#lacrosse fic

[tvgals]

soccer! gojo who you often throw crumpled up papers at, just to see how good his reflexes are. he smiles and kicks them up , kneeing them behind him and finishing it with kicking it back to you. while you’re concentrated on trying to replicate what he did, he takes your chin between his thumb and index, bringing your lips into a kiss.

basketball! sukuna who you help train, passing a ball to him a couple times while he works on around the worlds. he can’t thank you enough when he hit the game winning shot from the toughest corner on the court, all the times you scolded him that he needed to work on his weaknesses paid off. he thanked you by taking you out to dinner and driving you to a drive in movie where you two cuddled and kissed the night away.

baseball! suguru who you play catch with in the backyard, telling him to not throw so hard. you two often go on batting cage dates, you paying extra for time so suguru can get extra reps in. suguru couldn’t describe how angry you were when he came home with ghost roots for championships that season.

rugby! nanami who taught you how to throw a rugby ball, his large palm over yours, guiding your fingers so you can get the perfect throw. you smile when the ball spirals across the backyard, jumping for joy as nanami looks down at you with pride, picking you up and kissing along your face while trudging into the house.

lacrosse! choso whose wounds you often have to patch from him falling so often. he looks at you in awe and love as you tend to his needs. kissing each scar you come across after sanitizing and laying a bandaid over it. he grins as you post you twos post-game pictures as his grinning face from winning the game takes up most the picture.

football! toji who you hate watching play. although you love seeing him win and be all manly, you can’t help but stress when he gets jumped and pushed on, being assaulted almost. you wanna look away and cover your eyes in terror when the ball gets passed to him, but he perseveres and makes his record-breaking touchdown in his last college game before the nfl.

[penny00dreadful]

Jock on jock violence. 🤤

My second piece for @hornedqueenofhell's MAGNIFICENT work, Wild Child for the @steddiebang2024

All I can say is that this piece was a pleasure to work on 🤣

[theninth09]

its basically canon that liam uses lacrosse as a coping mechanism for his IED, right? and hes very passionate about it in general, considering that he stopped taking his meds in order to continue playing, wants to be captain, how good he is at it, etc.

so when he gets bitten and suddenly has super strength and speed and agility, etc. he probably has more stamina as well. and in general, thats obviously cool and hes probably excited about trying out his new abilities on the field.

but also: lacrosse doesnt work as well as his coping mechanism anymore. he doesnt get tired as fast, it doesnt take the same toll on him anymore. there isnt the same kind of rush- aching limbs, heavy breathing, whatever else -as before and the following satisfying exhaustion doesnt happen anymore. hes a werewolf now, he could keep going without a sweat for abnormally long.

and that must be frustrating, right? the activity that helped him, that his dad introduced him to and they could bond over, that helped him deal with and distract himself from all the messy feelings and issues he has. the exact aspect of why he liked it, suddenly being gone. obviously he still likes playing it: hes good at it, hes become Even Better at it and its still his passion.

but i do sometimes think about him getting frustrated over it not feeling the same anymore.

and to make it even worse: some of his teammates possibly undermining his effort. claiming that hes only so good at lacrosse Because hes a werewolf. as if he wasnt a prodigy long before he got bitten. all his hard work getting dismissed, as if him being a good player wasnt literally the reason he got turned in the first place.

[mrspasser]

The things he does for his pack

Pinterest showed me a tweet from someone who fed his co-workers pot brownies because he didn't want to be the only one dirty on the random drug test. I had some thoughts about that and the result is this Sterek fanfic :-)

Read it on A03

There’s a chilly wind blowing that he can barely ward off with the upturned collar of his jacket, his ass has gone numb from the hard bench and a few rows below him there’s a man eating nachos with the most obnoxious artificial flavouring Derek has ever smelled. 

The things he does for his pack…

At least the game isn’t a total shit show. He isn’t all that fond of lacrosse - he was on the basketball team himself, but most of his pack plays. Boyd is the newest recruit and though he’s sitting on the bench next to Stiles right now, he’s scheduled to take his place in the goal for the last two quarters. Jackson, Isaac and Scott each usually play the whole game and Stiles plays a quarter here and there - as long as he doesn’t annoy the coach too much.

They’re ahead, with only a few minutes left of the second quarter. The Beacon Hills Cyclones started off strong and scored six goals already, to a meagre two of their opponents. If they keep this up, they’ll win the game by a landslide. Stiles might even get to play. 

