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vatt-world · 7 months

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standup

I saw a job posting in the college newspaper for telemarketer and decided to interview for it. The college building was squeezed between a sandwich place and a bookstore. The guy interviewing me looked a bit like Paul Giamatti from "Billions," but there were definitely no billions to be made here.

During the interview, he asked simple questions like who had used a computer before and who knew how to use a phone, how to type basic english. I got hired and was given a script to follow.

I got hired and was given a script to follow. My job was to keep people/alumni on the line and chat about how great the university was still doing.

I was supposed to ask alumni like Milli for a hundred bucks to support the college. but milli response was "Oh, I'm sorry, hun. I'm barely scraping by on a fixed income. I'd love to help, really, but a hundred dollars? not happening." So, I lowered the amount to fifty dollars, but still got a no. Then I tried twenty dollars, and she agreed to make the donation.

After working for an hour, a bell rang for a break. The boss, stood on a chair and called out how much money everyone had brought in. He gave cookies to the top three earners.

Overall, it was an interesting experience, but I only worked there for a few weeks before my semester started, and I quit the telemarketing job.

///////////////////////////

“BE CAREFUL!” my roommate WILLIAM TOLD ME . “I am being careful!” I said, grabbing the dvd from him and totally not being careful.It wasn't contraband or illicit substances..it was dance dvd.. I was staring at it in awe, my heart pounding like crazy. cuoristy got the better of me and I put the dvd in my vcr. And What unfolded on the screen was unlike anything I’d ever saw. and what captivated me even more was drummer in the corner setting the rhythm and this guy was dancing to the beat in rhythm…it was beautiful… soon i was playing drums… ////////////////////////////

yamaha bike, hiphop cd , coach andrew, transmission,affleck movie, embarassing-, clearance sales-denny's,

////////////////// I needed a job. Scanning through the student paper, I found an opening in the computer lab. It seemed perfect, except for the minor detail that I knew next to nothing about computers. All I knew was that if something goes wrong, you should reboot the computer. Sure, I could switch a computer on, but i knew nothing about coding, programming, troubleshooting.

I interviewed with this quiet guy who wore glasses, named Dominick. He wore a buttoned-up shirt, light brown khakis, and Nike running sneakers. "Hi, Kunal, nice to meet you,” he said, in a soft, high-pitched voice. “I am looking for some people to be computer lab managers. What are your skills?”

“Troubleshooting, programming, Excel, PowerPoint,” I said.

“Can you give me more details?”

"Sure, I've read courses online, fixed bugs on my computer, and developed applications."

"I like you. I’m going to hire you,” he said as we shook hands. Bingo! “Given your advanced skill set, I’m going to give you a very special project.”

He turned to the computer and opened up a software program I had never seen. “The school is trying to integrate this new voice recognition software. I want you to figure it out, dissect it, and write an entire instruction manual based on what you’ve learned.”

So three days a week, four hours each shift, my job was to sit at the computer and try to figure out voice recognition software. The first day I took the job very seriously. I spoke into the microphone and compared what I said to the words that appeared on the screen: “The cat drank the cow’s milk,” I said. On-screen: "You drank the milk." I said it slowly again… "You drank the milk" again… I basically gave up on the project after a few days, and each shift I would spend fifteen minutes on voice recognition, and then would spend the rest of my time chatting.

The week passed, the instruction manual was due and it was time to face the music. I decided to write something… click the L button… etc.

“I just got an email from the university. I have some troubling news.” Shit. My scholarships. Dominick took off his glasses. “The school has decided to put a stop to the software. The license has expired.”

I said, “Whatever’s best for the university."

“Because of your hard work and commitment to this project, I’m going to promote you to lab manager of the engineering building.” He gave me a raise, bumping me up to nine dollars an hour, which was damn good money at the time. I was a good lab manager.

////////////////// After finishing college, I got a job as a waiter in a restaurant. But I also had to wash dishes. Sadly, I wasn't very good at it. I was slow.

The restaurant needed clean dishes to keep running. So, even though I was slow, I had to keep going. The owner would tell me to just keep washing.

He often came over to me at the sink, shaking his head and yelling. He'd say, "Wash the pots first! Why are you washing the plates? We have lots of plates!"

When he got really frustrated, he'd grab the spray nozzle from me and quickly clean a bunch of pots in just a few minutes.

I got a job as used car salesman.

Apparently, you need zero qualifications to become a used-car salesman."

The car lot manager, Larry, was a sixty-year-old car salesman and a alcoholic. I wouldnt see him for days and then he would come and sell ten Dodge Neons in a week.

I looked up to him as a top-notch car pusher.

I learnt car sales from Larry and soon i became good that i could afford HomeTown Buffet once a week. and i know one day, if i worked hard and I'd be able to afford Red Lobster.

//////////

It's been three days since I lost the pool key, and now my mom is mad at me. It feels like she has a superpower that keeps her angry without a break whenever I mess up, which is why I try my best to never do anything wrong.

It's like there's a flashing neon sign on my forehead: "HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING KID WHO LOST THE POOL KEY. $50 DOWN THE DRAIN!"

I try to explain to her that Cindy and I put up twenty flyers all over, and I understand that fifty dollars is equivalent to three hundred and fifty tomans in Iran, which is a lot of money to flush down the toilet. That's what it'll feel like if we have to pay the landlady.

"Why don't you check the clothes dryer and all your pockets?" my dad suggests, im filled with hope. I search through all my clothes, inspecting the washer and dryer, even go through the vacuum cleaner bag. I c heck between the sofa cushions and manage to find twelve cents.

But still, no pool key. The following day, my dad suggests praying to Saint Anthony, claiming it always works. "Saint Anthony, you mean?" I ask.

My mom , suggests we ask Saint Anthony to come over and look for the key instead. "He's a saint, so he's been dead for a long time," I tell her. "If you think a dead man is going to help you find the key, good luck," she retorts.

but I decide to pray, and, my prayers are answered when a neighbor finds the key gives it to the apartment office.

/////////////// communication is the key. That's the key to a relationship. That's how you build intimacy, through communication. It's very important to talk and listen to your partner so you can both grow as a unit.

but It's just talking and talking and talking. And I was listening to every word 'cause I thought, you know, there was a point. But there's no point. I should've hired an AI for her to talk to. 'Cause there were so many things I just didn't care about. "Should I move this couch or get a new one? I don't know what to do with this room. What do you think?"

It was a psychotic, babbling conveyor belt of nonsense. "I went to get my nails done, but they didn't have the polish I want.

One of the differences was, I learned this from her, raised to ask questions. You have to ask questions like, "Why? How come? How much? That much? Why should I spend that much?" And, , we don't want to ask questions 'cause we don't want any information. "Look, I didn't see nothin', I don't know nothin'.

" So the questions started driving me crazy. It was like falling asleep with a Spanish radio station on.

Why do you think we possess some mysterious knowledge we're keeping from you? We go to see a movie, she's like, "Now, who's that guy?" "Did I write this thing? I came in with you. How the hell do I know who that guy is? What do you want me to do, show up early?

So she leaves, right? It's all over.

I'm sitting in my room for two weeks straight. my roommate says They don't want you to talk to them. They don't want you to listen to them. They want you to agree with them. And if you don't agree with them, they just keep talking and talking and talking until you do. and then they will say I'm glad we talked about it.'"

////////////////////////////////

When I was a kid, I had this bright yellow Yamaha YZ80 dirt bike. It was super fast, and I loved riding it around. But my mom hated it.

"Josep, you ride that thing, and I swear to God you’re going to die!" she'd yell at me. And I'd be like, "Mom, it's fine. I'm totally safe." But she wasn't having it.

"What, do you want to die? Is that it? Ha?" she'd say. And I'd respond, "No, Mom, I don't want to die." But then she'd hit me with, "Or maybe you want to kill me from worrying. Yes, that’s it—you want to kill me." And I'd just stand there like, "No, Mom, I don’t want to kill you."

But she wasn't done. "No, no, maybe it’s better if I die anyway. I go to heaven, at least I don’t have to worry anymore. Go ahead, keep riding the motorcycle." And I'd be like, "Fine. Fine! I won’t ride the motorcycle anymore!" But let's be real, I kept riding that motorcycle.

