#then suddenly he gets hit really hard on the head with a baseball bat lol

[neardestruction]

I simply adore this Choi Hyun Wook interview, it shows he had lots of thoughts on soo ho's invisible emotions and his relationship with beom seok.

Soo Ho actually cares about Beom Seok until the end and I'm wallowing in pain.

Q. While acting Soo Ho, what was the most difficult part ?

"Choi Hyun Wook : His approach/process of how he handles beom seok. I thought there was a very thin line where it could be interpreted like soo ho discriminate beom seok. From beom seok point of view, there's possiblity of misunderstanding because he might not have seen soo ho's sincerity, but I wished to show the side of soo ho who tried to understand his friend to not lose him. I could clearly understand soo ho's emotions as he tried to hold into beom seok to not lose him."

Q. The scene where we could see those emotions the most was when he apologized to beom seok.

"Choi Hyun Wook: i cried because of this scene. Even when reading the script i cried a lot. Despite the fact that beom seok hurt si eun, it was an apology that showed he couldn't let go of any string until the end, seeing beom seok stray hurt my heart a lot. Soo ho calls beom seok's name often. Even when beom seok cut the line [in the cafeteria he says "get in line, beom seok"], in the beginning there was no line of him calling beom seok's name. But while staring into (Hong) Kyung hyung's eyes, I saw him as beom seok, and that's how I came to say him name. Whether it love/hate or affection, I couldn't help feeling this foreign emotion from soo ho. That's how i came to call beom seok name a lot."

Q. How was it working with actors Park Ji Hoon and Hong Kyung.

"Choi Hyun Wook: I really liked it. While working with them, they dragged a lot of emotions out of me, and it became really intense. We were sincere to each other while filming and worked hard. The process of seeing them succeeding at acting what they thoroughly prepared seemed firm. And after the drama was released, I was in admiration as i could see the scenes where i was absent on the set, coming out of the screen. (Hong) Kyung hyung doesn't show a lot of changes in his expression, but he managed to make us feel all his past through the way he expressed them. He's a delicate actor. It was the first time I had the experience of acting unconsciously while working with Kyung-i hyung. I fell into that person so much. Kyung-i hyung have that charm."

[sankyeom]

batter up! | e.s

pairings: eric sohn x female reader genre: baseball player!eric, college au, strangers to lovers,  summary: in which you are assigned to interview the unapproachable baseball team ace eric sohn, and things end up going sideways word count: 6.1k (did i get carried way with the concept? yes i did) requested: nope i literally have other requests from months ago that i should get to but i’ve been having writers block and i couldn’t write any of them without it sounding awful sooooo here we are!!! enjoy lol note: all of the boyz are the same age for the sake of the story. also, the start of the plot is based on rowoon’s episode of sf9’s drama click your heart. 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

“So, you want to join newspaper,” the newspaper editor, Choi Chanhee, said as he crossed his arms and surveyed you. It was the start of the second semester, and you soon realised that you had very few clubs and activities under your belt. “What makes you think I’ll let you join in the middle of the year?” Chanhee inquired, raising an eyebrow in question. His full cheeks and baby pink hair usually made him seem approachable and soft, but his hard expression cancelled out any comfort his other features might have brought you.

You blinked at him. “We’ve been best friends since freshman year?” you deadpanned, irritated that Chanhee was making such a big deal out of it. From the corner of the room, you noticed Changmin suppress a giggle by clearing his throat and pretending to cough into the bend of his elbow. “Come on, Chanhee. You’re a reporter short since Bomin quit, right?” you recalled what he had been moaning about for nearly three months. “I can fill in for him! I’ll be great.”

Despite being your best friend and normally having quite a warm personality, Chanhee was skeptical. “Alright,” he decided, drawing the word out and unfolding his arms. Chanhee sauntered over to where Changmin was standing and – after giving him a sharp elbow to the ribs – grabbed his clipboard, pretending to look for something to assign you. You could tell by the ways his eyes didn’t even skim the words that he already had something in mind for you. “If you’re so desperate to join the paper, then you can do the interview on Eric Sohn,” he stated, giving you a challenging look.

So much for him “going easy on you”, as he had said moments before the two of you entered the media room together.

Dramatically, a few gasps sounded through the media room and you sighed. “Who’s Eric Sohn?” you almost regretted asking, since everyone seemed mortified that you didn’t know him.

“He’s the baseball team’s ace,” Juyeon explained while trying to balance his water bottle on his head. It was half full and he had been at it for the entire time you tried to convince Chanhee to let you join newspaper. “Unapproachable as hell, though. We’ve tried to interview him before and believe me, it was terrible,” he added with a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. “He’s a friend of ours but he doesn’t really say much.”

“Everyone wants to know more about him,” Chanhee elaborated, causing your eyes to flicker back to your best friend. “And if I want to be the best editor in history of the paper, I’m getting that story,” he smiled sweetly, as if he hadn’t given you – what seemed like – an impossible job. “Like you said, you’ll be great!” Chanhee pumped a fist in the air half-heartedly to encourage you.

Sunwoo snorted, lying across three chairs he had lined up for him to curl up on. “Or not,” he sang, tossing a hacky sack between his hands with ease. “Eric’s my best friend and the last time I tried to interview him, he yelled at me for interrupting his practice and had the coach kick me out,” Sunwoo seemed amused by the turn of events, but it didn’t motivate you to carry out your interview. “I’m banned from the baseball field now.”

