#SOCC Questions

[sonic-oc-central]

#1: What is your OC's name, and why did you choose it?

[alwaysanangelneverag0d]

~Fast Break to your heart~Pazzi AU

NWSL Paige x WNBA Azzi

a/n:hello yall im very excited to release the first chapter of this i of course welcome any feedback or criticism.Especially in how i write womens soccer.I promise i will get a bit more detailed on that front jjst give me time🙏🙏🙏

Wc:5.3k(i swear most chapters will be much longer then this)

Chapter 1:Collision

Early May-2026

When she agreed to go to the game, Azzi told herself it was to keep the peace. Cam had called it team bonding. Azzi had been halfway through unpacking a box labeled kitchen decorations when Cam burst into her apartment, ripped open the blinds, and announced she was picking her up at three. Azzi had no choice. It was in moments like this that she wished she didn’t coincidentally live in the same apartment as Cameron Brink.

Now Azzi sat on the couch, book on her thigh, hoping Cam would forget she was forcing her into this.

But then she heard a knock and saw Cam standing in her doorway, arms crossed like a disappointed older sister.

“We’re gonna be late,” Cam’s tone was casual but sharp. “And I swear to God, if you bring that book with you, I’m throwing it out on the freeway.”

Azzi gasped. “Wow, threatening literature now—that’s low.”

“I’m not threatening the book. I’m threatening you, Fudd.” Cam stepped inside and snatched the book dramatically. “I’m not letting you third-wheel your own social life.”

Azzi sighed, running a hand through her curled hair. “It’s not about the book, I just couldn't care less about socc—”

Cam cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But consider this: it’s either sit in a packed stadium with friends or keep unpacking boxes, not knowing where you want to put your championship plaques.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “They aren’t even plaques… they’re framed jerseys.”

“Oh, my bad. I meant the Azzi Fudd Hall of Fame wall.”

Despite wanting to shoot daggers, Azzi cracked a grin, stifling a laugh.

Cam grinned back, knowing that when Azzi smiled, it meant victory. “That’s better. Now go put on something that isn’t sweatpants. You know Rickea hates waiting.”

Azzi groaned, mumbling, “The peer pressure is crazyyy.”

“Exactly,” Cam grinned. “Welcome to the team, Fudd.”

As they walked out of the apartment building, Cam reached out and bumped her shoulder slightly.

“Serious question,” Cam glanced sideways at her. “Why the hell are you still unpacking boxes for your kitchen? You’ve been here like two weeks.”

“Three, actually,” Azzi muttered. “Not that I’ve been counting.”

Cam raised a brow. “That is worse.”

Azzi didn’t respond immediately. She just kept walking through the lot, dragging her feet like her body was forcing her forward. The silence stretched long enough to make Cam look at her with concern.

“It’s not like, deep or anything,” Azzi said quickly, definitely not convincing. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“With what?” Cam added. “I have seen you read the same book three times this week.”

Azzi cracked a grin. “Hey, at least I’m consistent.”

Cam stopped walking and paused. “I get it—you don’t feel like this is home.”

Azzi’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s not about that.”

“It’s exactly about that.”

Azzi paused. She didn’t want to admit it, but Cam was right—even though she hadn’t fully acknowledged it out loud.

“I guess I just—” Azzi exhaled, “don’t feel settled yet.”

Cam didn’t say anything, letting Azzi open up at her own pace.

“I miss rhythm. The familiarity of the people, the court, routine.” She paused. “When I was at UConn, even the silence felt like it belonged to me. Here? It just feels like I’m a visitor. Like, I don’t belong here yet.”

Cam frowned, but her eyes showed understanding.

“You do belong here. Maybe just not in the ways you want to yet, but you do. You don’t have to force yourself to prove you belong every single day.”

Azzi nodded. “I know… but it’s just weird. Being without the girls. The noise. Familiarity.”

Cam bumped her shoulder once more. “Then let us be your noise.”

“You’re already loud enough.”

And then, to almost prove Azzi’s point, their moment was interrupted by a set of honks.

Azzi jumped, while Cam just shook her head with a grin.

“HELLOOOOOO!”

“Rickea, chill, we’re coming,” Azzi called back as they jogged toward the car.

“Took you long enough. I was about to start charging for loitering.”

Cam laughed. “My bad, Kea.”

Rickea shook her head. “Distractions get you nowhere when it comes to me.”

“Sorry, Kea. We’ll keep it quick next time.”

“You bet,” Rickea added. “’Cause next time, you’ll be walking to the game.”

———————————————————————-

Rickea’s Jeep vibrated with bass as Mary J. Blige blasted through the speakers, the windows rolled halfway down to let in the warm L.A. evening air. The girls were screaming the lyrics with unfiltered enthusiasm, not a single note in key, and none of them cared.

Cam was drumming on the dashboard like it was a snare, Rickea slapped the steering wheel in rhythm, and Dearica had her head halfway out the window, harmonizing so badly it looped around to charming. Azzi sat in the back, squeezed against the door, a reluctant passenger in the chaos.

But the noise was oddly comforting. Loud in a way that made silence feel impossible. Like friendship layered over static.

Azzi stared out the window, watching the city blur past in neon smudges and golden smears of sunlight. Her heart was ticking faster than it should’ve been, though she couldn’t decide if it was from nerves or something else.

She laughed when Cam tried to hit a high note and cracked spectacularly, clutching her chest like the lyrics had physically wounded her. It was ridiculous. And for a second, it felt good.

The closer they got to the arena, the more the atmosphere shifted.

Traffic thickened. Tailgates flipped open. Fans in pink and black filtered onto the sidewalks in packs. The air felt charged, like something big was about to happen.

Cam twisted sharply in her seat, dropping her sunglasses onto her lap as the chorus faded into the next track. She turned down the volume, not dramatically, but with purpose. The quiet hit harder after so much noise.

Cameron smiled at azzi as if she had something of great importance to say

“Just so you know,” she began dramatically, “there’s gonna be tons of hot, muscular women waiting for a beautiful, curly-headed basketball player like you to waltz in there.”

Azzi rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. This again.

The group’s obsession with trying to set her up was getting exhausting.

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m a visionary, actually,” Cam corrected, completely unbothered.

“A horny visionary.”

Rickea cackled as Cam threw her head back, clutching her chest like Azzi’s answer had physically wounded her.

“Listen, Az,” Cam said, leaning in like she was sharing sacred wisdom. “All I’m saying is—new city, new you. Let someone ruin you for once. Preferably someone with sexy thighs and a six-pack.”

Azzi groaned, already preparing to recite the same speech she’d been giving since she landed in L.A. “I’m not trying to date anyone right now. Or hook up. Or do anything other than basketball.”

“Yeah, but a basketball can’t kiss you goodnight,” Rickea chimed in from the driver’s seat, not even missing a beat.

“If it somehow could,” Azzi muttered, “it would probably still do it better than all the people you sleep with.”

Cam let out a loud snort. “BURN.”

Rickea gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like Azzi had shot her point blank. “She’s ruthless! Cam, I told you she was cold-blooded off the court, too!”

Cam and Rickea launched into a fake argument over who was the more emotionally neglected friend, their voices escalating with every fake accusation. Azzi leaned back into her seat and stared out the window, letting their banter fill the space around her.

There was something peaceful about the noise. Familiar. Like background music to her restless thoughts.

But the moment they stepped out of the car, everything changed.

The hum of the stadium hit Azzi like a wave—loud and alive. You could feel the energy in the air, buzzing with anticipation. The crowd, even from a distance, moved like a tide, their chatter and laughter rising in waves as the arena loomed overhead like a coliseum built for modern-day gladiators.