One time, a cop caught me riding the bike without headlights. He was really mad and told me to leave the bike and get in his car. I thought I was in big trouble, preparing myself for the worst—prison, electric chair, death by firing squad—whatever it was. I'm practically begging to go to jail at this point, but no dice.he took me home.

When we got to my house, my mom was freaking out because she thought I was missing. She was yelling at my sisters, too. The cop could hear everything, but he didn't seem to care. He walked me up to the door, and my mom answered, acting all polite.

But as soon as she saw me, she flipped out. She dragged me inside and slammed the door in the cop's face. That was the only time my mom ever hit me, but it wasn't physical. It was all the yelling and arguing that really hurt. //////////

hip hop clearance sales-denny's coach andrew tranmission embrassing affleck movie fight about imaginary things

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pumilo · 9 months

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generalalmondbagelflower · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Coach Bonny High Tops.

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verydesperatehousewife · 2 years

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Coach Bonney High Top Fold Over Sneaker Shoe 9.5 Signature C Logo Brown Monogram.

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essaysbyciara · 2 years

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It's Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!Plus Size Reader [Part 3/?]

SOUNDTRACK | PART ONE | PART TWO

Hi! Part three is here. I don't have much else to say lmao. Taglist is OPEN if you would like to be added. OH! There’s also a soundtrack for the story (peep above). Peace and love

Hotel bars can be hit or miss; you prep yourself every time for watered-down drinks and a loquacious bartender a tad bit too heavy-handed, ignoring your every wave down for a check. Sportscenter blares from the television behind the top-shelf bottles of liquor, reminding you of why you and a damn-near-full bar full of polos and dad-hats adorned with NFL logos are here in the Marriott by the stadium in Indianapolis.

Your date in the shower with your battery-operated boyfriend wasn’t enough. All the things on your body remained tense. You throw on a white crop-top t-shirt, jean jacket, workout tights and limited edition sneakers and take the elevator down to the hotel bar for a strong drink to hopefully knock the edge off. Secretly, had another motive: hotel bars are where hot scoops get caught and the ledes for tomorrow’s newspapers are written. You hope to catch a coach slip out his plans for a draft pick or an agent complain about a player’s performance at the combine. It’s been a quiet few days at the combine and scared money don’t make no money.

“Maker’s neat, please. Double.” You stare down an Instagram timeline barely moving in hopes to see a little red icon pop up on your screen. Despite the plea to yourself to give it up, you couldn’t let go of Nebraska not following you back. You couldn’t believe that he forgot about you but yet you could: It’s been a long time, almost fifteen long years, since you two paraded down the hallways of New Birth High school. Actually, you never waved your pageant hand down those fabled corridors. You hid or tried to, at least. Especially from him. That’s why you think Nebraska doesn’t remember you. What was there to remember?

You snap out of degrading yourself to speculate the other reasons why he hasn’t responded to your request. Maybe he doesn’t use his IG that often to begin with or maybe he’ll follow you in a week or two later when he is actually on the app. Or maybe you’re denying the truth: he’s forgotten about you like it felt when you both roamed the same school.

“Yo, man. She’s toughhhh…” Brasco’s right hand, Derrick, says looking at an IG profile of a woman that’s caught his man’s attention. “You meeting her up here?”

“Yeah, bruh. I shouldn’t be doing it though ‘cus we got an early morning but fuck, look at her.” Brasco’s date was beyond beautiful: deep brown skin, long hair and a face Aphrodite would be jealous of. She hopped into his DMs once she saw his Instagram story training one of the most successful wide receivers in the league. Unbeknownst to Brasco, he would be her ticket to something – or someone – big. He hadn’t been on a date in almost six months – in desperate need of his own ticket being punched – willing to risk morning exhaustion for a late-night sexual excursion.

“Where y’all meeting at?” Derrick continues to scroll through the timeline of Brasco’s paramore.

“Some hotel bar in the city. Fuck, let me check my DMs to see– oh shit.”

“Oh shit what?”

Brasco’s face colors all kinds of intrigue. it’s been a while since he’s seen you. He finally peeped his notifications. “Nah. Someone from high school that I haven’t talked to in a minute followed me. Damn.”

“Damn. It ain’t your stalking-ass ex, is it?” That stalking-ass ex would be Lisa, the girl who snagged Brasco first, failed to be the last and couldn��t let him go. Even through her engagement to another man.

“Nah, nah. It’s this girl that was cool with one of my boys in high school. I ain’t really connected to anyone from that time so I don’t know how she found me.”

“Let me see…” Derrick looks at your Instagram bio. “Bro, she works at SportsNews. She’s probably looking for shit to tweet about since it's Combine week. Block her.”

Usually Brasco – or Derrick, being his de facto business manager – blocks all reporters but you just ain’t any ol’ one of those. You were the first – and last – one to give Nebraska “Brasco” Williams a feature article in any newspaper, a clipping his mother laminated and taped to her refrigerator. It was an interview about his favorite things. You’re also the first person from New Birth to penetrate his self-imposed walls. He’s been running from his high school years ever since his arrest sent him to juvenile detention and then onto the Navy.

But Brasco doesn’t want to block you just yet. He sees your pictures with Sheena, his old best friend Jarell’s girlfriend-now-wife. The twins have “Big J’s” nose. He hadn’t talked to Big J since leaving New Birth, afraid to learn of what the school was saying about him. News of the fight traveled through AIM quicker than a common cold in a kindergarten class. He didn’t want to be judged for a mistake that left a kid with a bloody and broken jaw and him in a Maryland juvenile facility.

Derricks sees Brasco endlessly strolling through your Instagram. “Damn, man. Is there anything good on there I need to know about?”

“Uhhh… nah, nah.” Brasco stumbles through his words as he’s triggered by the friends he left behind. “I’ll take care of it, dude. I’m about to dip; shorty’s at the Marriott by the stadium waiting for me”.

…Grey Goose and a whole lot of hydro

Only describe us as soldier survivors

Stay laced in the best, well-dressed

With finesse in a white tee, lookin' for wifey

Thug girl who fly and talks so nicely

Put her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breeze

We can drive through the city, no doubt

But don't say my car's topless, say the titties is out…

The rain that helped to arrange your ride home from Brasco went from bad to worse, your dream man driving with his hands on ten and two like a good teenage driver should. You sheepishly grin when Brasco put on “Made You Look” by Nas. You did share a favorite, after all. “Aight, where you at off River?” You’ve been sneaking glimpses of Brasco’s strong hands gripping the hell out of the steering wheel, failing to notice him drive past your house.

“You passed it, actually. It’s the house with the green door. On the left.” You and he didn’t talk much in the car. You didn’t want to distract him from the treachery of the road with a torrential downpour following you both to your destination. You also thought there was absolutely nothing for you two to talk about. The differences were that stark.

Nebraska Williams, better known as Brasco, was the star football player for New Birth High School, one of the best programs in the city. Girls were on him like Bow Wow was on 106 & Park: every day, all day. He built a reputation for being a ladies’ man, teetering close to being a “ho” by high school boy standards. “You know he date some girl over at Hillcrest!” “Girl, word is that this chick that go to Stockton pregnant!” Apparently he was doing this as the news of his relationship with Lisa, eventual prom queen and student body president, caused shock and bewilderment throughout the eleventh-grade lunch period. Lisa and Brasco made all the sense in the days of nonsensical rumors and innuendos about Brasco’s whereabouts, even if the baby-by-the-girl-who-went-to-Stockon ended up to be the truth.

You didn’t have much salaciousness to report. You were the newspaper nerd best friend of his best friend’s girlfriend. Boys didn’t check for you except for Blackplanet, your guestbook getting some traffic only to mean absolutely nothing in the real world scheme of things. You weren’t popular enough to have rumors passed around about you and you certainly weren’t having any sex to warrant hearsay about a baby.

“Fuck, let me back up….”

“No, it’s cool. If my Dad sees me get out of a car he doesn’t know, he might flip. I can hop out here. The rain is stopping anyway. I appreciate the ride.”

