your head. 

Pushing his hips forward until his thick head pushed through and you moaned, Barou inhaled sharply, restraining himself from just burying himself into the hilt. You were so damn warm and it was sucking him in, that moan was only spurring him to test his self control. 

“S’it, let her suck me in, she wants it, so let me damn well give it and stop being a fuckin’ tease.” 

He felt you relax and he took the opportunity, bullying the rest of his way in and pressing into you balls deep. Burying his face into your neck as his hips stuttered, airy moan breathed onto your skin. Your teeth met his shoulder, biting down on him muffling your pained whimper at the burn. 

He stilled himself, fighting himself to not cum as you clamped around him letting you adjust before he gave a test thrust, one turning into two before he set a pace that had your cunt squelching under him in no time. Your hips rolling to meet his and he realised watching your face, your expressions and doe eyes all fucked out was a better first image to have of you like this for the first time. 

Barou watched as your head tilted back, a noise he’d never heard leave you as you moaned in a way that was borderline unholy, it sent a pulse to his cock, flexing it inside you and spurred him to thrust harder. 

“Make that noise again-“ he felt you tighten around him, still keeping your head tilted and your body tensed, “that’s it huh? Right here?” 

You nodded and babbled at him, slurring words to encourage him not to stop, the slapping of his wet balls hitting your ass, cunt swallowing him sloppily as he hit that spot over and over until you came around him for the first time, your hands blinding reaching for him in support as you literally convulsed, eyes rolling back and toes curling. 

“Atta girl,” he groaned into your neck as your body fell slack, breathing heavy under him and his pace turned feral. Chasing his own end and using you under him to catch it, the only reason he lasted this long was because you’d sucked the life from him before this.

You always got so wet with his cock in your mouth, he loved how much you loved it, wrapping your arms around his thighs, sliding his thick cock down your throat like a pro. He’d cum so hard he ended up pushing you off him because you wouldn’t stop, finding it funny he was jolting under you from overstimulation, making a noise he’d never heard leave him before; some beggy whine that made you moan on his cock. 

He didn’t like mess, but hell he loved seeing his cock buried in your mouth with his cum drooling out. 

“B-Barou I’m gonna cum again! Don’t stop! There, there, fuck harder please! Cum in me, fill me up!” 

He groaned at your babbling, tears spilling down your cheeks, your breath hitching when he gave you a harder thrust that had you looking at him a little worried. 

“Who you think you’re barking orders at huh?”  He was panty, breathy as he spoke but his voice still so deep, little bite behind it as he felt himself about to cum. 

“You want me to fill you up? Best hold it in, don’t fucking waste it.”  You nodded dumbly, desperately at him. 

“Hah- I won’t, I’m cumming, I’m gonna -I love you, fuck you’re so b-big,” 

He smiled at you, heart hammering in his ribs; you were all his.

—0—

‘Rising star Barou Shouei and potential love interest sighted again!’ 

Barou’s career took off at 19, three years a now. Both at twenty two years old and you knew better than to be easily swayed by headliners. You ignored posts flying around the internet but this was the third time in a month a photo was posted with the same girl and this one was hard to ignore when she had her arm gripped around his bicep.

He hardly looked amused, if anything he looked annoyed but that wasn’t exactly a rare expression for him to present when dealing with anyone, even you at times you were sure of it.

You chewed the inside of your cheek between biting your nails, anxiety suddenly flooding you about how exactly you should handle this, you didn’t know his team mates to question them or ask if you should be worried, quite frankly you’d never met anyone in this new team of his. 

He wouldn’t do this.. it’s just not Barou. Cheating just isn’t his thing, he values himself too highly for it.

You ignored the notification bars at the top of your phone, pinging from different girl friends who were sending different emojis to express anger, guessing they’d forwarded the recent post to you to see. 