And the closer they walked, the more Azzi felt it: that quiet shift in the air. Like she wasn’t just walking into a soccer game, but into something bigger. Something electric.

The concrete beneath her sneakers felt different. The lights ahead were brighter. The sound of a thousand voices layered over one another felt like prophecy.

It was just a game.

Fans were weaving in and out of lines, most decked in jerseys, scarves, and posters in the team's hues of pink, black, and grey. But what pulled her into noticing was the name

Bueckers

Over and over again

It was on the back of jerseys in bold lettering. On colorful signs that almost felt like declarations. Even painted on the cheeks of young fans

Azzi’s breath hitched. Paige’s name might as well have been sewn into the air

They didn’t just admire. They adored her

‘’Is this normal? ’’ she asked under her breath as they headed towards their section of seats

Cam followed her gaze. “For Paige? Yes, L.A. worships her, she’s like the female Messi”.

“Shit they’d probably elect her for mayor and she wouldn’t even have to campaign” Rickea added.

Azzi let out a chuckle, but for some reason, her chest felt tight. She had played in front of sellout crowds. She saw her name on posters, jerseys, and faces, just like Paige. But this noise wasn’t for the sake of a team, it was for her.

Paige

The one the city had crowned theirs

Her eyes glazed over a sign ‘’The prophecy lives”

She didn’t know which made her feel worse. That Paige had a hype azzi dreamed to have one day.. Or the fact that she understood why.

—————————————————————-

As they weaved through the crowd towards their seats, Azzi found herself feeling weirdly off balance. Not sick, just..off.Maybe it was the lights. Or the noise.Or maybe something else.Someone else

She barely had a moment to ground herself when Cam cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed,

“PAIGEEEEE”

Azzi was mortified. “Cam, what are you doing?” Azzi hissed, grabbing the taller girl's arms in an attempt to stop the draw of attention Cam had summoned. Heads turned in their direction. Azzi immediately ducked lower in her seat. The last thing she wanted was attention, especially when it came to Cam’s antics

“I'm tryna get PB's attention,” Cam whined as she waved her arms frantically in the air like she was lost in the forest begging for a helicopter rescue.

Azzi followed her gaze towards the field. There she was. Paige Bueckers. Talking to a teammate, water bottle clutched in strong, veined hands. Azzi blinked. Something inside her hiccupped. She turned back to Cam.

“Wait, you know her?”

“ I could’ve sworn I mentioned her name once. Possibly even twice”

Azzi was truly astonished

“When you said ‘Paige’, I didn’t think you meant the Paige Bueckers.”

Can shot her a proud look. “Yep.The one and only. The chosen one, they say”

Rickea giggled, “We love Paigey, even though she looks mean, she's like a teddy bear.”

Azzi’s eyebrow raised. “She does not give off the vibes of a teddy bear’

“I mean to be honest, she has always had a certain reputation, you could say,” Rickea smirked as if she was about to reveal government secrets

“A Reputation of…?”.Azzi was curious

“Being a massive S-L-U-T,” Rickea’s smirked

“Don’t you think that's a bit harsh?” Dearica chimed in from the other side

Can let out a loud snicker at this. “Only harsh if you didn’t go to Stanford with her. I eventually lost track of the number of girls who came up to me, in literal tears, because Paige ghosted them

“Oh yeah,” Rickea added,” and always the same excuse- ’ I need to focus on soccer’.Not like she was lying.”

“I think I saw her sleep in cleats one time in spring sem,” Cam giggled.

‘She had the same line for everyone’’Rickea shook her head. “Never lasted more than a week with a girl.”

Azzi said nothing. Her eyes drifted unintentionally back to the bench. Paige was crouched, lacing her cleats. Something was mesmerizing about just that simple act. The way she carried herself in simplicity made Azzi’s stomach drop.

Azzi blinked, realizing she was staring. That’s when she felt a nudge

Dearica leaned in. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

Azzi’s face flushed.”Um–what? No.”

But her voice was too flat for someone who was denying it.

Rickea smirked, “Mhm.”

“Seriously, I don’t have time for a distraction like that; basketball is my only focus.”

“Well, your loss.” Rickea licked her lips, “'Cause if I was into girls, I’d let Paige ruin my life.”She threw her head back dramatically .”Those gorgeous chiseled abs?That jawline? She could call me ugly, and I’d still thank her for acknowledging me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. Biting her cheeks to keep from breaking out in a grin

“I think you two would get along well.”

Azzi blinked, shocked at Cam’s sudden comment

“Me and Paige?”

Rickea and Cam nodded in agreement

“As weird as it sounds, yeah.” Cam added, “You are way more alike than you’d like to think.”

“I doubt that,” Azzi scoffed. What could she possibly have in common with Paige?

“I'm being serious, Az.” Cam paused, “You both live for the game, like, don't get me wrong, I love ball. But you both don't just play the game you love-you live it.”

Azzis breath caught

“You train it every day like it's a religion to be preached. You push yourselves even when you're long past empty. You breathe the game into your lungs. I've only met two people like that.You.And her”

Azzi was rendered speechless. She felt uncomfortable with how Paige’s dedication made her feel. How seen she felt

“Though I must say you are definitely much much nicer,” Rickea joked, earning a hard jab to the ribs from Cam in retaliation

“Still,” Cam added, “You would like her more than you think, hun.”

Azzid forced herself to let out a laugh and smile, but it came out ingenuine hollow. Forced

Might like her?Absolutely not. Liking Paige Bueckers would not be happening.

The lights dimmed slightly. The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, echoing off the walls and out of the open roof.

Azzi shifted in her seat. She hadn’t expected to come here and feel like this. Her heart ticked like it was ready to explode. Not in fear of the game . There was the unfamiliar weight lingering. A force threatening to break her walls.

A quick montage played on the arena jumbotron.Highlights flashing. Explosive cuts of goals and saves.

One by one, the announcer began calling out the starting eleven players, each name sparking a wave of applause and chants. The anticipation built steadily, like the calm before a storm.

“Starting in goal… number 19… Angelina Anderson!”

The crowd erupted with cheers, fans waving scarves and chanting her name.

“And holding midfield… number 23… Christen Press!”

A fresh roar surged through the stands, a mix of whistles and applause echoing off the arena walls.

Rickea hit Azzi’s side. “Just wait until you hear the crowd when they announce her.”

Azzi just nodded at Rickea's words. Her body began to sweat

Why is she affecting her like this

“And starting at forward…”

Cam rubbed her hands together in excitement

A quick pause of silence

“Number 5…..PAIGEE BUECKERRRSSS!”

The stadium exploded in increased volume

“PB! PB!

Chants came from every end of the arena

But this wasn’t like the names before. It wasn’t cheering.This was worship

Devotion.As if she were something holy. The entire stadium had turned into a congregation, and Paige was there gospel

She gazed up in silence as the Jumbotron showed Paige’s slow jog onto the field. Her movements were calm and easy. Like she didn’t need to meet the energy of the crowd.The energy wrapped around her.Made space for her

Azzi hated how poetic every thought in her brain felt. She was jealous that just a jersey and a name brought utter devotion from people.

The city didn’t just love Paige. They believed in her. The kind of belief where they built statues.The kind of belief that puts pressure on your soul.

But she knew then something deep inside her had shifted. Something her mind had failed to catch up with.

A warning, maybe, or possibly a pull.

And that terrified her.

___

The field was in complete chaos. players colliding like atoms, cleats slicing grass, arms jostling for space. And then, without warning, the chaos formed around her

Paige.

She didn’t just receive the ball- she absorbed it. A touch so clean it looked magnetic, as if the ball had been drawn towards her. Her back was to goal, one defender already pressing close, but Paige’s first move was so subtle it barely registered until the defender lunged and missed.