Maybe Brasco was doing this as a favor to Sheena. They did share the last period of the day together and you figured she must’ve threatened to cut him if he didn’t take you home after the interview. She always accosted him about being a gentleman. Or maybe he picked you up because he wasn’t a dick; he saw you shielding yourself from the monsoon as you waited for your bus to arrive and he figured to be nice. Either way, you knew it wasn’t because he liked you or anything because, in your mind, there’s no way in hell that could ever be the case.

You had no time to enquire as Brasco quickly unlocked the car door to let you out. You not-so-gracefully hop out, grabbing your umbrella from your tartan-printed backpack covered in all types of pins. You refuse to turn around to look at him, fearing you could turn into stone, feeling like mush as your stomach produces more butterflies than a botanical garden. Brasco drives away before he could watch you walk into the door and for you to wave your goodbye. You place your rain-soiled shoes by the door and sigh heavily, staring into the bright light in the vestibule welcoming your arrival home. Before you can commence to daydream about your fifteen minute ride from heaven, your Mom’s voice breaks your concentration, “[Y/N]!! Sheena’s on the phone for you!”

Let the fun times begin.

—

Not-so-fun times are happening at the bar: all you’ve noticed are football staff trailing in and out of the adjacent restaurant. Nothing excites you until you spot the head coach of Philadelphia’s football team sitting with the agent of the best wide receiver prospect in the draft. You reach for your phone to take notes but before you can jot down your scoop, you gasp: Brasco just followed you back.

A decade of unrequited love finally earns a respite. A high school crush that shook you down to the bones, a feign you couldn’t quite comprehend, sends your adult heart into beating in triplets. That cloud of nervousness that covered you as you ducked and dodged Brasco in those school hallways sends you into unwanted perspiration. You chastise yourself for feeling this way not knowing that the man responsible for those feelings is mulling away in the restaurant adjacent to you.

“Can I have a Maker’s neat, please?” Brasco’s nerves wreck him as he waits at a table for his date’s arrival. He seldom drinks but the need to calm down and relax overrides his moral compass. He scans the restaurant for his paramore knowing she’ll be easy to spot in a sea full of white men in sports polos and gym shorts. As the minutes tick away, he checks his Instagram to make sure she hasn't changed looks since the time he updated his feed. He goes back to your page instead, not only feeling compelled to reminisce some more but to get another look at you.

A photo of you wearing a Black mini-dress and strappy heels had Brasco’s antennas up. You long traded in those blue glasses for something more sophisticated but they still framed your face beautifully. Your breasts went from a single letter D to a double. Brasco noticed those first. It took him back to that day at Lisa’s house, the day you showed up in a red bathing suit that led to a scolding like no other. Nerdy [Y/N] had a body on her and as you secretly planned, it caught Brasco’s attention.

He let out a faint “fuck” as you tossed your t-shirt and demin shorts onto the picnic table. He wanted to play those sweet splashy games alongside you but again, boys from his side of town didn’t know how to swim. His left hand twitched when you hopped out of the pool, body drenched in chlorine. That red bathing suit barely held on to your goodness. Brasco hoped for a slip. He was ready to risk it all until your Mom showed up to whisk you away.

Little did he know that he wouldn’t see you – or his friends – ever again. But yet the girl who once re-calibrated his desires sits just mere feet away from him and he doesn’t even know it.

taglist: @ghostfacekill-monger, @blackburnbook, @twistedcharismaaa, @sheabuttahwrites, @keiva1000, @chaneajoyyy

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes x reader #it's been a long time #trevante rhodes #nebraska williams

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lovely-renard · 2 years

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hii léna, congrats for reaching 300 followers! i hope you reach many more!

i'd like to participate in your match up event, please!

i am an infj-t, cancer female (think cancer sun, mercury, mars AND venus, and then we have libra moon and rising). i love to read, write, work out (both in the gym and outside like hiking or riding a bike), i love to bake too! i used to figure skate for a long time but then i got injured, and only recently i started coaching beginners at my club!

my favourite book series are Child 55 ( post ww2 soviet union, thriller), A court of thorns and roses ( young adult, fantasy) and throne of glass (also ya and fantasy). I generally love reading books that keep me at the edge f my seat. my favourite tv shows are vikings, the walking dead, brooklyn 99, and also grey's anatomy. my favourite songs are typically pop, anything i can dance to- think doja cat, ariana grande, but i also really like chase atlantic and rammstein sooo 😅

my fashion style is comfy and casual, on most days i am in athleisure, but otherwise i like neutral colours and light green. i love wearing high waisted pants and crop tops with chunky sneakers, and i love love summer dresses (that i have in all sorts of colours).

i used to be a medical student until not long ago, and i decided to start over as an English lit student. Medicine has and will always be my love, but it was too hard on me, and the quarantine didn't help a lot. Depression hit me HARD lol, so I am still piecing myself back together.

i am around 5'6, i have shoulder length wavy dark brown hair (it used to be longer but i cut it short recently), and brown eyes, i also wear glasses. all the lifting gave me a bit wider shoulders and thicker thighs, and i am a bit insecure about my stomach (it used to be more lean, now it is not the case 🥲).

For the fandom, I'd like to choose a Haikyuu guy!

tysm, and i hope you reach more milestones soon! stay safe xx

I match you with ... Iwaizumi Hajime ♡

Your relationship song : Killer Queen (Queen)

The sun may be awake, but this doesn’t mean it had to wake you up in the process. A simple glance at your phone tells you it’s way too early to start your day. Sighing, you put the phone back on the nightstand and turn around, searching blindly for the warmth of your boyfriend. “Haji…” you whine, hand patting the mattress to grasp his arm. When you only encounter the covers, you open your eyes again and realize he’s not by your side anymore.

Right, it may be too early for you but never for Hajime.

Reluctantly, you push the cover off your body, put on the first hoodie that encounter your way and open the bedroom’s door. Immediately meeting a pleasant smell. That only means one thing: your boyfriend’s cooking the breakfast.

Quietly, you make your way down the stairs, peeking from the doorway to eye him. He’s shirtless (meaning you have a perfect view of his back muscles, which is enough to make you drool), moving around effortlessly while preparing coffee and scrambled eggs just the way you like them. Before he can spot you, you make your way towards him, arms outstretched so you can hug him backwards. He doesn’t jolt nor say anything when he feels your presence, only putting one hand over both of yours.

“Morning, dove. Had a good sleep?”

You nod, grumbling about how the sun was mean for waking you up this early which makes him chuckles.

“Go sit, I’ll bring the food in a minute.” “No, wanna stay with you…” you refuse, still a bit sleepy.

“As you wish, ma’am.” He mocks you gently, patting your hand one last time before returning his attention to the stove with you clinging on his back like a koala. Another peaceful and lovely morning for both of you.

#omg you have such good taste in books i'm screaming #thank you for participating dear!! <3 stay safe too #love is in the air event #from : sunat2508

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friendlychaos · 2 years

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More stuff that’s happened at my school!

•A kid had a screaming match with the gym coach in front of the entire lunchroom. The gym coach is an ass and probably deserved it.

•There was a gas leak. We had to evacuate.

•Still no Chem teacher lol.

•Apparently we don’t have a school counselor. I learned that when I had a panic attack and had to go home early.

•My Greek teacher is the most boring person alive. I’ve decided I’m just gonna skip Greek and go sit in the Latin teachers room because she’d A) Let me and B) She’s fun. I love her, she’s my second mother.

•Also they’re actually enforcing the dress code so we can’t wear high top sneakers, hoodies, shoes that aren’t brown, black, white, or navy, skirt lengths are being checked as well as shorts, no cargo pants, no baggy pants, the hair rules are dumb. Maybe they should work on having student resources and abiding by 504s and IEPs before they do stuff like dress code enforcement.

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affordabledesignerbrands · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Coach Women Shoes C243 High Top Sneaker 9B Grey Brown Nubuck Leather.

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vatt-world · 7 months

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comedy

During the interview, he asked simple questions like who had used a computer before and who knew how to use a phone, how to type basic english. I got hired and was given a script to follow.

I got hired and was given a script to follow. My job was to keep people/alumni on the line and chat about how great the university was still doing.

After working for an hour, a bell rang for a break. The boss, stood on a chair and called out how much money everyone had brought in. He gave cookies to the top three earners.