It wasn’t long before other members of the paper brought up their own horror stories, describing attempts at interviewing the baseball team’s ace. The negativity in the room surprised you; it was supposedly only an interview assignment. Was Eric Sohn really that difficult to be around? And if so, why was your best friend making your first assignment so hard on you? 

“So far, this assignment has been proven impossible to complete,” Chanhee explained. “Do we all agree that if Y/n can do this, she gets to join newspaper? No questions asked?” he glanced around at his team of writers, photographers and editors. Immediately, the members all nodded. Chanhee smiled at you. 

Well, that answered your questions. 

Feeling burdened, you asked Chanhee, “How long do I have for this?”

Chanhee flicked through the stack of papers attached to his clipboard until he found the paper’s schedule. “I can give you about a month, but no more than that,” he insists. “I may be your best friend, but I do have a weekly paper to put out,” he adds, making you nod.

“A month is more than enough,” you promised. “On what days does the baseball team meet?”

The indoor baseball stadium your university had was cold in the mornings. Chanhee had managed to get Eric’s practice schedule from Sunwoo, and the next morning at 5:30am sharp, you arrived at the stadium to try and interview Eric. As you opened the main door, you could hear a loud and clear voice  telling everyone to do their warmups so they could start practicing. Since you didn’t know much about baseball, you decided to make your way towards the bleachers and watch the team practice for a while.

Chanhee had shown you a picture of Eric so you would know who you were looking for, and you were slightly miffed that it hadn’t done him any justice. He stood out much more in person; his features sharper and body leaner and stronger from the years of practice. You were almost intimidated by his overall aura and piercing gaze.

Checking your notes, you recalled basic information that Chanhee had given you so that you weren’t completely clueless going into your interview. Eric Sohn was the ace player because he was their best batter and fastest runner. This combination along with his precision allowed him to almost always hit home runs and also be an excellent fielder. A summary of his past scores had also been provided, but that might as well have been a completely different language because you couldn’t understand it.

With a sigh, you tightened your jacket around you in order to warm up more in the cool stadium. Watching Eric practice, you noticed that he wasn’t batting very well on that day. There was a crease between his brows and he kept hitting the ground with his bat in frustration, occasionally throwing it down staring at the floor in contemplation.

You really felt for him.

It was clear that the team relied on him a lot and his reputation of being unapproachable and cold surely couldn’t have been entirely fair, either. His coach was chastising him, pointing his finger and raising his voice as Eric stood still and nodded, face void of any expression. You assumed his coach had told him to take a break, because he started removing his batting gloves and making his way to the bench.

You knew it probably wasn’t the best time to approach him for a favour, but you had been sitting for nearly an hour and your legs and thighs were starting to feel numb. The walk down the steps was welcome, even when your heart raced with nerves as you approached Eric. When you were a few steps away from him, the boy glanced up and raised an eyebrow at you. “This is a closed practice,” he told you.

Of course he had to have the most incredible voice to go along with his looks. Great.

“Um,” You stammered dumbly for a moment, tucking your hair behind your ear to give your hands something to do. “I know. I just- I was hoping you had a moment?” you asked, voice far less confident than you had wished. “I’m on the university’s newspaper and I was assigned an interview on you.”

“On me,” Eric repeated, tilting his head to the side. “Chanhee really doesn’t give up, does he,” something resembling a chuckle left his lips. “I’m at practice right now,” his tone was firm, as if he was trying to tell you to leave without expressing those exact words.

You felt yourself nodding. “I get it… if you’re having a hard time with your practice,” you added, thinking back to how his coach yelled at him. “I understand that and I can leave you alone.”

Eric observed you; you weren’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but he suddenly motioned towards you. “What’s the first question?” he asked. You were pleased that he had decided to do the interview and, in fear of him changing his mind again, immediately opened your notebook to search for the questions Chanhee had wanted answered.

“Right,” you said, finding the right page. “Um, what made you-“

“Heads up!” a shout distracted you from your thoughts. Your head whipped to the side to see who was shouting, only to see a baseball being hurtled at you at a blistering speed.

“Watch out!” Eric exclaimed, jumping in front of you to grab the baseball before it could smack you directly in the face. You flinched at the sound of his hand coming in contact with the baseball, stunned that he had expertly caught the tiny sphere at the speed it was going at.

Just as you were about to thank Eric for saving you, the boy fell to the ground, moaning in pain at the impact. The ball fell from his grasp and he held onto the hand that caught it with his other; tears building in his eyes. You kneeled down next to him, panicked. “Are you okay?” you questioned, concerned at his reaction.

“Sohn!” his coach yelled, running over to where you and Eric were crouched. “What the hell were you thinking, catching a fastball with your bare hands?” the man chastised, kneeling with the boy and calling the team medic over to inspect Eric’s hand.

“Is that bad?” you asked innocently, confused as to why Eric was in so much pain.

The coach gave you a glare. “Get out of my stadium,” he ordered instead of answering you.

You glanced between him and Eric, feeling embarrassed at the situation. “I’m really sorry,” you told Eric sincerely, picking up your abandoned bag and running out of the stadium.