Azzi leaned forward in her seat.

Paige spun, shielding with her shoulder, and accelerated. Not in the way most players sprinted-desperate, messy-, but like a blade sliding through air. Each stride was long, hungry, clean. She pushed the ball ahead with the outside of her foot and slipped through a seam that shouldn’t have existed. Azzi blinked. The defenders were caught on their heels, like they were chasing a ghost.

One last defender closed in, a center back with broad shoulders and fast feet. Paige didn’t slow. She tapped the ball to the right with her instep, drawing the defender that direction, then cut back left so sharply the girl nearly tripped over her own two feet. Paige was through. Open.

Azzi’s pulse quickened.

The box approached. The goalie stepped up.

And Paige didn’t hesitate.

Her foot met the ball with terrifying control, a low, curling strike with the inside of her cleat that spun like it had a mind of its own. It curled around the keeper’s outstretched hand, bent at the last moment, and kissed the inside of the far post before settling into the back of the net.

Azzi didn’t even realize she’d held her breath until the crowd exploded.

A sound so huge it felt like it shifted the air in her lungs.

Paige didn’t celebrate

She turned back towards midfield

And then she did it

Lifted the hem of her jersey to wipe the beads of sweat off her face

A simple gesture

But to Azzi, it felt like her world had tilted

Her eyes caught the flash of skin. Smooth, carved with the definition that could only come from obsession,from hours of morning reps . Paige’s abs were unreal. She was convinced they were sculpted from the gods. Sharp lines traced down her stomach, flexing even more with heavy breaths. In that moment, Azzi wondered what it would be like to trace the tips of her fingers along those sharp lines.

She blinked, forcing her mind and eyes to gather themselves

Did she just stare at Paige Bueckers' abs?

Yes, god yes, she had

She glanced away as fast as she could, hoping none of her teammates had picked up on Azzi’s wandering eyes.

But to her dismay, Ricked leaned in

“Now you see what I was talking about.”

Azzi groaned, “Don’t.”

“Like I said,” Rickea whispered, “I would let Paige ruin me.” She let out a low whistle, eyes still fixed on the field.

Azzi tried to force a laugh, but she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt deeply unsettled and wasn’t sure if it was due to Paige’s ridiculous body or the fact that for a full 11 seconds, Azzi had frozen. Completely mesmerized

But she wasn’t interested. She swore it

She crossed her arms, trying to shut the feeling out. But her mind only drifted back toward the slow lift of that jersey. The pale skin. A strength only achieved by devotion and obsession

The way it made her feel something.A feeling that she had spent her whole career running from.

For the rest of the game, she told herself she was watching in the interest of the sport. She clapped when the crowd clapped, winced when they gasped, and nodded when Cam shouted about a missed call. But in truth?

She wasn’t watching the game

She was watching her

Every time Paige moved across the field, Azzi felt her eyes follow. It wasn’t out of her conscious-but something magnetic. Like rereading a line in a book that left her hollow

The way Paige sprinted in perfect form.The way she called for the ball-voice loud and imposing, carrying through the crowd.The flick of her hand when she made a gesture.The flame in her eyes when a pass didn’t connect.

Azzi Fudd knew nothing about soccer, but she didn’t need to. Paige made the rules irrelevant. Watching her play was not about understanding the strategy. It was about feeling intensity radiate off of every kick, every pivot.

She played like it was her god given purpose. Not cocky, but inevitable

It was irritating. And maddening

Yet Azzi couldn’t stop watching.

When the final whistle blew, the crowd cheered. Azzi felt as if she had just snapped out of a trance

The game was over, and yet Azzi couldn’t help but feel like it just started.

Cam insisted on staying behind to greet Paige.

Azzi lingered at the edge of the group as they approached, keeping her distance like a cautious observer. She wasn’t trying to be rude—she just didn’t want to intrude. It felt strange, being here. It was like she was hovering on the edge of Paige’s spotlight. Cam wasted no time. She threw her arms around Paige in one of her signature Brink hugs, the kind that squeezed the air out of you. To Azzi’s surprise, Paige laughed a soft, raspy sound that felt too human for someone Azzi had half-convinced herself was just a goal-scoring robot.

Still, she stayed back.Watching.Observing

When Paige’s eyes finally flicked toward her, Azzi turned away—too quickly, too obviously. She pretended to squint up at the arena seats, as if something up there had suddenly become fascinating. Anything to avoid the weight of her stare. Because even as Rickea and Dearica began chatting with Paige, Azzi could feel her eyes trailing across her skin like a scan. Cold.Observant.

Her skin suddenly felt too cold for a warm L.A. night.

She forced herself to glance back. Paige was still watching her, expression unreadable.

“Who’s she?” Paige asked, nodding toward Azzi. Her voice was low clipped and polite, but hollow. Void of interest. It wasn’t curiosity, just protocol.

“That’s Azzi!” Cam said brightly. “The super cool, ridiculously talented new teammate I told you about.” She shoved Azzi forward like she was offering up a shiny trophy.

“Oh. Right,” Paige said, her tone dry. She shifted her weight, hands fidgeting at her sides. “Nice to meet you.” The words landed with a dull thud, lacking warmth or care.

Azzi stepped forward only slightly, offering a stiff nod. “Nice goal earlier,” she said flatly, the compliment thinly veiled behind indifference

Her voice was cooler than usual, measured, detached. The kind of voice she used on the court when the scoreboard was close and emotions were too dangerous. Her teammates shot each other quiet looks, confused. That wasn’t how Azzi usually spoke to people. That wasn't the girl who laughed at Cam’s dumb jokes or hugged Rickea after practices.

Paige didn’t even blink. “Thanks.” Her response was mechanical, as if she were reading off a script. No smile. No acknowledgment. Just a hand held out like a formality.

Azzi shook it briefly. The handshake was firm, businesslike. Her palm was warm but steady, soft yet calloused. Azzi hated that she noticed that. Hated that, for a second, she wondered how someone could have hands like that and still feel so distant. So far from reach.

As soon as their hands separated, the thread between them snapped. Paige turned back to Cam, as if Azzi had never been there. Like she wasn’t worth more than a few seconds of transactional introduction.

Azzi stood still, pretending it didn’t bother her. Pretending she hadn’t just been dismissed. She told herself she didn’t care.

They stayed a while longer, the conversation flowing around her like a current that was too dangerous to step into. Paige talked to Cam, laughed with Rickea. Even joked with Dearica. But not once did she address Azzi again.

And Azzi didn’t try either.

When it was time to go, she gave Cam a quick hug, hearing her say, “We’re overdue for a chat and some Shirley Temples.” Azzi gave a small, detached wave in return and followed the others toward the exit. Her chest tightened, but her face remained calm.

She wasn’t offended

She just didn’t expect someone to be so good at making her feel invisible.

———————————————————————

Later, as they were walking back to Rickea’s car, the sun had dipped, causing the sky to be painted in deep blue and oranges should’ve made Azzi lighten. Usually, she would pull her phone out and take a picture, but her body still felt rigid. Her Hand still felt warm. She could still feel the way Paige didn’t acknowledge her. Like she didn’t exist

Nope.Nope.She was not letting a small interaction get in her head. Especially when that person was probably gonna forget her name the next day

She was pulled out of her trance as Rickea made a dramatic stop in front of the car

“Ok, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“Why were you acting like Elsa the ice queen when you met Paige?”

Dearica gave Rickea a look and leaned against the passenger door.” Seriously, Azzi, you shook her hand like you had just ended a business meeting.”

Rickea added, “Yeah, that’s not like you at all.”

Azzi scoffed, smirking even though she had wanted to curl in a ball at the fact they had also noticed.”I was being normal, you guys are just being dramatic.”