Overall, it was an interesting experience, but I only worked there for a few weeks before my semester started, and I quit the telemarketing job.

///////////////////////////

yamaha bike, poolkey , hiphop cd , coach andrew, transmission-affleck movie, relationships, embarassing-denny's,cardealer- chinese , cow on the street monkey ,clearance sales, f on imaginary things,losing job at sixty..

“Troubleshooting, programming, Excel, PowerPoint,” I said.

“Can you give me more details?”

"Sure, I've read courses online, fixed bugs on my computer, and developed applications."

"I like you. I’m going to hire you,” he said as we shook hands. Bingo! “Given your advanced skill set, I’m going to give you a very special project.”

The week passed, the instruction manual was due and it was time to face the music. I decided to write something… click the L button… etc.

I said, “Whatever’s best for the university."

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pumilo · 2 years

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: COACH BONNEY SNEAKERS.

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

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Getting to First Base

A/n: just a little something. i need more seungmin on my masterlist anyway and i would do anything for my babies so! (not thoroughly edited)

Requested by: @pixielix

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999 @multi-net

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: cheeky seungmin that's about it i think

Summary: Kim Seungmin is the star of Cheongdam High. His grades are top-notch and he is the star pitcher of the school’s baseball team. Every girl wants date him and every guy wants to be friends with him. But, little does Y/n know he only has eyes for her. All it takes is one night and one extra private practice for things to change for both of them.

Genre: romance, fluff, non-idol!au, baseball player!seungmin, softball player!reader, highschool!au, popular kid!seungmin

◈

An ominous buzz filled the lunchroom. Not the kind attached to any flying pest. This was the sound of gossip seeping from every table in the cafeteria. Despite the conformity inspired by our school uniforms, clear, distinct borders were made in the large room.

Near the window, were the candidates for valedictorian and their study groups. Their trays always lay untouched and books took their focus. In the right corner were the Netizens and resident fan-girls and boys alike. They were mostly harmless unless it was comeback season. Across the way in the left corner was the ‘cool’ kids. Cool meaning the guys smoked behind the schools and the girls cut their skirts to short and glared at anyone who looked their way. Towards the back were your general outcasts and weirdos. They usually kept to themselves, but if you were caught sitting with them it was the social equivalent of suicide.

The center. The center was where everyone wanted to be. The focal point of the cafeteria was the two circular tables that housed the school’s pride and joy. The baseball and softball teams. And at the heart of it all, seemingly lit by a ray of sunshine, was Kim Seungmin. Star pitcher of Cheongdam’s baseball team.

Seungmin sat atop the lunch table, his shaggy brown hair falling across his forehead. His tie was loose and hanging lower than it should be and the silver bracelet he always wore dangled over his tan wrist as he waved over another member of his team.

It was no secret I liked Seungmin. Almost every girl in our school had a crush on Seungmin. Girls flocked to give him gifts before games and they waited for him before and after practice. I watched from the girls’ field as they lined up at the fence and cheered for him as he pitched inning after inning.

My less than white sneakers squeaked over the white tiles as I carried my lunch tray to the softball table. “Y/n!” My friend Jia waved me over, a bright smile illuminating her face. At the sound of my name, Seungmin’s head popped up like a meerkat and searched the cafeteria. His eyes met mine and I gave him a smile before sliding into my seat.

The cold metal of the cheap tables chilled the bare skin on my legs. “Did you hear about Miyoung?” Jia said twirling the aluminum chopsticks in her hand before stabbing them into a sausage. I nervously laughed at her exhibition of violence towards the innocent piece of meat.

“No. What about her?”

“Apparently she’s failing a class. Her mom is pulling her from the team.”

My jaw dropped, halfway full of food. Without looking she pushed it up, prompting me to finish chewing. “But we have Sectionals-” Jia nodded stabbed yet another sausage. “She’s our star pitcher-” I could hear the meat squealing in pain at her unhindered violence. I noticed some of the boys at the next table staring at her with terrified eyes. When she turned they looked away, hands hiding her next possible sausage target.

“I’m going to take these away from you.” My hands reached for her saucer but an animal like growl escaped her throat so I left her be.

Jia sighed looking at our team around the table. “I just really wanted to win Sectionals this year.” We ate the rest of our meal in silence, waiting for the bell to ring. The hall was flooded with students. The sea of blue jackets made it hard to weave my way into Room B23.

Class droned on for the next hour. Just as my eyes started to droop, I was hit in the back of the head by a paper projectile. The ball of notebook paper landed on the floor at my feet. My eyes fell on a familiar shaggy head of brown hair. With happy puppy eyes, he pointed towards the paper, eyeing the teacher warily.

Why Seungmin felt the need to throw the paper at me I had no clue. He sat right beside me. The teacher seemed preoccupied with scolding a student about using their phone so I reached down and picked up the note. I smiled seeing Seungmin’s handwriting.

Do you have practice today?

He was asking if I had practice? Did he suddenly drop every brain cell in that big head of his? It was a known fact that the baseball and softball schedule was practically identical. Every day he had practice and every day I had mine. That’s why the school invested in a second field for the softball team.

Of course. Same as you. Why?

My hand moved across the paper, making every letter neat and in beautiful handwriting. Quitely folding the note, I slipped it between two fingers and held it down by my side, staring at the board. I desperately tried not to withdraw feeling Seungmin’s fingers brushed mine as he took the parchment.

Quietly he unfolded the paper and I listened to his pen scrawl across it more than I did read the lessons from my textbook. My hand stayed ready to receive his message but it was once again tossed onto my desk. Rolling my eyes I opened his message.

I like knowing things.

Not bothering to write anything back I crumpled the sheet and tossed it at his head. Seungmin laughed, our teacher’s head shooting up and sending us a stern glare.

That was such a Seungmin answer. He always loved being the smartest person in the room. Putting the weird interaction in the back of my mind, I focused back on my work and waited for the school day to be over.

◈

I stood in line with the rest of the now twelve girls of Cheongdam’s softball team. The sound of the boys’ practice was carrying over the chainlink fence onto our field. Our coach walked the line, clipboard in hand.

“I’m sure you all are aware Miyoung has dropped from the team.” Most of the girls nodded, several gasped and turned to the others looking for confirmation. “With Sectionals coming up we need an immediate replacement for our pitcher.” His eyes scanned down the line, holding a stare with every single girl. “L/n. Congratulations, you are our new pitcher.”

“But- I’m just a shortstop?”

“Not anymore.” He tossed me a mitt and called for everyone to take their positions. A heavy weight landed on my shoulders as I stood atop the pitcher’s mound. I felt all eyes on me as the first girl stepped up to the plate.

The ball was familiar in my hands. I stared at the girl waiting to bat. With as much aim and accuracy as I could muster I threw the ball. It sailed over the plate before connecting with the wooden bat with a loud crack.

The rest of our practice seemed to last an eternity. The coach yelled at me more than anyone else on the team. By now everyone had left. The floodlights had been shut off and I stood in the dark on the pitcher's mound. The ball felt heavy in my hand.

Staring down the makeshift target I created at home plate, I wiped the sweat off my brow. The ball flew from my hand missing the target by just an inch. Sighing, I collapsed onto the ground head in my hands. Cold sweat lay on the back of my neck, becoming freezing as the night breeze blew over it.

“Shouldn’t you have left already?”

Looking up I saw Seungmin walking towards me with a long stride. A duffle bag hung loosely over his right shoulder and he smiled at me from the gate entrance. His hair was messy and I could see the sleeve of his uniform hanging out of the bag.

“I heard you’re the new pitcher. How is that going?”

“As you can tell, not so great.” Setting down his bag Seungmin grabbed onto a basket full of softballs and dragged it over to the mound. He placed on in my hand before standing back and watching expectantly. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged, scuffing his shoe in the tan dirt. “Helping you. Obviously.” Nudging my shoulder he pointed to the target. “Let me see what you’ve got.” Pitching in front of Cheongdam High’s star player. This was certainly not how I imagined this night to go.

Taking a deep breath, I aimed my stare towards the target. Seungmin watched me with an analytic gaze as the ball left my hand. The round projectile grazed the second most outer ring of the target. He shrugged as I turned back to him.