Chanhee was going to kill you.

“I thought you wanted to be on the paper,” Chanhee said with a frown. “Not that you wanted the paper to write an article about you injuring the baseball team’s star player,” he emphasised, making you flinch.

“That isn’t fair!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t do anything wrong! If anything, we should be asking ourselves why a teammate of Eric’s blatantly hurled a baseball in his direction,” you tried to defend yourself. “And I was in the midst of getting that interview, thank you very much.”

“And now I’ll never get it,” Chanhee sighed. Younghoon rolled his eyes at your friend’s theatrics.

“Shouldn’t we be more concerned that our friend is injured than the fact that you didn’t get your story?” he reminded your pink-haired friend. Chanhee waved his hand at him, as if physically swatting Younghoon’s words away, before going back to picking at his lunch.

“Yeah Chanhee,” a voice behind you agreed, and you knew in your gut that it was Eric. Nervously, you turned around to face the blond and saw him already looking at you. Your eyes met and you were startled by how much warmer his deep brown eyes appeared. “You’re being a terrible friend.”

“Well you’re a terrible friend, too,” Chanhee argued. “How many reporters have I sent to interview you, only to have them be humiliated and turned down?” he asked.

“I’m injured,” Eric said as he took the empty seat between you and Kevin. “Can’t you lay off on the newspaper stuff for a while?” Chanhee rolled his eyes but said nothing; you knew this meant that he agreed with Eric but was too proud to voice it.

Eric’s mention of an injury made you glance down at his right hand, seeing it tightly wrapped in a bandage. “Are you okay?” you asked him, observing his hand.

“It’s a sprain,” Eric explained, lifting his hand up for your friends to see. “Nothing major, but I have to sit out of practice for at least a month, according to the doctor,” he added. “It’s a good thing the season doesn’t start until two months from now.”

Your heart sank at his admission. “I’m really sorry,” you told him. “Truly. I never meant for that to happen,” you promised. “Is there anything I can do?” you offered, wanting to help him out since you had caused enough problems for him.

“Sure,” Eric allowed. “First off, you can tell me your name.”

You smiled at this. “I’m Y/n,” you introduced yourself. “What else?”

You were surprised when the corners of Eric’s mouth lifted up into a small grin. “You could walk me to class?”

He had a stunning smile. Something about it made you want to make him smile more.

Helping Eric with his books and bag had become a regular thing. At first, you did it because you felt guilty about partially being at fault for his injury (and because you were curious about him). Soon, you found that Eric was actually quite a bright and excitable person who was a lot of fun to be around.

As Eric was always so busy juggling school and baseball, he never sat with you and your mutual friends during mealtimes. Now that he no longer had to attend baseball practise at the recommendation of his doctor, Eric was able to sit with your friends every lunch and dinner. Even your friends were surprised when Eric started openly joining discussions and laughing at Sangyeon and Juyeon’s terrible jokes. Sunwoo especially was quite startled by this change; as his roommate and best friend, it was a change that he welcomed despite the initial shock.

After a particularly tiring day of midterms, you felt compelled to do something fun instead of spending the whole night cramming for a midterm you were already confident in doing well on. At approximately 3am, you found yourself rounding up ingredients for chocolate chip cookies from your baking stash and tip-toeing your way into the communal kitchen to bake.

Your roommate had been asleep for a few hours at that point, and you knew that most of your friends would be resting after their rigorous study schedules. Thus, as you rolled up your sleeves and pre-heated the oven, you hadn’t expected anybody to be awake to join your late night – or early morning? – cookie escapades.

Which was why you nearly lost your soul when a hand tapped you on the shoulder. You had your earphones in and were humming along to your favourite playlist as you started mixing the dry ingredients for your cookies, and leapt in the air at the contact. Whirling around, you sighed in relief when you saw Eric, stood with pink pyjamas and ruffled hair, instead of your RA. “You scared me,” you told him, even though you knew he could tell from your reaction. “What are you doing awake?”

Eric shrugged. “I heard someone walking down the hall,” he explained. “I guess a small part of me was hoping it was you,” he grinned widely after his cheesy comment, urging you to roll your eyes.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up and palms started sweating at his sweet words.

“What are you making?” Eric asked, hopping up to sit on the counter and slipping his glasses on so he could see better. “Cookies?”

You hummed. “Chocolate chip,” you added with a big grin, holding up the bag of sugary delights to emphasise your point.

“My favourite,” Eric noted happily. “Can I help?”

You nodded, listing off the wet ingredients that he could prepare for you in a seperate bowl. You knew he could pour it all with one hand and you would do the mixing yourself afterwards. After handing Eric one of your earphones, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you made your cookie batter, the silence only breaking once in a while by your giggles as you bumped into one another. The first time was a mistake on your part, but after that the two of you were trying your hardest to make the other person giggle and squirm.

Once the cookies were shaped and in the oven, you and Eric sat on the floor near them to relish in the heat the oven was radiating. “What were those questions you wanted to ask me?” Eric inquired, referring to the interview questions Chanhee had prepared for you.

Your eyes widened in surprise. The two of you hadn’t discussed the interview since he was injured, and you had nearly forgotten about your assignment. “Oh. They were mostly just about your baseball life and how you keep your grades up and stuff,” you admitted. “It’s not the interview I would have wanted to give, but it’s what Chanhee wanted.”