“Normal,” Dearica shot back, “You were stiffer than Cam’s hair on picture day. That’s not the same Azzi who tried to fight the vending machine for stealing her protein bar.”

“I'm just tired, it's been a long day,” she replied, her voice in a calm tone that signified she was done talking about it.

But she felt it in the way they looked at her. As if they could see straight through her lie.

“Ok, let's go.” Azzi opened the back door of the car and slid in. Grateful that they didn’t push. She rested her head against the hot window. Silence settled in the car as the hum of the city slowing down filled the space

Rickea and Dearica talked quietly in the front, but Azzi felt elsewhere. She was too busy fighting against her brain

Stop overthinking about someone you met once. You’re being dramatic. She’s allowed to act cold towards you if she feels like it. She doesn’t know you

She most definitely forgot your name already, anyway. Which is good because that means it will be easier to forget her, too. You are here for basketball. Not that kind of attention

Paige Bueckers shouldn’t bother her. But her thoughts still betrayed her. She had been ignored by worse. Her parents, her coaches, and teammates. But somehow, the ignorance of a stranger stung her heart deeper.

It was the effortlessness of Paige's switch to indifference that made her stomach do backflips.

She’s probably just an asshole to everyone. Cam practically said it herself

But somehow Paige's ignoring her had felt deeply personal. And thats what pissed her off most. How was she letting a stranger occupy her mind like this

You don't even know her, and you have a game tomorrow. Stay focused.

She clenched her hands into fists in her lap to regain control.

Azzi Fudd never feels like this. Curious about someone.Not right.Unsettled

And definitely not intrigued. Especially by someone like Paige Bueckers

But even as Rickea pulled into the apartment parking lot

Azzi knew the thought of Paige would still linger.No matter how far she pushed it down

——————————————————————

Later that night, after unpacking two or so more boxes. The apartment was purely quiet. A silence she had been craving all day

A blanket was pulled over her legs while Stewie snoozed between her feet. A half-unpacked box sat next to her mockingly

Azzi sipped from her second glass of wine. Or maybe it was her third? She didn’t bother to count. Staring at the book in her hand

She had read the same paragraph 7 times in the last ten minutes. Her eyes tried again to absorb the words of her book, but her brain wasn’t registering them

It was probably just nerves. She had her first regular-season game tomorrow, and that had her in her head.

But as she turned another page, she knew that wasn't true. Her only thoughts were a certain 5’8 blonde

Paige.

Not in a weird way, not like a crush or some shit. You’re just curious.

But the game had ended hours ago, and thoughts of Paige still lingered like static in the crevices of her brain. Azzi kept picturing those stupid abs and how they caught the lights in the arena. She could still feel the Vibration from when they chanted her name. Like it was a sermon at church.As if she were the Holy gospel

The way they worshipped Paige.Pure devotion. It got under Azzis' skin in ways that made her wanna squirm. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it

Before her brain could stop her, she reached for her phone. Tapped into Instagram

Just out of curiosity.Not intrigue

Her fingers typed the name like it was second nature. As if her name was something she regularly searched

@ paigebueckers

Her profile was clean. Not much personality.Serious.But here and there was the odd personal photo. Still, Azzi kept scrolling as if she were studying a code she couldn’t decipher. Then she stopped

It was just a team photo. The year Stanford won the national championship. Paige was right in the middle, and she was smiling. One that was too real to be a posed smile like in various of her other photos.Real.Genuine.And for a few seconds, Azzi just stared

So there is softness somewhere deep inside.

She zoomed in without a thought, pulling the image wider. As if she would be able to see more of her this way.

Then her thumb betrayed her and double-tapped.

Fuck.

She felt her soul leave her body

Azzis' eyes widened in fear, staring blankly at what she had just done. It wasn’t just any photo. But a photo from three years ago. And Paige would see it at the top of her notifications

Wait. She probably won’t notice. She gets thousands of likes per day. It will be buried in seconds. And she won't see it in time

Azzi set her phone down on the coffee table. And reached for the wine. Planning to finish the bottle to forget what she had just done

But the second the glass lifted to her lips, her phone buzzed

She looked. Her body suddenly felt cold

paigebueckers sent you a message request

No way.No

Her mind raced ahead, imagining the worst. A string of question marks. Or worse, Paige calling her out, sharp and ruthless: “Who the hell are you?” or “Stop creeping on me.”

But when the message loaded, it was nothing like what she expected.

paigebueckers: I didn’t take you to be a Stanford fan.

Her heart fluttered.

In that moment, Azzi Fudd wished she had chosen something stronger than a bottle of wine.

[delusionalfanficwriter]

accident

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the streets of Seattle as Y/N drove to her training session for USWNT. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air, but her mind was focused on the upcoming game and the challenges that lay ahead. As she approached an intersection, the traffic light turned red, forcing her to come to a stop.

Just as the light turned green, Y/N accelerated, her mind still occupied with thoughts of tactics and strategy for the game. The intersection was busy, cars moving in various directions. However, in the blink of an eye, a distracted driver ran a red light, colliding with Y/N's car from the side.

The impact sent Y/N's car spinning, metal crunching against metal. The sudden jolt left her disoriented, the world spinning around her. As the chaos unfolded, she heard the distant wail of sirens, and through the haze, she saw the familiar faces of Maya hopping out of the fire truck and the Station 19 team rushing to the scene before her eyes started to close shut. 

Maya takes in the scene,  her eyes fall on the license plate number she has seen dozens of times. Her mind jumps to y/n, who she knows is in Seattle for the game coming up later in the week. The y/n who she and Carina took under their wing after she showed up several times to clinic days. They opened their home for her until she was steady enough to be on her own and when she isn’t with USWNT she is home in the UK playing for Arsenal. 

Panic and concern etched across her face, as she sprinted towards Y/N's car. Reaching the damaged vehicle, she instantly saw y/n out cold. Reaching for the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck! Guys it’s y/n. We need the jaws of life to remove the door and maybe even windshield for more access.” Travis went to grab it as Warren and Andy came with the med bag as they were on Aid car 19. “Y/n, I’m not sure if you can hear me but I need you to try to open your eyes. It’s Maya. You are going to be okay.”

Maya makes the decision to break the backseat window and enter through there before crawling front to the passenger seat. Andy did the same but remained behind y/n as she helped stabilize her neck with a c-collar after Maya checked for a pulse. 

With all the hands touching her, y/n started to stir awake, moaning in pain. “Shhh. Y/n, it’s going to be okay, just try to remain still for us.”

Hearing the familiar voice, y/n turned her head as much as possible with the collar on to the source. “Cap…” She whispered.

“Hey there, kiddo. You took quite a big hit. Andy and I are in the car with you. Can you tell me if you are in pain and where?” Maya scans over y/n as y/n thinks the question through. 

“Um. My head is pounding and the light makes it worse. Chest might be bruised… Maya…” y/n’s facial expression changes into a panicked one. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong?... Y/n talk to me…”

“...legs… I- I can’t feel my legs. Maya- no no…” Y/n begins to spiral as realization hits her. 

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me and breathe. We will figure it out but don’t focus on that right now. I need you to get your breathing under control.”

Warren assisted Travis in preparing the jaws of life while Maya focused on Y/N's immediate needs. Andy opened the med bag, retrieving equipment to monitor vital signs. 

"Y/N, I need you to stay with me. Andy's going to monitor your vital signs, and we'll make sure you're as comfortable as possible," Maya explained, her voice a steady presence in the chaos. “Nice deep breaths.”

Andy secured an IV line, administering fluids to address potential shock. Maya continued to assess Y/N's chest and abdomen, searching for any signs of internal injuries. 