But when Barou’s caller ID came in, covering your entire screen you let out a yelp and flung the phone across to the sofa from where you were sat, holding your breath as it rang and exhaling heavily when it stopped. Placing your hand on your heart feeling it thumping against your ribs. 

Shit. 

Shit why did you do that? 

It rang again but you had frozen in your place, your brain telling you to answer him but your body just wouldn’t move, the only relief was when it stopped ringing. 

The pinging of texts began and you picked the phone back up, watching as Barou started to message. 

B > Answer your damn phone, 

B > Oi! Woman you wanted me to call at seven. 

You thumbs clumsily flew across the screen, your bubble showing as typing and it took Barou less than five seconds to hit the call button again.

“H-Hey B, sorry I-uh,”

“The fuck you sound like that?”

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re doing summit you shouldn’t be, you not been using that damn toy again have you? Told you not to use it unless I’m-“ 

“N-No! I wasn’t doing that, Jesus Christ Barou what if someone heard you!?” 

“Why? You with someone?” 

“No. Aren’t you?” 

Your hand slapped across your mouth when the words left you in a snarky tone, your annoyance getting the better of you before you could stop it, a heavy sigh left him breaking the tension, his gruff voice quieter than usual. 

“Ignore that bullshit online, she’s the new physio for the team, just clingy as hell.” 

“So, she just gets her hands all over you when I’m not there?” 

“Well yeah, she’s does treatment and sports massage, it’s no big deal. Stop with the crybaby shit, it ain’t like you.” 

Oblivious freaking idiot. Your phone tucked between your shoulder and head, because your hands wrung an invisible neck in front of you like Homer with Bart. 

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just me being a brat huh? M’gonna go Barou, I’m tired. speak to you in a few days when you’re not so busy with your team or new physio.” 

The line going dead was far from a pleasant feeling, heart dropping to his stomach he stared at the home screen of his phone, that pretty photo of you in a sundress he’d changed back in blue lock three years ago. Barou being shocked was rare, you were both twenty two now and you’d never acted like this in ten years. It felt different, his guy was screaming at him leaving it to sit heavy in his stomach. 

You’d never gone to bed without saying goodnight, you’d never got angry to the point where you’d literally shut him off and he needed more fingers to count the amount of times he had said something shitty. You usually fired back, that stubbornness you had and that he found always so endearing.

Opening up the chat of you both he stared at your name, but you never came back online. 

It didn’t stop him sending a text goodnight though.  

When he woke to no routine good morning text, despite you having read his goodnight text at 5am it gave a sour start to his day. He didn’t do anything wrong, you were throwing a damn tantrum over nothing so he opted to give you space.

“Heh, trouble in paradise aye?” 

Barou only side glared at snuffy, ignoring his attempt of conversation as the striker sat in front of the obnoxiously large tv playing whatever film took his fancy this evening whilst stretching himself out. 

“Showed in your training today,” 

“If you’re just here to talk shit then fuck off, I ain’t in the mood.” 

Taking a seat on the sofa behind Barou, he hummed and watched the tv. 

“Didn’t wanna say back along but kinda figured this would happen, girls are a distraction y’know?” 

“Didn’t see you looking troubled in the hot tub photos of ya with them girls, go preach to Aiku, my girl ain’t your concern.” 

“Wrong-“ Snuffy twirled the remote to the tv around in his hand, starting to flick through the channels, “-anything that runs a risk to my team playin’ is my concern. ‘Sides whilst we’re on the topic, you not thought about other girls? Instead of being with the same one? Haven’t you been with her for like, forever?” 

“Sixteen and no.” 

“Or not thought about how feels with you being away more than with her? Long distance is such a drag, you’re both missing out on life.” 

The statement didn’t trigger Barou to think about himself, he was living his goals in life and thriving, coming back to you was a reward, a comfort he’d always known so he wasn’t trouble by any of it. But he’d never once stopped to think about you and your life at home, waiting for him to come back whilst he was off travelling the world. You never complained, you never seemed sad and always supported him, but was it all a front? Was he stopping you from living as freely as he was? He hated the thought of someone else making you happy, someone else taking his position and being around you more than he was -someone else fucking you and seeing that dumb, love struck look you gave him. 

