#you all put so much work in to keep the tournament running and make it fun for everyone

[poppybros-jr]

This is probably the last time I get to do this, huh?

SURPRISE PROPAGANDA ATTACK!

My target today is Starstruck Dee! She’s a perfectly normal Waddle Dee! I’m a perfectly normal noddy, so of course I’m going to support her!

- I love her giant bow! It looks so good on her! Head accessories are the best accessories when you’re small and round like us.

- Speaking of which, she’s small, just like me! Smaller than me, even! Us short people have to stick together. We’re not too short, the world is too tall!

- She’s so sparkly! Her skin is all glittery and she has those cool star things on her cheeks! Sparkles are the best, in my opinion. That’s why one of the first things I learned to do with my magic was make sparkles! Like this!

- She’s friends with Noir! I’ve seen her riding around in his scarf. Of course I’m going to support someone who’s friends with one of my friends!

Vote for Starstruck!

Starstruck Dee belongs to @starflungwaddledee

@kirbyoctournament

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[comicaurora]

So based on that last ask with King Arthur is he choosing to fall in love with Gwen even if she has a high chance of falling for Lancealot? If so, it's tragic. Doomed to love another that won't fully love you back.

Does Arthur even just tell Lancenalot to get the hell put of the kingdom some loops?

I think it's more like-

You become aware of your existence somewhere around the age of 3. You were born under mysterious circumstances you don't know the details of. The first time through, you were growing up in a castle. Lately you find you are growing up among peasantry.

Maybe you have brothers. Maybe you have a sister. Maybe you're an only child. Your family is distant either way. They speak welsh. They speak latin. They speak french. They speak english with american attempts at british accents.

The first few times through, there wasn't a sword. Now it's a consistent presence - a shimmering blade stuck in a plain anvil or a large boulder, haunting your hometown or a nearby forest glade. It looks different every time, feels different in your hands. It was made for you.

There are more trials every time. In the first stories the crown was yours from birth. Lately it's been further and further away, behind more tribulations and tournaments and beasts to slay. More guidance from the ageless old man you remember from the earliest days, the welsh days. He's different every time. Everything's different every time. And still nothing changes.

The crown is yours. It's inevitable. And when the crown passes into your hands, it carries the kingdom with it. It's yours now. And it's going to thrive! You hardly need to do anything. Heroes flock to you and pledge themselves as knights, then spend the decades tearing off on wild quests and adventures, getting into the kind of trouble that serendipitously always keeps the kingdom safe. The adventures feel familiar, but never quite play out the same way. Chalices, black knights, fairy women, questing beasts. You rarely see them for yourself. You're too important, after all. You're the kingdom's beating heart.

You have a queen. You don't spend much time with her. It's jarring how much she changes every time. You hate how much it surprises you the times she genuinely loves you; you never really get to enjoy it. The kingdom doesn't run itself, even if just having you around seems to make the forests grow thick and the rivers run clear. Mostly you spend time with her when you're rescuing her from abduction. You very rarely have children together. You miss them.

It didn't used to end in fire, but lately it never ends in anything but, and you never know when it's going to start. You're never home when it starts, but you spend so much time out tending the kingdom or questing anyway. But you always learn too late - treachery. Your knight, your vassal, your bastard child, your lady love. Camelot is burning. You watch your life's work precede you into the grave.

You die. You sleep under the mountain. You dream. It's quiet.

Somewhere in the world, a writer picks up a pen, and you become aware of existence somewhere around the age of 3.

[solaireverie]

f1 | i'd be the man

summary: [ drabbles ] you're the formula one driver and he's your wag. (aka the toto wolff-ification of the fast car boys)

warnings: mentions of racism and sexism

author's note: i had so much fun coming up with non-f1 jobs 😂 i'm convinced that most of the boys would still be obsessed with f1. considering doing this for other drivers, drop some suggestions? 👀

→ CHARLES LECLERC

Charles is a fashion designer who works for one of your sponsors. You find his designs slightly... peculiar and aren't afraid to tell him. Determined to prove you wrong about his vision, Charles volunteers to be your primary point of contact for your partnership with the fashion house.

Your meetings are contentious in the beginning, neither of you understanding the other. You leave each consultation with a throbbing migraine and a barely suppressed urge to throw something at Charles. If only he weren't so damned stubborn. (At the same time, you know that his passion for his craft is half of why you even deign to meet with him.)

A grudging respect forms between you after months of friction and endless banter about what exactly you want your sponsorship to look like. If hard-pressed, you might even call it a friendship.

Charles has been a Formula 1 fan since childhood and is secretly a fan of yours. You find out after you meet him for a design meeting after a rough race and he suddenly goes on a rant about how the driver who took you out was being ridiculous and how you deserved better. You're completely charmed and interrupt him by asking him out on a date.

He's the absolute best boyfriend that you could ever ask for, following you to all the European races and supporting you from Monaco when he can't make it. Charles delights in being able to provide a bit of stability for you in your hectic life. He puts up photos of your race wins in his studio and proudly tells all of his clients about his girlfriend and her achievements.

(You still won't listen to his fashion advice, though.)

→ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max runs the cat shelter that you adopt your cat from. You notice how cute he is the first time you meet him but you're too shy to make a move — besides, Max cherishes his quiet life and you don't know how open he would be to associating with a public figure like a Formula 1 driver. Still, he's funny and kind and you somehow keep talking.

It starts out innocuously, just pictures and updates about your new cat (because Max cares about all of the cats that he's ever taken care of, even the ones that have been adopted into good homes) and occasional behind-the-scenes updates when you find out that Max likes Formula 1.

Without realizing it, Max becomes one of your closest friends. He catsits for you when you're out of the country for races, picks you up from the airport after international races, and cheerfully beats you at sim racing whenever you have the opportunity to game together.

Max realizes that you're basically dating around a year into your friendship. You sleep at his place, in his bed, more often than not. Sassy likes you more than she likes him. You have his coffee order memorized and he knows your parents. (Your mother adores him and constantly encourages you to make a move.)

He's patient, however, and waits for you to realize your own feelings as well. Dating comes as naturally for you as your friendship did. Although Max doesn't always enjoy the media scrutiny that comes with dating a Formula 1 driver, he takes full advantage of the attention to defend you at any given chance.

In fact, you've been asked multiple times by your team principal to get your boyfriend to calm down before he offends another driver, but you wouldn't change Max for the world.

→ LANDO NORRIS

Lando is a Twitch streamer with a decent following who specializes in gaming, especially e-motorsports. He gets the chance to visit your team's garage when he wins a e-sport tournament. He's an unabashed simp fan and immediately makes a fool of himself when he meets you, but you find it adorable.

(Lando swears up and down to anyone who'll listen that he didn't mean to blush and accidentally propose on the spot.)

You cheekily tell him to take you out on a date first and he surprisingly gets his act together and actually follows through. Lando is incredibly kind and clumsily charming despite his awkward exterior. You can tell that he genuinely likes spending time with you and wants to hear what you have to say.

Lando switches to Youtube and vlogging when your relationship stabilizes so he can spend more time with you. His fans — and yours — love catching glimpses of his elusive Formula 1 driver girlfriend in his videos. It's a running joke among his fans that Lando is your sugar baby, which Lando finds extremely funny and shamelessly accepts.

Eventually, both of you realize that you've found the love of your life and you start thinking about marriage. You propose to each other at the same time, on the vacation that you each planned for the other, while your mutual friends who knew about both sides die of laughter from the sidelines.

Lando insists on taking your name as well and declares that he's now officially your trophy husband.

("Get it? You get trophies from your job, which brought us together, so technically I'm a trophy now too?" "Yes, Lando, I understand double entendres perfectly well." "Ooooh French, fancy!")

→ LEWIS HAMILTON

You meet Lewis in your childhood. He karts at the same track as you and you bond over the shared experience of being "other" from the other drivers. No one ever bets on either of you to be fast, to win, so you bet on each other. Lewis supports you with his entire being, even when he chooses to leave racing to chase other dreams. You dreamed of reaching Formula 1 together but Lewis, in this world, is happy cheering from the paddock.

Everyone around you is convinced that you're dating Lewis, who has become a highly successful model and philanthropist. Who else would would take time out of their insanely busy life to follow you around the world? The closeness between you doesn't help either — Lewis acts like your partner more often than not.

Despite appearances, however, Lewis is just your best friend, and it stays that way until a PR disaster with your respective relationships calls for extensive damage control. The best distraction that your media teams can come up with is that you fake-date each other: what better to appease the masses with than the ever-beloved tale of childhood friends to lovers?

The fake relationship changes something in your previously stable friendship. Suddenly, you can't stop seeing Lewis in a different light and you find yourself wishing that the romance was real. You're terrified of losing one of the most important people in your life, so you keep quiet about your true feelings for months as things calm down.

Eventually, your manager gives the all-clear to end the ruse and you end up scrambling for a reason to maintain it. By that time, Lewis has caught on to you. He stops by one night with a bottle of wine and your favorite movie. As the credits play, he leans over and kisses you softly — the first time he's kissed you out of the eye of the public.

You're lost for words and he quietly assures you that no matter what happens if you pursue a real relationship, he'll always be your Lewis.

Ten years later, happily married with a couple of championships under your belt, you couldn't be happier that you had chosen to say "hi" to the boy at the karting track.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii

[onsomenewsht]

I like it in the city when two worlds collide

About when she’s her hometown hero and you wish to fill your own home

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1.5k

》 be like a kid in a candy store [phrase]: to be very happy and excited about the things around you, and often react to them in a way that is silly and not controlled

Admiring Alexia as she builds her foundation, little piece after little piece, it’s honestly one of the best things you had the privilege to witness her achieve. Sparks of excitement radiate every time she talks about it, every time new ideas are brought out or new steps forward are made.

You’ve been next to her since the very beginning, since it was all just a desire to make an actual difference for the next generation of girls in football.

And you’re next to her today, as it comes alive in her hometown.

It’s so beautiful and meaningful, your heart beats with pride.

“Nice speech, have you ever thought about a future in politics?”

“I can’t think of anything worse”

Alexia welcomes your hug eagerly, taking a moment between your arms to ground herself after all the talking and the smiling.

She’s happy, she truly is. But she also needs to stop for a second and just feel that happiness.

“I think your mama is one step away from building you a statue with her own bare hands”

The Catalan bursts out laughing, looking at her mother. Eli is beaming with joy and pride as she speaks with one of her old teachers, who somehow finds himself here to support her project the same way he supported her football dream back in the day.

“We’re all really proud of you, Alexia”, you say, holding her hand between yours to make her understand how much she has done. The beautiful impact she has on the one close to her and the one who shines from a distance because of her light.

“You say it all the time”, she dismisses as her cheeks turn a little more red under the praises and the Mollet sun.

“Yeah, I need to keep feeding your ego or you’ll die without attention”

“Idiot!”

The jab is light and mocking, you know how she feels about the running joke.

It goes back years, you weren’t even dating yet, but the teasing way you compared her to a fairy who can’t live without people believing in them sticks. The Barcelona’s captain keeps denying the comparison, you know she secretly loves your way to show admiration and support.

“Come on, I think they’re teaming up the kids and I want to make sure Eloise is with you”

“I don’t play favouritism”

She does, but you’re not wanna call her out for having a soft spot for your best friend’s daughter.

The walk toward the makeshift sports ground set up for the occasion is short, filled with stops to talk with people, hug excited children of all ages and shake hands with even more excited parents.

It doesn’t take much to put in place a little tournament, Alexia plays in the second round and you somehow find yourself involved too. You’re just glad the unfortunate kids who have you on their team do most of the work, allowing you to move around and look busy.

The odds are even in your favour when you find yourself alone in front of the goal and all you have to do is kick the ball into the back of the net.

You make sure a certain blonde athlete is looking when you mock a little bow.

From that is a blur of laughs and jokes between you and all the people who came here to support Alexia and her foundation, never stepping out of your role of a proud girlfriend.

When it’s her moment to get involved in the game, you are in the front row with the best view, always happy to see the footballer in her element - doesn’t matter if it is a stadium filled with a screaming crowd or an improvised kickaround with a soft ball and energetic kids.

And the kids are, indeed, full of energy and burning with excitement to play with an actual two time Ballon d’Or winner. They remind you of her.

“You’re drooling”

“I’m not”, you talk back, annoyed, yet unconsciously swiping your lips.

You’re not gonna dignify your best friend with a better answer, keeping your gaze fixed on the Catalan. You love him dearly, Teo has been your rock for years now, but he can be such an asshole.

“You know your own goddaughter is playing too, right?”

“Elo’s really good”

“She’s just doing whatever Alexia is doing”

It’s cute how much the young girl looks up at the footballer. Not just for the incredible and dedicated athlete she is, but also for the amount of care and attention she always reserves for the kid whenever the two are together.

It warms your heart every time.

“Do you think she is gonna let them win?”, Teo asks, genuinely wondering.

You only grin at his question. Alexia is not gonna let those kids win just because, doesn’t matter how adorable they are.

“She’s way too competitive”

“Those are children!”

As an answer, your girlfriend fakes a pass on her left, letting a boy, not older than ten, slide in the wrong direction and completely miss the ball. You notice as she tries to hide a smile behind her hair, finding another kid with a precise long shot.

Little shit she is.

“She’s way too competitive”, Teo confirms, giggling with you when your girls celebrate the winning goal.

“You can practise parenthood tonight if you want”

“I’m not babysitting so you can go out with that brunette you’re seeing”

He almost looks offended by your assumption, but you know him well enough.

The opportunity to spend time with your goddaughter is always appreciated and cherished, she’s a wonderful kid and no one managed to drag Alexia into their shenanigans as effortlessly.

But you have other ideas for tonight.

“I’m planning on letting her give me–”

“Shut up! Innocent ears are around!”

Alexia’s eyebrow rises as she approaches, with an open smile on her face and one hand firmly holding Eloise as she basically wraps herself around the footballer’s leg.

“What are the two of you plotting?”

“Do you want to babysit Eloise tonight?”, he asks with a smirk.

The cheers from both your girlfriend and the kid came faster and louder than any protest you could find in yourself.

The only reasons you don’t smack your hand on the back of Teo’s neck are the comforting arm around your waist and the well placed kiss on your cheek.

He owns you big.

But not even your best friend’s annoying self is strong enough to spoil your mood today and looking at Alexia going around for another hour or so with games and small talks, her smile never fading, is the best view you’d ask for.

She’s glowing.

You see her play and interact with kids all the time, it’s always a pretty sight and it always warms your heart how caring she is. Today, for some reason, it’s beautiful and a bit overwhelming.

Maybe it’s just your hormones, you should check your cycle’s app.

“Amor, are you good?”

Alexia’s voice brings you back, thinking too much sometimes traps you in your own mind. The nod you give her is not really convincing, but a light kiss on your intertwined hands is enough to calm her for now.

“Eloise’s team won the tournament”, she says eventually, pride filling her words.

You look at the kids, still playing around as the day slowly comes to an end. The two of you wait on the sidelines, letting the young girl have another couple of shots at the inflatable goal before taking her for an ice cream and home for the night.

“I thought there wasn’t really a winner”

“Technically no, but–”, the blonde’s lips curve in a well known smirk, “between me and you, she totally won”

“Difficult not to when a Ballon d’Or winner is on your team”

“I don’t play favouritism!”

“Oh, no, I know, you didn’t even let them see the ball”

At least she looks a bit embarrassed about being called out for her competitiveness and her attitude, having unmistakably played with a bunch of children without actually going easy on them.

“I couldn’t expect anything less from la reina”, you kiss the blush on her cheek and she doesn’t hold back a smile at your attention, “But don’t worry, I know you will go easy on our kids”

Her face, now bright red, can’t hide the surprise at your words.