"Good job, Andy. Let's keep an eye on those vitals. Y/N, I need you to let me know if anything feels off or if the pain increases," Maya directed, her focus unwavering. “Y/n pay attention to me. Eyes on me. We will worry about your legs when we pull you out.”

“Cap, my legs are everything. You know that.”

“I know, Y/n, I promise I know.” Maya is reminded of how soccer saved Y/N life and helped lift her from her rough past. 

As Maya reassured Y/N, the situation took a dire turn. A faint hissing sound emerged from beneath the wreckage, followed by the acrid smell of gas. Maya's heart sank as she realized the danger they were in.

"Warren, Travis, we've got a gas leak! We need to get Y/N out of here, now!" Maya's voice cut through the chaos, urgency evident in every word. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, the team intensified their efforts.

Travis and Warren redoubled their efforts with the jaws of life, while Andy swiftly prepared Y/N for extraction, mindful of the looming threat of fire. Maya coordinated the rescue operation with precision, her training kicking in as she assessed the risks and devised a plan.

Suddenly, a spark ignited the volatile atmosphere, and flames erupted, engulfing the front of the car. Time seemed to slow as panic surged through the team. Without hesitation, Maya made a split-second decision.

"Grab Y/N, we're getting her out, now!" Maya commanded, her voice unwavering despite the inferno raging around them. With synchronized movements, Andy and Maya carefully lifted Y/N, their actions swift yet deliberate.

“Stop it-it hurts! Maya, stop!” Y/n screamed and cried as her body was hastily carried out of the vehicle. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n but we need to leave now!” Maya screamed over the chaos. As they lifted y/n out and placed her on the stretcher, they ran as Vic and Jack foamed over the gas leak. 

“Leah… I was on a call with Leah before.” Y/n suddenly remembered having her girlfriend on the other end of the line before the crash. 

“Don’t worry, I will call her, right now.” Maya climbed into the back of the ambulance, her eyes never leaving Y/N. "You're doing great, Y/N. We're right here with you," she said, her voice filled with reassurance.

Andy followed suit, bringing the medical bag and equipment into the confined space of the ambulance. Y/N's eyes darted between Maya and Andy, seeking comfort in their familiar faces amidst the uncertainty.

“Speaking of the devil, Leah is facetiming me.” Maya says unlocking her phone but as the ambulance doors closed, Y/N's panic resurfaces. The confined space and the realization of the severity of the situation weighed heavily on her. "Maya, I can't... I can't breathe. It's too much," Y/N gasped, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Maya quickly grabbed an oxygen mask from the medical bag. "Y/N, slow your breathing. This will help," she said, placing the mask gently over Y/N's face. "Deep breaths. In and out."

“What’s happening? Maya what happened to Y/n?!” Leah yelled through the phone panicked by Y/n’s panic. 

“Y/n look who I have on the phone, wanting to see you.” Maya tries to distract the woman in front of her. Y/n pauses for a second to see her blurred girlfriend on the screen.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay, Maya is with you and I am sure Carina will meet you in the hospital. I’ll be on the next plane over.” Leah reassured y/n. 

“Leahhh,” Y/n cried. “I can’t - can’t feel my legs. I’m so scared.” Leah pauses and a panic look crosses over her eye but she tries to remain as calm as possible. 

“Wait until the doctor’s check you out, it could just be from slight inflammation. Just focus on what Maya says. She is with you and looks like Andy is there too. You are gonna be fine, baby just remain calm.” 

“Leah, we are pulling into the ambulance bay in a minute so I am going to hang up and get her sorted for the medical staff. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Maya tells Leah knowing how protective she is of her girlfriend. With that Leah gives another word of love to Y/n before canceling the call. 

“I texted Carina as well, I am not sure if she’s in surgery or not but she’ll come to find us once she sees it.” Maya informs y/n knowing she is able to calm down more when Carina is around. “We are almost there, but it’s going to get chaotic. Just breathe, it’ll be alright.” 

The ambulance pulls up and doors open to reveal Amelia, Bailey, Kepner, Teddy, and Carina. 

“What do we have?” Bailey starts.

“23 year old female in a MVC, airbags deployed, head laceration, possible spinal injury, she says she can’t feel her legs. C-spine precaution taken. Y/n had two panic attacks already and is in pain but no pain meds given as unknown head trauma...” Andy trails off. 

“Alright, trauma 2.”

Y/n is rolled in as everyone takes on a role and several hands are trying to assess her injuries to the full extent. Y/n takes her deep breaths as she reminds herself they are here to help her. 

In the entrance of the room Maya whispers to Carina, “Carina, she said she can’t feel her legs. I tried to stay calm for her but it’s never good. She was freaking out…” 

A loud groan of pain takes them out of their moment as they see they have turned y/n on her side to check her back before placing her back down. Amelia does a head work up and then moves down to y/n’s legs. Carina steps closer to y/n for support as Amelia asks her if she can feel her touching her feet. 

“I can’t feel it.” Amelia moves up the leg and to the knee. “Nothing.” Amelia moves mid-thigh. “I barely feel that.”

“Okay, don’t worry, we will get a CT scan and check you out. Might just be inflammation on the spine that will go away.” Amelia reassured the girl Carina took under her wing. 

“And what if it doesn’t,” Y/n asks the question she knows the answer to. 

“Let’s see what the scans say and we will take it from there.” Amelia places her hand on Y/n’s hand but she pulls away. 

“I’m going to be sick.” With that, y/n turns her body as much as possible and only dry heaves. 

“Bambina, you are stressing yourself out. I know you are worried about playing soccer, hell even walking but one thing at a time. You can’t think of what ifs. I am here now. I will make sure things are in order. Maya and I will be there for you every step of the way. I am going to need you to practice the breathing exercises. I don’t want them to sedate you but if your panic gets in the way…”

“No, no I promise.” Y/n cuts her off and closes her eyes trying to regulate her breathing. The team talks to her about the next steps of imaging and makes her a priority case.

[socvinc]

Are u an alpha,beta omega or a lone wolf??

Very important question for Chad socc

all of them. at once. these are essential questions

[magickedhat]

             𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡.   /   accepting.

@socc-drawer​ asked:  ✘ Min: “What are your plans for next month?”

they’re curled up on the soda, phone in their hand, a strand of hair between their lips.   nothing about them suggests tension when the question arrives.   the answer itself seems to roll off their tongue with such ease, one could’ve assumed they were commenting on the weather.

“louise and i are gonna head out to this field we found in estella’s memory box,” they began.   it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to say.   “we believe mom’s old shop is located somewhere out there, and i wanna check if i can find anything important while i’m ahead.   we still have some stars to go through, but i’ve been too curious about this to really, like, focus on them properly.   we’re not gonna tell her dad, though, ‘cause he’s never gonna let us off the hook otherwise.” 

[almosttenaciouscreator]

When Did Socks Become a Thing?

You may have noticed that women basic socks aren’t what they used to be. Think back: for a long time socks were just something you used to cover your feet. Possibly black, probably ankle-height and definitely an afterthought. Socks are now an important part of your outfit at the least, the making of an outfit at most.

Socks have become an area of diplomacy and woke-signalling – the Canadian prime minister Justin Trudeau is perhaps the biggest name to use socks in this way, choosing pointedly themed ones for public occasions. Or a telling insight into a political mind: Boris Johnson was criticised recently for not washing his lucky socks, emblazoned with a ruler of the Neo-Assyrian empire King Ashurbanipal, often enough.

Socks are such a basic item that they're easy to take for granted...and leave on the floor, shove under beds, or lose to the dryer monster. (It happens to the best of us.) But socks actually deserve mad props for keeping our wiggly and sometimes stinky feet dry, warm, and free from blisters, so in honor of National Sock Day, here's a little history of how they became a thing and some guidelines on what kind to wear and when…or not.