Besides him, Erica cheers loudly as Isaac scores the seventh goal, right before the referee blows his whistle. The team gathers around their coach to hear his instructions, though a few of them are more focused on the water cooler than game tactics. They’re laughing and bumping into each other, ignoring Finstock when he calls them to order. It seems like they think the game is won already. Derek hears both Scott and Jackson berate their teammates. If they win this game, they’ll compete in the state championships, so there’s a lot riding on this game.

“Go get ‘m, babe!” Erica yells when Boyd jogs towards the goal after the break. The young werewolf looks back and lifts his stick in response and Derek gives him a supportive nod. Boyd joined the team mostly because of his pack mates and the role of goalie fits him well. He’s not flawless, he doesn’t have enough field experience for that, but his werewolf reflexes make up for a lot.

The game restarts and it only takes a few minutes to see that a good part of the team doesn’t have the same focus as before their break. “What the fuck are they doing?” asks Erica, gesturing towards the field where two players seem to be performing some kind of dance. It’s uncoordinated and barely recognizable as dancing, still, it is anything but lacrosse. Jackson yells at them until they get back in line, which they do with a lot of giggling.

Derek frowns at the spectacle below. The visiting team scores two goals in succession: the first is a clever trick shot that he really doesn’t fault Boyd for not catching and the second shot goes in because one of the Cyclones actually hinders his own goalie on purpose. To say the team isn’t happy with that is an understatement. Within minutes the whole game is in disarray and when one of the players stumbles off to the sideline to be sick, the referee calls the whole thing off. It’s a big mess. Derek’s proverbial hackles go up: this whole thing reeks. Something is wrong, but what?

Down on the field Jackson yanks his helmet off and tosses it down on the ground, swearing loudly. Both Isaac and Scott take it upon them to direct their unruly teammates back towards the locker rooms. “It’s like herding cats,” Derek hears Isaac complain when some of his teammates start up an impromptu game of tag and run back onto the field, leaving the young werewolf standing.

Coach Finstock is almost purple from all the yelling he does and all over the bleachers there’s confusion and amused chatter to be heard. Most people have left their seats and gone down to the field. Erica stands next to her boyfriend, who is gesturing angrily at some teammates who stumble past. 

Derek gets up and scans the field for his pack. He has a nagging suspicion of foul play and it bothers him that he can’t sense any danger. As far as he can tell, it’s just the humans and his own pack on the field. There’s no-one else. The werewolves all seem to be acting normal, which leads him to believe there was something that affected the humans. 

Stiles. Where is Stiles?

Now that he thinks of it, Derek kinda expects Stiles to be at the forefront of this whole mess, yet the lanky human is nowhere to be seen. That can’t be right. The nagging sense of discomfort that sat low in his belly turned into alarm.

The Alpha werewolf lets his enhanced senses work for him as he urgently searches the crowd, though it still takes him a while to spot the Cyclones’ number 24. Stiles is lying underneath the bench, curled up against some bags of sport’s gear. He took his protective gear off and cuddled with the shoulder pads in his arms like it’s a teddy bear. Derek rushes over, unsure of the condition his pack member is in. It’s only when he’s close that he can hear his slight snores over the din of the crowd. Relief swoops through his stomach.

“Stiles!” There’s no reaction, not even when Derek calls his name a second time. He crouches down to shake the boy’s shoulder. “Stiles! Wake up!” 

Stiles wakes up with a mumbled “Huh? Wazzit?” and a lolling search of his head towards the sound. His eyes blink open unevenly. One eye focuses on Derek and a lazy, contented grin appears on his face. “Der-bear.”

Derek rolls his eyes at the stupid pet name, though he can’t hide the relieved smile that breaks through. He helps Stiles roll out from under the bench, preventing him from bumping his head into it when he tries to sit up. “What are you doing on the ground?”

Another loopy grin. “I was sleepy.”

If Derek didn’t know any better, he’d say Stiles was drunk. He’s acting even more uncoordinated than usual and he has trouble focusing his vision. Thing is, he can’t smell any alcohol on the boy, just sweat and sweets. And he knows Stiles isn’t a big fan of drinking, having seen from up close what alcohol can do to a man. Derek has to hold Stiles by the arms to keep him sitting upright; he would pitch right over otherwise. “Stiles? What happened?” 