“Our kids?”

“Yeah, we both know they will have you wrapped around their little tiny fingers as soon as you–”

The Catalan silences you with a firm kiss, shaking hands holding your face. She takes a moment, appeasing her fast breath and your running mind.

“Our kids?”

“Alexia, I thought this was all a twisted plan to ask me to have your children”, you joke, moving a hand around to remind her of the event still in place.

“Thank God you finally noticed”

fine.

[jsluvtzu]

who’s protecting who?

park jihyo x fem!reader

summary: in the midst of attempting to keep jihyo from getting hurt, you ultimately forget about yourself

cw: none, men dni

wc: 5k

a/n: first fic in a while hooray!! my friends and i beat the pickleball pandemic and caught the volleyball virus instead, so enjoy this fluffy vb themed fic :p (this might be my longest one yet)

as you finished ringing up the last customer of the usual lunch rush, you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. hurriedly assuring the customer that their order would be out soon and excusing yourself to the back, you asked your coworker to take over the counter for a bit while you took a small break from standing for so long.

pulling your phone out of your pocket and into your hand, you saw a text message flash across your screen, slightly blocking the lockscreen picture you had of your girlfriend kissing your cheek.

jihyo 🩷

y/nnn i think i wanna try volleyball and learn how to be as good as u :pp

smiling as your eyes flickered between reading her text and reminiscing on the exact moment the photo on your phone was taken, you tapped on the message and replied.

okay love i"ll teach u lol

knowing jihyo had a busy schedule consisting of both work and her 12 different hobbies, you didn't want her to overwhelm herself by taking on yet another one. nonetheless, you were excited to have her join you in something that you've always imagined the two of you doing together.

u sure ur not too busy tho?

it'd been about 2 years since you first picked up the sport as a pastime with a couple friends. eventually it turned into friendly tournaments on the weekends at the local community court with other groups, which then turned into trying out for professional leagues and miraculously making it into one.

jihyo 🩷

i can always make time silly

unfortunately, your break time was now quickly coming to an end, so you rushed to type out a response and carelessly shoved your phone back into your pocket.

we can go after i get off work then :) wear something u can freely move in and put on ur most comfortable shoes. i love u see u soon ml

speedrunning through the last few hours of your shift was excruciating when all you could think about was finally being able to show the girl you loved most how to play the sport you loved most. the anticipation of coaching her into becoming a better player than you made it impossible for you to focus on making a drink as simple as an iced latte.

"oh shit-" you whispered to yourself, realizing that you'd almost overfilled the cup with the caffeinated liquid.

as you clocked out and drove home, you couldn't stop yourself from mindlessly humming and calmly dancing to the music you had playing in your car. your coworkers even stopped to ask you, "what's got you in such a good mood?" multiple times.

and to no surprise, jihyo was already packed and ready to go the minute you opened the door to your shared apartment. the oversized backpack on her shoulders was filled to the brim with snacks and water for the active evening ahead. her sporty outfit was exactly what you'd imagined your girlfriend would wear. a slightly loose fitting muscle tee, athletic leggings, and her new favorite pair of running shoes on her feet to top it all off.

you couldn't help but melt at her eagerness as you took your shoes off and set your keys down onto the table by your shoe rack.

"hi baby," you said amusedly, "you're well prepared i see."

she beamed at you with her doe eyes and hummed in agreement as she skipped towards you to greet you with a kiss. her warm lips made contact with yours in a desperate manner, almost a silent message to relay just how much she'd missed you since you left for work early in the morning. you pulled away just enough to where your lips barely grazed each other, "let me change first and then we can be on our way, okay?" you pecked her lips again and once more to her cheek as you walked away to your shared bedroom to free yourself of your coffee reeking clothes. jihyo quickly set her backpack down onto the couch and followed behind you shortly.

you changed into your team's white long sleeved compression jersey with your custom number on the back; a bright pink "21" for jihyo, of course. soon after, you slid into your spandex shorts and turned your head to the side to see jihyo leaning up against the wall next to you. the sunlight shining through the open blinds accentuated her features perfectly. she was smiling proudly as she watched you morph into a different version of yourself that she only saw at your games.

"what're you looking at.." you said shyly, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your girlfriend's gaze.

she only giggled in response and lifted herself off the wall to fill the room with a loud smacking sound as she slapped your ass and made her way over to your bed, plopping down and facing the ceiling. you immediately let out a loud "oww!!" and rubbed over your burning cheek to soothe it.

"so, who are we playing against today? anyone i should be worried about?" jihyo asked. you walked over to the full-sized mirror in the corner of the room before answering her question, still focused on the stinging pain she left. "hm? oh, actually we aren't playing a real match today. i'm just gonna be showing you the basics and whatnot," you replied, tying your hair into a messy low bun at the same time.

a couple seconds of silence passed, concerning you enough to make you look behind you through the mirror and see your girlfriend who once laid flat down suddenly pin-straight up glaring at you. her posture was something out of a horror movie the way her back was perfectly aligned and her hands were beside her knees. you gulped and almost genuinely got scared until you glanced down to see her feet barely touching the floor. that's when you choked back a laugh at how cute her attempt at intimidating you was.

you finished up doing your hair and walked towards your pouty girlfriend. "what's wrong? why are you making a face like you just came out of one of those insidious movies?” you asked, pulling out a few strands to frame your face.

she whined in response, "i don't wanna learn the basics.. that's so boring. i wanna learn how to really play volleyball. not that kiddie stuff for the youth age group." you reached a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "hey! that 'kiddie stuff' is really important, you know. you can't just go right into spiking without knowing how to hit and jump correctly first," you grumbled. jihyo looked at you confusedly, "..spiking..?" "exactly," you huffed.

jihyo groaned as she launched herself backwards onto the bed, the sheets rustling under her and beginning to surround her as she sunk further into the mattress.

"trust meee, it's for your own safety, love. i just don't want you getting hurt if i let you go right into a game not knowing what to do, that's all. a one-on-one session is always the best option for beginners," you reassured her, grabbing both of her arms and slowly pulling her up towards you. when you heard your girlfriend groan at you again, you realized it could be something else bothering her.

"ohh, or are you just annoyed that you have to be alone with me?? is that what this is??" you asked teasingly. but as soon as she heard that, jihyo stopped her whining immediately and scrunched her eyebrows up in a questioning manner, shaking her head aggressively.

"w-what? no! why would i be not wanna be alone with you! i just wanna be good already! just like.. let me skip the tutorial or something pleaseee," she pleaded. jihyo removed her arms from your grip and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you closer to her. you mockingly nodded your head and sarcastically spewed out "uh huhs" and "mhms" repeatedly, letting your girlfriend continue tightly hugging you and begging you for a free pass.

-

during the whole car ride there, it was impossible for you and jihyo to spend more than 2 seconds without touching each other in some way. whether it be her insisting she hold your hand while she secretly gushed at how attractive you look driving one-handed, or her switching to playing with your fingers while she asked more volleyball questions, or even kissing at each red light, there was never a single moment in that car where you two weren’t expressing your love in a form of touch.

as you pulled into the parking lot of the court complex, jihyo remembered the long nights and hours upon hours you would spend at these courts — it was practically your second home. that thought suddenly worried her that she might’ve been taking away your precious practice hours.

“baby, don’t you have practice today? if you do, you have to focus on that, not teaching me how to play. we can always do that some other time,” jihyo rambled.

you softly laughed at her flustered state knowing that you never told her the season was over yet. “no, love, don’t worry. it’s off-season for now, i don’t have any practices to go to,” you said reassuringly, squeezing her hand in yours to help settle her down. “plus, i would skip out on practice any day if it meant i could be with you.”

she sighed contently as you parked in an empty spot and turned the car off. before jihyo could even reach to click her seatbelt off, you teleported over to her side, opening the door for her and holding your hand out to help her up from your low sedan seats. your girlfriend mewled at the chivalrous gesture, grinning from ear to ear as she peeked her head out of the door. and to make sure she didn’t bump her head against the doorframe, you shielded her head with your hand as she came up.

popping the trunk open, you grabbed your backpack that was filled with volleyball gear and swung it over one shoulder. you made sure to grab jihyo’s as well, throwing hers over your other shoulder.

“you see that building over there with the big 2 painted on it?” you asked, pointing to the right side of the complex, “that’s where we’ll be. it’s a smaller court though since it’s only a practice gym.” jihyo looked in the direction you pointed at and hummed as she took in the size difference from the competition gym on the left and the practice one you mentioned.

while you were leading her to the unlocked doors of the practice court, jihyo kept pestering you to let her help you with one of the bags you were carrying, but of course you never let up. it even got to the point where you accidentally whacked your poor girlfriend with her own snack-filled bag while twisting and turning in protest of her need to help you.

“oh fu- sorry! i’m sorry, it was an accident i swear!” you frantically apologized, pulling jihyo into a messy hug. the heavy bags on your shoulders slipping off your arms as you held her close to you.

jihyo faked a hissy fit and jokingly pushed you away, “no i get it, you just hate me,” she said firmly, turning her head sharply and crossing her arms.

you paid no mind to your girlfriend’s antics, only catching up to her to hold open the door and watch her stomp past you in a sulk.

“i love youuu,” you chuckled.

her reply was barely audible, but you heard her mumble out an “i love you too” back.

-

setting your things down on the floor along the sidelines, you grabbed out an extra pair of knee pads you'd packed for jihyo. "come here love, let me put these on you," you ordered. it was difficult to slide the pads onto her legs with her shoes still on, so you helped her take them off for the time being, placing the pair neatly beside you.

kneeling down in front of her, you gently lifted one of jihyo's legs up at a time, skillfully adjusting the protective pads around her knee and taking extra precaution to make sure her legs were still able to move properly. you then sat back on your knees and admired your work, wondering why you felt like there was something missing.

"hmm.. i think.. i have something else for you to try on too," you pondered, digging through your bag once again to discover an old pair of extra small knee pads that didn't fit you anymore.

standing up with the gear in your hands, you held your girlfriend's forearm out as you stretched the material to enclose around her limb.

you snickered slightly at your spontaneous idea, "these are makeshift elbow pads specially designed for you." the pads were big enough to fit comfortably around her arms, protecting her exposed elbows from any potential harm.

jihyo allowed you to put them on her with no complaint, but soon began her whining when she began to feel the restricting feeling around her arms that was slightly limiting her movement.

"noo y/n, i don't need these. and they're so uncomfy!! i think i would play better without them.." she argued, scratching at the inside of her elbows to relieve the itching it caused.

knowing that your girlfriend was bound to try something outside of her comfort zone once she got into the flow of things, you decided it was the right decision to do everything in your power to help keep her from hurting herself while doing so. "just wear them please ji, i would feel much better seeing those on you," you refuted. it was true. you felt at peace knowing at least your girlfriend's precious joints were protected if not anything else.

she sighed out annoyedly, but ultimately complied to your requests only because she didn't want you to worry about her.

"thank you, my love," you said in satisfaction. you then reached into the cart of volleyballs behind you as jihyo slipped her shoes back on, squeezing a few to determine which one had enough air in it. grabbing the one you felt was best, you warmed up your wrist a bit by dropping the ball in front of you and striking it straight down, catching it once it came back up a couple times.

"okay, so first things first. you're gonna learn how to serve the ball," you said, leading her to the middle of the court facing the net. "the goal is to hit the ball over the net and onto the opponent's side of the court so that they can receive it and keep it in motion," you softly explained, repositioning her arms and legs into the perfect position for a proper serve.

jihyo picked up the skill quickly as you explained each step to her in full detail, making sure to critique her mistakes and show her the better way of executing her moves. within about 15 minutes of the first lesson, your girlfriend was already on her way to becoming the next star player for your team.

once she got at least 3 serves over the net, you decided she was ready to move onto the next step; receiving the ball. you showed her the proper way to hold her arms together and how to position herself under the ball to pass it to a teammate in front of her. you could tell jihyo was a natural at the sport as she was with any other activity she's ever tried.

after about an hour or so, her form was starting to get smoother and her reaction times were getting faster. but your energy needed replenishing and so did hers.

taking a short break together on the bleachers, you both had a water bottle in hand and shared the protein bar that jihyo had prepared earlier.

"do you wanna try peppering with me? i think you could be pretty good at it at this rate," you asked, sensing the way she was getting antsy to move onto something more advanced.

jihyo had no idea what exactly it was that you were asking her about, but she was eager to try it anyways. you put it in simple terms for her, explaining that it was a back and forth process of hitting and receiving the ball to each other. and just like that, hearing that she would be able to play against you in a way got jihyo excited again, the adrenaline giving her more energy than that protein bar ever did.

"okay! let's do it! come on!" jihyo exclaimed, throwing her bottle to the side and skipping back to the court while grabbing the ball. you smiled at how endearing she was and followed her soon enough, joining her across the same side of the court.

after another hour and a half of you two going at it, jihyo was seriously improving with the minimal coaching she had from you. it was honestly impressive how quickly she adapted to the flow of the game, but you expected nothing less of her.

deciding it was alright to push her a little further since she had all the protective gear in the world on, you picked up your pace a bit and spiked the ball harder, giving her less time to react and training her reflexes. obviously, jihyo played along effortlessly, getting herself hyped up by her newfound skill at volleyball. you could hear her cheer for herself everytime she successfully received the ball and sent it back in your direction.

but what you soon failed to realize was that the once amateur jihyo you knew 3 hours ago was gone. her alter ego had now taken over and fueled her with that insane ambition she had hidden away. as your eyes were too focused on watching her in case she fell, you completely failed to see the flying ball coming at your face at the speed of light.

bam.

you don't really remember what happened next, but it seemed like everything was happening in slow motion. the world faded into a quick darkness as you felt something pushing against your face. that's when reality hit. or better yet, that's when you were hit.

jihyo had gotten carried away with her strength and sent the ball directly towards your lovely face with a perfectly executed spike. not knowing she was capable of that, she screamed out in pure terror when she saw your body fall backwards onto the shiny hardwood floor.

"holy shit! y/n!! oh my god, oh my god!? are you okay??!" she panicked, sprinting over to your side and crouching down to lay you onto her lap.

you could only croak out in pain and kept your eyes sealed shut as the bright fluorescent lights above you were too intense to take in at the moment.

jihyo repeatedly muttered out small apologies and cradled you as she looked over your face to see a big red spot that she left across one side.

"y/n, please.. i'm so sorry baby, please talk to me. do you know who i am?! how many fingers am i holding up?? what's your name? how old are you!" jihyo cried in distress. she cupped your cheek and gently tapped it with her thumb to try and get you alert and awake again.

slowly opening your eyes at the feeling of her soft touch, you blinked your eyes slowly as you adjusted to the bright lights, making out the faint figure of your girlfriend in front of you. "i'm fine, ji, don't worry," you whispered in between groans. you reached a hand up to your forehead, feeling the tenderness as you ran your fingers over the surface. wincing slightly, you regained enough composure to inch your way up off of jihyo's lap, her arms coming behind your back to support your body.

"is there anything i can get you? maybe an ice pack or something?" jihyo said meekly. you could tell even through your disoriented state that she was feeling guilty. before you could even think of an answer, you could only bring yourself to thoughts of hurrying up and recovering so you could show her that it’s okay.

"uhh, yeah. yeah, there should be a um- gel pack in the freezer in the uh.. coach's room across the field," you stammered, squinting your eyes closed when the lights became too much again.

with no hesitation, jihyo got up and ran towards the door to follow your directions as you told her where to get the ice pack.