Until the 17th century, men basic socks were called stockings, but according to Wikipedia, the modern English word sock (first recorded in 1690, btw), evolved from the Old English socc which evolved from the Latin soccus…"a lightweight shoe worn by ancient Greek and Roman comic actors." Socks are worn on our feet (mostly) and come in various lengths, fabrics, colors, patterns, and styles, depending on their intended purpose, i.e. thick wool socks for skiing, thin wool dress socks for business, and short white socks for running. But the first socks were actually made from leather or matted animal hair – called "piloi" in 8th century BC Greece. A thousand years later in the 2nd century AD, the Romans were the first ones to sew woven fabrics together and make fitted socks ("udones").

The oldest surviving socks are a red-orange pair from between 250 AD and 420 AD that were excavated from Oxyrhynchus on the Nile in Egypt. They were made with the nålebinding technique, which means "knotless netting" and uses a single thread...the precursor to modern-day knitting and crochet. And they have split toes specifically for—gasp!—wearing with sandals. (Which the ancient Romans and Greeks did more or less exclusively, so they get a pass on any fashion judgement.) Speaking of Egypt, socks were so important that alongside all of the gold and jewels, King Tut's tomb supposedly contained several pairs made from linen.

In the Middle Ages, socks were brightly-colored and started becoming more of a fashion statement. As trousers got shorter over the next few centuries, socks got longer…and more expensive. So expensive, in fact, that by the end of the first millennia, socks were actually a status symbol among the nobility, and had also become highly ornamental. #FunFact: a fancy design that's embroidered or woven on each side or the outer side of a sock beginning at the ankle is called a clock. Who knew?

As societies progressed, so did basketball function socks, and they were made from wool, silk, and cotton, depending on a person's economic class (nobles = silk; peasants = wool). Besides being a display of wealth, socks served an important utilitarian purpose since even nobles faced harsh conditions at times. (Indoor heating wasn't a thing until the 20th century, so keeping those piggies warm was essential…frostbite didn't care if someone was wealthy.) Peasants especially were exposed to the elements way more than we are today and needed to protect their feet from the wet and cold. (They also bathed less often, so if you think your teen's basketball socks are stinky, just imagine the funk of a 16th century pair.)

Socks were so critical to life that mending them—called "darning"—was a very important skill. Cold feet led to frostbite which could lead to gangrene which could lead to death, so when a sock had a hole in it, it most definitely got fixed! As early as the 12th century, the heel of a sock was the last part made, which made it easier to replace when it wore out…a very common practice. Sock owners took their maintenance seriously.

The knitting machine's arrival on the scene in 1589 was a game-changer since six pairs of football function socks could be made in the time it took to create one previously, but socks were still hand-knit alongside the machines for another couple hundred years. A tiny percentage are still made that way today. Socks were historically held up with ribbons or ties or by garters since elastic wasn't a thing yet. Until Jedediah Strut's Derby Rib machine in 1758, that is, but it was so expensive that it took almost two more centuries before more socks were held up by elastic than garters. To put it in perspective, in 1899 England, a pair of socks sold for the equivalent of $15 today…a LOT back then.

The next biggest thing to happen to socks was—drumroll please—the 1938 introduction of…nylon. The blended fabric was born, and synthetics changed the sock world, along with the rest of it. With socks now being made from recycled plastics, their evolution has come full circle in the last 80 years. The most common blends today include cotton, wool, and polyester or nylon, but socks are also made with silk, spandex, bamboo, and other fabrics.

Another big moment in the evolution of socks was globalizing production. In 2011, the Datang district of Zhuji in the Zhejiang Province of China was known as "Sock City." Why? Because it was producing 8 billion pairs of socks each year, which was a third of the world's annual total. Finding accurate sales numbers is challenging but suffice to say that BILLIONS of pairs of socks are sold each year for even more billions of dollars, the competition is fierce, and socks are almost as high-tech as electronics in some facets of their engineering.

The Rules of Socks

We've established that socks come in all kinds of fabric configurations and all kinds of styles, some of the common categories being: dress winter floor socks, athletic socks, hiking socks, ski socks, knee socks, tube socks, ankle socks, foot socks, boot socks, novelty socks, booties, slipper socks, tights, and pantyhose. There's no question that with the help of socks, shoes protect your feet from debris, disease, injury, and the elements. But sometimes, it's the outer world that needs to be protected from sweaty or smelly feet. To that end, businesses and venues with dress codes will usually tell you if socks are required (that would be yes 98% of the time). But what about when it's completely up to you? Socially and hygienically, are there times that you should always—or never—wear socks? (That would also be yes.)

Seriously, lost socks are a real and quantifiable phenomenon. But quantum physics theories aside, the average person loses 1,264 socks over his or her lifetime, so where do they GO? One clue is the way that some socks take a detour and mysteriously show up within the next couple of laundry loads. So, they weren't really lost, they were stuck in a fitted sheet, stuck to a sweater, stuck under the upper rim of the washing machine basket, or otherwise occupied for a bit. The socks that are actually lost could be under the bed, they could have fallen out of your gym bag in the locker room or landed in a gutter when you were walking, someone might have thrown a sock away because it had a hole and they didn't know how to darn it, they could be stuck to something neatly folded in a drawer somewhere, or they could actually be IN the washing machine in a hose, filter, or other part, especially if they're small, and ditto with the dryer! (Yes, really...certain models can literally eat your socks.)

[sadwsocc]

Insecurities & Flowers [Kozume Kenma x reader]

Warnings: kinda pessimistic reader

Genre: fluff (hopefully)

Word count: 3,042 words

A/n: stop writing at midnight, socc pls. And also in all honestly I do not remember a single thing I wrote here so uh,,,, enjoy

It was Valentine’s Day, the one day you always found annoying and why so one would ask? It was the day where everyone in your friend group —you excluded— would get confessions from guys around school; while you on the other hand, got none. You never really minded it though, love wasn’t something that would come across your mind often, but when the pity glances you get from your friends quadruple on valentines, you were bound to get annoyed.

While you never got any chocolates, you made them, for yourself and your friends. It was somewhat of a ritual for you all, everyone making a batch for each other, added with cute notes about how thankful you all were to have each other, it was sweet and you liked them very much. You even decided that this year, you would one up your little presents. You spent hours after school sitting on your study desk cutting out cards and drawing on them, adding on long notes of gratitude and such until the dead of night.

Giving it all out to your friends, they all smiled and thanked you, even going as far as to hug you while you stand there awkwardly and chuckled it off. After the exchange of gifts, you all in all had gotten a handful of sweets and chocolates and even a few small folded up notes.

You were that one person all somewhat popular friend groups would have, like a supporting role and it sometimes made you feel down about it but the overwhelming love and support they’d give you was surprisingly nice. They’d accepted you for who you were, even if you were the most pessimistic person on earth. You were glad to be blessed with such amazing—and attractive— people.

The bell rang, signalling it was time for class to start so you went back to your seat, keeping all your gifts underneath your desk. Beside you was a dude you somewhat knew, still playing on his PSP. You kind of knew him since the two of you had been classmates since your first year of high school yet you never really spoke to him that much, maybe the occasional “can i borrow your pencil?” and “what homework did we have?”

Kozume Kenma

A guy that you didn’t really understand, even for you, a quiet and somewhat reserved person who’s quite observant—might you add. He had long black hair during your first year but when the next spring came along, he had decided to dye it straight up blond. You didn’t understand why, he didn’t seem the type to do so and it didn’t help the fact that always distracted you, making you keep stealing glances at his very very blond head. He was intriguing somehow. Every morning before class, he would either be playing a game on his PSP or be slumping on his seat taking a short nap or at times a guy with incredible bed hair would come and chat with him, sitting on your seat as he spoke since you would usually be sitting somewhere else (that somewhere else was at the very front of the class where all your friends would group together and sit next to each other sharing seats and chatting up while you stare off blankly, occasionally snapping back to reality and join in on the conversation).