“I dunno,” Stiles answers, slightly slurring his words. He grips onto Derek’s forearms and tries to look around him at the field. “Is the game over? Did we win?” 

Derek jostles him a little to get his attention back on him. “Stiles. Focus!” 

Erica and Boyd come up to them, giving Stiles a scrutinising look. “What’s wrong with him?” Erica asks, cocking her head as she looks the boy over. 

“I don’t know,” Derek grits out and tries to get Stiles to stand up. It’s like wrestling an octopus. The boy is not cooperating at all and after a few moments Derek gives up and lets him sit down on the bench. At least that way he isn’t on the ground anymore. Stiles immediately tips over to lean against Derek’s hip, all heavy and loose limbs.

Boyd chuckles lowly. “Dude, is he stoned?”

“Stoned?!” Erica bends over to grab Stiles by the chin so she can look into his face. “He is!” she cackles in delight. “His eyes are all red!”

Stiles grabs Derek’s leg for stability, winding his arm around it, and sits up a little straighter. “I have red eyes?” He looks up at Derek and grins. “You hear that, Sourwolf? I’m the Alpha now!”

Boyd crosses his arms in front of his chest and regards them with a knowing smile. “He’s baked.”

“No, I didn’t!” Stiles flails and Derek has to grab him by the back of his jersey to prevent him from headbutting the werewolf in the crotch. The boy refuses to let go of his leg. “Greenberg did the baking. They were delicious!”

“What are you talking about?” Derek keeps him upright as much as he can, which is surprisingly hard when Stiles resembles an octopus ragdoll. 

“Pot brownies.” The voice of Jackson cuts through and all heads turn to the team’s co-captain that comes walking up to them. He’s looking cross. “Fucking Greenberg fed the whole team edibles before the game.” 

“They were very edible,” Stiles mumbles. His voice kind of gets lost under the astonished exclamations of his packmates. He snuggles a little closer to Derek’s leg.

“Why would he do that?” Derek growls. It’s clear the rest of the team didn’t know anything of this plan, which basically means the guy poisoned his team mates. 

“To fuck with the mandatory drug test they were gonna have us take after the game,” Jackson explains curtly. “A random check. We weren’t supposed to know about it, but Greenberg got into the coach's papers or something.”

Derek huffs. “That doesn’t explain why he fed the whole team drugs. Why risk getting kicked out of the competition?”

“Dude’s a stoner. He didn’t want to get caught.” 

Erica laughs. “That is kinda genius, if you think about it.” At Derek’s ornery look she explains: “Chances are they would dismiss the test if the whole team tested positive. They’d think it was a faulty test, or something.” 

“Yeah, or they would just suspend the entire team,” Boyd corrects her. “Where is that asshole now?” he asks Jackson. That is something Derek wants to know too.

Jackson points a thumb back over his shoulder. “Back at the locker room. Coach is ripping him a new one. Scott and Isaac are with them.”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. His first reaction was to join coach Finstock in yelling at this Greenberg idiot, but was it really his place to do so? After all, most of his pack was unharmed and the one that did get affected was just high as a kite. And cuddly. He grips the back of Stiles’ neck to keep his head still, so he wasn’t affectionately rubbing his face on Derek’s hip. He sighs. “Let��s go home.” 

That does get Stiles’ attention. “Home?! I can’t go home!” He clumsily tries to get to his feet, using various body parts of his Alpha as a handgrip. Derek hauls him to his feet with a hand in his armpit before it can get any worse. “My dad can’t go home! I mean, I can’t go there. My dad is at home.” He pauses for a second. “Which means he can’t go home either, because he’s already there. Huh. What was I saying?” 

“Well, you can’t stay here either,” Derek answers impatiently. “You’ve got to sleep this off, or something.” 

“I don’t know, I kinda like him like this,” Erica smirks. She shows her teeth when Derek glares at her.

“I can sleep here.” Stiles tries to turn to pat the bench he’d been sleeping underneath earlier, almost falling over the thing in his attempt. Derek gets a hold of his arm and resigns himself quietly to not letting go until Stiles was safely at home, in bed.

“Guys! We’re getting a rematch next week,” Scott announces from afar, jogging over to them. Isaac follows him in his wake. “What’s the matter with Stiles?” 