"you stay right there, okay? don't move," jihyo demanded. you could only nod your head weakly, shifting yourself to slowly lay back down on the cold tile beneath you. the sound of the metal door closing behind jihyo reverberated throughout the open space.

the pain across your face was getting worse as time went by, the throbbing you felt on your eyebrow in sync with your heartbeat.

as your mind started to process what just happened, your brain began to flash images of the ball smashing your face in repeatedly, making you cringe at how dumb you probably looked. with your knees propped up and your feet on the ground, you held your hands to your face and rapidly kicked the floor in a temper tantrum, simultaneously wailing at the replaying moment in your head.

you silently cursed yourself out for allowing yourself to be so careless and possibly giving your girlfriend the ick by seeing you get your face contorted with the sheer force of impact.

shooting your body upright, you slid backwards on your hands towards the wall, leaning against it and rummaging through your bag to find your phone. after you found it, you quickly switched to the camera app to check the damage, already sensing how big the knot on your forehead was going to get in the next hour. sure enough, the large red and tender spot on the left side of your face was growing a lump. being in pure disbelief, you moved the camera further away to get your full face in frame, staring at yourself in shame and embarrassment. after a couple more seconds of examining yourself, you could only conjure up a scoff and put your phone down as soon as you heard the door open loudly again.

jihyo, who came in sprinting to your aid with an ice cold gel pack, was leaving a trail of condensation behind her as it was thawing in her hands. once again, you could only think about how dangerous it would be if she were to slip and fall on the water, but the continually throbbing pain on your face was making it difficult for you to speak up and scold her to be careful.

"here, put this on it for now. it should help the swelling go down," jihyo panted, clearly out of breath from running around outside trying to find the coach's office while being worried sick about you at the same time. she ran her thumb over the small bump forming on your eyebrow and cooed at how much pain you must've been in.

she gently pressed the ice pack to your forehead and kept whispering small apologies, her pretty face scrunched into the cutest concerned look you've ever seen. you weren't usually the type of person to like being taken care of like that, but seeing jihyo like this only made you want to get hurt again just to see that look on her face. but looking down slightly at her arms, you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous she looked with those makeshift elbow pads she still had on.

"what's so funny? do you really think you should be laughing right now?" jihyo reprimanded.

you almost cackled in her face at her sternness, but quickly stopped and winced in pain instead when the pain in your face prevented you from forming a real smile.

jihyo tsked at you and told you to shut up, adjusting the ice pack to cover more area on your skin. "stop moving, would you?" you cleared your throat, "sorry it's just- you look crazy with those elbow pads on," you said, stifling a laugh. suddenly a slap landed on your shoulder which you didn't see coming since jihyo had both of your eyes covered with the ice pack. "don't be annoying right now, y/n. you were the one who made me wear them anyways.."

she took the ice pack off your face to quickly slide the stupid pads off her arms, which she struggled to do. you helped her wiggle them off and threw them to the side as she pressed the cold pack back to your skin again.

"alright, alright," you surrendered. "wait. isn’t it me who’s supposed to be the one mad at you right now? given that you were the one who hit me in the face in the first place.."

your girlfriend paused and rolled her eyes at your smart comment, "why don't you just shut up and hold that to your busted ass face, how about that?" she said sarcastically, grabbing your hand to take over holding the pack against your head.

jihyo was pretending that she was okay by making jokes and getting annoyed at you, but in reality, you knew that she was beating herself up inside with the guilt of getting too carried away and hurting you. she's always wished that her competitiveness wasn't so intense since it could result in someone getting hurt just like you did.

besides the point, jihyo helped you stand up and grabbed your things and hers, sneaking away your keys from your bag's outer pocket with her empty hand.

she linked arms with you while your other arm was stuck covering the left side of your face with the freezing cold pack of blue gel. "let's go home and get you fixed up," jihyo said, reassuring you that she would make you feel all better. "oh, and i'm driving us home," she added, clearly not leaving any room for an argument.

"what? no. i'll drive," you argued anyways.

"y/n are you insane? you can't even see out of one eye right now, angel. i'm driving." jihyo made sure to emphasize the last part to you, unbeknownst to you as she already had your keys in her pocket.

the both of you continued arguing the whole way to the car, jihyo ultimately winning as she managed to get you towards the passenger side. but in the middle of your bickering, a familiar voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

"oh! isn't that?-"

it was the same friend who you ditched earlier with the excuse that you were "too tired" to join her and your other friends in a scrimmage today.

"hi, stacy!" jihyo greeted, waving at your friend enthusiastically.

you hid your face away from stacy as you heard her voice get closer, already expecting her to tease you about your injury.

"hellooo, y/n! what are you guys doing here this late?" she asked innocently, inching her neck downwards to make eye contact with you since you had your head held down. "and- what happened to your face?"

you sighed, knowing there was no escape from this now. "oh i just.. i…" you stuttered, looking to jihyo for help.

she picked up your signal immediately, "oh! that? y/n just fell and hit her head, that's all," jihyo laughed awkwardly.

"uh huhh. so this is why you were 'too tired' to scrim with us tonight then, huh?" stacy asked sarcastically, getting uncomfortably closer to your face.

while snickering, you slapped the gel pack on stacy's face, causing her to wipe her face and gasp out in shock.

"shut up," you teased, playfully pushing your friend away.

after a few minutes of catching up, you three eventually said your goodbyes and waited to see stacy drive off before turning to open the car door.

"wait- what did she mean by you were 'too tired?'" jihyo asked, pulling you back by your arm.

"oh, yeah. i told the group earlier that i was gonna take the day off since i was tired. we were supposed to play a practice match against some teams today, but, i got to spend my time doing something better instead," you said, smiling down at her and admiring the way the moonlight reflected against her glassy eyes, moving a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead.

jihyo couldn't help but pull your face towards hers and smash your lips together, completely forgetting about the fact that your whole face was in the early process of bruising. your eyes widened and you moaned painfully against her lips, attempting to pull away from the grip she had on both of your cheeks.

luckily, she realized it and released you, apologizing hectically once again. "oh shit- oh my god i forgot! i'm sorry baby, you were too cute and i couldn't help myself," she explained.

"haven't you hurt me enough today??" you asked in an annoyed tone. you quickly regretted it though once you saw the pouty look on her face and the way she said she didn't mean to in that little whiny voice.

"i knowww, i know. i'm just teasing you, love," you reassured her, pulling her sweaty body in for another hug.

"you know, maybe you should wear the elbow pads next time. seems like you need them more than i do," jihyo mumbled against your chest.

her comment made you scoff incredulously, "i-" but before you could even formulate a comeback, she opened the car door and forced you into the seat, blocking out whatever you managed to say with ''lalala" and shushes instead.

as she closed the door on you and made her way over to the driver's seat, you sulked into the leather cushion and chuckled at the way the tables turned on you.

turns out you were the one needing the protecting that night.

[hoe4sports]

So Long, London

Leah Williamson x reader

A/N: Please be sensitive about this. This is how i grew up and I’m going through a rough patch with my mother. This is based on «So Long, London» by Taylor Swift. Feel free to listen to the added song as you read this for extra feelings. Even if you dont like her, take a listen.

Summary: You grow up with a mother that refuses to work. You have to leave football to pay rent at 11. Your mother tells you that life is supposed to be hard. Until one day, Leah’s dad tells you that it’s not supposed to be this hard.

Warnings/triggers: Angst. Childhood poverty. Verb abuse.

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist,

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift,

Your hand was trembling on the door handle. It was hard to sort out if it actually was your hand that was trembling from nervousness or your whole body from exhaustion. Tears pressed on your eyelids, but you knew better. Your lungs opted for a deep breath to stop the shaky breaths that had been running wild since you started walking back home from work.

It was cold outside. The kind of cold that leaves your body shivering so bad that when you finally get inside, it feels like your core is frozen. God, you think. You are so tired. Yet, you cant seem to enter your own house. Well, it’s not really your house. It’s your mother’s house that she rents. Actually, she rents but you pay.

You take a deep breath before pulling yourself together. Building up your invisible shield to protect you from your own blood. Not physically, but mentally. “Just one more month”, your mother says. She says that every month. And every month, you believe her. The believing her is what keeps you going. “Just one more month, then you can focus on middle school again.” That’s what your mother always say. She has been telling you that for years. You continue to believe it. Maybe she will try to get a job next month. Except, she won’t.

“Life is supposed to be hard” is what your mother would always reply like it was the solution to all the problems in the world. To her, it was. To you, it was the cause of all your problems. You are only 11. You are supposed to be playing in the sun with your girlfriends from school. You are supposed to be chasing your dreams with your team. You are supposed to like to dress up in pretty dresses. You are supposed to go to tournaments with you bestfriends, Leah, Ella and Alessia. You are supposed to be free from adulting worries. You are supposed to be a child. But you cant. Your mother refuses to work, and your baby sister needs roof over her head. And your mother refuses. So you work. Because it’s just, one more month.

You are lost in your thoughts when your hand opens the door startling you. Your feet step inside the hallway, but it feels like your head is still outside. Like it’s floating away like a balloon, a million miles above your house. Your trembling hands puts your backpack down before it quietly unzips your coat. It’s soaked. But that is expected, you have been walking with the news paper for hours. The shoes on your feet gets neatly put away in the shelf. But you stop. You take them and the coat with you into your room, not wanting to take up too much space.

When you make it to your bedroom, you feel safe. It’s not really a bedroom, it used to be a pantry but it fits a bed and a small desk. It’s sad that it doesn’t have windows, but you like it regardless because it keeps the cold somewhat out. The coat gets put up on the pole of your bed and the shoes gets put next to the wall. You take your backpack off and place it down infront of you. The coldness of your hands are still present, but it’s okay. Life is supposed to be hard. You unzip your backpack to find the contents soaked, again. Your belly hurts. You promised your teacher to keep your books dry. Now, they are ruined. They are falling apart at the seam. You try to place it on your desk, standing up while you spread the pages hoping it will dry. Maybe you can try to glue it close when you get to school.

The door creaks and your head freezes. “Did you make any money tonight?” Your mother asks. You nod before emptying your pockets. 110 punds. Your shaking hand offers them to your mother. She smiles. She always does when you give her the money she needs. “Thank you, don’t stay up too late” she says as she leaves the room. You cant help but frown. You are so painfully tired. You get up at 5 every morning. You walk your neighbour, Mrs. Tiller’s dog for 5 p every morning. Then, at 6, you walk to school. You reach school just before 8. Your mother used to drive you. Then when she couldn’t afford the car, you catch the bus. But the cost of tickets rised, so now you walk. School is over at 4 every day. Then you walk home. Usually, you are home around 6.30 because you are tired. It forces you to walk slower. Sometimes you stop and sit on a bench to rest. Around 7, you head out to give out the news papers for tomorrow. There was no routes available close to your house, and most people won’t hire an eleven year old. So you take what you get given. From 7 to 11.30, you walk with the news papers. Sometimes, you get tips, explanations if it rains or if you are sick. Because people feel bad for you. But you don’t care, because life is supposed to be hard. Your eyes are tired as you try to do your homework from you soaked books. You end up sitting at your desk, close to falling asleep. But, it’s okay, you think. It’s only for one more month. Expect, it isn’t.

And you say I abandoned the ship,

But I was going down with it,

You are now 14. One more month, your mother still says. Every time you tell her that you feel like you can’t catch your breath. Just one more month. You now know that’s not true. That it’s forever. But you smile and keep quiet. You never make a fuss. You pretend to believe her. As long as you pay the rent, your mother doesn’t care. But, life is supposed to be hard, so it’s okay. You skip school to work at the local gas station. But your mother doesn’t know that you work there. She thinks you still walk with newspaper. It hurts to lie to her. She likes you, she says. But, she loves your sister.

Your mother hates lying. She yells at you if you lie. But your boss is your friend Leah’s dad. He gives you one check a month. Just enough to cover the rent. But he pays for your football with your friends. And he sneaks you cash when he can. That way, your mother doesn’t get suspicious. It hurts to lie, you think. It makes you feel on edge. Like you are always on guard. Like someone will come rip it all away from you. But it’s okay, life is supposed to be hard.

One day, you come home from work and from practice. You make sure to not come home too early. So you wait at the field, not wanting to cause any suspicion in your mother. It’s the same routine still. You come home, bring your clothes to your room, your mother comes in to ask for money and then she leaves.

One day, that goes all wrong. You come home too soon. You don’t mean to come home too soon, but you do. The exhaustion is ripping you apart and you need to sleep. So you sneak into your room with your clothes. But you forgot to change out of the pair of hand-me-down shorts Leah’s mom gave you and you are still wearing Leah’s brother’s old club shirt. It makes your mother furious. She tells you that you are an awful kid. That you are irresponsible. That she wishes someone could come and take you away so she doesn’t have to deal with you. And you don’t say anything back, you keep your head down and let her tell you how awful you are. She forces you to change and she then takes your shorts and t-shirt away. Then she slams the door shut. And she doesn’t talk to you for weeks.

After pleading your mother to speak to you, to aknowledge you for weeks. She looks at you with disappointment in her eyes. You try to explain. Football is the only thing that brings you happiness. And your coach says that you have real talent. That you might make it. Your mother tells you that might dosent get you anywhere. That football is for immature children. That you need to be a responsible adult and work. You nod. But, you aren’t an adult. You are a child. You are 14. But, life is supposed to be hard, your mother says. And you quit football. Because life isn’t supposed to be fun. Life is supposed to be hard.

My white knuckle dying grip,

Holding tight to your quiet resentment and,

My friends said it isn't right to be scared,

Every day of a love affair.

You keep the schedule. Work-School-Work. Until you are 15. One day, you get called to the front desk. You feel scared. Maybe your mother finally got someone to take you away? So you could stop being a burden. For a split second, the thought of someone taking you away, relieves the heavy feeling you have in your gut. Maybe, just maybe, things will be better, you think. But, you find your old coach at school, Leah’s dad. Rather, he manages to pull you out of your class to talk to you. The sight of him makes you want to cry. You want to ask him to take you away. To find some other family that you can live in. Maybe one of the group homes you learn about in social studies isn’t that bad. But you lie. You tell him, The joy you felt playing football is gone. And you haven’t been able to feel that kind of joy since. But you tell him that it’s okay. That life is supposed to be hard.

He frowns and shakes his head. He says that life isn’t supposed to be this hard. That kids needs to get to play and have fun. That you aren’t supposed to work when you are 11. That your mother is supposed to be working. You think about believing him. That his word might be true. But you remember. Your mother warned you. That people will try to convince you otherwise. So you shut him down. You tell him that you just don’t life football anymore. That it’s boring. But all you want to do is cry.

You turn your back to him while he calls your name. But you continue walking all the way down the hallway. To the left and then up the stairs. To the right and to your classroom. You quietly slip into the room finding your seat, doing your best at being invisible. Leah furrows her brows at you and tries to whisper something about what happened. You try to smile to her, but it dosent look real. Not at all. You can’t really smile anymore. Because you are so tired. You work all day and do homework all night. Your grades suffers from that. But, you think that it’s okay. Life is supposed to be hard, you think.

A week later, after working a night shift, you go back to school. Still in the same clothes as yesterday. When you get into your classroom, you slip quietly into your spot next to Leah. She smiles at you. And you try to smile back. But, you are just so tired. She asks you if you are okay. And she knows about your mother. She asks if your mother is being tough on you. You think about telling her the truth. But you just shrug. You smile sadly at her, and tell her that life is supposed to be hard.