“What would you have asked me, then?” Eric asked. “What is your ideal Eric Sohn interview,” he added in an MC voice, making you fight off a grin at how silly he was being.

“Well,” you trailed off, trying to find the right wording. “That day I was at practice it looked like you were having a pretty hard time. What was going through your mind?”

Eric went silent. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I was just thinking that it’s hard to be perfect all the time. My team relies on me a lot, and while it’s an honour to be such an important member of the team, it can be really hard when people expect you to be the ace and you don’t perform.”

There was a distant look on his face, as if his thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. “What made you want to join the university baseball team?” you asked, moving slightly so that you were facing Eric more comfortably.

A smile reached his lips. “I just really love baseball,” he chuckled. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. Obviously I knew that university baseball was going to be on a different level, but I just knew that I wasn’t done playing yet. The challenge was exciting and it motivated me to be a better player.”

“I guess it worked,” you mused.

“I guess so,” he reluctantly agreed.

“So when did you start playing?” you asked, peering into the oven to check on your cookies. They had at least another five minutes left until they would be the golden-brown colour you wanted.

“I’ve played with my dad for fun ever since I can remember,” Eric admitted. “Of course when you grow up in LA, you watch baseball on TV with your family,” he added, reminiscing in his childhood.

“Dodgers?” you guessed his favourite team, since he said he was from LA.

“Yankees,” he corrected with a shrug. “My family used to go down to Yankee stadium to watch them play during baseball season when we visited New York. Our seats were always all the way in the back in the highest row, but I didn’t care. As long as I got to watch it all,” you laughed at his excitement. “I guess you could say my baseball career started in little league,” Eric recalled, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Sometimes I wish I could go back,” the smile slowly fell from his face. “Everything was so much easier then.”

“I get that,” you agreed with him. “I never played in little league, but I remember going to my friends’ games,” you said, almost picturing the old baseball field with all your friends running around and playing. “I didn’t even know what was going on in the game. All I knew was that I could cheer on my friends. I’d yell for them as loudly as possible and get popcorn to keep myself entertained during the parts where my friends were benched,” you smiled at the memory. “It was just... fun. I didn’t have to think about any grown-up problems.”

“That’s exactly how I felt,” Eric agreed, excitement filling his voice. “I finally got to make friends that loved baseball as much as me, and playing was fun. It was exciting and nerve-wracking, and it made me happy to practice and play another game,” he sighed. “These days, I play because the university relies on me, and because my parents want me to,” Eric confessed. “I miss loving baseball, I-“ he paused, clearing his throat. “I want to love baseball. But with all the pressure and expectations…” he trailed off, alluding to the fact that he no longer loved the sport that used to fill his childhood with happiness.

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry,” you told him, more as a form of empathy than anything else. “What made you fall in love with baseball in the first place?”

Eric pondered. “Well, at first I just enjoyed playing the sport. But the longer I played, I guess I liked being part of a team. I liked feeling supported by the other guys and feeling like I was needed and trusted by them.”

“What’s missing from your team now that makes you feel like you don’t have that?” you wondered.

“I guess my team relies on me more than I feel like I can give them,” Eric confesses, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, and you hesitantly reached your hand out for him to hold. He grasped it tightly in his, thankful for the small sign of support.

“Maybe you can find support elsewhere,” you suggested, slightly holding up your hands and smiling.

“Yeah, maybe,” Eric agreed with a smile, tears slightly welling in the corners of his eyes. You didn’t have anything else to say and were grateful for the alarm quietly going off on your phone, signalling that your cookies were ready. “Perfect timing,” he added with a laugh as the two of you stood up. You pretended not to see Eric wipe away a tear with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

They hadn’t looked like sad tears.

Chanhee flipped through the pages you had printed out for him to read. He already spent ten minutes reading and re-reading the article you had written. At this point, it was just getting ridiculous. “Chanhee,” you whined, making the pink-haired boy place the papers down.

“This is…” he paused, trying to find the words. “How did you get him to open up like that?” Chanhee wondered, unable to grasp the idea that Eric had given you so many childhood anecdotes and personal stories to fill the pages of your interview.

You smiled. “I just talked to him like a friend instead of someone to interview,” you shrugged. “He’s actually surprisingly easy to talk to. And really talkative once he gets started,” you added as an afterthought.

“I noticed that about him recently,” Sunwoo agreed. This time, instead of lying across three chairs, he was sat upside down on the only sofa in the media room, head dangling dangerously close to the ground. “These days he seems happy to tell me about his day and doesn’t leave a single detail out. It’s kind of crazy to see the change,” Sunwoo told you.

Chanhee help up the pages. “Did he really approve everything in this?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I wrote it with his permission and let him read it all before I brought it to you. He’s happy with it,” you promised your best friend. “Wouldn’t want to upset my best friend and potential editor…” you trailed off, hopeful.

“Well obviously you’re in!” Chanhee exclaimed, hugging you tightly as you laughed. “You just got me the most personal article of a university athlete I’ve ever published. You deserve it,” he assured you. “Plus, you put a permanent smile on one of my friend’s faces. I didn’t think that would be possible,” Chanhee gave you a meaningful look when you separated, causing you to smile bashfully and angle your gaze at the floor to avoid his gaze.