“He ate three pot brownies, that’s the matter with Stiles,” Isaac deadpans after one look at his pack mate. 

“He ate three?!” Erica guffaws.

“They were really good!” Scott hurries to say. “Besides, I had two and I feel fine.” 

“That’s because you’re a werewolf, dumbass,” Jackson hisses and for once Derek is glad that Jackson said something so he didn’t have to.

“Oh. Right.” Scott has the decency to look abashed. He moves a little closer to his friend, who resorted back to leaning up against Derek for support. “Will he be okay?” he asks the older werewolf.

“Should be fine,” Derek grunts. “Just has to sleep it off.” 

“Oh, yeah, that should work,” Scott nods sagely. Then his face clears. “Shit! He can’t go home, his dad will know he’s high!” 

“Yeah, Der! Dad will know!” Stiles agrees vehemently, turning fast to slap Derek in the chest for emphasis. “Ohh, I feel sick,” he groans immediately afterward, his face turning white as a sheet. 

Recognising what is about to happen, Derek moves them a step away from the others and holds Stiles steady as he suddenly lurches forward and pukes on the grass. Behind them, the werewolves make various noises of disgust. Derek isn’t a fan of the stench of vomit either, but Stiles is trembling on his legs like a newborn foal and making pitiful noises in between heaving up the contents of his stomach, so he supports him with a hand underneath his chest and rubs comforting circles on his back with the other.

When his stomach is finally empty, Stiles leans forward with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Scott helps his friend drink a cup of water from the team’s water cooler. Stiles is too out of it to do much to help. “I feel like shit,” he says in a wobbly voice. 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees gently. “Let’s get you home, alright? You can stay at the loft until you feel better.” The boy will probably be alright after a good sleep.

“Thanks,” Stiles sighs and closes his eyes. He even starts tipping forward alarmingly. 

“That’s it,” Derek decides out loud and scoops Stiles up so he can carry him to the car. “We’re out of here.” He walks off in the direction of the parking lot, Stiles dozing in his arms, trusting the rest of his pack to sort things out when it comes to grabbing their stuff and finding their own way back to the loft. 

Stiles wakes up a little when Derek positions him carefully in the front seat of his car. “Der?” he asks, his head lolling back against the seat. 

“Hmm?” Derek reaches across him to fasten his seatbelt. From the corner of his eye he can see Stiles following him with his eyes, a smile on his face that’s a cross of loopy and fond.

When Derek leans back, sitting on his haunches next to his car, Stiles strains forward in his seatbelt conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Scott, but you’re my favourite werewolf,” he whispers.

Derek huffs a laugh despite himself. He shakes his head and gets up to close the car door.

“You gotta promise, Der,” Stiles urges. “You can’t tell Scott!” 

The werewolf nods indulgently. “Sure.” 

But Stiles isn’t happy with that answer. “You gotta promise!” When Derek doesn’t react to him sticking out his pink, he shakes his hand in front of his face and urges: “Pinky swear that you won’t tell!” 

“Stiles, come on, lets just get you home.” Derek is a grown ass Alpha werewolf. He isn’t gonna pinky swear with a teenager that’s still pretty baked. 

Stiles points at him with a stern finger. “Pinky swear or you’re no longer my favourite werewolf!” 

And Derek…. Well, he can’t help it. As much as Stiles can be annoying and a handful, he’s also smart, loyal and, God help Derek, funny. 

“Can’t have that, right?” Derek chuckles and hooks his pinky finger around Stiles’. He’s awarded with a bright grin when he declares solemnly not to tell Scott that Derek is Stiles’ favourite werewolf.

With Stiles satisfied, Derek can close the car door and finally get into the car himself. Stiles watches him start the car with bleary eyes. He’ll probably fall asleep soon. 

“Don’t puke on the upholstery,” he warns his young packmate, just to be sure. 

“I promise,” Stiles responds, as serious as he can while breaking into a yawn. He’s still a bit pale around the nose, though Derek suspects he can keep himself collected during the short ride to the loft.

It’s quiet for a bit as Derek navigates the school parking lot and drives out onto the main road. “Hey Der?” it sounds softly from the seat next to him after a few minutes. 

“Yes, Stiles?” Derek signals for a corner.

“Am I your favourite human?” 

The tentative way the words are spoken makes Derek look over. Stiles actually seems bashful, it’s an odd look on him. 