When you get to work that night, Leah and her dad is there. You light up. Are you working tonight, you ask. But you know the answer. She dosent work. She doesn’t have too. She focus on football. On getting better. On being a child. Leah’s dad shakes his head. He says that it has gone on too long. That you need help. That your mother needs help. You feel offended. You don’t need help, you think. You pay the rent, you think. You are responsible. But when you want to argue with him, Leah looks at you with her warm smile. She asks if you want to sleep over. And you think about it. Your mother wouldn’t know. But you have work, you tell her. She looks at her father, he says you can have the night off. You can’t afford that, you say. But he smiles, he says that he will make sure you get pained. So you agree. To go home to Leah and sleep at her place.

When you get to her house, it’s like you want to cry. You get a warm bath with bubbles and bathbombs. As you dry off, you smell dinner. Her mom has made your favourite. Spaghetti and meatballs. Red sauce. Salad and garlic bread with Parmesan. You look at the dinner on the plate and you dig in. The feeling of being full is something you don’t really get a lot, so you feel tired and warm and fussy. You and Leah go to bed in her room. But before you do, Leah needs to go get her backpack from the car. While you wait, her mom pulls you aside. She tells you that you can always tell her if you need help. If you need somewhere to stay. That she thinks of you as her second daughter. And if it wasn’t for you being so full and warm and fluffy inside, you would’ve gotten angry. But you don’t. You thank her. Then Leah comes back and you go to her bedroom. Her nice room with soft carpets. And curtains. And a nice mirror with lights on them. She even has a big bed with two nightstands. You borrow some soft pyjamas. They look brand new, and you decline. But Leah says it’s okay. That she can get new ones. So you accept. Leah has already fallen asleep. So you scoot into her for comfort. Her soft snores are comforting, you think. And you cuddle up to her. She wraps her hands around you in her sleep. Like when you were kids. She’s still your bestfriend. You close your eyes. But you hear the door of Leah’s bedroom going up. You open one of your eyes slightly. Just enough to see, but not enough to let them see that you are awake. It’s her mom. She comes in. She kisses Leah’s forehead. She moves around to your side and kisses your forehead too. Then she wraps the comforter around you both. Just like she did when you were kids. But you still are kids. You feel confused as you lay there with closed eyes. Maybe life isn’t supposed to be this hard.

The next morning, you get ready together. You get another shower and you borrow some of Leah’s clothes. They are nice and warm. You don’t really have warm clothes anymore. It’s too expensive. But Leah’s parents takes care of her, and of you. Her dad has already turned on the car to warm it up before he drops you off at school. When you stand in the kitchen, waiting for Leah. Her mom looks at you with tears in her eyes. She tucks your hair behind your ear. And you feel the tears pressing too. You throw yourself around her. She hugs you back as you cry. And she holds you. You look up at her while you shake. You both know that you are not going back to your mothers house. But you don’t know what to say.

Maybe life isn’t supposed to be this hard, you say. And Leah’s mother understands.

So how much sad did you think I had,

Did you think I had in me?

How much tragedy?

Just how low did you think I'd go?

Before I'd self-implode,

Before I'd have to go be free

You sit across from your mother. It’s an office. It’s bright and white and clinical. You stay with Leah’s parents now. And you don’t work. But you play football again. Your mother crosses her arms as the therapist talks. You look down at your shoes. The eyes of your mother is burning into your chest. You feel a cry gather up in your throat. And you want to run away. To hide. To never come back. A part of you wishes you never asked for help. But a part of you knows that, if you didn’t get help. If Leah’s mother didn’t help you. You wouldn’t be here’s

She’s making up things, your mother says. You don’t bother arguing. You just stare at the floor while your mother takes a verbal stab at you infront of the therapist. She’s irresponsible, she’s says. Ungrateful, she says. The anger is building up in her voice. And you feel scared. Like when you were 11. And walked the streets to hand out the newspaper. In the middle of the night. To pay rent. But you don’t say anything. You just look at the therapist. She raises a brow at you. And you nod.

The therapist smiles and stands up. A second later , Leah’s mom comes into the room. There aren’t any chairs close to you. But, she sits next to you. Moving the chairs around, arranging for you to feel safe. It’s nice, you think. Leah’s mom is perfect. She is kind. Helpful. And she won’t say mean things about you. Not even when you aren’t there. Her hand takes yours. It’s magical, you think. You feel safer. Warmer. Stronger. Just as if her hands have superpowers.

The therapist continues on talking. You can’t really underatand everything. You are just tired. Even though you have stayed at Leah’s for a few weeks, you still feel tired. Leah’s mom got worried, so she took you to the doctor. You hadn’t really been there before, but she came with her. The doctor did tests and took you blood. Then he told you that you were burned out. That he was pulling you out of school for a few weeks. That you needed to do something fun. Fun to you was football. Or used to bed but it was too late to play now. You got scared, but Leah’s mom said that she was gonna take care of it. You felt scared to believe her, but you did. And she took care of it. You got a tutor that helped you better your grades. You started football with Leah, and you loved it again. You feel like you might die if you have to go to your mother again.

The therapist talks. Leah’s mom says that you are kind. That you help out at home without being told to. That she sometimes stops you from overworking yourself. That she reminds you to be a kid. That you are respectful. And polite. And, easy to love. You feel warm inside when Leah’s mom talks about you. But you can see your mother’s face when you look up. She is angry. Her face is tight. And she’s smirking at you in a way that scares you, like payback.

The therapist then talks to you. He asked you questions and you don’t really know the answers to anything. You shrug and hold on to Leah’s mom. To comfort. To her love. The room is silent as you mother looks at you. Leah’s mom looks at you. The therapist looks at you. You gulp before looking your mother in her eyes. You hold Leah’s mom tight. Life isn’t supposed to be this hard, you say.

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof,

You sacrificed us to the gods of your blues

You stay with Leah’s parents. Permanently, you decided. You get new clothes. And a bedroom with fairy lights. And carpets. And a desk. And a big bed. And clothes. And cleats and workout clothes. Even a new phone and a computer for your school work. You like it, but you feel scared. Maybe this is too much, you think. Maybe you are too expensive, you worry. But Leah’s mom reads your mind. She assures you that you deserve a space for you. That you need things. A room. Clothes. That you deserve dignity.

Life gets better from here. When Leah celebrates her 16th birthday with your 16th birthday, you feel sad. You don’t know many people. But you are happy for Leah. Because her family is coming over with gifts for her. You decide to wait upstairs as you sniffle before putting your new summer dress on. It’s pink and it’s the nicest dress that you own. The only dress you own. You hear Leah callling from downstairs, and you feel embarrassed that you made her wait for her gifts so you hurry down. But you stop mid stairs. Leah’s family has gather at the bottom of the stairs. They have gifts and cake and balloons in their hands. And they all yell, surprise! It makes you confused until Leah comes up and grabs your hand. She tells you that it’s your gifts. Your cakes. Your ballons. And your family. You feel grateful as you tear up. You blow your candles for the first time ever and her family hugs you. It feels safe. It feels like home. Home with Leah and her family.

She’s your bestfriend. But after your birthday party. You lay in the big swing in the garden together. Looking at clouds. Hearts. Starts. Balls. Cats. The skies has shapes. You haven’t really noticed it before. Leah grabs your hand as you both lay there. And you grab hers. It feels safe with Leah. She has been your bestfriends since you went to kindergarten together. But that changes. Leah kisses you. And you kiss her back. And suddenly, you are girlfriends.

At night, you get your makeup off and put your new soft pjs on. You start to think that this life is good. This is how life was supposed to be. And you feel like you might have accepted it. That it’s okay to feel happy. That this is what a family feels like. You start brushing your hair before preparing to braid it. You sit in the chair watching your hands brain in the mirror. You hear your phone buzz, and you look at it. It’s your mother. For the first time in a year. And you spiral. Immediately bursting into Leah’s room and her arms. She holds you tight. Her mother brings tea and you watch a movie together. Eventually, you pass out from exhaustion. And Leah, deletes the message. Leah says, life isn’t supposed to be this hard before she kisses the top of you head keeping you safe.

And I'm just getting color back into my face,

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place,

For so long, London

You are 17 now, and you finally got an offer to play for a club. You and Leah, got an offer together. But you don’t know how to feel. You are leaving to play. Leah is playing for Arsenal. She has been for a year. You got accepted into the girls under 18’s squad, but you made big progress. You didn’t think that it could be this good, that you deserved a life like this. But here you are. Leah’s mom and dad comes to every game. If you and Leah play at the same time; they split up so you can have someone there for you. You are scared to admit it, but you love it.

But now, Barcelona is knocking on your door. Leah’s door aswell. Leah has set her heart to leave. Barcelona is the greatest women’s club in the world, and she is one of the greatest players of her age. You are not there yet, but you get there eventually. But you don’t know that yet.

You feel scared. If Leah leaves and you stay behind, then she might break up with you. But she reassures you that she won’t. Because she loves you. And she chose you. Then you feel scared again. If Leah leaves and you stay behind, then where are you gonna stay. Leah’s mom laughs and says that this is your home too. That you can stay here for as long as you wish before you grow up. She says that you can go and come back if it gets too much.

That makes you feel safe. Leah’s family makes you feel safe. Her dad helps you make a decision. He tests your speed. Your strength. Your one vs one. Your dribbles. Your shots. Your agility. He watches Barcelona’s games on the tv with you. You analyse the team together taking notes to see if it matches with your current shape.

After a week, you call Barcelona back. You hang up after the call feeling empty as you walk down stairs. Leah sits down in the living room with her mom and her dad. They all look at you. Her dad looks worried. Leah looks terrified. Her mom smiles at you, like she always does. Always creating a safe heaven for you.

You gulp. Leah asks you, did you decline, she says. You swallow as you sight. Tears starts to press on your eyelids and your phone feels like it burns holes in your pockets. Leah takes a step towards you. You can see tears in her eyes too. You let out a breath and look at her.

Life isn’t supposed to be this hard, you say. I am going with you to Barcelona, you confirm and Leah breaks out in a huge smile. She pulls you in for a hug. Her mom and dad hugs you both at the same time. Your mom and dad hugs you both at the same time. A family hug.

A moment of warm sun,

But I'm not the one,

So long, London

You stare at your bags. You stare at Leah’s bags. Your dad looks at the bags before he starts shuffling them around to fit into the trunk of his car. Somehow, he makes it happen. You have dinner together for the last time. Spaghetti, meatballs, salad, garlic bread with Parmesan. Your favourite. It feels like the end of an era. You feel stronger now. Like you have grown into a woman. You have more respect for yourself now.

After dinner, you all drive to the airport. Ready to take on the world together. You and Leah, in your new apartment in Barcelona. As you pass through busy London streets, you pass people. Elders, youngsters, families and kids. You pass stores like Claire’s and primark. You pass a football field with little girls playing football. It makes you smile. You think about how one of those girls might be the next big thing. How all they need is one person who believes in them. One person to change it all.

You look over at Leah who is asleep. She always does this, falls asleep in rides. Trains, cars or planes; she always falls asleep. You grab your phone and go to the message section. You decide to type in a message. The message is to your mother, former mother. You tell her that you are moving to Spain. To play football with Leah. That your parents are diving you to the airport. That you hope she rottens away alone. And to never contact you again.

As you press send; you block her number. You look up when it’s done feeling 100 kilos lighter. Outside, the rain suddenly dries up and sun breaks through the heavy sky. You lower your shoulders as you breathe in the London smell for the last time, at least for a while. It’s good. You know that this is the start of your life. This is you prioritising you. That this is what you need. A place to call home, that doesn’t have any memories of your former mother.

At the airplane, you get to sit next to the window. You put your phone in airplane mode and watches as the flight takes off. The trees becomes small underneath you. The houses becomes like small sheds. The horses looks like grains of rice and you look over to Leah who is fast asleep holding you hand. You smile as you turn your head back to the window. The sun is shining more and more as you move higher up. You look at the familiar landscape while it disappears and whisper underneath your breath,

So long, London.

[bokutosbiceps]

KENGAN ASHURA: any characters you’d like with a s/o who has a business and is a business person who’s part of the Kengan tournaments but they have another fighter.

ohma, raian, gaolang, agito (separately) x CEO!s/o

warnings: cursing, death threats, violence

a/n: i didn’t do any kengan omega characters since it clearly says kengan ashura even though i love my boi koga 🥺anyways, i hope you enjoy !! oh, also, i used gn pronouns for the reader (when necessary) since it seemed like that’s what you wanted in your request :3

tokita ohma would be incredibly jealous. like extremely jealous. he doesn’t understand why you’d ask someone else to be your company’s fighter when you’re literally dating him. he is always around whenever you’re strategizing with your fighter + he’ll make little quips like “i’d knock em out faster” or “i could beat the shit outta you so easily”. whenever you’re not around, he’ll make death threats toward your fighter to try to get them to back out so he could take his rightful place as your fighter. you have to set some very serious + clear boundaries w ohma so he can chill out. you’d have to explain that the main reason you don’t want him as your fighter is because you don’t wanna subject him to injury just for your benefit, even though he’s told you many times that he’d gladly go to battle, and die, for you. i could see him becoming fast friends w your fighter if they’re competent + laid back. he’s still jealous that you didn’t choose him, though. he has kind of pure intentions…but we all know the bastard just wants to fucking fight + even better, fight for you.

kure raian is going to be so fucking petty about it. he immediately starts bitching + whining to you. when that doesn’t work, he will seriously try to scare the shit out of the fighter you chose. i honestly don’t see him stopping at killing your fighter. if that happens, you realize you pretty much have to let raian be your fighter or else. if he decides against killing your fighter, he’ll make their life a living hell. and yours. he is around you + your fighter ever waking moment you spend together. first, he makes sure nothing fishy is going on. two, he makes sure that your fighter knows that they’re dead w a single wrong move or loss. your fighter might end up running away out of fear for their own life. raian will probably end up becoming your fighter one way or another. it’s completely unavoidable.

gaolang wongsawat likes that you’re strong willed + doesn’t really mind that you didn’t choose him to be your fighter. you guys keep your relationship + goalang’s job v separate, so he truly has no problem with this. he will, however, do a little bit of training w your fighter for both his + your benefit. it’s nice to have someone to spar w him since they’re always around but he also wants to make sure that they’re a competent fighter. he trains them super well + he helps your fighter bring you massive success. he wouldn’t hold back while fighting in a real match, though. sorry, but he’s going to put your fighter in the ground + not even feel bad about it. in the back of his mind, that’s kinda what you deserve for not choosing him to be your fighter. you know he’s more than capable. but again, he likes that about you. you make your decisions for yourself + he’s ready to stand behind whatever decision you make.

kanoh agito is surprisingly okay with it. he trusts your judgment + while he knows he’s stronger than 99.9% of the world, he lets you make your own decisions. plus, he knows he’s legally obligated to fight for metsudo so he wouldn’t be able to fight for you. that doesn’t mean he won’t help tho. he’ll even offer to spar with your fighter to make sure they’re actually strong enough to bring in success for you. you appreciate his help + he does everything he can (inside of his contract w metsudo) to make sure that you will be successful w this fighter. he’s also v aware of the fact that you may have a fighter who’s not him for official kengan matches, but your true protector will always be him. he wouldn’t entrust that job to anyone else as long as he’s alive. not ever.

[sachirobabe]

Chapter 7

Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

Wc: 3694

Summary: You, a dedicated member of the girls' volleyball team, find an unexpected connection with Kuroo Tetsurou. Igniting a bond over shared passions and stolen moments, love blossoms on the court; all because you met him at a captains meeting.

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Taglist: @merlucide, @lemurzsquad, @02shuuu, @michakune, @ivy-taylorsversion, @scinclaitnoir, @v-e-r-t21, @bakugouswaif, @siheez

"Oh he wants you so bad." Himari squeals as she's setting up the volleyball nets.

You click your tongue and turn around, "You and Mori, I swear."