“He’s way more open than you guys gave him credit for,” you retorted. You truly believed it; the first time you tried to interview him, he had surprised you with how willing he was to help you out.

“And emotional,” Changmin chimed in. “He cried during The Notebook, then he cried again when we put a horror film on afterwards. You can’t win.”

His comment made you laugh, picturing Eric curled up on the couch in the communal dorm movie room while sobbing into Changmin’s shoulder was too good to pass up on. “Make sure you invite me to the next movie night,” you requested. Changmin saluted you in response, Sunwoo throwing a thumbs up in agreement to allow you to join. “Anyway, I need to get going. I’m actually heading to surprise said cry-baby at his first day back at practice,” you informed them, picking up your bag to get going.

“His hand healed so quickly?” Juyeon asked, surprised.

“Not at all,” you denied with a sad smile. “He says it’s still hurting these days. But his coach wants him to come observe practice so when his hand heals he’ll be up to date on everything... Or something,” you shrugged, unsure of how people prepared for baseball games.

As you waved your goodbyes, Chanhee called out to you: “Don’t forget we meet every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for newspaper!” You were pleased that Chanhee had enjoyed your article and wanted you on the newspaper, especially since so many of your friends were usually occupied by this extracurricular activity anyway.

Once you arrived at the baseball stadium, you took a seat on the first bleacher to wait for Eric to arrive. The weather had warmed significantly since the first time you came a month ago. You supposed the fact that it was an afternoon practice instead of an early morning practice also added to the lack of cold you were experiencing.

“Hey,” a member of Eric’s team approached you with a smile.

Unsure, you smiled back and greeted him. “Hello,” you said.

“You look a little out of place,” he said to you, standing in front of you. “I’ve never seen you here before,” he added.

“Oh yeah, I don’t usually come here,” you confirmed for him. “I’m just waiting for a friend,” you added politely.

“You’re far too pretty to be waiting alone,” he said, which made you freeze up. You hadn’t been approached by guys like him often, but it had happened enough for you to know that they really couldn’t take a hint.

“And yet here I am,” you replied, trying to sound curt.

“I could keep you company,” the guy suggested. You opened your mouth to protest, but he had already taken a seat next to you, far too close for your personal comfort. As you subtly scooted away from him, he seemed to take this as a suggestion for him to sit even closer to you. “I like your hair,” he said, lifting his hand as if he was about to touch it.

A hand grabbed his before he could. “It doesn’t sound like you asked,” Eric told his teammate, right hand tightening on the boy’s, voice clipped and laced with anger. “So I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Eric yanked him up to his feet, and you finally felt like you could breathe again with the distance between the two of you. With a harsh shove, he stumbled back and glared at Eric, cursing under his breath and stalking off.

“Eric your hand,” you realised, standing up and trying to inspect his injured hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, searching your body for any sign that you were uncomfortable or hurt. “That creep didn’t say or do anything?”

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m fine! But your hand-“ you soon realised that Eric wasn’t even wearing the brace anymore. After the original bandage that was put on it, his doctor had given him a small wrap brace so he could do everyday activities with more ease and support. Instead, his hand was bare and looked completely fine. “Is healed?” you stammered, confused. You glanced up at Eric, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “Just yesterday you told me that it was hurting.”

“I lied,” Eric confessed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you forgave him easily. It wasn’t a big deal and you were just happy that he wasn’t in pain anymore, especially since you felt partially responsible for the injury in the first place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you wondered.

Eric scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “I like having you around, okay?” he admitted. “I figured that after you got whatever you needed for your interview, you would leave me alone and go back to how things were before I was injured.”

His disclosure had stunned you into silence. You opened your mouth to say something twice, but ended up closing it again for lack of knowing what to say. “You thought I was just talking to you for my interview?” you clarified. Eric nodded. “I completely forgot about it until you brought it up a few weeks ago,” you admitted to him. “I was spending time with you because I wanted to, not because I wanted to get interview answers out of you,” you promised.

“Not even because you felt guilty about being involved in my injury?” Eric inquired.

“At first I wanted to help you because I felt guilty,” you agreed. “But after the first time we hung out together I stopped caring about that.”

“Oh,” Eric said, staring at you as if he had no clue what to say. “I really thought you were going to leave…”

You were amused that Eric was so sure of himself. “Did you ever consider asking me to stay?” you pointed out, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow to tease him.

Eric paused. “Will you?” he wondered.

“Will you?” you retorted.

Eric frowned. “I’m lost,” he stated. “Will I what?”

You grinned, finding his furrowed brows and slightly cocked head quite adorable. “Kiss me,” you told him what you meant. His eye’s widened, lips parting slightly before Eric nodded. Once, twice, three times. You took this as your cue and stepped closer to him, your lips easily finding his as you closed your eyes.

“Sohn!” the sound of his coach’s voice caused you to jump apart. “This is baseball practice. You can practice that in your own time,” he said, although you could tell by his tone that he was poking fun at his ace player.

Eric blushed, clearing his throat. “Yes coach,” he called, smiling shyly at you before rushing off to put on his batting gloves.