He’d never even told you he loved you back, he never felt he needed to because you just got him in ways no one else did.. but if he couldn’t even give you that, how could he give you the type of relationship you deserved? 

You deserved everything and more. 

“I guess we’re all different, I know I sure as hell couldn’t do it. one of the guys overheard your conversation about the new physio, the media has been in a frenzy about it so putting two and two together isn’t difficult. But fix it, it’s affecting your play and you’re headlining at the moment, don’t let this ruin your high.”  

—0—

You never called him back and he hated it. 

He really fucking hated it. 

But instead of biting the bullet and making the move himself Barou festered and festered. His focus on football made the days go quickly but the evenings were agonisingly slow and his red eyes drifted to his phone in hopes to see your name more than he’d like to admit. 

Despite his stubbornness in making the move, because Barou Shouei would never chase anyone, he was starting to wonder if this was for the best. Perhaps you’d both been together too long it just became a habit, something he was so used to that he never thought about anything else or anyone else. 

Did that mean he was holding you back? Were you being selfless and he selfish? 

His move to Italy wasn’t exactly a great distance to be at when things like this happened, you were both so far apart that it was difficult to just reach out, Barou didn’t think long distance was much of an issue until something went wrong. 

“Hey Barou, it’s time for your physio!” 

The man sucked his teeth, not particularly in the mood to deal with this girl who’d been causing havoc in his relationship. 

Oliver came out groaning, swinging his shoulders and arms like tension had been released. 

“She’s so good, honestly babe those hands are magic.” 

She giggled at him and waved him off trying to act modest and Barou sent a harsh glare towards both. 

“I’ll skip tonight, hands ain’t going anywhere near me after touching that slime ball, fuck knows what’s over your hands.” 

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. 

“I bought all new hand sanitizers and wipes Shouei so get your butt in there!” 

Oliver elbowed him and gave a wink, suggestive and mocking, something that made Barou’s fist curl into a ball. 

“You’d be shit in a threesome,” 

“Get fucked fuckboy.” 

“Eh, that’s suggestive-“ Oliver recoiled with false disgust, “-you really would be shit, didn’t know you swung both ways. I ain’t into that man, only bottom I’m ever being is under a pretty girl.” 

“Will you shut up? You’re disgusting.” 

“You’re such grump! When was the last time you got laid or you still arguing with miss perfect? She’s wasted on you y’know, man she’s wife material, imagine the attention she gets when you ain’t there.”

Barou’s fist swung so quickly it gave zero time for Aiku to get away, just managing to miss the worst of the punch it still grazed his cheek. What he wasn’t expecting was Barou’s knee to end up in his stomach, the man urged from the impact shocked that Shouei actually managed to land a hit on him. Then slightly impressed by the fact it took more than half the team to hold him back, even then he made their feet move. 

“Shouei, that’s enough!” 

Perhaps Aiku had pushed a little more than he should have, but he kinda found it hard to ignore when he’d heard about trouble in paradise with you both, he hoped his taunt would spur Barou into contacting you… that it would stop his tantrum, get his head out his ass and get his head back in the game. 

Cause even Aiku had seen the worth in you and Barou losing that would be foolish.

He just didn’t realise how much worse it had made it instead.

—0—

On day four in lack of communication with your boyfriend left you feeling heavy and guilty. Finding yourself sat at home staring at a letter that had arrived this morning, you graduated your degree yesterday, passing your courses and got a placement to be a paramedic. 

You should be celebrating, you should be happy. Maybe out with friends, others who graduated and family. Your Mother, Father and Brother had attended the graduation and you were hoping Barou would have been there, you weren’t expecting him to be nor blamed him because he was in Italy following his own career dreams. 