“It’s not bad. I’ve seen worse.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” Seungmin shrugged once more and watched me pick up another softball. “Here. Why don’t you show me how it’s done then. A smirk played at his lips as I tossed him the ball.

He listed his head, playing with the spherical object. “You do realize, pitching a baseball and pitching a softball are technically different.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes as I stepped back from the top of the mound and motioned for him to step up. With perfect form, he let loose the ball, long fingers seeming to extend as it flew towards the target. A large thunk could be heard and all that was left was a dent smack dab in the center of the target.

“Want me to teach you?” Slowly I nodded and walked over to him. His fingers brushed mine as he handed me another ball from the basket. “Try inhaling when you prep and exhaling as you let loose the ball.”

Following his instructions, I took a deep breath and let go as the ball flew past my fingertips. Seungmin burst out laughing when the softball bounced off of the target’s corner. “You’re supposed to be teaching, not laughing dumbass!”

“I can’t help it,” Seungmin gasped, doubling over in laughter. “That was too cute!” My body froze involuntarily and I prayed that he assumed the blush on my cheeks was from the cold. His eyes raked over my face clearly noticing the heat flooding over my skin. “Try again?” Seungmin proposed picking up another ball.

Knowing my only chance of a scream-free practice tomorrow was standing next to me I turned back towards the plate, the ball passing between my hand and the mitt. Hearing Seungmin’s sharp intake of breath had me turning to wait for criticism. To my surprise, I felt his hands on my waist and his chest brushed against my back. Again I froze, choosing to look anywhere but the boy behind me.

“Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, breath fanning over the back of my neck. With a gentle touch, his hands turned my hips parallel to his. “Try angling your hips this way. IT might help-” Seungmin stopped and stared seeing my eyes dragging over his lips. Ghosting over the corner of his mouth was a smirk that would make the Chesire cat proud. “Your staring.”

“Well...you were talking.”

“Please, you were practically undressing me with your eyes.”

“When did I-”

He laughed, keeping his hands on my waist. “I’m just kidding, Y/n.” Embarrassed, I stared down at my shoes. “Though...if you did want to kiss me, you should just do it. I’m very tired of waiting.”

“You’re tired of waiting? What about me?” I asked turning around, crossing my arms. The rough leather of the mitt was tucked under my arm in an awkward way, but I ignored it. “Why do you think I always buy an extra banana milk on Fridays? I know you’re going to ask for one at study group.”

Seungmin laughed as I lightly swatted his shoulder, dropping the softball on the field and letting it roll away from the pitcher's mound. “Why do you think I go to study group? My grades are fine.”

“Well...I-”

Before I could come up with an answer, Seungmin leaned down and pressed his lips against mine before pulling away hands behind his back. “You what?”

“I-.....uh...well-”

Again, Seungmin leaned down and pecked my lips. “Yes?”

“Kim Seungmin would you stop for one second!”

“So, you don’t want me to kiss you?”

“Yes. Wait- no. Wait.....what?”

His eyes crinkled and he pulled me towards his chest, kissing me deeply this time. It was a kiss that made me weak in the knees. Still not entirely processing that Seungmin was in fact kissing me, my hands hung by my side. “I’m doing all the work here. Are you going to kiss back or what?” Seungmin said with a laugh. Shaking myself out of the confused trance I grabbed his cheeks and pulled him back down to my lips.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I kissed Seungmin with every part of my being. He smiled, holding me as close as possible. Suddenly a blinding light flashed over us. “Hey! What are you kids still doing here?” The voice of one of the security guards yelled.

Seungmin and I shared a look before dropping the mitts and running towards the gate hand in hand. Grabbing our bags, Seungmin pushed me through the gate as we ran from the school guards. “Run!” I screamed dragging him through the looming iron gates that bordered the school grounds.

The two of us laughed as we ran down the dimly lit street. “So, can I tell people you are actually my girlfriend now? We can officially be the best team in the sports department.” Leaning up I kissed his cheek before pulling him around a corner towards my house.

“Yes. Why would I turn down a boyfriend when he comes with free pitching lessons?” I joked making him roll his eyes and ruffle my hair.

◈

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verydesperatehousewife · 2 years

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Coach Bonney High Top Fold Over Sneaker Shoe 9.5 Signature C Logo Brown Monogram.

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honestsycrets · 4 years

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What She Really Wants X: What Really Matters

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk has a way of getting what he wants. magnus is sick of being one-upped.

❛ tags | verbal arguments, wedding oriented, referenced underage sex, referenced sexual interaction, underage relationships, original characters.

❛ sy’s notes | i've actually had this fic done for some months and totally forgot about it until i was in my drive. thank you @chibisgotovalhalla for making me feel good enough to post this. It’s more a connecting chapter.

What Magnus hates about Hvitserk (aside from everything) is how whatever he said, went with you.

The world could crumble, pebbles could shake boulders on your house, and you would still have Hvitserk on your mind. Because he was your first-- and no one could beat a first. No matter how he worked or raged for a new beginning or for better for Mads. It was still Hvitserk at the end of the day. Mads’s eyes had almost popped out of his skull when Magnus joined the clustered group of friends and parents. It hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“What did I miss?” he asks because he knows Mads by the expression slapped over his face. That boy has been like his son. He raised him. Loved him.

“Nothing,” Mads quips quickly, snapping his head back around to the field. His coach howls something long and loud. Mads jabs his finger in that direction. “The game is about to start. C’mon Soren.”

Despite the fact that Magnus knew there was a certain something very wrong, he didn’t speak as you returned to a very familiar set of bleachers alongside Mad’s new girlfriend. She was pretty. There was a soft and innocent glitter behind those big brown eyes that reminds him of a simpler time in yours. He makes a note to ask Mads after the game all about her when Hvitserk stops on the uppermost stair, guiding you in after Alaia.

It’s not until they sit, and your hand is laced in Hvitserk’s, does he notice the gems glistening on your finger.

“What’s that?” he asks, leaning over Alaia’s lap. The girl squints at the rings too, watching it glisten, and smiles when she realizes that she’s forgotten to say something. She speak words that make his stomach drop. As if someone had hauled him off to sea, strapped that very same boulder shook loose by his crumbling world, and threw him out into the deep sea. He was drowning and couldn’t find a way out.

“Oh my god! Congratulations on your engagement, mama,” she beams. “Can I see the ring?”

Magnus sputters. He’s caught between your jovial smile and Hvitserk’s smug smirk as his eyes burned into the glittering gem. Hvitserk’s hand leaves yours, taking a drink of the metal tumbler that he brought with him as if that would draw attention away from what he’s done this time.

“There’s two?” Alaia asks.”Papa you didn’t. You’ve gone so far!”

Hviserk chuckles and swashing alcohol between his cheeks before swallowing the spicy liquid.

“We were engaged in high school. Hvitserk thought I should wear both.”

“Gonna put that money to use,” Hvitserk mutters, the faint scent of yeasty alcohol on his breath kissing your cheeks. He looks out to the field and catches Mads sheepishly waving. He waves back. “Been waitin’ to get married to my old lady for years.”

“It’s going to be so great,” she claps her hands together. “I’m happy for you.”

The field cheers through the end of the national anthem. Two dozen players jog onto the grassy stage, flicking the ball between their feet. Go Mads, go! Alaia squeals until her voice becomes high pitched, grating, and odd. She’s the kind of girl that should be on a cheerleading team, but belongs on the football team. She’s outgoing, witty, and you find you like her.

For all that screaming, Mads’s team loses 2 to 1. Alaia beats you off the bleachers and zooms down the stairs to find your son. You’re stuck with the impending explosion that has been boiling to ahead all evening. It finally overflows as people filter out of the bleachers like a herd of stampeding cattle. Their loud chatter blocks out the bulk of conversation.

“You really thought that was a good idea.” Magnus curls his fingers under the cold metal of the bleacher seat. “He hasn’t been back a year and you’re already going to marry him.”

“What is with you? It is her choice,” Hvitserk interjects.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Fuck off, rat faced motherfucker.” Hvitserk snaps. “You don’t know when to quit bitchin’.”