"He does! Everything you're telling me is like straight out of a movie." Himari smiles widely, she was too amped up right now to set up the net.

You rolled your eyes, "It's not like that—"

"Do you like him?" She interrupts you.

"What?-uh, Himari, you—ugh!" You say completely caught in a lie and Himari falls into a fit of laughter.

"You so do. I can tell." She smiles. "Told you Mori is never wrong when it comes to relationships."

"We're not in a relationship. We're friends, and I don't like him." You glare at her. More and more players begin to come into the gym and you give one last final glare at her to shut up.

You see Kuroo come in and your eyes remain on him a little bit too long for your comfort. 'I don't like him. I don't like him.' You mentally say to yourself. 'I need to focus on the upcoming tournament.' You repeat.

It was the last day of the week and with both teams' busy schedules, the practice match with them was today. You try to focus up for it, but your mind keeps wandering to him.

"I changed the line up like we talked about a few days ago." Coach Mori gets your attention and you shake every other thought out of your head to listen.

"What was wrong with—oh, wait I remember." You recall the conversation. "Yeah, so Naomi and I are switched, right?"

She nods, "Yeah, let's see how this works out." She looks at you suspiciously, "You seem distracted."

You frown at her, "Do not. Himari and I—I don't know even know." You laugh. "She's distracting me."

"That is so not true!" Himari laughs, dropping the net and running to tell Mori about your 'date' last night with the captain.

"Keep your voices down!" You look around and see that everybody is busy and distracted. "Everything's fine. He and I are just friends." You clear up, but a tiny part of you really does enjoy being with him.

You like how he makes you laugh. You like his cute hair and how it's messy, but it fits him. You like how he's competitive and gives his all in games.

Your mind wanders and Himari brings you back, "She's even daydreaming about him!"

"Was not!" You say a bit too loudly, your face feels warm and you look away.

"Okay okay, as much as I love this, we need to focus up for the practice match." Coach Mori says and Himari whines to her about how this is a monumental thing.

You talked to a few other teammates while you stretched, trying to forget about everything and get your mind in the game.

"When are you going to ask her out?!" Yamamoto grins at his captain.

"I don't even know if she likes me back." Kuroo says, he had just finished telling every living soul who would listen to him about his dinner with you, that wasn't really a date, but could maybe possibly be considered one?

"Well, she hasn't told you to go away." Yaku laughs, but with a single glare from Kuroo, he pipes down.

"Just go for it. If she doesn't like you, then she doesn't like you. And you'll finally shut up about her." Kenma says as his eyes are glued to his phone.

"It's not that simple!" Kuroo look around nervously, trying to make sure nobody else was listening.

"It really is." Kenma says.

"Oh, and you have so much experience to talk from?" Kuroo crosses his arms.

"Do you at least have her number?" Kai asks, trying to work through the situation Kuroo has put himself in.

Kuroo stays quiet and scratches the back of his head when asked. "Uh.."

"You don't have her number?!" Yaku yells, you turned your head at the sudden volume, not sure what's got Yaku so riled up.

"Will you shut your goddamn mouth for once in your life?" Kuroo whisper-yells at Yaku, and nervously looks around at the number of eyes on them. "No. I haven't gotten her number, YET." He emphasizes.

"So you finally got the balls to hangout with her after three years, are we going to have to wait another three for you to get her number?" Yaku jokes, making a few members of the team laugh.

"Ask her today." Kai encourages.

"I-I can't just ask, what if she thinks I'm weird?" Kuroo says worried.

"She won't, just use a pick up line or something." Yaku rolls his eyes.

"Bro, have you ever seen him flirt? Like ever?" Yamamoto laughs, "I'm sorry, cap, but you have no rizz."

"Anything that comes out of your mouth is brainrot, you know that?" Kenma says after being quiet for a little. The two begin to bicker back and forth.

"Just be nice. You've managed to talk to her at school and hangout." Kai says, ignoring the two younger class-men.

"Yeah, but I thought I was going to die when I did." Kuroo chuckles nervously, he then feels a tap on his arm and turns around.

You smile up at him, "We need to decide who serves first."

He takes a few seconds to respond, trying to calm himself down, "Yeah-uh, yeah for sure." He says quickly.

"I'll let you call it." You smile and flip the coin, he doesn't take his eyes away from you the entire time. He goofily smiles at you, watching your determined expression as you watch the coin.

"Heads." He confidently says while it's in the air. It comes back down and you catch it and flip it on your hand.

"Heads." You frown and confirm.

"We'll serve." He smiles, his eyes traveling to your hair, liking how you did it today.

"Good luck." You say and go back to your team to give them the bad news.

"Back it up one!" Your coach says and you move to middle back. Misaki was to your right and Rikako was on your left. You had your hands on your knees as you waited for Kenma to serve.

"Watch short, Himari. He's coming for you." Misaki says and gets into position to receive. Himari nods and watches the ball as Kenma indeed does serve it to her.

Himari manages to get the ball up high, "Misaki!" She says.

Misaki runs and jumps right before the line and without any words said, everybody began their approaches.

You made eye contact with Misaki just as her hands were about to touch the ball, she gives you a light toss right to your hand and you slam it to the other side.

Fukunaga gets under it and receives it perfectly, making you frown. You quickly move to left back to get ready for the counter attack. Misaki goes to middle back and Rikako to right back.

Kenma sets to Yamamoto, he hits the ball with all he's got and it's flying quickly towards you. Your arms are already in position to receive the ball, what you weren't expecting was for the force of it to be so much, you take most of its power and momentum and end up falling to the ground.

"Nice receive!" The bench yells and you quickly get up, Himari sets a quick to the middle and Kuroo easily gets in front of it to stop it, you notice the ball flying towards the ground quickly, you throw your body and manage to get a hand on the ball to save it.

"It's up!" You yell and get out of the way.

Mei hesitates on taking the ball, "I got it!" Himari yells and Mei moves out of her way, Himari sets the ball to Naomi.

Naomi manages to get it to the other side and Yaku receives it annoyingly perfectly. Everybody watches Kuroo begin his approach, but lags his jump, effectively tricking the blockers. He smirks and hits the ball with nobody in his way.

You're not able to react quickly, but you manage to get one hand on the ball and do a one arm receive. "Sorry, Himari!" You say, it was a little off.

"It's fine!" She yells back and jumps to set, but last second she does a setter dump.

Yaku dove for the ball and it flies in the air, back onto your side. "Free ball!" You all yell. "I go!" Misaki says and bumps the ball to Himari.

"A!" You yell for your position, knowing there wasn't a play. Himari sets you the ball and you jump into the air, you could see the blockers hands and aim for their fingertips, you ricochet the ball off of Kai's hands and it finally hits the ground.

You're panting, but cheering with your team. "God damn." Himari breathes heavily.

"You guys need to do more cardio!" Coach Mori yells from the sideline and coach Nekomata got a kick out of it.

"Nice job, guys." You smile and high five everyone on the court. You all rotate and now you're in left back. "Serve up a good one, Himari." You kick her the ball and she picks it up. She nods and looks at her sister for where to serve.

Rikako switches with Emi and you give her a high five as she joins the front row. You get into position and as the whistle blows, Himari serves the ball onto the other side. She served it hard, but it was easily picked up, "Watch left!" Emi yells.

The ball goes to Yamamoto and you brace yourself for another hard hit, this time he hits a line shot and Himari receives it, she too falls onto the floor after from the impact and power of the ball.

"Get up, Himari!" Coach Mori yells.

"I got it!" Misaki yells and does the same thing as before, "Naomi!" She tosses it to her.

You're watching Naomi's movements and she's confident in the air, you softly smile, knowing she was about to slam the ball, and she does. It wasn't able to be picked up from the guys and you all cheer. "Marry me, Naomi." Himari dramatically says and praises her.

"Buy me dinner first." Naomi winks and accepts everyone's praise.

"Jesus." Yaku chuckles, "My bad, guys." He takes the blame.

"You're good." Kuroo slaps his back and they all get in position to receive again. Himari goes back to serve again, she was able to continue the streak for one more play, but the next was slammed right onto your court by Kuroo.

"Sorry, I read it wrong." Misaki apologizes.

"It's okay, we'll get the next one." You say and go back to receive. Yamamoto goes back to serve and you already know it's going to be intense.

The ball looks like it's going to you but it quickly curves and Misaki wasn't expecting it, the ball ricochets off her arms, "Fuck," she mumbles, "Sorry, I'll get the next one." She says determined.

"You sleeping on me, Misaki? Watch his hand and his finish." Coach Mori reminds and Misaki laughs and nods, knowing she wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

Yamamoto does another serve and it curves just the same, Misaki receives it flawlessly, "Nice pass!" You yell and Himari gets her hands on the ball, she sets it behind her to Emi and she hits the ball, Kuroo gets a touch and it slows the ball down for Yaku to pass it perfectly to Kenma. Kai hits the ball and it goes straight to you, your arms are starting to hurt from receiving all of these hits.

"Sorry, Himari!" You say, it was a little off. It didn't matter to her, she was able to get under it quickly and managed to do a quick to Mei, the attack makes it over and the boys pick it up and get ready to counter attack.

Yamamoto hits the ball and it slams onto the ground. "Hey, we're good. We've got this next one." You encourage and circle up with your team.

It goes back and forth, both teams scoring left and right. You feel yourself not fully immersed in the game, your passes have been off and your hits aren't really going where you want them to.

You're frustrated as you go to serve, you look at your coach and see where she wants you to serve. You take a deep breath and throw the ball into the air. You hit it and it immediately feels off, it goes straight into the net.

"You're good, make it up with a pass." coach Mori encouraged and you nod. Kuroo eyes you and frowns a little.

Kenma is up to serve again and you get in position. He serves it to you, the ball floats a little and you receive it with your hands.

"Sorry, it's off!" You say for what felt like the millionth time.

"You're good, shake it off." Coach Mori says and watches the ball. Himari sets to Keiko in the middle, Fukunaga receives it and Kenma does a quick with Kuroo.

You're still caught up on the sloppy receive you did that you don't notice the ball until last minute and it's too late to use your hands or anything, the ball quickly hits your face. Kuroo had a powerful hit, so it hurt even more.

The room gasps as they see you fall back and hold your face. You look up and feel something warm come down your face, you quickly use your hand to feel and see you're bleeding from your nose.

Your eyes widen and cover your nose, "Oh my god, are you okay?!" Kuroo rushes towards you, feeling awful that he hit you.

"Yeah—yeah I'm okay." You finally say, everything moving in normal time now and not in slow motion.

"You're bleeding. I'm so sorry." He says and looks at you worried. Somebody hands him a towel and he removes your bloody hand away from your nose and he softly places the towel on your face, not wanting to hurt you any further.

"Do you mind taking her to the nurse?" Coach Mori asks Kuroo, to him her smile was innocent, but to Himari and the rest of your teammates, there was a more devious meaning to it.

"Yeah, okay—yeah I can do that." He says and helps you up, he doesn't care if blood gets on him as he touches your hands. He has a hold on you in case it was a concussion and you'd sway. "I'm so so sorry." He apologizes again as he leads you to the nurse.

"It's okay." You say, "It was my fault."

"And how in the world is me hitting you in the face your fault?" He narrows his eyes at you.

"I wasn't paying attention. I was too in my head." You say.

He shakes his head, "I'm really sorry. Does it hurt?"

"What do you think?" You giggle and he smiles, happy that you're not mad at him and he thinks maybe he didn't completely ruin his chance with you.

"Yeah, I'm a little strong, sorry about that." He not-so-subtly brags.

You rolled your eyes and he laughs, he still has a hand on you and you're now hyper aware of it. Weirdly, you're craving more. You shake your head and think you're concussed because you're having these thoughts.

"You alive?" Kuroo notices you had gone quiet.

"Yeah-uh, I'm okay." You say. "Just still thinking about how I was playing."

He hums, "You were playing great."

You shake your head, "My receives were bad, and my hits—"

"That's not what it looked like to me." Kuroo smiles, a faint blush on his face, but he'll blame it on just playing a match if you ask.

"Thanks, Kuroo, but—"

"Nuh uh, I won't hear it." He says and shakes his head repeatedly. His hair following his movements, making his bed head even more cute. 'What am I thinking?' You think to yourself.

"Thank you." You say and look away, feeling your face burn. He opens the door to the nurse and lets you go first. His hand never leaving your back.

"Hi! Is everything alright?" The nurse asks, her eyes slightly widen when she sees Kuroo.

"I got hit in the face, my nose is bleeding." You say and the nurse nods, quickly taking you over to the sink to see the damage and clean the blood up. Luckily the bleeding had for the most part stopped, she hands you a tampon looking thing and plugs your nose with it.

"Tetsurou, there's a sink in the back you can use to wash your hands." The nurse says. You're a little confused as to why she used his first name. You watch Kuroo leave and clean up. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay?"

You nod, knowing the questions she was going to ask were to determine if you had a concussion. You answer her questions and luckily you don't have a concussion. Just a headache from the blood loss and your face was still stinging from where the ball had made contact.

Kuroo comes back, "Are you okay?" He asks you. You nod and remove the ice pack from your face to show him the damage he did, his frown deepens.

"You couldn't have hit her anywhere else?" The nurse laughs at him and he sheepishly looks away.

"It was an accident." He can feel her eyes on him.

"I'm sorry my brother hit you." The nurse says and you're taken back.

"Brother?" You ask and look at the two of them. You guess you could see the resemblance, although her hair was a lot more tame than Kuroo.

"This is my sister," Kuroo introduces you, "And this is Y/n."

Her eyes widen at your name, "Y/n, this is—”

Kuroo quickly cut her off, "Yeah, this is Y/n." He gulps, "I—uh told you she was the captain for the girls team." He glares at her.

"Oh, that's right." She smiles, "I'm Tokiko. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." You smile politely back. "Am I good to play still?"

She hums, "Yup! All good to go."

"Shouldn't you rest? Doesn't your head hurt?" Kuroo asks worriedly.

"I'm okay." You smile, "I've taken some hard hits." He frowns when you say that. "Besides, I've still got to beat you."

He laughs, "Alright, let's go, then." He waves bye to his sister and you politely wave as well.

"How long has she been working here?" You ask, remembering he had said that she was way older and he didn't see her much.

"She just started this week, actually." He chuckles. "She was at a different school, but then she transferred."

You hum, "She doesn't really look like you."

"Yeah, I know." He smiles. "Everybody says that, but we do have the same parents."

You're starting to like being around him. You know you shouldn't be saying that, but it's true. You can't help how often you smile at him, everything just feels so natural with him.

God, if Himari was in your brain, you knew she'd be cheering up and down about how she and her sister were right all along.

The game was almost over by the time you guys got back, you were happy to see that your team was winning. You sit next to your coach, not wanting to go back into the game to ruin their flow.

You cheered from the sidelines as Emi lands the last hit and wins the game. You're smiling hard and Kuroo can't take his eyes off you. He adores how happy you are that your team won.

He's not even upset that his team lost, no, he's not even paying any attention to them.

"Uh hello? Your team is right here." Yaku waves his arms in front of the captain. Kuroo smiles, he smiles so hard his face hurts, Yaku rolls his eyes and calls him a lost cause.

Kuroo decides to man up, he waits until your friends have left your side, and the second they do, his long legs strut towards you quickly.

"I believe I won." You smile as you see him coming up to you.

His heart feels like it's about to pound out of his chest, "Technically, neither of us were playing towards the end." He chuckles. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?" He fiddles with his shorts nervously. He's not sure where exactly he got the confidence to ask, but he's not complaining right now.

You hum, "It's Saturday...no, I don't think so." You say, "Why?" Your heart is racing and you're not even sure why.