Sitting in your seat, you looked around your class before he teacher came in and boy, were there a lot of confessing happening. Everywhere you look, there would be someone either confessing to someone or someone mentally preparing themselves, everywhere except to your left —your peaceful classmate, playing his game quietly.

Lunch time was one would say,, wild. It was the perfect time for guys and girls alike to confess, reject and accept someone. You had announced to your friends prior that day that you would want to spend lunch alone as you knew that would be swarmed with confession and gifts, they understood of course that you only mean well and so they fully accepted it. While waiting for almost everyone in your class to leave, you saw that Kenma was still next to you sitting there as well. You gave him a friendly wave, asking, “waiting for the crowd to die down?”

With a nod as a reply you chuckled softly in agreement, finally taking out your bento that your mom had packed for you this morning. It was a simple lunch, as always, only today the rice was shaped like a heart, reminding you that it was not only made with love but it was Valentine’s Day.

“Aren’t you going with your friends? They’re leaving over there.” You turned your head to face Kenma and widened your eyes in semi shock from him actually starting a conversation with you. Brushing it off with a light laugh, you shook your head, “Nah, they get busy on days like these... since, yknow they’re like popular and all” you said the last part awkwardly and internally cringed at how you worded it.

“Oh” was all he replied with, not a second later his friend came in and walked towards the two of you. You stared at him for awhile and back to Kenma and stood up, about to take your leave. He stood up the same time as you did when his friend faced him and said, “You know Kenma, today’s-“ he realised that Kenma wasn’t listening when Kenmas turned to you and offered to spend lunch with him and his friend— which he later introduced as Kuroo

Hesitantly, you accepted. All the while you were walking with them to the rooftop, Kuroo was giving Kenma odd looks and constantly elbowing which you brushed off, since you didn’t really bother nor did it affect you in any way shape or form.

Lunch with the two of them was somewhat fun, you found out a bit more about Kenma and Kuroo from Kuroo (like Kuroo and Kuroo only, Kenma was busy playing with his game (or distracting himself haha)) Turns out, Kenma was in the volleyball club and to your surprise, team. You were shocked to find that out as you really really really didn’t take him as someone who’d let alone run a mile.

You and Kuroo’s conversation somehow led to Valentine’s Day and he even openly confessed that he had a crush on one of your friends, Megumi. He told you that he was planning on giving her chocolates after school and somewhere along the lines did it hit you. Eyes widen as realisation it, “oH wait are you the captain of the volleyball club?” You asked, with a confused nod from Kuroo you continued, “OH MY G O D,, WAIT IS THIS WHY MEGUMI ALWAYS WANTED TO DRAG US ALONG TO OUR SCHOOLS VOLLEYBALL MATCHES? SHE LITERALLY ONCED SAID SHE WOULD GO ONLY TO SEE THE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM WHEN I ASKED HER!!”

That earned a dry choke and chuckle from Kenma beside him and a furiously blushing Kuroo. You held out your hands and held his with stars in your eyes as you announced how glad you are that Megumis crush not only liked her back but is also not as creepy as you thought he would be.

“You thought i was creepy?” Kuroo asked, confused.

You opened your mouth, only for Kenma to answer before you, “with that hair of yours, who wouldn’t?”. You chuckled at that.

The bell rang, signalling lunch was over as you stood up and waved off to Kuroo wishing him luck on the confession after school. He thanked you and turned to Kenma, “So, shes the girl you liked huh?”

Going back to class, you went over to the front of the class where all your friends were cooped up in. Inserting yourself, you saw the pile of cards and chocolates on Megumis desk (they all put it on her desk for convenience), you stared in awe with the amount of things there were and faced each and every one of them, congratulating them about the fact that they’d manage to steal the hearts of many many school boys. Everyone chuckled at you light hearted jokes, even offering you some of the chocolates —which you gladly accepted.

“So are y’all planing to accept any of them or-?”

Most of their answers were that they were going to consider whereas Megumi just frowned and shook her head. This earned the attention of not only you but also the others as each and everyone of you bombarded her with the same question “why?”

“You guys know I like,,, him,,, yknow?” Everyone nodded as Megumi sighed.

The teacher then came in and class continued on. Yet somehow you couldn’t focus during class, you were fine before lunch but all of a sudden, you just couldn’t focus on the damn subject, at first you thought that maybe you were tired but even after a few slaps on your cheeks, you were still out of it. Maybe it was the thought that everyone had gotten some type of confession except for you, but no, it couldn’t be, it never mattered to you all these years so why now out of the blue?

Awhile passed and you found yourself staring at the pudding head next to you. When you realised what you were doing, you tried to shift your focus back on the teacher in front. But even still, you would find yourself unconsciously turning to Kenma and just staring at him. Oh god, you hoped you didn’t freak him out.

Kenma felt holes burning on his side and he knew it was you, he didn’t know why though. Did you hate him after today? He hoped not. Finally, he turned to you and caught you quickly shifting your focus back on the black board in front, what he was a truly a surprise to him. We’re you,,,,, blushing? Surely not,,,, right?

You were.

Oh god, he caught you staring, would he think you were a creep? God! YOU COULDNT BELIEVE YOURSELF. WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD SOMEONE JUST STARE AT SOMEONE ELSE LIKE THAT? He must’ve hated you for that, I mean who wouldn’t?!

Your palm went up to your cheeks and you felt the warmth on them, they were warmer than they should be,, were you sick? You hoped you were sick, other wise why would you even be mindlessly staring at your classmate and going red when they caught you staring? You truly wanted to believe you were just sick but deep down you knew it was the simple case of developing feelings.

The way he’d act in class and the little smiles he gave whenever he’d talk to Kuroo plagued your mind. What were they talking about? Why was his very being suddenly all you could think about? You realised that maybe you always had these feelings but just that you were too thick to realise. You were right.

School finally ended and you were glad you could escape from your thoughts for once, meeting up with Megumi as the others in your friend group had to catch he train home while Megumi and you walked home.

Whilst waiting for Megumi to pack up her stuff, you saw Kuroo at the front of your class. Megumi froze when she saw him, you could visibly see the blush forming on her as you waved at Kuroo. Megumi turned her back towards him and whisper-shouted to you, “you know him?!”

You nodded to her as Kuroo flashed a smile at you. His focus went back on Kenma, who by time had finished packing and was walking toward the exit. When Kenma was finally next to Kuroo, he faced his attention to you and waved goodbye to you. It was then your turn to blush —wHY WERE YOU BLUSHING? NEVER IN YOUR LIFE HAD YOU THOUGHT THIS CLICHE WOULD HAPPEN TO YOU. You waved back at him and said your farewells, except for the fact that they didn’t seem to be moving— more accurately, Kuroo wasn’t moving so Kenma awkwardly waited beside him like an NPC.

Kuroo finally spoke out in an uncertain tone “uh,, I’d like to speak to Megumi,”

“Y-yes!” Your friend turned around only to see Kuroo with his hand stretched out, holding a Valentine’s confession card and a stalk of rose.

Megumi instantly understood what it was and started blushing furiously, so furious that it made your blush look like it was nothing. Kuroo on the other hand felt embarrassed and was hiding behind his unruly bedhead. There were no words exchanged yet everyone (the four of you) knew that Kuroo’s confession had been accepted. You couldn’t help but feel glad for your friends.