Derek hesitates for a second, but… Whatever. They’re alone and there’s a chance that Stiles won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow anyway. The werewolf puts his hand on the boy’s knee and squeezes. “You are, Stiles.” 

“That’s nice,” Stiles says in a whisper. He sounds pleased. And half asleep, that too. However, half asleep as he is, Stiles still holds out his hand with his pinky outstretched. “I won’t tell Scott,” he promises when Derek hooks his own pinky in after just a short moment. 

“Good,” Derek agrees with a smile. The childish secret between them makes him feel oddly giddy. 

The boy sleeps for the rest of the ride and doesn’t wake up when Derek lifts him from the car and carries him up the stairs. He gently tucks Stiles in in his bed, figuring he can stand to have his bedding smelling like his favourite human tonight. When he gets back downstairs, his betas look at him questioningly, but they don’t say anything, especially not after he gives them his credit card to order dinner. 

Stiles wakes up around nine PM, hungry like a wolf. He scarfs down the pizza the pack left for him in a remarkable show of restraint and resigns himself to their teasing easily. It looks like he indeed doesn’t remember all that much from what happened. More importantly, besides ‘feeling a bit crunchy’ - Stiles’ own words - he’s not much worse for wear from the whole thing. Perhaps Derek really doesn’t have to go after that idiot of a Greenberg. 

By eleven, Derek evicts his pack from his home. He loves them, honestly, but there’s only so much teenage bullshit he can stand. He makes Scott drive Stiles home in the Jeep, not listening to Stiles’ protests and even flashing his red eyes when the boy doesn’t give in quickly enough. Stiles wrinkles his nose at him, though he complies easily after that. 

Around midnight, when Derek is reading in bed, his phone lights up with a message: [ FYI. I changed your name in my contacts from Sourwolf to F.W. So now we match! ]

Derek texts back a question mark. It’s a common occurrence when texting with Stiles.

A moment later there’s a reply. [ Can’t have Scott find out, can we? ;-) ] 

It’s only then that Derek notices that the name on the texts doesn’t say Stiles, but Favourite Human. He has no idea how or when Stiles got a hold of his phone this evening.

He thinks about changing it for a second, but puts his phone back on the nightstand instead and shuts off the light so he can go to sleep.

The things he does for his pack.

[aarontaylorjohnsonsdivorcelawyer]

library card ➵ valgrace university au

valgrace university au - PART 5 [masterlist]

[inbucksbusiness]

History, Huh? (Bet We Could Teach Some) by Henrybaby

Teen & Up | Chaptered | Complete | Ao3 | 35k

They’re both teachers. They’re both stupid. They both fall in love over lectures, grading, and early morning coffee (with a little help from some meddling teenagers). Or; Alex & Henry teach at Austin Preparatory Academy and are asked to teach a joint History/English course. They’re the only ones in the classroom who don’t realize their heated arguments over historians aren’t really about what’s in the textbooks.

Competence Kink, Hot History Teacher Alex, Lacrosse Coach Alex, English Teacher Henry, Dual POV, Forced Proximity, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Miscommunication, Slow Burn, Non-Royal Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Happy Ending

[sanaserena]

“It was Luffy’s idea to dress up as pirates!” said Ace, from the living room.  Apparently already dressed.

When he’d arrived, he’d done so in a pair of black knee length shorts, his signature belt and beaded necklace, a dagger sheathed in green, and an orange hat with what you thought were a pair of goggles—one with a smiley face, the other with a frowny face.  The hat itself hung a medallion on his chest.  It was odd to see him without his worn beanie, a beanie that was falling apart with each passing day.

You’d asked what he was.  He’d told you.  And then you’d laughed, asking what sort of pirate Luffy thought Ace was! 

“You should see Luffy’s outfit,” Ace said again. 

“Oh?”  You peeked around the doorframe of your room. 

“He’s mocked up this huge scar on his chest, and put on an opened tshirt, shorts, and he’s wearing his strawhat again, and called himself a pirate.”

“What kind of pirate is that?” you laughed. 

“Your friend Franky is apparently going as a cyborg pirate—sounded awesome on paper!”

You pulled on the last item for the grand costuming idea of Nami’s.  And felt horribly exposed.  If Nami hadn’t managed to convince you that Ace would love it, you doubted that you would have worn it.  You were just glad this was only for Luffy’s Halloween party.