Decked out in your university’s colours, you stood in the bleachers with your friends, anxiously biting your lip as you watched the game unfold before you. Eric and his team had made it to the championships this season, and you were more than thrilled to go and support him with the rest of your friends. Eric had been teaching you about baseball for months now, and the more you went to watch him play, the more motivated you were to remember everything he told you.

Your article had been published in the newspaper a week after you handed it in to Chanhee, and the personal interview had made it the most popular issue Chanhee had ever published as the editor of the weekly paper. Needless to say, readers wanted you to write a follow-up interview on Eric and his life on the baseball team, especially after word got out that the two of you had started dating. For a while, you were the talk of the town. You were unnerved by the sudden attention, but things mellowed down soon after people realised that you weren’t interested in satiating their endless questions.

“How much longer is this going to be?” Haknyeon whined, sighing as he leaned against Kevin for support. He had mostly been attracted by the idea of all the great snacks that being at a baseball game entailed, and hadn’t realised that a game without timing such as baseball could go on for hours.

“This is the ninth inning, so most games usually end with this round,” you spouted the information Eric had drilled into you with ease after going to his games all season long.

Next to you, Jacob giggled. “You’re turning into a natural at this,” he complimented, grinning. “Eric would be proud,” he added happily.

“Eric is their last batter,” you said in response, more focused on the game than on Jacob’s comments. “He looks nervous,” you mused, foot tapping nervously on the floor, causing your whole leg to move rapidly.

“Don’t you be nervous, he’s got this,” Kevin assured you, trying to stop Haknyeon from falling asleep on his shoulder. “Despite his injury a few months before the season started, this is the best he’s ever played.”

Hyunjae chuckled. “Yeah, I wonder why,” he teased, pointing over at you behind his hand as if you wouldn’t have known what he was doing.

You shushed your friends. “He’s up,” you said, voice shaking slightly from your nerves.

Eric stepped up to the place, looking like he was at ease and confident. This calmed you only slightly, because you knew that Eric was good at putting on a performance during his games. He knew that if he looked even slightly anxious, it would affect the other players and the audience too. Eric adjusted his grip on the bat and got in position. The pitcher threw the ball and Eric swung, missing the ball by a hair.

You groaned. “Strike one!” the umpire called, holding up a finger.

“Come on, Eric…” you mumbled, folding your hands together and squeezing tightly.

The second time the pitcher threw the ball, Eric swung the bat and hit the ball clean, sending it soaring over the outfield fence, only hitting the ground after flying between the foul poles. You gasped, jumping in the air and cheering. “What’s happening?” Chanhee asked, standing up next where you and Jacob were shouting for joy.

“Home run!” you and Jacob chorused as Eric ran his way to each base at lightning speed, reaching home base and making the winning run for your university’s team. “We won!” Jacob added and your friends all cheered with you, jumping up and down in excitement.

You could see the team celebrating together by screaming and jumping as well, and you clapped along with the rest of the audience. Eric joined their excitement after pulling off his helmet and gloves, making you smile in relief. After opening up to you and your friends, Eric had decided to speak with his team and coach about the pressure he was feeling. The team had reacted better than Eric expected, and soon Eric felt reassured and supported by his teammates.

Once Eric had given his coach a hug, he charged towards the fence separating the field from the bleachers. Instantly, your friends started cooing at you, but you only rolled your eyes. You had gotten used to the teasing after dating Eric for half a year at that point and it no longer affected you anymore. You handed Jacob your bag and raced down the bleacher steps towards your boyfriend.

“Congratulations!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him when he met you on your side of the fence. You easily fit into his arms and heard Eric’s adrenaline-filled laughter next to your ear.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he stated, pulling away just enough to kiss you. The cheers coming from your friends were almost defeating at this point but you ignored them, pulling Eric closer to you and deepening the kiss. When you pulled away, he gave you one last peck before beaming. “You helped me fall in love with baseball again, and that’s something I can never repay you for,” Eric told you, causing your heart to swell with pride.

You had noticed the changes in Eric’s attitude towards baseball before the season started. He seemed more excited about his practices and was getting closer to the people on his team. “It’s not little league, but it’s pretty good, right?” you asked rhetorically.

Eric laughed. “Really good,” he corrected. “Not only did I fall in love with baseball again, but it helped me fall in love with you for the first time,” Eric confessed. The two of you had never said that you loved each other, even though you showed it every day with your actions.

You beamed. “I love you too, Eric.”

And with that, you were pulled into another kiss. This one felt more fulfilling and warm than all the previous ones combined.

note: i’m a sucker for cheesy endings so i had to end it like this!!

[jangpoo]

I’ve been meaning to post on here in forever but like I just have had so much going on. But I’m starting to get into Daiya and anime again, so I want to talk about it.

It’s glaring to me that some people haven’t actually watched or played baseball before. And if they have, maybe there isn’t a great understanding of the nuances. And this isn’t me gate keeping or saying I’m better than anyone, but simply an observation based on what people say. But anyway I just want to talk about it.

Terajima does an EXTREMELY excellent job of portraying the sport. The issue I find with baseball is that it’s really fucking boring at times. There are so many times you watch a game and think, nothing is happening (and this can be true of any sport but I especially see it with baseball). However, I believe that many times, if you actually understand the sport or have experienced it before, you find a lot of the nuances come off the panel even better in this story.