It’s spiraling. You know the men well enough to know when Magnus and Hvitserk are headed for trouble. Hvitserk loves a good fight. He lurches up in his seat, probably ready to chuck him down a few flights of bleacher stairs. You grasp Hvitserk’s hand, settling it on your thigh for to restrain him from doing something that you knew he’d regret. Not for his sake, but Mads. Rather than answer Magnus, you stand up and wipe your skirt down.

“Mads is waiting. C’mon baby.”

You leave him feeling unheard. In the seventeen years that Mads had been alive, he’d not once felt this way. He had been the father figure here. The one who took the kid out to these father events that you lost with the death of your father and the disappearance of your family from Hvitserk’s clutches.

Then he came back. He gave Magnus that same, age-old shit-eating grin, and disappeared behind you. It wouldn’t have burned so much if he wasn’t at the exact same school of the past. The same one where he got his teeth knocked in-- right here. The bleachers may be different but the area is the same. It’s the same place where everything changed. He sits there long after you’ve disappeared down the steps to meet your son.

“Where’s morbror?” Mads, sweaty and panting, has his hand slung over Alaia’s shoulder.”I thought he was coming for burgers.”

You reach for Hvitserk’s hand and lace his fingers with yours. Hvitserk stands behind you with his hand latched neatly around your waist. He cradles your hip as you come up with the latest of poorly formulated excuses.

“He has to go to work in the morning, baby.”

Better you lie than Hvitserk.

Alaia is way too touchy.

You recognize it in the way she clings to his arm on one hand and punches him with the other. Whatever the cost was, she had to be touching him. All over him. Not just a little friendly kiss or holding hands, but you know for a damn fact that she strokes his thigh or trails up the taut pale muscles of his flat belly.

“They’re fucking,” you say pointedly.

Hvitserk throws a look over his shoulder to where they were a few rows down. Alaia slips a salty-sweet strawberry candy between Mads’s lips. Alaia’s other hand is certainly not on her own lap, that’s for sure.

“Huh?” Hvit says around a half eaten sausage. He takes a swig of his booze, “Ya think?”

You thwack him in the arm and glance at the dark aisle beside you. The movie Mads wanted to watch was old. So much so that the theatre reflected its age. “How is he not fucking her? Hvitserk!”

Hvitserk took a glance down. From what he could tell, Mads was the shy one. He glanced down to what had to be a handsy— because he had plenty of those in his day.

“Calm down. He ain’t initiating anything.”

“So she’s a predator?” You hiss.

“C’mon baby, they're the same age.” He says, as if that’s exclusionary, and as if that made any difference in the world. “Ain’t like he’s screamin’ for help.”

There’s a shush— the next few aisles down.

“Aw, you poutin?”

No reply. Hvitserk glances toward Mads and Alaia, content with his choice, and slips his hand underneath the lip of your skirt. He considers himself a rather patient man but your worries when all he wanted to do was relax? Na.

“Hvit stop— We used to be like that. Remember?” Hvitserk cuts you off, rubbing his thumb where he shouldn’t, cutting an outrageous smile.

“This isn’t about us.”

“Ain’t it?”

It’s not. The soft tingles of his fingertips, caressing your thighs, runs shivers up your spine. Your hand falls on top of his wrist, holding him firmly where he was. Hvitserk glances down toward his hand, then back up. An easy fix: you loved it when he pressed his lips to your neck.

“You’re doing it again.”

Hvitserk’s lips part, broadening his shit eating smile. “Doing what?”

Oh, he knew what. But he loved being called out for it.

His far isn’t bad at football.

“Fuckin’ what the fuck was that!”

The ball whizzed into the goal behind him and Mads was left wheezing for breath. Not because he was tired. The old man might only be thirty-six but he sucked at playing against him. Hvitserk plucked up the football between his fingers and spun it over and over between his finger tips. He twisted his head from the goal to the ball in his hands.

“A goal,” Mads gestures. “You know? Or, guess you don’t since you ain’t scored all night.”

“Shits rigged,” Hvitserk says, dropping the ball and kicking it back to Mads.

Mads shrugs and suggests, “Should’ve picked something you’re good at. You won’t beat me at this.”

“Tch,” Hvitserk throws his arms behind his head. “I ain’ good at shit.”

Except maybe selling drugs and chasing prostitutes. All of which his father has made exponentially clear he doesn’t want Mads doing. Mads stops with his sneaker on top of the ball, rolling it up and back, then flicks it between his feet.

“Have to be good at something. Don’t you have a hobby or something?”

Hvitserk peels off his white shirt sodden with sweat and uses it to wipe away the moist sweat dribbling past his eyebrow. He gestures his hand to the dark wooden wedding band that was strapped to his finger. The wedding is next week and while he’s not technically married yet, Hvitserk wore it as some sort of unspoken promise.

“My hobby was women. Not allowed to do that shit anymore. Getting married next week, yeah?”

“Wow, well, uh.” Mads picks up the ball at his feet and searches for words. It’s always nice-- when your own son is amazed at how amazingly shitty of a person you were. Hvitserk chews his cheek, running his thumb along the drawstring at his hips to tighten it up. They walk lazily with one another to start the trek back home.

“I...” Hvitserk starts. “Liked to paint.”

“Gang signs?” he teases. He imagines his father with a can of spray paint or something-- tagging some poor idiot’s unsuspecting business.

“Na, women-- like Renoir.”

“Ren who?”

“I fuckin’ hope ya ain’t going to France like that,” he tsks his tongue, throwing his hand around Mads’s shoulder, chasing away the thought of the Wolves that were so at the forefront of his mind. “Take a class in French first.”

“I’m taking Spanish.”

“Spanish? Wha’s so important about-- oh wait. Fuck,” Hvitserk almost laughs, but it comes with the realization that Mads’s little girlfriend was, in fact, Hispanic. He ruffles Mads’s sweaty hair, shaking loose droplets into the air. “Tha’s my boy.”

There are moments in which Mads feels like his father’s son.

Today was one of them.

The date sped up on him faster than it should have.

This time, Hvitserk was insistent: the wedding had to happen as soon as possible. After all, he was thirty-six. He wasn’t going to be a man that was forty and single. No, he wasn’t. Not if he had everything he wanted; a woman and his very own grown-ass son. He had something to prove to that son. That he was serious about his family.

“What’cha think,” Hvitserk grumbled. His hair, newly cropped short, waved in silky honey waves around the side of his face. His jaw was peppered with a new sort of scruff, worlds apart from his clean-shaven, long-haired past. The suit was slim, crisp, monochrome like you liked it. Better be like you liked it: he wasn’t the type to wear suits for just anyone. His woman? Special exception there.

His son stood back. “Yeah, looks nice.”

“Yeah?”

He slipped in front of the mirror and gave himself a once over. He turns the ring on his finger over and over until he has residual finger ring burn. He bites down on his lip, ripping it between his teeth. It wasn’t just saying goodbye to his single man’s life; it was the fact that his remaining brothers were coming. Bjorn, Ivar, and Ubbe. Would Mads like them?

“Where my boots?”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. There’s a powerful thud at the door, then another. Booming laughs fill in the hallway just outside the room. Hvitserk exhales strongly. His large hand lands on Mads’s shoulder with a clasp.

“Those would be your uncles.”

Mads, the little baby, looks panicked as the door cracks open. Ivar knocks open the door, dressed in a deep maroon and black suit. It’s crisp and formed to his chest. You should at least like it-- given the shit that Ivar has given you this year, he looks good. Why would be expect anything less?

“Man c’mon,” Hvitserk rolls his eyes. “Could’ve waited man. My kid--”

“Why would I wait?” Ivar hums, hobbling forward. “You’ve been keeping my nephew hostage from me. Come here boy.”

“With good reason,” Sigurd can’t help but to comment. “You don’t really want to know him. He’s a--”

“Would you both shut up,” Mads hears another man say. He has ruddy hair and a ruddy beard, with sharp blue eyes. He is almost considerate-- if not for the wolfish look in his eyes, he could almost be considered the most placid of the brothers. Instead, he seems to be someone who is always planning. “You’ll scare him away.”

Hviserk settles a lily in the pocket to his suit and fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. Strange, he thinks, how you pick lilies. They’re a bittersweet flower for him to this day. When he bought you flowers, they were roses. Whatever possessed you to chose lilies, he’s not sure. It couldn’t possibly be-- Thora. No, you couldn’t remember her.