Ace was resting his head on the back of the couch when you walked back in, the fluffy cape of your costume pulled tightly around you.  He spotted you in his upside down vision and turned to face you.

“So,” he said.  “What are you?”

“Well, it was Nami’s idea.”  The mere thought of what was under the cape had your blush raging across your skin. 

This seemed to pique his interest, and he vaulted over your couch to join you.  “Sweet, your blush is telling me things I’m not sure I want others to like.”

“The theme was a pirate in an undercover raid in the enemy’s lair.”

“This enemy must be quite devilish,” he joked, flicking your little black horns on your head. 

“Just a bit.”

He was distracting enough in his limited costume.  You’ll admit that while you were shy about what you were wearing, you always wanted to look good next to Ace.  You knew he didn’t care how you were.  He was always resting his head on yours, and just seemed to think you were cute (not that you could agree on the days when you were hardest on your appearance, and that which you could partly agree on the days when you did like your appearance).  But you just wanted to show others that maybe, you were a physical match to Ace too. 

“I’m intrigued now,” he said, standing back.  “Show me?”

You let out a breath and slowly released the cape, letting it fall at your side.

Ace whistled low.  “That’s some enemy lair.”

It was a very revealing costume.  Thankfully not as revealing as Robin’s or Nami’s.  But it still exposed a vast amount of your skin.  Your legs, your stomach, most of your chest.  You had on a very short black skirt, and a very small crop.  Essentially, the ultimate costume design had you, Nami, and Robin all looking like Satan’s daughters.  All good for a raid on Onigashima!  Or so Nami had explained.

“It was Nami’s idea, but I thought, you know, I’m always really kind of dorky next to you so I thought…”

He raised a brow, then he chuckled, bracing his hands on your waist.  “Who cares what others think?  I happen to think you’re an excellent physical match for me.”

You blushed at that, a small shiver passed through in anticipation.  He seemed to notice, backing you against the wall, bracing an arm above your head. 

Just as he was about to kiss you, however, it took everything in you to cover his mouth with your hands. 

“Uh-uh, I don’t want to waste another hour fixing my makeup.”

“We could skip?”

You feigned a gasp, these days feeling more bold around him, now that you knew he seemed to find your oddness more adorable and interesting than just plain weird.  “And not show our friends how well we match physically?”

He chuckled, more at how red your skin had gotten, at how much it had taken for you to stay still.  He pressed a kiss to your cheek instead, with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes that said, if you were willing, he would help you undress later.  Still new to this part of your relationship with him, you blushed furiously.

~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~

"Reader and Ace are ready for the Halloween party" flashback scene from my modern (sports - lacrosse) au fic, A Pair of Reds, over on AO3 (former Portgas D. Ace X reader pairing; Eustass Kid X reader endgame)

[foxstens]

what's worse than au's without exy? au's where exy exists but they play another sport

[dittobtch]

the wilds orchestra au (3/?)

thanks to @amanitabuntline and @mirchoff for showing interest in this :)

as requested, here's what i think the boys would play:

ivan - double bass (has perfect pitch and will brag about it. him and fatin spend most of rehearsal gossiping)

kirin - trombone (will make dumb "bone" jokes at every opportunity he gets. he's pretty good when he actually tries though)

bo - baritone (plays beautifully and gets every solo available to his section. he never brings his instrument home so any extra practice he does is at school)

scotty - alto saxophone (plays careless whisper just to be annoying. he's also more than a little upset that he's not first chair)

raf - oboe (is weirdly good at sight reading. he never seems to be able to play loud enough though)

josh - flute/ piccolo (fails miserably at playing exams, but he's very good at dynamics and volume control)

henry - percussion (really good at polyrhythms. him and dot like to trade drumming techniques and give each other song recs when they're bored, which is most of the time)

seth - viola (sucks up to their conductor (gretchen) and laughs at all her lame jokes)

(saxophones also aren't really classical orchestra instruments but my school had them so i'm keeping them in)

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

[penny00dreadful]

Jock!Eddie Jock!Eddie Jock!Eddie

I was chomping this since I first say "jock Eddie" and "crop top" for the @steddiebang2024 like OMG how could I not??? AND LOOK AT HIMMMM.