You never stopped him, you never expected him to detour from his focus and knew it required the majority of his time. 

A small, selfish part of you was wishing he could have just paused just once to share it with you, a small part of you told yourself how amazing it would have been if him not contacting you was because he was flying back to secretly turn up at the graduation. Instead due to your stubbornness in not calling him back, you hadn’t even received a phone call or text or say congratulations.. was this your fault? Had you been a little too sensitive and dramatic about it? Were you being paranoid for no reason? You’d never been threatened by girls with him before, so why was this bothering you so?

Your gaze returned to your phone sat in your hands, silent and cold, the screen black from being untouched and you knew if you unlocked the phone it would show Barou’s contact details. 

Because you’d been hovering over the call button for the last thirty minutes after opening the incredible offer letter in front of you. 

It was frustrating that he didn’t seem to understand why you were annoyed and hurt, which was ridiculous because he didn’t even actually do anything wrong besides dismiss how you felt. It didn’t help either that only yesterday another photo was posted of him and the teams new physio yet again named as his potential girlfriend. 

Funny how you never seen photos of her with the other boys in the team. 

Nice to see that he wasn’t even trying to solve it. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until little drops fell onto your black screen, your vision clouding as they filled your eyes finally springing free. 

Sometimes you just needed a good cry right? Maybe it would be a good idea to get it out now before you called him, it would make it less likely you’d cry on the phone right? 

The thought of letting go for a minute was enough to let the tears erupt to a sob, one of those ugly cries you needed to get out your system and you started to feel better after another thirty minutes of crying. 

You wiped your tears beforing shoving your hair into a messy bun, sudden courage in you springing forth now the silliness was out of the way. A face of determination as you wiped against at your face before slapping your cheeks. 

“C’mon girl, you’re being silly. It’s now or never!” 

You grabbed your phone and didn’t give yourself a second of hesitation in clicking the call button. 

It felt like it rang forty times, feeling ever so dramatic and like time had slowed because it only took three rings for Barou to answer. 

Okay.

Good start, he answered super fast. 

“Heeeeeey! Shouei’s phone!” 

Your jaw dropped at the girls voice, your breath hitched in your throat and you were pretty sure your eyes almost fell out their sockets like something from Tom and Jerry. 

Your voice failed you, the movement and voices turning into nothing but muffled noises because your heart was thumping so loudly in your chest your ribs were vibrating. 

Fuck why were you sweating all of a sudden? Why did you feel so hot? 

Christ almighty were you about to be sick? 

A deeper voice calling your name eventually brought you back, you had no idea how many times Barou had said it only that by the time you registered it was him saying it you noticed concern lacing into it, because when Barou was concerned he sounded kinda pissed off like he wasn’t quite able to handle the uncertainty of something, like when his control and confidence slipped he faltered.

“Uh, I’m sorry didnt mean to- uh, I didn’t mean to bother you? I’m sorry I just, I’m sorry, we can talk later I -“ 

You babbled, you stumbled and you over apologised for something you didn’t even need to apologise for.

Fuck it should be him! 

The fuck were you saying sorry for?! 

His voice was calm, stern and trying to keep the situation from escalating he called your name in a way that brought tears to your eyes. 

Fuck good was all that crying for if you were getting so easily overwhelmed like this?! 

“Oi, you trust me right?” 

Your hand clasped over your mouth before you could say anything, along with hiding the sob behind it but Barou heard. 

You heard a door closing on his end, you heard him moving somewhere. 

Did you trust him? You were overwhelmed, far too emotional at the moment and confused to even answer that, you faltered because it was all too much. 

You wanted to say yes you trusted him, you wanted to speak, to talk to him about the offer letter because it would be a good thing to discuss, it was good timing. 

But your sob broke through the silence again. 

“Hey, don’t do that shit-“ he was quiet, his voice still carrying his usual deepness but there was something added into it you’d never heard from him, almost soothing, caring and it made you sob harder because it reminded you when you told him you loved him and silly cried over it, stupid emotions! Why couldn’t they just let you be strong for five minutes?!