"Would you wanna do homework at the library?" He asks, now he's thinking that maybe you don't have homework and he panics, "O-or if you don't have homework, that's—uh, that's fine, you don't have to—"

You find his nervousness cute and interrupt him, "I'd love to." You smile and he feels his entire body almost explode with excitement.

"Great—uh, yeah, I'm looking forward to it." He mentally tells himself to calm down, "Here, put your number in so I can text you the address." He thinks he's so smooth by finally asking to hangout and get your number. He's going to brag to Yaku so hard now if you agree.

"Sure." You agree and he hands you his phone, your nervous fingers type out your number, you feel like you're moving in slow motion. "There, text me so I can save your number ."

He nods quickly and types, 'Hi :)', you chuckle as you see his text pop up. You save his contact info, "Thanks." You smile.

"I should be thanking you." Kuroo laughs, "I'll see you tomorrow!" He says and runs back to his team before he says anything stupid. You shake your head lightly and try to hide your smile. 'I'm in trouble.' You say to yourself mentally.

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans so please keep that in mind! Homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More polls here and more info here! Lyrics for the songs and FAQ under the cut!

Superman lyrics

Tall, dark, and superman

He puts papers in his briefcase and drives away

To save the world or go to work

It's the same thing to me

He's got his mother's eyes, his father's ambition

I wonder if he knows how much that I miss him

I hang on every word you say, yay

And you smile and say, "How are you?"

And I'll say, "Just fine"

I always forget to tell you, I love you

I love you forever

I watch superman fly away

You've got a busy day today

Go save the world, I'll be around

And I watch superman fly away

Come back, I'll be with you someday

I'll be right here on the ground

When you come back down

Tall, dark and beautiful

He's complicated, he's irrational

But I hope someday you'll take me away, and save the day, yeah

Something in his deep brown eyes has me sayin'

He's not all bad like his reputation

And I can't hear one single word they say

And you'll leave, got places to be, and I'll be okay

I always forget to tell you I love you

I loved you from the very first day

I watch superman fly away

You've got a busy day today

Go save the world, I'll be around

And I watch superman fly away

Come back, I'll be with you someday

I'll be right here on the ground

When you come back down

And I watch you fly around the world

And I hope you don't save some other girl

Don't forget, don't forget about me

I'm far away, but I never let you go

I'm love-struck and looking out the window

Don't forget, don't forget where I'll be

Right here, wishing the flowers were from you

Wishing the card was from you

Wishing the call was from you

'Cause I loved you from the very first day

I watch superman fly away

You've got a busy day today

Go save the world, I'll be around

Forever and ever

And I watch superman fly away

I swear, I'll be with you someday

I'll be right here on the ground

When you come back down

La, la, la, la, la, la

La, la, la, la, la, la

When you come back down

🫶🫶🫶

Ours lyrics

Elevator buttons and morning air

Strangers' silence makes me want to take the stairs

If you were here, we'd laugh about their vacant stares

But right now, my time is theirs

Seems like there's always someone who disapproves

They'll judge it like they know about me and you

And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do

The jury's out, but my choice is you

So don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours

You never know what people have up their sleeves

Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me

Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles

But I don't care, 'cause right now, you're mine

And you'll say

Don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours

And it's not theirs to speculate if it's wrong and

Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong and

I'll fight their doubt and give you faith with this song for you

'Cause I love the gap between your teeth

And I love the riddles that you speak

And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos

Will be ignored, 'cause my heart is yours

So don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

Don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

But they can't take what's ours

They can't take what's ours

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours

🫶🫶🫶

The question is which song is queerer to you! Queerer can mean whatever you want it to mean; you might consider a song queer because you think it was written that way, or because of Swiftian lore. It might be queer to you because of how you relate it to your own life. Maybe you think from a purely literary standpoint the lyrics have queer themes; maybe you're just thinking about vibes!!!

If you’d like to send in interpretations or propaganda for a specific song you can send them to my inbox! All interpretations are welcome and let’s be open and kind in response to all interpretations <3

[artdcnaldson]

UGH terrible, i just knew tumblr ate it. i had a feeling. deeply upsetting. but i will try to rewrite and remember what i was thinking.

prodigy au thoughts:

okey so i think he contains himself through dinner and brings you back to your hotel. he manages to keep himself from making a move, despite the fact that your eyes are BEGGING him to kiss you. he doesnt give in. the next day youre playing another match, but you remember what he was telling you about improving your backhand, youre following his advice. he can tell from his seat in the stands, he can see how much better it is when youre doing as he told you to. youre such a fast learner, he didnt even have to show you, you figured it out just from his instructions. he feels so proud of you. he also feels very turned on over how eagerly you follow his lead. makes his mind wander to what else you would do, if he asked you to...

you win the match, naturally. he knew you would, especially with your new and improved technique. it almost feels like deja vu, the way he's being lead backstage to congratulate you, still semi-hard from watching you the whole match. he swears your skirt is even shorter than the one yesterday. but this time you come running up to him and jump into him arms. you're spurting praise and thank yous at him, he's so amazing, and he was so right, and did you see how good i was? he barely has a chance to get a word in. even then he wouldnt be able to think straight enough to know what to say. youre still hanging on him, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala to a tree, his hand on your ass to keep you from falling. he has to hold you up higher on his waist so you wont feel his hard-on pressing against you. so he wont cum in his pants from just feeling your pussy against him.

he invites you to dinner again, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible before the tournament is over. you spend the whole evening raving about him, talking about his career as if he wasnt there for the entirety of it. he thinks its very cute, how you look at him like hes a god. hes getting off on it way too much, he insists that you stay for dessert, exclusively because his boner is just far too obvious for him to be standing up right now.

he knows youre going to ask before you even get the first syllable out, and hes fully ready to shoot you down and tell you that hes just not ready to get back into a game he only just left behind. your eyes are already pleading him to say yes before the question is even out, all big and round and adoring. he cant help but imagine that it must be how youd look begging for his cock... he almost gives in before you even have the chance to beg him, before youve even asked. god he really is a weak man, but he's never had someone look at him, worship him, like this before, he would do anything to keep you like this. so he only puts up a little fight when you ask him to coach you. he knows he'll give in, but he cant help but make you feel like hes doing you a huge favor. its wrong of him, to further the, already huge, power imbalance between you. but he cant help himself, and he knows you dont mind. he agrees to coach you until wimbledon (a few months away), he's well aware that he'll gladly keep coaching you after as well, but its more fun this way to pretend you owe him a big thanks.

and you do feel like you owe him everything, before your sessions you were a great player. but after just a few sessions your game isnt just great anymore, its effortless. he's quick to teach you not just the physical technique but the mental work that truly separates your game from the one in the past. the professional facade you two had been putting up is over the second you start training on his person courts at his house. the second he invites you over to his house you know exactly how you want it to end. you show up in your usual short tennis skirt, but neglect to bring your usual shorts to wear under, and instead you opt for a brightly colored pair of lacy panties and a clear agenda. art gets hard as soon as hes helping you stretch and he catches the first of many glances of those bright pink panties. he nearly cums in his shorts when you call him coach with that sickly sweet smile, pretending you dont know exactly what youre doing. you dont even make it to any type of practice that day, because as soon as hes stretching your leg, his cock bruses against your pussy, and youre moaning obscenely. his resolve snaps that instant and he cant hold himself back from pushing you panties to the side and eating your cunt right there on the court...and then fuck your face against the back his couch...and then fuck you silly in his bed... all day long. he just cant get enough of you.

i think when he fucks her he really gets off on the power imbalance, on being the one in control after lacking control for so much of his life. he revels in being the better knowing, the one who holds the answers and is being looked up to. the way you hang on to his every word like its your gospel, the way you look to him like he's your god, begging him to answer your prayers. it makes him dizzy with lust, it makes him fuck in a way he never has before. with tashi she was the one in control, she knew what she wanted and expected him to fulfill her wishes. and he did. but you, you would do anything to make him happy, you disregard your own pleasure to ensure his. he never lets you go without, but even if he did you wouldnt care. you get off on his pleasure in a way he didnt know was possible. he swears one time you came just from him fucking your face, true devotion.

i think when he's fucking her, hes really bullying his cock into her pussy. shes so tight around him, he almost wants to ask if shes sure shes not a virgin, even though hes fucked her at least 100 times and she wasnt one when they met. he loves to talk during sex, how tight her young little pussy is (shes like 20-something, but hes thirty-five and tashi hasnt fucked him in years, so her pussy feels like heaven on earth), how good she is for him, how shes a little groupie slut, how lucky she is to be fucked by him. her attention had truly grown his ego to an unhealthy size, but they both love it. she brings out a side of him that's almost more like patrick... at least sexually.

took me a hot minute to recraft this lol, and its probably way too long (being concise is not a skill of mine, clearly), hope you like it pookie!!!

-🐞

YUMMMMMM all of this has me rubbing my dirty little hands together

Because your devotion is so sweet, so earnest. Art Donaldson has been at the center of your vision boards since you were sixteen, for a myriad of reasons. And now there he is— across from you on the court, making you run for drop shot after drop shot. A weak point he’d noticed at your last match.

You’re dripping sweat— soaked in it so it’s sheering your practice clothes. Your skin glistens in the unrelenting sun, your hair sticks damp to the back of your neck.

You know you’re a little pathetic around him, how your heart races whenever he gives you a pointer, how you live bouncing on your toes waiting for him to compliment you. But you ache for that validation, for your hero to shine a bit of that light on you.

He’s making you better— he’s making you perfect. Your ranking has shot up steadily, they’ve been saying you’re a contender for wimbledon on the tennis channel.

You wanted it. Of course you did. But you wanted it for Art too.

His skin is tinged pink after the day in the sun, and you watch him intently as he runs through more places you can improve. Your gaze softens as you listen, until he realizes you’re distracted by him. It makes a tiny smile twitch at his lips as you walk back to the house.

“How’re you feeling? Sore?”

You shrug. “My hips feel a little tight,” you reply, your gaze all soft. “Can you help me stretch?”

That’s how you wind up on your back on his massage table, the one that was collecting dust until you moved into the guest house.

One of his hands warm on your thigh holding it down, the other on your knee, bending you slowly until your knee touches your chest.

He’s so strong above you, so domineering. You exhale a shaky little breath, eyes locked on his.

“C’mon, hold it a little longer,” he says, his voice more like a coo. “Feels good?”

You nod, try to ignore the rush of arousal in your core at how close you are. He brings your leg back down, pats the side of your thigh affectionately.

He’s holding you closer as he stretches out your other leg. His hand higher up on your thigh to hold you down as he presses your knee up to your chest. A desperate little whimper escapes you when you feel him— hard and pressing against your cunt.

“Hold it,” he says, and you exhale shaky and nervous. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he presses harder against you. “That’s it. Good girl.”

You’re wearing the cutest little panties— pale blue cotton with a frilly lace edge. He’d caught tiny glimpses of them on the court, wondered where the usual shorts you wore with your tennis skirts were.

But he understands now, up close. His thumb brushes against the wet spot at your core, where your juices had saturated the fabric. You whine on the table. Embarrassment makes you itch to close your legs, but aching hot desire makes you keep them open for him.

“Art—“ you gasp. He can feel your cunt pulsing, twitching for him beneath the thin fabric. His thumb brushes against your clit and you moan softly. “I’m all— so sweaty—“

He pulls you to the edge of the table by your ankles, sinks to his knees. “Gonna take care of you. How can you focus on the court if you’re so needy, huh?”

Your panties are pulled down your legs, tossed somewhere to be forgotten about until they’re found by his cleaning staff, laundered, and returned to you.

His tongue is on you in an instant, lapping at your slick cunt. He puts your legs over his shoulders, nuzzles as close as he can get. He moans at the taste— of salty, sweaty skin, of tangy arousal. He could lose himself in you— I mean, god, you’re already writhing and moaning like a pornstar just from his tongue. Getting off on him as much as you’re getting off on what he’s doing.

And god, you’d jerked off to fantasies like this since he agreed to coach you. Thoughts of Art’s mouth, of him wanting you so desperately. Your fingers are in his hair, mussing up his sweaty hair.

His lips seal around your clit, suckling until your breaths turn into fucked-out sobs. Until you’re reduced to whines of Art and oh fuck and god, yes and please please please.

He’s so good at everything— so perfect— you should’ve known he’d be good at pleasing you. It would’ve been impossible for him not to be. Barely any effort, and you’re already right on the edge.

He draws out your orgasm like it belongs to him. And it does, really, everything you are belongs to him. He kisses your thigh, gently.

You sit up on your elbows, your entire body running hot with lust. “Let me,” you say, sweetly, obediently.

He swallows, shakes his head. He came in his pants like a fucking teenager, high off of the unfettered need you held for him. But he wasn’t going to let you know that. “Not this time,” he said, so you didn’t take it as an outright rejection. “Maybe after you get your serves to 110.”

You nod, eager like an obedient puppy— a dog with a bone. He knows you’d do anything he asks just to please him when he hears you on the courts, slamming balls across the net, desperate to improve.

[blackberrywars]

♥️Lambert/Aiden Fic Reclist!♥️

For anybody and everybody interested in Lambert, Aiden, and/or their relationship! I've been obsessed with these two since the start of the pandemic, and they inspired me to start writing my own fic, so making a reclist has always been an idea in the back of my head. Plus, it's come to my attention that the tag can get crowded sometimes, so, Laiden fans, this one's for you.

Parameters: I've decided to divide my recs based on common story types that explore Laiden both in and out of canon. Other ships are allowed, but the focus is Lambert/Aiden. Additionally, I put a cap on 3 fics max per author. These are not arranged in any particular order beyond the categories.

——————————————————————————————

♥️Lambert's Revenge/Aiden's Death or Return♥️

(i know dead people, and you are not dead) by @brighteyedjill (Explicit/5,940/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Lambert finds Aiden after ten years of torture, maimed and broken. They retire and learn each other once again, mind, body, and soul.

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory by CamilleDuDemon (Mature/2,327/Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death)

Aiden dies on a beautiful sunny day, while Lambert waits for him in their usual meeting place. Witchers cannot love and witchers never die in their beds. If only neither of those were true.

No Grave by @blackberrywars (Mature/2293/No Archive Warnings Apply)

A shameless self-rec, because I'm very proud of this fic. To the tune of Hozier’s Work Song, Aiden crawls from her almost-grave, determined to see her baby wolf again.

Fair Trade by Anoke (Mature/40,373/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Karadin sells Aiden to a mage, and he becomes an experiment, trapped in his own head while searching for a way out. It's a series, and this is the part where shit gets ugly.

Very Dark Magic by @bomberqueen17 (Mature/23,683/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Aiden is once more getting tortured and mind-controlled by a mage, but luckily enough and via the power of psychic beams, Keira and Lambert find him. And Lambert's pissed.

Roses Fall but the Thorns Remain by @t4tlambert (Teen/1,458/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert holds Aiden's medallion in his hands, and he knows what it means. He pays for the privilege of having this last piece of his lover, and falls apart for just a moment.

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down by @t4tlambert (Teen/14,414/No Archive Warnings Apply)

A fellow Hozier-lyric-title user. Aiden crawls out of his grave and is found by Eskel, who begrudgingly decides to not piss off his little brother and does his best to keep his Cat alive.

Fortunes of the Fearless by @tumbleweedtech (Teen/627/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert is a vicious bastard, and Aiden is lucky enough to be around to appreciate it, even if Lambert's victim is long dead and drowned.

Survival by @kitdubhran (Teen/1,278/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Aiden wakes up in enough pain that he kind of wishes he hadn't. But he does wake up. And we all know who he's gonna go find.