I have seen so many people, especially on Reddit and Twitter talk about how this current game is going to be another “come from behind win” and ��a cookie cutter version of what terajima always does.” My issue with this is how people are not talking about why this arc is by far the best representation of what baseball looks like and feels like at times and why people consider pitching duels to be the most exciting display of the sport. Sawamura has had this game coming for the past 10 years. All of this build up was for this moment.

From a writing standpoint and story standpoint, I understand it’s fucking FRUSTRATING to see how many times Sawamura has come into a game and done poorly or been given a handicap. Even his first game as an ace was so incredibly frustrating to read. You want him to win. You want him to succeed. Especially after seeing everything he has gone through. I’m tired of watching him come into a game, doing spectacularly but wondering, what would he have been like if he didn’t have the yips. Or what if he could actually hit? Or what if he was given the same opportunities as other players? There has been so much disappointment. So people wanted him to become the ace and suddenly have this outstanding game where he is dominant and amazing and just having an out of body experience. But the truth is, you don’t just get that. You don’t just start a game as an ace and have it go your way. And I hate that shit so much. But it’s the nuances. It’s the small things that makes Daiya so special and realistic.

The reason this whole arc has been so incredible is because we see an accumulation of EVERYONE buying into ace-Jun. First, before this game even begins, we see Miyuki FURIOUS that he couldn’t get Sawamura relaxed enough for the game. He’s angry that Sawamura feels strained enough to put the team on his back and overpitch. And he couldn’t get him out of it. He couldn’t help him the way he is supposed to as a catcher. We see Kuramochi understand that when Miyuki is gone, HE needs to step up. He needs to be the one that coach can rely on to help the team grow and thrive. He wants to be trusted to the team completely. And in this game, we FINALLY see the team get angry and frustrated at not backing Sawamura up. I mean, despite how they act, they never outwardly do that. They believe in him. They’re impressed with him time after time. But they never really back him up the same way we saw them do with Tanba and Furuya. It’s always like he provides some miracle, hypes up the team, but then is the butt of the jokes again. They quietly support him and work with him outside of games. But for the first time in this game, we get them buying in. We get them trusting him and working for him. Getting frustrated for him. And I believe Kanemaru’s “anticlimactic” at bat is the absolute most obvious display of that.

Some people call it anticlimactic but they just don’t get the point. I need us to think back to the very beginning of the story. Kanemaru absolutely could not stand Sawamura. He always said that all he did was talk and had nothing to show for it. But slowly and surely, Sawamura showed Kanemaru that he was dependable. He could be amazing. And little by little Kanemaru showed him more respect. Helped him with bullpen sessions. Helped him study. Cheered him on. He even, at one point, would become so distressed for Sawamura he’d make an error and feel terrible for it. Yet each time, Sawamura proved to him, it’s okay. I’m going to work my ass off. my hard work, your hard work, it won’t be for nothing. It will mean something. And so, in this moment, Sawamura is pulling this team by himself. That’s all he can do. The other pitcher is JUST as amazing. He’s just as talented and hard working. He can do what Sawamura does. And so the team fails time and time again. And like, let’s not pretend we’re the most frustrated in that situation. The team is livid. They can hit here and there but can’t connect. Can’t string together hits to score (which is how most pitchers duels go and is super realistic). And at the peak of this, when the captain cannot hit, Kanemaru comes up to bat with vengeance. He comes up to hit the shit out of the ball, no hesitation in his mind. He wants to kill it. But the part that borderline makes me want to sob, is that it’s not for himself. He wants to do it for Seido and he wants to do it for Sawamura. He wants him to know “I have your fucking back. I am going to hit the shit out of the ball. I’m going to score a run for our ace so it can put less pressure on him.” And that’s the mindset you want as a player. That’s what a good team does. And despite hitting a ground ball and getting out, it’s that effort. It’s the will of running as hard as you can down the line. Because yeah he got out, but who fucking noticed? Sawamura. He saw how hard he tried. He saw how hard he ran down the line. So yes, he didn’t score a run, but he did everything he could. And sometimes that’s good enough. Sometimes that’s what a pitcher really wants to see. So ofc Sawamura says “That hyped me up.” It was not failure. The feelings, the will and that connection came through. And Kanemaru understands immediately and says then let’s fucking go, let’s go out there stop them and hit again. It’s such a small moment and seemingly there to keep the score tied in the story, but the meaning there is absolutely what matters. Because yes, Sawamura is the only one in that moment that can turn the disappointment around, but what it also means is that Sawamura still believes. He tells wolf-boi, “I’m not worried. I believe in the hitters. We won’t go down without a fight” and he’s right. Because he can still believe the team hasn’t quit. Because someone like that, who wanted nothing to do with him at one point in time is working incredibly hard for him.

And it isn’t just there. We see it with Nori. He’s injured and we know how hard he’s worked to be starting games. We’ve seen his hardships and now he’s injured. But he believes. He trusts Sawamura. The team trusts Sawamura. They’re frustrated for him. They’re frustrated on his behalf. He’s bought in. And that is the beauty of a pitchers duel.