“-we need to talk, huh.” 

“Yeah,” 

Your heart plummeted into your stomach, its fight to stay in your chest lost as the acid crept into it, churning in your stomach as your gut was telling you where this was going, your heart unable to fight or resist any longer. 

“It ain’t gonna work like this, you deserve better-“ 

How fucking dare he. 

Rage wasn’t something you felt often, it wasn’t in your personality to get angry like this, feeling it burn under your skin and desperate to act out physically. In fact the last time you remember feeling like this was when you kicked the ball into 12 year old Barou’s face for degrading your younger brother. 

It suddenly became easier to hold yourself together a little better, focusing on feeling more angry than upset, them moving together in some aid to feed your fiery side. 

“-if that’s what you want, Shouei.” 

You were sure the lingering echo of tears and upset still clung to your tone, regardless of how strong you sounded on your side your lip was wobbling and your eyes were blurring with tears. 

“I dunno what I want.” 

“If it’s got to that point, then that’s the answer for us both.” 

His silence was disturbing and it was only giving you room to allow another crying session to break through the very thin self restraint holding it back. 

So you took control. 

“Take care Shouei, all the best to you and her.” 

“Oi, I ain’t with her, it ain’t like that I told you to ignore that shit in the med-“ 

Call ended. 

Red eyes stayed down at his phone cutting off back to his background of you, hanging up on him before he was even able to finish his sentence, the regret already firing through his stomach as the heaviness of guilt made even his strong shoulders hunch. 

Fuck, what the fuck did he just do? 

Barou flicked to your name in his call log, thumb not even hesitating over your name as he went to call you back. 

Sorry this number is not available, please call back later. 

Never one for caring about social media until this moment he went to yours, still having accessing to it he scanned through going to click the message button, stopping himself when he realised why you deserved better, deserved someone who would give you the time you should have. 

seeing your photos of your graduation yesterday and being so wrapped up on his own shit he hadn’t even reached out; he didn’t even remember it. Isagi commented on it, of course he fucking did but Aikueven acknowledged your achievement in the comments, he didn’t know you even knew Aiku.

He locked his phone, throwing it onto his bed and pinching the bridge of his nose to try take away the sting flaring through it, his throat running dry as his vision suddenly blurred. 

He cleared his throat, fighting away any progress on that happening he never even cried as a baby!

Perhaps this was for the best, even if it felt wrong. 

The feeling would pass with time. 

Right? 

—0—

You removed Barou on socials, blocking his number and ways to contact until you felt ready to face the music, coming off socials as well to avoid actually seeing anymore posts. 

You needed to learn to be selfish now and focus on yourself, start a life without Barou and maybe learn some new things about yourself, pushing yourself out your comfort zone would be the first place to start… after devouring tubs of ice cream and sobbing over titanic on repeat. 

Jack could have damn well fit on that door!

You could already hear the lyrics at the back of your mind, ready to messily sing along to Near, far, wherever you are believe that the heart does go on, once more, you open the door, and ou're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on. 

Oh it was gonna happen, you were gonna be a mess.

You sat numbly looking at the letter in front of you through blurry tears looking like a blotch of white on your coffee table. You had options to be placed abroad for two year’s experience, you didn’t think your option of Italy would actually get offered, your second choice was England.

You’d got the highest marks and worked your ass off to improve your chances to get your offer, but the idiot Shouei wouldn’t ever know anything about that would he. 

Now all you had to do was decide a box to tick. 

You were calling Barou to tell him you could accept Italy, that for the first time in your lives you could be together longer than a few weeks at a time, maybe finally move in together. 

Once again your life was moving towards him, because of him and it needed to stop. 

England might be a refreshing option. 

You’re pretty sure Isagi had friends there on another soccer team, Nagi was it? 

©pharix/lonelystarrs 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.