♥️Getting Together & Being Together♥️

Intent by tnico (Teen/18,551/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert does everything in his crotchety (open to interpretation) power to get Aiden to reveal his devious plans and fuck off, except all he wants is to be by Lambert's side. Incredible characterization, funny as hell, and awesome research footnotes.

Bad Blood (Runs True) by @fairytrashmother (Teen/8,368/No Archive Warnings Apply)

The Tournament never happened, and the Cats and Wolves are actually trying to make peace. A young pup and a young kit might just solve their problems

Silver for Monsters by @crimsonherbarium (Explicit/108,559/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

A canon-compliant look at the development of Laiden with awesome cover art and plenty of angst in later chapters. Lambert is slow to trust, so the burn follows thus.

Lacebound by @heronfem (Mature/39,391/Graphic Depictions of Violence)

Lambert and Aiden as young witchers in winter, lacebound by the fucked-up system they live in, and soon, lacebound to each other. Extremely nuanced politics, people, and circumstances, but also something like a college AU, if Bombs 101 was a class

Denial by tnico (Teen/16,989/No Archive Warnings Apply)

This fic quite possibly wins the award for bitchiest Lambert dialogue in existence, and no one loves it more than me and Aiden. They go a-curse-breakin' and have a grand old time together. More awesome research footnotes

Therapeutic Effects by @laurelnose (Teen/900/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert finds Aiden purring himself back to health, and it's mad cute (but also hilarious because Lambert is Lambert)

Fuck Off: A Love Story (In 5+1 Parts) by @skaldingrayne (Mature/17,080/Graphic Depictions of Violence)

Despite all his efforts to appear the contrary, Lambert is just a bit too noble (and then a bit too horny and a bit too in love) to let this mangy Cat die by his own stupidity. He's still gonna bitch about it tho.

i won't say i'm in **** by @purpurred (Mature/5,848/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Keira arranges for a Cat to fulfill one of Lambert's more private fantasies, and Lambert takes it in the worst way possible. That doesn't mean he can stop thinking about the way Aiden held a poisoned knife to his throat.

ease me of its fever by @inexplicifics (Mature/5,226/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Omega Lambert has spent so many years saying absolutely-the-fuck-not-i'll-rip-your-cock-off that it's more than a little difficult to say yes. Aiden is so, so patient.

mountains that are stacked with fear by @xianvar (Mature/11,171/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert, being Lambert, assumes the beautiful love confession he found in Aiden's bag was actually a prank, and lashes out accordingly. He gets his shit together, and his Cat, eventually.

♥️Meeting the Family♥️

Lambert's two orens' man by Ledgea (Teen/1,861/No Archive Warnings Apply)

One part in an incredible series about the slow development of Aiden and Lambert, but it's just a fun bit of Eskel getting to see his baby brother happy

Hide and seek by Ledgea (Mature/6,617/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert sneaks Aiden into Kaer Morhen, and his whole cohort of bastard pups work hard to cover his ass while causing as many problems as witcherly possible; part 1 of 3

a promise to keep by @all-hail-the-witcher (Teen/983/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Tooth-rotting fluff of Aiden in Kaer Morhen, appreciating the effects of good, regular meals on Lambert's physique. Cutagen biscuits are made.

Winter with the Caravan by @damnbert (Teen/14,229/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert goes home with Aiden for a while, and all the other Cats take the opportunity to take the absolute piss out of them both (and maybe do a little matchmaking on the side)

Lambert's Family by @freudensteins-monster (Teen/5,901/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert hides his biological family until he finally feels safe enough not to. They might be growing up around him, but they still welcome him home every year, and they welcome the Wolves and Cats too.

Did he who made the Lamb make thee? by @tumbleweedtech (General Audiences/1,461/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Being the (asshole) older brothers that they are, Geralt and Eskel constantly rib Lambert about being the littlest wolf, and that his mysterious cat must be pint-sized to match. Lambert is happy to prove them wrong.

♥️Good Old Fashioned Smut♥️

wild green wonder by elizabethgee (Explicit/42,554/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Laiden smut in just about every configuration you can think. Sweet and tender, rough and wild, this one has it all. If you like a dom!Aiden and repressed sub!Lambert, this is stellar

Lambert's (Not-So) Mysterious Vial of Oil by @on-a-lucky-tide (Explicit/11,291/No Archive Warnings Apply)

The Lambert-kicks-ass-at-alchemy headcanon applied to sex. He receives (heh), and then passes his glorious knowledge of lube onto a his student, Aiden

Sweeter Than Pride by @blackberrywars (Explicit/2524/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Another self-rec for the f/f lovers. Lambert is a sweet brat and earns herself a spanking so good she cries. Aiden freaks out a little, but after it all, they fall asleep spooned together

An Evening of Frippery by @bard-llama (Explicit/3,105/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert being a power bottom whose gender is "mind your fucking business," but who nonetheless looks fantastic with his exquisitely tailored skirts hiked to his waist

I Like how the day sounds through this new song by Lynge (Explicit/9,222/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Some porn with plot where Aiden forces Lambert to confess to petty theft and also his deep and abiding romantic feelings (in that order).

Problem by elizabethgee (Explicit/1,977/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

In a fic I've just now realized has the exact same premise as one of my wips, Aiden is obsessed with Lambert's thick ass thighs and will do anything to ride them

Cut You Clean by GreenBird (Explicit/4,203/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert loses a bet and has to let Aiden shave him. It has some... interesting effects on him.

Thicker than Water (and Other Poetic Bullshit) by @kushielsmercy (Explicit/2,835/No Archive Warnings Apply)

A mini-character study of Aiden and Lambert through the lens of some filthy blood-play. They're both far more possessive and codependent than they'd want to admit.

Puppies Don't Talk by @damnbert (Explict/8,725/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Very kink-heavy fic of Lambert going fully into subspace and getting to be taken care of for a while. He can't bring himself to really ask for what he wants, but puppies don't talk anyway.

all dressed up (with no place to go) by @childoffantasy (Explicit/6,707/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert fulfills the redhead contract of wearing green and killing it dead, and there's just enough room under his pretty skirt for Aiden to crawl right up it

Thief's Reward by @inexplicifics (Explicit/1,592/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Maybe Lambert shouldn't reward this handsome Cat for stealing his kill, but it's been awhile, and he might as well get something out of the bargain (it's orgasms. and 60% of the corpse profits)

Dichotomy by @tantumuna (Explicit/25,054/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Extremely kink-heavy fic where Aiden and Lambert switch to see whose methods can get Aiden pregnant the fastest.

Kneel For Me by @alllthequeenshorses (Explicit/2,269/No Archive Warning Apply)

Lambert can only really let go with Aiden, and as soon as he can, it's a freefall. Aiden's there to hold him tight. It's some kinky reunion smut, come get a helping.

Catch and Release by @top-notch-swords (Explicit/9,570/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Aiden is deeply possessive and more than willing to manipulate the situation to remind Lambert exactly who he belongs to. Filthy alley sex and a little codependency that they should probably talk about but actually just fuck about

♥️One-Shot Roulette♥️

A Logical Conclusion by @heronfem (Mature/18,674/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Essentially the thesis of Laiden shippers, seeing Lambert's prickly ass and knowing the only logical conclusion is that he must have loved Aiden very deeply, even across space, time, and AUs

Wheel of the Year by @crimsonherbarium (Explicit/20,717/No Archive Warnings Apply)

A series of Lambert and Aiden celebrating the holidays on the outskirts of society, but finding twice the joy for it. Lots of smut, but also sweetness and angst.

You and I (and what we get up to) by @iwillpooponthefloor (Explicit/19,396/No Archive Warnings Apply)

ABCs of Laiden that focus on them as a team of two. They pull off contracts, schemes, and each other, from time to time.

Purr For Me by @round--robin (Explicit/8,407/No Archive Warnings Apply)

A whole bunch of short and sweet snapshots into Laiden. I couldn't put them on this list, but Robin has a lot of other fics combining Laiden with other ships.

♥️Modern AUs♥️

A Beginners Guide to Exploiting the Kaedweni Tax Code For Fun and Profit by @heronfem (Mature/167,193/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Lambert and Aiden get accidentally married and decide to make it work for the tax benefits. And then they fall in love. And work through trauma. And get a cat. And it's gorgeously written.

What Happens at Waffle House by Anoke (Teen/1,993/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

The rituals are intricate, and Lambert's sometimes involve mutual combat with the Waffle House line cook. Somehow, the feral gremlin gets a date out of it.

All those wonders sit in wait for us by Theladyknight23 (Teen/14,847/No Archive Warnings Apply)

My fellow fem!Laiden crusader with a delightful modern take on witchers as a combination between truckers and pest control workers. Americana themes and the best additional tag ever: "love is like bread."

The Bark that's to Your Bite by @theimpressionablelizard (Explicit/12,976/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Where Lambert is Deadpool pre-mutation and he falls in bounty hunter love with Aiden, who I personally imagine looks like Dev Patel from the Green Knight. A little romance, a little co-worker wolves, and lots of swearing.

Three Cats Walk Into A Bar by @halehathnofury (Teen/2,607/No Archive Warnings Apply

Inspired by the lovely @whyzowl's art, it's the Wolves + Ciri dressing Lambert up to get him laid, and Aiden taking the bait.

Helpless, Feckless, Far Too Young by @keirametzbrassknuckles (Mature/14,605/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

The Wolves are a traveling group after a death in the family, and Lambert is so fucking sick of them acting like nothing is wrong. He meets Aiden, and they get on like a fairgound on faire. Written by my personal mistress of angst.

♥️Miscellaneous♥️

Once, Again by @brighteyedjill (Mature/4,521/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Aiden has to save Lambert in a time loop without explaining anything, but we all know Lambert doesn't trust easy. Sometimes the simplest solution is the right one.

The Art of Living by Ledgea (Explicit/25,636/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Lambert loving people as the story of an art gallery, a skill honed from his cohort to his brothers to Aiden, The Damn Cat, when he makes his appearance.

Fields of color by @witcherscrane (Mature/2,057/Major Character Death)

In the wake of Aiden's death, Lambert follows a beautiful illusion with a smile on his face. His brothers help him find rest.

Give Us A Smile by @etcorsolus (Mature/2,945/No Archive Warnings Apply)

A 5+1 of Aiden making Lambert smile. Textual adaptation of that one post "look at you! you're so handsome when you're not being a bitch."

The Basics by @kushielsmercy (Mature/375/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Aiden gets possessed, and Lambert has a choice to make. Ambiguous ending.

Ashes in His Mouth by Faetality (Mature/3,924/Graphic Depictions of Violence)

Fear makes humans cruel. It makes them not care who gets tied to the stake, so long as they can breathe easy while the victim drowns in smoke. Or, Lambert suffers, and Aiden watches.

remember me as i was not as i am by @all-hail-the-witcher (Explicit/40,248/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Aiden has been dead for a very long time, long enough that Lambert has long since forgotten his face. It's just in time for a beautiful man with green eyes to break in through his window and ask for his services.

Deafening Silence by @wolf-and-bard (Explicit/13,230/No Archive Warnings Apply)

Destiny is a stubborn bitch, but it hasn't Lambert, who doesn't give a rat's ass that he's never meant to see Aiden again.

A Spot of Blood by MsThunderFrost (Explicit/3,440, No Archive Warnings Apply)

How the phrase "Pops didn't raise a quitter" turns into a "sex sent me to the ER" story for Lambert, because he's a stubborn bastard who would rather injure himself than communicate.

——————————————————————————————

Let me say a few things outright, because I want zero drama.

This reclist is for the benefit of Laiden fans, and is not meant as a criticism of any other ship or fic.

The fics chosen for this reclist are only ones I have read. It is by no means comprehensive, and definitely favors older fics, since that was when I was deepest in the fandom.

I actually had to cut this short because I hit some kind of content block limit, which. Oh welp. If anyone wants me to remove their fic from this list for any reason, PM me and I'll do it asap

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be | Vll

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're going to your first high school party, who would've thought there'd be so much drama?

Warnings: underage drinking, mild violence, flashbacks to bullying, bullying, references to kissing

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Two chapters in a week?! Another short chapter but I do love this one! One of my favorite scenes to write so far!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

It was a nice day outside, and you and your friends decided to spend it at the park before the tournament tomorrow. 

While your nerves were at an all-time high, you tried to keep focus on the moment before you, knowing it’d be better to worry about it when the time came. You sat between Miguel and Aisha, Demitri sitting next to the former while Eli continued practicing with Bert behind you all.

Aisha was on her phone and the rest of you were listening to Miguel talk about seeing another guy have dinner with the LaRussos. Of course, out of all the explanations, he thinks he was Sam’s side piece.

“All right, so you saw her eating dinner with some chode,” Eli said before kicking Bert in the face, causing him to fall to the ground.

You snickered at his words but quickly sent a reassuring glance at Miguel.

“It’s probably her brother or something.”

“No,” Miguel argued. “Brothers don’t look at their sisters like that.” 

“Depends on what part of the country you’re in,” Demitri said.

You laughed at that.

“I don’t want what happened to Sensei to happen to me,” Miguel exhaled.

“It’s not gonna happen if you don’t communicate that to Sam,” you pointed out. “Tell her how you feel, be honest, she’ll appreciate it in the long run,” you offered.

Miguel pressed his lips together in defeat, unsure if he wanted to go your route.

“Nah, go over and beat his ass so he doesn’t have the chance,” Eli countered, walking over and leaning against the bench between you and Miguel.

You sent him a look. 

“If someone was swinging in on my girl, that’s what I’d do,” he shrugged, sending you a wink.

You felt your cheeks heat up, ignoring what he said about beating up someone. Your mind was too focused on him calling you “his girl”. 

“Don’t listen to, Eli,” Demitri said.

“It’s Hawk.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Demitri rolled his eyes.

You furrowed your brows, turning your attention back to Miguel. “She’s given you no reason not to trust her,” you said.

“I guess you’re right,” Miguel exhaled.

You were glad you got through to him when Aisha shouted at her phone.

“That little bitch!”

You jumped at her voice but were interested in what happened.

“Look what she commented under my post,” she held her phone in front of you, finding that Yasmine commented something horrible under her video of breaking a board.

“We gotta do something,” Aisha gritted.

“How about we kidnap her and have my boy Rico tattoo “bitch” on her face,” Eli smirked.

You snickered, not hating the idea. Yasmine deserved something worse than “bitch” tattooed on her face after all the hell she put you through.

“Calm down, Hawk,” Demitri mocked.

“I hear how you’re saying it and I don’t like it,” Eli spat. 

You reached over your shoulder to squeeze his arm, calming him. Turning back to Aisha, you spoke, “She’s having a party?” You saw the Insta story.

“Not if we strike first,” she smirked.

You smiled, liking where this was heading.

A few moments later you found yourself at the convenience store. While everyone else was buying snacks, you were on the phone with your dad. 

“It’s just a small party at the Canyon, I’ll be home at a reasonable hour,” you explained.

“You said you were gonna be at the park this morning, what changed?” He asked.

You sighed. “Plans were made,” you shrugged. “It’s just gonna be me and a few kids hanging out. Eli and Demitri will be there,” you chewed on your lip, hoping the mention of their names would make him more inclined to agree.

It didn’t.

“I don’t want you going to that party, I know there’s going to be alcohol there,” he said. 

“No there won’t,” you said even though you knew there would be. “You and Mom said I could do whatever as I long as I let you know where I am and who I am with,” you reasoned.

You heard a commotion on the other side, knowing your mom was convincing him.

“Okay, fine, be home at 10 sharp, a minute late and you’re grounded,” he ordered.