And that was how Megumi and Kuroo both ended up with their crush. And that day the four of you walked back home together, with the two newly lovebirds walking next to each other —so close that their knuckles kept brushing— like those cheesy scenes in a slice of life anime you’d watch at 2 in the morning; all the while you and Kenma silently third wheeled them.

Your house was the one nearest to school, so you were the first to part from them. You said your goodbyes and went inside. Closing the door behind you, you frowned, pessimistic thoughts suddenly devoured you like somehow the whole interaction between Megumi and Kuroo made you think how truly lonely you were and the realisation that you might have a crush on Kenma was like salt to the wounds.

You were so utterly confused with these emotions and the only way you knew how to cope with was to push them aside, trying not to let these odd and somewhat insecure thoughts at you up anymore than they should.

Going to bed that night felt odd, you couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. You weren’t even sure why you couldn’t sleep at that point, between overthinking about your friendship with your friends and then to whatever there was of you love life, to your somewhat friendship with Kenma, then to your crush —if you could even call it a crush— on him. Needless to say you were much more sleep deprived the next day to school than you were normally.

Kenma on the other hand, didn’t really sleep either, normally he would be up trying to beat a boss to a pass a level in his game but that night he was up thinking about nothing but you. He remembered something that Kuroo said earlier about how he figured out who his crush was and thought about how he lost the chance to confess to you on Valentine’s. He sighed and sat up from his bed, staring at the small bouquet of flowers Kuroo had bought for Kenma to confess to you when they passed a florist a few days prior and then to the card next to it, one that simply had the words “I like you. -Kenma” on it.

He didn’t know if you liked him back or not but seeing you somewhat gloomy after school made him want to cheer you up somehow. And that somehow was to confess to you, Megumi did mention something about how she realised that you might have a crush on him after you went home first. Kenma blushed at that asking how she was so sure about that and Megumis reply was “I’ve known her longer than anyone and I’d know some things even she might’ve not found out about herself yet.”

So basing off a hunch from one of your best friends, Kenma decided that maybe he would confess to you the next day.

——

They day after Valentines was the day we’re youd see a lot of newly blossomed love and to say you weren’t a bit envious was an utter lie. Walking in class, you decided you take a short nap before class started, ignoring your friend group as you walked it. It was something you’d do sometimes, they could see the exhaustion from your posture thus leaving you alone and you were so thankful to have such understanding people around you.

You were woken up by a light tap on the back by Kenma and you instantly jolted up, whatever exhaustion you had was gone. Why was he waking you up? What did you do?

Midway into panicking you saw him fumble around his bag and took out a card. You stared up at him with your eyebrows scrunched, then accepting the card from his hands. Freshly woken up you —even on high alert— didn’t realise that after you had accepted the card, he went back to his bag and awkwardly took out a small bouquet of flowers. You stared at the card and read the contents. Finally processing it in you system, you started to get red and looked up from the card and was greeted by an also red Kenma holding out flowers.

You were so glad that no ones attention was towards the two of you and that the teacher still hasn’t came in class. You accepted the flowers too and finally spoke out, “ Kenma, I- I’m”

You were so happy and yet quite surprised you stared fumbling out your words, “I- you.. YES. I mean,, Kenma, I like you too and-“ you realised words couldn’t explain how you were feeling so you put down the flowers and card on your desk and stood up, inching closer to him and held up with hands, you felt like you were going to cry out with joy —and you did. Kenma instantly understood your reply and never in his life had he felt so relieved and happy, a small smile tugging at the side of his lips as he looked at you and your blushing, even sobbing, mess.

You let go of his hands and went to wipe the tears on your cheeks with your sleeve as he went back down to sit on his chair beside you.Your awkward tears had finally been wiped away just in time for class to start.

After school, you, Kenma, Megumi and Kuroo decides to walk home together again. Only this time, no one was third wheeling anyone.

[pinkcdraws]

yo if anyone ever has any questions about SOCC  we have our asks open 

@soccraft-official

[ciircusbrats]

do incorrect quotes for min and the cast and no you didn’t have an inbox meme for this but also I’m socc and I’m an agent of chaos—

i didn't reblog anything socc is just a bully  /  smh

min: “what happens if you put a werewolf on the moon” is a great question.  ana: they’ll explode and die because there is no oxygen on the moon. west: we never said we’d send them up there without a parasuit, you absolute monster.

---

west: based on statistical evidence, I think I’m immortal. min: why? west: i haven’t died yet. min: that’s... not how that works,

---

west: here’s the thing though. is it still murder if i give them a heads-up? min: i think that’s called a threat.

---

dominy: if i pull my foot off and swing it at your head, am i hitting you or kicking you? min: i think you’ll most likely mentally scar me more than anything else, really!

---

west: in my defense, i was left unsupervised. dominy: wasn’t min with you? min: in my defense, i was also left unsupervised.

[sonic-oc-central]

#6: Where does your OC live? Do they live with anyone else?

[smuttyassholes]

serious question: would jhope want me if i was wearing just knee soccs and a raincoat? then ill meet him in the coffee shop bathroom and tie him to a post. ill squeeze lemons in his eyes and kick him in the nose and then we will fuck til they kick us out for moaning so lound. theyll kick the doors down cuz they thought mary was givin birth all over again

It's too early for this shit

- asshole 4

[ashwinigongale-blog]

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SOCC

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1. Global Electric Ukulele Strings Industry Market Research Report

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[your-tires-are-too-cold]

how about 32 and 41 for the question list? for some positivity ♥️

32: If I was going to buy you a present for $10, what would be the greatest thing I could get you?

soccs 41: If you could write down what dreams you were going to have before you went to sleep, what would you choose?

something where no one dies and I don’t get left behind

[magickedhat]

@socc-drawer   /   ♣

Yeah, sure, Ematia would come without question. She’d also probably already have a stack of toilet paper ready just to look smart.  But Wren wasn’t looking for her, and it wasn’t because they couldn’t bear the impatience of waiting for her to come home.

Wren patted their hands on the kitchen counter in quick succession before leaning sideways, trying to catch her gaze. “No but what are you doing on Halloween? I was thinkin’ you could stick around, ‘cause i haven’t heard you talk about any plans or anything. Also, Halloween pranks are the best pranks, and you haven’t really lived life unless you’ve scared the fuck out of someone on Halloween.”

A thought crossed their mind; apparently disturbing enough to pull their lips into a thin line.  “Unless you’re one of the people who likes to spend their Halloween night watching movies. We can do that as well, but we’ll have to fit it into, like, an already packed schedule. But it can still work.”

[clownsuu]

Heres the schoolhouse: A bald cranky guy who smacks you whit ruler if you get ome question wrong, an alcoholic principal who sends you to detention if you run or do something else illegal (like eating), socc boi who is shy but has powers of satan himself, a girl who wants to play and has powers of god himself, a bully, a carzy old fart whit long hair and a broom and lastly 1st prize who is kind and loving

Seems legit-

[realtalk-tj]

hi!!!! i'm a freshman taking rs1, and lately i haven't been doing as well :(. on the summer packet test, which i heard a lot of people typically failed, i did pretty well and got a high A. same with the first quiz and first unit test(probability), but then on the unit 2 test for SOCCS paragraphs i did substantially worse and on the unit 3 test i still haven't been able to get good scores. i'm studying the same way i did for the first few tests, any tips?

Response from Bellatrix:

First of all, awesome job keeping up in TJ Math! That takes a lot of hard work and dedication. To answer your question, I recommend looking up AP Statistics questions on a certain unit to get a feel for the type of test questions you might see. Also many people have made study guides all over Facebook (join the Study Guide Group!) and you could also start forming study groups in your class which will be super helpful for Math 3. Good luck!