“Far,” Mads looks over and pleads for some guidance in those soft, bright eyes of his. His eyes snap toward Ivar’s dragging feet, then the drunken stamped in from huge Bjorn and comparatively more calculated steps from Ubbe. “Help.”

“What is there to be afraid of, hm?”

“Go on, go to Ivar.” Hvitserk swings his hands at his hips. Mads looks up the broad body of the blond man and inches toward the darkest haired brother. Probably not the safest of brothers to be speaking to but he’s heard his name multiple times before. Uncle Ivar was scary. And safe. “They won’t hurt you. They’re my brothers.”

“You want a drink, boy?!”

“A dr-- drink?”

Hvitserk wonders why he ever thought he could be a Wolf.

Asta has always been supportive. Too supportive. You knew, somewhere inside, she wasn’t happy about your choice to get married to a man that had gotten her into some trouble. Her whole life could have gone down the tubes thanks to him.

“Are you sure about this?” she said in her slim baby pink maid-of-honor dress. Your hairdresser affixed a soft baby pink pearl pin into your hair. “You can always wait like we said.”

“Waiting…” You glanced down toward your dress, smoothing out the dress’s slim bodice, leading out into its flowy a-line tulle skirt. Your loved the crisscrossing pearls that formed the straps over your shoulder and connected front and back-- maybe a little sexy for your hypersexual husband-to-be. Everything had gone perfectly. Your make up-- a natural, gentle shimmery pink. Everything was soft and natural, and pretty-- and you were so damn happy. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“I know.”

“And I want to do it,” you held the bouquet of fresh pink lilies. “I want him.”

“That’s too much information,” she teases.

The door creaked open behind you. While subconsciously, you knew that it wasn’t him-- you needed to know. “Magnus isn’t coming, is he?”

“It’s just me, mor.”

You exhale forcefully. You knew it would be a stretch to ask Magnus to give you away. After what happened to your father, Magnus had agreed to do so with whoever you chose. For sixteen years you banked on that promise. Only now, when it came down to it, he refused to do so.

“It’s a silly tradition anyway.”

Asta begins to protest that she can do it when your son, bless him, intervenes by kneeling down by your knee. His large hands overtook yours. Your hairdresser stepped aside after having affixed the veil to the top of your head. Everything had been going so well. Something… had to go wrong, right? That was the way that days went. They could never be absolutely perfect!

“I’ll do it. I can give you away.”

“You’d do that?” you ask him, unbelievably. You look between Asta-- and Alaia, who looks angelic in a puffy pink dress beside your son. Mads perches kneels beside you, looking like all the man you ever hoped he could be in every sleepless night that you spent up with him as a baby-- wishing that Hvitserk was there. Knowing that your mother said he could never be.

“But you thought I should wait.”

“Yeah but; I love you. That’s what matters, right? That you’re happy?”

That, more than anything, was enough for you. You press back the insistent prick of heat at the corner of your eyes and nod. As you stand up on clumsy metal heels, your boy is there with his hand encouragingly around your waist. Alaia looks for your bouquet of assorted blush and white flowers: lilies.

For a moment-- just a moment, its you and him. No one else matters in the grand scheme of things. He settles the bouquet of flowers between your fingertips, pulling the sheer veil back over your face. “You look… perfect, mor. He’s missing out.”

“Yeah, that’s what matters, baby.”

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#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #hvitserk's heathen feast #honestsycrets fics #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk x you #hvitserk/you

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thesetrashimagines · 4 years

Text

Do you mind?

A Haikyuu!! Imagine (reader insert)

Warnings: none

GIF is not mine

AN: So I’ve been rewatching a lot of animes recently and...the inspiration is killing me. I might write more of this idea if people like it BUT do not worry our reguarly scheduled (thats a fat lie) ‘The Man’ will continue, part 10 is currently in the works. I hope everybody enjoys this, thanks <3 :)

Being new sucked, a lot. Especially when you transfer in the middle of the school year. Everybody already had a few months to get to know each other and now here you were sticking out like a lonely thumb.

You walked down the semi-empty halls until you came to a cork board with papers covering it and the words ‘Karasuno School Clubs!’, bolded at the top. There were simple white ones, some blue, a few were yellow, and to your surprise there even was a red one. But the poster that caught your attention was, ‘Karasuno High School Volleyball Club’ You hummed quietly to yourself, ‘Maybe I should check it out.’

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You stared the gym doors infront of you, the sounds of thuds against the floor and sneakers squeeking escaped from inside. Taking a breath you climbed the stairs and slid the door open.

Boys.

The gym was filled with boys.

“Oh,” The group of boys all stopped and stared at you, “is this the volleyball club?” A boy with short brown hair came forward. “Yeah we’re the volleyball club, how can we help you?” You bowed slighty, “My names L/n Y/n and I’m here to join.” The boy in front of you looked shocked for a moment, “Uh, I’m Daichi Sawamura, captain of the boys’ volleyball team.” You straightened up and looked at him surprised, “Boys? There are separate teams?” His eyebrows furrowed for a second, “Yeah we have practice everyday and the girls have practice Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Did you read the club sheet?” Your ears grew hot, “I saw the poster and looked for a gym.” Your eyes went to behind him and you made eye contact with the rest of the team. “So no mixed teams...man that sucks.” You groaned a little.

“Mixed teams?” You jumped lightly and looked to the side where a dark haired boy stood next to a wide eyed ginger. “Oh, uh back at my old school there wasn’t enough kids to split into separate teams so the coaches just made one team.”

“That’s so cool!” You gave a small smile to the boy with orange hair. “Did you play against other teams?” You nodded, “There was only 4 girls on the team so we ended up playing against other boy teams a lot but there was a few times we versed girl teams.” His eyes somehow shined brighter, “Wow! That’s so cool!” A tall blonde boy with glasses scoffed, “You said that already Hinata. Try expanding on your vocabulary.” You bit back the laugh that climbed your throat as the ginger turned to the lanky boy and started yelling at him.

“Wait you were on a mixed team?” This time a boy with grey hair asked as he came up to stand next to his captain, “Yeah we were a pretty small school so the coaches took whoever was willing to play.” His mouth opened a little, “Oh that’s so cool.” You laughed a little, “I guess so.” You scratched the back of your neck, “Well this was embarrassing,” You sighed and looked at the volleyballs littering the floor, you wanted to play so bad. “But if you don’t embarrass yourself once then are you really new?” The two boys in front of you shared a laugh.

“That makes sense why you came to join now rather then at the beginning of school.” You laughed a little at Daichi’s words, “Yeah I was told go to the club board and I saw the words volleyball and I guess got excited since it’s been a few months since I’ve played.”

“Do you wanna practice with us?” Both you and the captain looked at the grey headed boy in surprise, “Wha- I, I mean I would like to but I don’t want to impose or get you in trouble with your coach.” Daichi opened his mouth to speak but the boy next to him waved you off, “Ah don’t worry coach Ukai won’t mind.” Your jaw dropped, “Coach Uk-” You closed your mouth and cleared your throat, “When he shows up I’ll leave,” You turned to the captain, “If that’s okay with you?”

“Let her join Daichi!” “Yeah Daichi let her play!” “Come on Daichi!”

The gym echoed as the team pestered their captian. He let out a chuckle, “You can come practice with us.” You smiled brightly and bowed, “Thank you!”

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Since you didn’t have your gym gear you had to borrow a pair of joggers and a spare shirt the boys had found in the club room. You walked back into the gym, “How do they fit?” You pulled the waistband up a little, “They fit alright. Good enough for now.” Daichi smiled, “Alright go warm up and we’ll start.”

Coming out of your stretches the ginger haired boy came up to you, “My names Shoyo Hinata and I’m a middle blocker.” You stood up, “A middle blocker? You must be good at jumping then.” His eyes widened a little, “Yeah! I can jump super high!” He jumped and landed back down. You stared at him in amazement, “Wow you can get super high! Higher then I thought!” The rest of the team watched the two of you.

“He’s gonna be on a high this whole practice.” Asahi looked at Suga and chuckled, “Yeah.”