You beamed before hanging up, just in time for your boyfriend to walk out with a case of beer in his hand and a bag in the other. 

“I got you your favorites,” Eli smirked, handing you the bag. 

You smiled, thanking him and letting him know your parents permitted you to go. 

“I can’t believe you managed to get beer, when did you even get the fake ID?” You asked, leaning into his side as he wrapped his arm around you.

“I got my ways, babe,” he smirked. “Let’s have fun tonight, yeah?” 

You agreed. 

~

You’ve never been to a party before. 

Jumping from your Friday movie nights with your best friends to attending a party in the Canyon where everyone from school was—the feeling was overwhelming but in the best way possible. 

“If you were told a year ago that you’d join a karate dojo, dye your hair blue, get a back tattoo, and be dating me, would you believe it?” You smiled, hand intertwined with Eli’s as you sat in front of the fire. 

“Nah,” he shook his head, a smile appearing on his face. “But I would be the happiest to know we’re dating,” he hummed, pulling you in close. 

“You’re cute,” you booped his nose. “I’m gonna get a drink,” you said before standing up, passing Demitri on the way.

You joined Aisha, smiling as you approached.

“You seemed busy a few minutes ago,” Aisha chuckled. “Came to hydrate?” She joked as you grabbed a water.

“Haha,” you joined in but your cheeks heated up when you realized she saw you and Eli making out before. 

“I’m curious, how did you handle the change from Eli to Hawk?” She asked. 

“He’s still Eli to me, just with a different appearance,” you shrugged. “Sure sometimes I would like to run my hands through his hair, now I can’t,” you averted your gaze. “But he’s happy, who am I to get in the way of that?” 

She hummed in agreement.

“It’s half past nine, should probably get you home before your dad gets mad,” Eli came up behind you, arm finding home around your shoulders.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” you smiled. 

About to say bye to Aisha, you were stopped by Moon walking up to you two. 

“Y/N, glad I found you,” she smiled. “I wanted to apologize,” she sincerely said. 

You raised a brow, glancing at Aisha who sent you a reassuring look. Your composure was stiff and all you could think of was her and Yasmine laughing as they dumped your vandalized sketchbook in the trash.

“For all of it, I hope we could be friends,” Moon added.

You furrowed your brows, not understanding where this was coming from. You took a step back, Eli making sure you were grounded and you searched his eyes, wondering if he was hearing the same thing.

“Oh, hey! Y/N!” Yasmine beamed when she spotted you. “We’ve been looking for you,” she walked towards you with Moon at her side, her arms behind her back.

“We wanted to give this back,” Moon said just as Yasmine held out a similar yellow book with lavenders painted on it. 

Your heart dropped and you froze. 

She wagged it in your face but you couldn’t move. 

Eli just stood beside you, his eyes trained on you, searching for any sign of expression.

“Oh, well, if you don’t want it, I guess it’s trash,” Yasmine shrugged, dumping it in the garbage next to you guys. “Later, slut,” she spat towards you.

The two began cackling like crazy, leaving you with tears welling in your eyes. 

Anger bubbled inside you as that moment replayed in your head. All those years of torment and all she had to say was “sorry”? With a reassuring look from Eli, you spoke. 

“I appreciate the apology, Moon, but I don’t accept it,” you frowned.

She was taken aback, even Aisha.

“I-,” she searched for words.

“You made my life miserable,” you stepped forward. “You destroyed my art and personal property, you slut-shamed me,” you narrowed your gaze, searching her face. “Your friends hurt my friends. One apology isn’t going to make it go all away.”

She paused before opening her mouth. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m sorry for thinking we could change things so quickly, but I do genuinely want to be friends,” she offered a smile.

You felt your composure fall and you let out a breath. You passed her a small smile. “Baby steps,” you hummed. 

“Hey!” A wisp of blonde hair filled your vision and you backed into Eli when you realized it was Yasmine.

She focused her attention on Aisha. 

“You think it’s funny crashing my party?”

“It’s not really your party ‘cause we were here first,” Aisha gritted. 

“Yeah, well I know you and your little karate gang think you’re cool, but we all remember who you really are,” she smirked, gazing over you.

You tasted bitter, frown deepening as you made eye contact with her.

“You’re just a fugly bitch and all your friends are freaks,” she spat, calling Moon over to leave. 

“No, I’m staying. I apologized to Aisha and Y/N, you should too,” she looked at her friend.

Obviously, Yasmine didn’t take that well, bumping shoulders with Aisha as she stalked off.

That wasn’t until Aisha called after her. 

You watched as your friend reached down her pants, pulling her underwear up and giving her a front wedgie. You doubled over in laughter, feeling proud of her. 

Your first highschool party was definitely one to remember.

[crusty-chronicles]

sorry if this is a bad time to request and feel free to put this off till whenever or even delete it if you're sick of airheaded stronk s/o asks

I was wondering, could you do short headcanons about how hiei and/or kurama with a stronk/airhead s/o would react to someone random or even a minor antagonist actively being rude their s/o while they're in earshot

[for a more specfic example maybe that eyeball at the gate of betrayal calls their attempted sacrifice foolish or the pretty boy purple guy from the dark tournment says smth like "it's a shame such a pretty face is wasted on such a brainless oaf" which has the added bonus(?) of sounding underhandedly flirtatious.]

again no pressure to write this quickly or at all. i just figured i'd throw it in your ask box incase it interested you at all.

Also entirley seperate question but would you be willing to cover roroanora zoro in your stronk/airhead s/o series?

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O DRABBLES: How they react to someone insulting their S/O

An: Of course I don't mind! Never be afraid to request things, it just might take me a little bit to get to them but really I enjoy doing them!

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

Kurama:

More than likely it would be a comment from Yomi or Kaito that would make him lose his cool. For this instance though, we'll go with the latter.

🦊🦊🦊🦊

It was a little after Botan got her soul stolen that Kaito decided to run his mouth. You having been kidnapped with Yusuke because where one went, the other followed. Much to Kurama's dismay.

"You've got me curious, playing house with a human I'd figure would be so far below you. Do you find them amusing? Maybe think of them as some sort of plaything? A way to keep yourself entertained?"

The taunt was an attempt to make the fox demon slip up. And it seemed to be working judging by his glare and increase in spirit energy.

"Did I strike a nerve? Don't tell me the great Yoko Kurama is actually infatuated with a human. And not a very bright one at that." There was a smirk on his face that only grew seeing Kurama manipulate the plants around him. Knowing he couldn't physically hurt him at the moment.

"You should have seen them. Getting all worked up over Urameshi being immobilized, only to fall for the exact same trap. It was almost too easy. Even when being told moving was useless, they still struggled. Yelling out curses and promises to...what was it? Oh yes, 'kick out asses' I believe. I never would have pegged you as the type to go after a stupid brute."

His cackling was soon disrupted by the sound of Kurama's voice. Speaking up at last with a tone so cruel, it temporarily frightened Kaito.

"You should hope I don't find a loophole around your no violence rule. Because if I do, you'll regret every last word." Eyes glowing an eerie golden.

When he finally bested the snarky human, he half thought to just crush his soul. No only because he put his friends in harm's way, but he also insulted you.

Insulted his relationship with you.

Buuuut, Kurama wasn't exactly allowed to end a human's life. And he refused to stoop that low anyways.

No, he'd just leave Kaito the way he was and focus instead on getting you and Yusuke back safely.

Overall he's petty about it, but not angry enough to lash out. He'll let it go for now....But if it happens again all bets are off.

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

Hiei:

For Hiei it is most definitely Shishi that gets to him. I feel like maze castle is a little too early for him to get mad at someone making fun of you. Maybe a comment of 'A foolish sacrifice and yet you're the one who's dead'. But if it's during the dark tournament on the other hand 👀👀👀

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Kuwabara had just gotten teleported to who knows where. Leaving you, Hiei, and Kurama left to fight. It was just your luck that the die landed on your name. The other once again on Shishi's.

"Oh great, another bumbling idiot. At least this one is easier on the eyes." The demon commented as you made your way onto the arena.

Already Hiei could feel his blood start to boil. Disliking the way Shishi seemed to look you up and down.

"Perhaps defeating you will boost my popularity. Just don't die so quickly. I want to be able to entertain my fans."

You were already getting tired of this guy yapping. And it didn't help that he made your best friend vanish into thin air.

"I wouldn't be so sure about you beating me."

But at your comment, he only grew angry and snapped.

"Are you delusional or just that stupid? You think I would let a mere human beat me? Especially one as klutzy as you."

You were not a fighter to be underestimated. Hiei knew that firsthand. Yet you continued to let that cretin berate you as you fought.

For some reason that made him furious. Wanting to both put him in his place and let you teach that bastard a lesson. He took a step forward. Already deciding that if you did indeed lose this fight, he'd be the one to beat that egotistical demon.

A firm grip on his wrist stopped him from taking another step forward.

"Refrain from doing anything foolish. I know you care for them, but you'd only be damaging their pride more by stepping in." Kurama scolded.

The words temporarily snapping Hiei out of his protective thoughts.

"Tch, I don't care for them."

Hiei is absolutely ready to throw hands on your behalf. Yes you're foolish, but you're his foolish human. The only one allowed to insult you is him.

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

MASTERLIST

[poetrysmackdown]

some informal thoughts

hello! hope the holiday season has been kind to all of you. and i hope all my jewish followers had a lovely hanukkah! anyways, since i said a few months ago that i’d pick poetry smackdown back up sometime around this time of year, i thought i should make a post. the gist of it is that i’m still quite busy, i have a break that’s about three weeks shorter than I was planning on, and i don’t currently have the mental bandwidth required to read, contemplate, and sort through poem submissions in a way that does justice to them, even if i were to recruit some friends to help out. since running a tournament format requires at least five weeks of continued engagement once it’s underway, and since i’m not at capacity to offer that right now due to the change in my schedule, i’m gonna have to bow out for now. sad bc i was looking forward to it!

my hope is that i’ll have some more time over the summer to hunker down with it, in which case you’ll be hearing from me. it’ll frankly depend on the kind of job i land in for the summer, but i find that my unemployed spirit can typically keep me doing stupid shit regardless of workload...to a point. i don’t want to make any promises because i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just to let them down again LOL. i do admit the amount of exposure the first tournament got has made me feel like more of a perfectionist this time around, doubly because i don’t feel that i’m very suited to being a public online presence (even a relatively quite small one)—i’m bad enough at responding to emails for my own real life responsibilities, let alone tumblr asks for the silly responsibilities i invent for myself lol. that’s not to say i no longer want to do it, or i don’t enjoy it, or even that i don’t feel capable of making a really interesting bracket—just that if i am working to put something new together, and if people are taking the time to submit poems they care about, then i don’t want to half-ass it.

my second admission is something like this. I made the original bracket as a celebration of poetry and our relationships to it. yes it was silly and competitive, and the poems were very tumblr, but still, celebration was the intention—I wanted to have conversations about poetry. I stand by the bracket format as a fun and valuable way to foster conversations about poetry, but truthfully, the poems i’m wanting to have conversations about right now—the poems that we should be talking about right now—are ones that i'm not comfortable putting in a bracket. I reblogged The Baffler’s Poems from Palestine collection on here earlier, and Najwan Darwish’s “Who Remembers The Armenians?”, which I still often find repeating through my head when I'm traveling from one place to another, walking home or riding the bus. I came across this beautiful thread recently where people have been translating Dr. Refaat Alareer’s “If I Must Die” into their own languages (this just makes my translator's heart sing!!!!!!). @havingapoemwithyou has been posting some great poems from and for Palestine as well—check out their tag here.

There's always more to add, and I'll be posting more on here as I come across it, but that's what I feel anyone should be focusing on right now when it comes to poetry. i think poetry can be an escape but it should never be a distraction. does that make sense? i wouldn't be against doing a one-off poll here or there, but it feels weird to be making a tournament for poetry right now, or anytime soon. i feel like what free time i have right now is still best utilized helping my friends with organizing in the real world. and god, a bit off-topic but while I'm talking, fuck poetry foundation—I have so much respect for all the poets keeping up the boycott, because while i think it's a simple decision, it's not always an easy one (Aurielle Lucier discussed that here).

anyways, if you read all of this, thank you for your time!! I could go on and on, but really this was just meant to be a message telling y'all that there won't be another tournament for a while lol. even so i'll be trying to use this small silly platform as best i can until palestine is free because that's the absolute least i can do.

[mari-writes]

🦉🐈‍⬛

“Are you sure about this? You know I’ll support you not matter what. But dude, you’re definitely good enough to go pro!”

Kuroo glances at Bokuto, seated next to him at the bar. His friend is looking down into his drink, brow furrowed, shoulders drooping slightly. He sighs. “Yes, I’m sure. I have other things I want to do.”

Bokuto nods silently, still looking a bit dejected. And Kuroo understands. He really does. Their final university tournament is fast approaching. After that series of games, they’ll be focused on exams, job interviews, and preparing to move out.

The two of them had shared a university, including a bunch of classes, a volleyball team, and even a living space for the past few years. Their lives had intertwined so much so that Bokuto became more than just a “second best friend.”

He’s more like a brother now.

But their futures are finally heading in opposite directions, and Kuroo can admit—it’s a bit daunting. Emotions are running high. “It’s not like I won’t be involved in volleyball,” he adds. “I couldn’t stay away even if I tried. But I think I want to work from behind the scenes from now on.”

Bokuto’s mouth twitches into a smile. “You DO have a lot of options, don’t you?” Kuroo had double majored in Biology and Marketing & Communications, all while maintaining his spot on the team. He had been unanimously voted captain in his final year, of course choosing Bokuto as his vice. College had been crazy, but a good kind of crazy, for the most part.

“I want to keep ‘lowering the net,’” Kuroo says. “I want to get as many people interested in volleyball as I can.”

Bokuto’s grin turns toothy. He leans in to clank their glasses together. “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!" They both take a long swig. The liquor burns Kuroo’s throat briefly before a warm, fuzzy feeling settles into his chest.

“You know, I’m really glad we were here together.” Bokuto’s voice is lowered, just loud enough to be heard over the din. Kuroo shifts on his stool, but stays silent, allowing his friend to continue. “It was… hard to accept that Keiji wouldn’t be continuing volleyball after high school. And even harder when he chose a different college.”

Kuroo nods in understanding. While it hadn’t been a surprise that Kenma announced he’d be choosing another path, it was still difficult to accept.

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you here, Kuroo!”

Frowning, Kuroo reaches to punch his friend lightly in the arm. “Oi!” He tuts. “Stop that. Or else I’m gonna tell on you to your boyfriend. I know for a fact that Akaashi hates when you cut yourself down!” Bokuto just shrugs. “C’mon, Bo. You would’ve been fine. Great, even. I mean, aside from maybe Chibi-chan, you’re the best at making friends. You make your biggest rivals want to cheer for you!”

“Hey, Hinata’s not so ‘Chibi’ anymore!” Bokuto chuckles. “Have you seen his latest photos from Brazil? My disciple is turning into an absolute beast!”

They both laugh, and Kuroo relaxes. He’d been pretty worried about telling Bokuto about his plans. But now that it’s done, he finally feels at peace. “You’re going to go far with volleyball,” he declares, raising his glass once again. “I just know it. But someday you might want to put that Education degree to use, too. Hit me up when that happens, okay?”

Bokuto’s smile is blinding. “Yeah!” He nods enthusiastically. “We could coach at a school, or put a volleyball camp together or something!”

Kuroo winks. “Now THAT sounds like a solid plan.”

//

I’ve been thinking about Kuroo and Bo’s friendship a lot lately, especially since I saw that leaked sketch of them leading a kids' volleyball camp together. It’s just so special to me. 🥺❤️ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please comment and share!