I am so insane about this fic 😍😍😍😍

It was so fantastic to work with @hornedqueenofhell on Wild Child (AO3) and I am endlessly thankful for the new obsessions you have input into my mind 🤣

[thebluestbluewords]

FIC!!! DAY!!

Auradon Prep is built on the bones of a castle. One that was intended to house a city in times of need.

The hallways of the outer courtyard are built to accommodate horses, and they’re more than big enough for two groups of students to pass through without running into each other.

One of the lacrosse boys pulls his bag back up his shoulder. His heavy, overstuffed gear bag. Which he just used to hit Evie.

“Get out of the way, evils,” he sneers. “Can’t you tell when your betters are coming through?”

“I can tell that you’re not one of them,” Evie snaps. “You would do well to keep your mouth shut next time, and keep your filthy equipment to yourself.”

The boy stops walking. “Make me.”

From there, it's basically fight-on-sight.

[a-very-fond-farewell]

going all out tonight (*opens the croutons bag with their teeth*)

[fourgods-nobrakes]

for the fic meme - Uriel Ventris/Honsou, rival team captains AU (pick your sport)

"Now I want a good clean game from both of you boys, you hear me?" the ref says, frowning at Honsou and then at Uriel as they stand facing off, gloved hands gripping their sticks, attention more on the ball than the ref.

"Yes, sir," Uriel says after a few seconds delay, and Honsou nods once without looking up.

The ref blows the whistle and Uriel blocks as Honsou immediately takes a swing at his knees.

[sanaserena]

Christmas day came with another party, this time it was Zoro’s place at noon, as nominated when Luffy’s Grandfather scowled his grandson into non-submission.  You’d marvelled at that exchange, at Mr Garp yelling at Luffy for constantly messing up the apartment, while Luffy asking what the hell did his grandfather want?  It was odd, for it sounded like an argument, but there was clearly no intention to get into any fights unless it involved several fists of love from both sides. 

You sang carols, and discovered that Ace had a terrible singing voice, much to Sanji’s horror.

You split crackers, and found some nasty joke ones courtesy of Usopp, and much to Robin’s macabre delight.

“It’s not halloweeeen!” cried Chopper, eventually comforted by Robin, who gave him an extra slice of cake.

Somehow Sanji and Zoro got into a fight on who could cut the turkey better – Sanji won out because he cooked it. 

And Franky nearly blew up Zoro’s house, much to his horror.  It was a good thing the party was out in Zoro’s garden instead, in the warmth of a Grand Line City summer.

You gave Ace a new beanie, with a shy smile apologising that it wasn’t grander—you were saving that for his birthday.  It was the same as his old orange one, but this one had two smiley faces on the front, two black circles, one with a smile face, the other with a frowning one.  It really wasn’t much.

He put it on immediately.

For you, he had planned an anniversary getaway, the first of which for you both as a couple.

After a few hours, Ace lead you away.  Between the both of you, in many ways orphans, you had such large adoptive families.  And what had once been lonely Christmases for the both of you, in different ways, were now a fight between one place and the other.

It was a good thing that Zoro’s house wasn’t far from where Ace lived.  And together you walked hand in hand back to his place, to join, however briefly, the Whitebeards party. 

There were no people on the streets, except for a few.  The sun was warm, but Ace was warmer beside you.  You knew this because even though you were holding hands, his arm was pressed to yours. 

“It’d be rather nice to drive down this road with the roof opened on a day like today,” you mused.

“I wouldn’t know, don’t own a car.”  Ace shrugged.

“I noticed.  Why is that?”

He looked momentarily aghast.  “And restrict me to the confines of such a vehicle?”  He nudged your shoulder.  “You’re learning to drive.  Why don’t you get one, and then we can cruise to our delight.”

“Maybe.  Or maybe I’ll just rely on you until the end of days.  You and that monstrous bike of yours.”

He chuckled, pulling you to a stop, just to look at you it seemed.  “End of days huh?” he said, tugging on your loose hair, haphazardly curled for today’s celebrations. 

~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~

"Reader and Ace spending their first Christmas together as a couple" flashback scene from my modern (sports - lacrosse) au fic, A Pair of Reds, over on AO3 (former Portgas D. Ace X reader pairing; Eustass Kid X reader endgame)

[whiskeyadams]

When you’re trying to write a fanfic and you can’t get through the first chapter because you keep thinking about later chapters…