The team decided to play a few rallies. You were buzzing, the ends of your fingertips tingled as you waited to get in the game. “Okay Y/n you can be on Kageyamas team.” You nodded and walked to his side of the court. On your team there was you, Kageyama, Hinata, and Tanaka. It was a game of 4 on 4. The other team consisted of Asahi, Tsukishima, Nishinoya, and Tadashi.

You and Tanaka took the back row, “Asahi’s serving first.” The ball was passed to him and he got ready to serve.

You took a deep breath and bent your knees. Judging by him being the biggest player on the team, muscle mass wise, you guessed he was the ace, meaning this serve was gonna be fast. Asahi tossed the ball up and began to run, you took a few steps backwards. With a loud slap the ball flew towards you, well more like the back line but you were in the way. If you moved to the side the ball would go out but you wanted to play it, the only problem was that the ball was coming at your chest, it was too high for a bump and too low for an overhand. It would be too low for an overhand if you didn’t jump.

You crouched lowed and jumped off the balls of your feet. Your hands came up to in front of your forehead where they aborsbed the impact and speed of the ball, you took control of the projectile and sent it up with a high arc to Kageyama. “Nice recieve!” You landed on your feet and smiled, “Thanks.”

He tossed it to Hinata who was already in the air ready for the spike and then in split second his hit the ball and smashed onto the court. You stared in shock, “Wow...” Tanaka laughed next you, “That’s our crazy quick attack, pretty cool huh?” You nodded your head figerously, “That was awesome! How’d you do that?” The two boys at the front turned to face you, “I just jump really high and Kageyama sends the ball like WHOOSH and I hit it like BAM.” You looked between the boys in awe, “Wow...Kageyama do you think you could toss me one like that?” The gym went quiet for a moment, “I don’t mean to sound rude but you can’t jump nearly as high as he can.” You deflated a little then gave a look, “You saw me jump once and automatically assumed that was my highest point?” With your hands on your hips you laughed, “You know what, underestimate me cause I’m gonna love the look on your face when I surprise you.”

You walked backwards and stood behind the back line, catching the ball when it was thrown to you. Taking a deep breath you read the court, Nishinoya was their libero so you couldn’t send it to him. Tsukishima naturally walked to front row in the beginning so he had to be a blocker or a setter. Tadashi seemed like he was out of place, not like he didn’t know what he was doing but you could tell that he wasn’t in his usual position and to be honest you didn’t want to aim for Asahi, wheres the fun in going for the ace?

You hit the ball of the ground and spun the ball in your hand four times before you tossed the ball up. You ran then jumped, hitting the ball at a very awkward angle. The ball spun slowly as it zipped threw the air, you watched Tsukishima and Asahi stumble as they tried to decided where the ball was gonna land and what kind of hit to make. But they weren’t fast enough, the ball passed the net and shot down directly at Tsukishimas feet, landing right in between his shoes.

“WAAAAAA WHAT KIND SERVE WAS THAT!?” Hinata and Nishinoya were freaking out. “I don’t know, a normal pin point serve?” Tanaka gaped at you, “That was a pin point serve!? But the way it moved was like a float serve but then the direction-” You broke your gaze with Tanaka and looked to Kageyama who still had the same expression as always, “Nice serve.” You smiled brightly, “Thank you but I still want a toss from you.” He didn’t say anything and turned back to the net.

The game went back and forth for a while before Daichi changed out players. Now you, Daichi, Sugawara, and Ennoshita were on a team. Kageyama, Tsukishima, Tanaka, and Hinata made up the other team. You may have asked to be put against the dynamic duo.

“Hey Sugawara,” You placed a hand on your cheek, covering your mouth, and whispered to the setter, “Could you toss me a ball, just one? please?” He laughed and copied your action, “Call me Suga and yeah I’ll toss you one.” You gave him a smile, “Thanks Suga.”

Tsukishima threw the ball up and hit it over the net. You heard Nishinoya call for the ball and then the ball arced its way up and over to Suga, “Right here!” You threw your hands behind yourself, crouched and took off straight up. You watched as the ball came over to you. You couldn’t go towards Tsukishima because that’s where Kageyama and Tanaka think you’ll go, you’ve been staring at it long enough to give them idea. The back right corner, right next to Hinata, was open but the target was really small. The way Hinata was facing you, his body covered up most of the court but that little sliver of white line gave you hope.

You had jumped with your right hand pulled back but with the decision to send it towards Hinata, you had to turn your palm slightly as you came to the peak of the toss before hitting it. The ball wasn’t as fast or as hard as you would’ve liked but that didn’t matter. Hinata tried to bump the ball but instead the ball went over him and bounced off the top of his head and out of bounds.

“Damn it, I could’ve hit that harder.” You whined, “Did you aim for that idiot?” You faced the net and met Kageyama’s steel eyes, “Yeah obivsouly.” His face scrunched, “Tch-” You giggled, “I know I’m not that impressive Kageyama so, you shouldn’t be so beat up that you couldn’t read me.” You beamed at him, “I even had Tsukishima thinking I was gonna aim for him.” The blonde in the back glared back at you, “That was nothing but pure luck.” You rose your eyebrows teasingly, “Was it?”

You had gotten back in your positions as Ennoshita got ready to serve. The ball made it over then was bumped up to Kageyama by Tsukishima, you watched as Hinata started to run forward but so did Tanaka. ‘A synchronized attack? These guys know their stuff.’ You smiled and took a step off the net then looked to Suga, he glanced at you in confusion for a spilt second but in that split second he could read the message you were sending. You looked to his side of court, taking the hint, he nodded and stepped to the side, leaving the middle wide open.

“What are you doing?!” You ignored Diachi and watched Kageyama set the ball to Tanaka, “Right!” You and Suga jumped up and blocked Tanakas ball. “Yeah!” You and Suga high fived in a celebration. “I didn’t think that would work!” You laughed, “I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t either. You guys are a really good team.” You rubbed the back of your neck.

“Those were some nice rallies.” Everybody spun towards the gym doors, there stood a man with bleached blonde hair and two girls were behind him. ‘Is that their coach?’ He smiled at you, “Where’d you learn to do all of that?” You told him what middle school you went to. “Oh I know your old coaches. We used to be on the same team!” He laughed and walked further into the gym, “I’m coach Ukai.” You introduced yourself, “I was only here to play for a bit, sorry for taking up practice time.” You bowed apologetically, “I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for letting me join in.” You gave the boys around you a kind smile, “It was nice meeting all of you.”

As you went over to your school bag the team huddled around their coach and whispers filled the gym.

“She’s a really good player, please can she stay?”

“I want her to teach me that serve she did, it was awesome!”

“She tricked Kageyama!”, “Shut up!”

“Pleeeeeeeease coach?”

Ukai looked at the pleading eyes staring at him, “You’re not just asking me cause she’s a girl?” Tanaka stopped mid sentence and coughed, “No why would I? Besides my heart resides with Kiyo-” The rest of the team ignored him.

“She has skill and I want to prove her wrong.” Ukai met Kageyamas eyes and saw Tsukishima nod behind him, “As much as I don’t want to agree with him, she pulled a move I’ve never seen before and I want to stop it next time.”

Ukai nodded and turned to the door where you were about to leave, “Hey Y/n!” You stopped and looked over at the huddled group, “Do you mind staying for practice?”

Your eyes widened, ‘Do I mind? Wha-’ The girl blonde girl from earlier perked up, “Oh that’d be so cool to see you play. You’re really good!”

“Oh uhmm thanks, I’m not that good.” You waved your hand around, “You guys have been giving me way too much praise.” The other girl with glasses joined in, “I know this isn’t the girls practice but,” She looked over her shoulder to the group of boys who were standing there watching you. “They won’t stop unless you stay.” The stare the boys were giving you made a shiver run up your spine, “Yeah I can tell from that look.” You shook off the feeling, “You really don’t mind coach Ukai?”

He shook his head and smiled, “Come on it’ll be fun.”

Guess they didn’t mind after all.

And that’s that. There’s been so many ideas circling my brain that I needed to write something and who knows if people like it I might write a part 2 😗 Anyways thanks for reading, hoped you enjoyed it! <3

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