To be honest I’m flashy. I like high scoring games. But a show of true competition is always present in a pitchers duel. It’s 2 guys going head to head and the one that breaks first loses. It’s exciting and stressful. And I believe that many people are feeling that in this arc. And that’s why so many people are pissed, thinking this is just another show of the same shit. When Seido get past this, they’re going to Mei. It’s gonna be the same shit. We have progressed past a point where inconsistencies no longer are acceptable. You have to be on or you lose. The other team is just as good as you. And despite how well we want Sawamura to do, we also have to accept that he won’t always be unhittable. He will revert back to bad habits at times. But the Sawamura we’re getting this game? Absolute fucking monster level shit. (And our lord and savior Chris senpai is there to watch)

There are so many amazing moments that show how well Terajima understands baseball and truly loves it. From kids purposely throwing their futures away to finish out the season despite injuries, to having kids having long crises where they have to be demoted to lower strings to get out of the funk and the loneliness that goes with it, to kids fighting about the team and prioritizing winning over friendship. The frustration of the yips, losing games you were supposed to win, feeling like it’s your last chance to win before you graduate and never play again, having to move on with life. It’s all so well done and that’s why I’ll always love this manga. I love Haikyuus story other sports mangas and characterizations but Daiya will always hit different for me.

But anyway, that’s my dumbass ramblings that probably don’t translate well into written form. If you made it this far, why? Lol

[plaidbooks]

Hey love may I please have a sexy Rafael Barba x reader form the winter/hoilday list number 12 "so you're going to dress up as santa" go hard on the sexy ;)

Undercover Mishaps

A/N: This is...not at all what you asked for, and I’m sorry! This somehow just turned into really tender, kinda angsty with a happy ending smut? I’m not sure what happened here! If you want to send in another Rafi request, I understand lol

Tags: rape mention, smut, little bit of cockwarming, mostly just very tender p in v sex

Words: 2k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba

You stood outside your boyfriend’s office, taking a deep breath. You were going undercover tonight, and you wanted to tell Rafael in person, because you knew he wasn’t going to be happy about it. He never was. While he was supportive of, and understood your job with SVU, he hated when you were intentionally put in harm’s way. And tonight, you—as well as Amaro—would be bait. Exhaling, you knocked, waiting for him to call out to you before entering his office.

Rafael looked up at you, smiling. “Cariño,” he greeted, before he saw the look on your face, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Nothing’s wrong, Rafi. I’m just stopping by to let you know I’m going undercover tonight, so don’t expect me home for dinner.” There was no point beating around the bush; he’d see right through you anyways.

His eyes narrowed and he stood from his desk, coming over to you. “Undercover? Doing what? Which case?” You could hear the worry in his voice, though he tried to mask it.

You fidgeted nervously. “The, uh, BX9 case? I’ll be—”

“Wait, wait,” Rafael said, cutting you off. You could see the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to put two and two together. “You mean the same BX9 case where gang members are violently attacking volunteer Santa Claus’? The ones that are raping the victims with lead pipes? That case? So, what, you’re going to dress up as Santa? Be fucking bait?” His voice got louder with each word he said until he was almost yelling.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. But you weren’t going to back down; this was your job. “Yes, I’ll be a Santa…as will Amaro. Don’t worry, Rafi, we’ll have people watching us—”

“Don’t worry?? How the hell can you expect me to not worry?! You’re going to be bait for one of the most vicious gangs in Manhattan!” Rafael ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “They realize that Santa is a guy, right? And you’re a woman—”

“Rafael, I’m doing my job, whether you like it or not,” you snapped back. “Besides, the department doesn’t have a suit that would fit Carisi, and I’m not about to repeat what Fin said when asked. So, I volunteered.”

He glared at you, his eyes taking in your set jaw, your straight back and shoulders, head held high and eyes clear. “At least tell me who’s watching you.”

“I got Rollins and Carisi; Liv and Fin are with Amaro.”

Rafael groaned. “You get the fucking new kid?”

You put your hands on his shoulders, locking your eyes with his green ones, clouded with concern and worry. “Rafi, I’ll be fine. I promise, okay? Rollins and Carisi’s got me…. I gotta go. I’ll text you as soon as it’s done.” You gave him another reassuring smile, and he pulled you into a tight hug, giving you a desperate kiss, unwilling to let you go.

“Stay safe, please…come home to me,” he murmured against your lips.

“Of course,” you whispered back before pulling away, heading out the door.

 ************************

You walked the freezing, deserted streets of Manhattan, the fat-suit hanging uncomfortably around you and the fake beard itched your face. When you had come out of the locker room in the department, dressed as Santa, it was hysterical; Rollins and Carisi had been quick to take pictures of you and Amaro next to each other. You were virtually unrecognizable, looking like any other Rent-A-Santa, indistinguishable from Amaro except maybe your height. But after walking the streets for the past two hours, you were done with the whole op.

“Liv is saying to give it one more hour,” Rollins’ voice said in your ear through the earpiece.

You grunted, knowing they’d hear you in the mic. “Fine.” You heard the footsteps moments before you saw the group of three men running at you, weapons in hand. They were yelling something in Spanish, and you vaguely heard Carisi call to move in. You threw your arms in front of you, saying in a deep, fake-male voice, “now hang on, I don’t want any trouble—"

One of the men swung a metal bat at your stomach, and you couldn’t move fast enough to dodge it. Thankfully, the fat-suit absorbed the brunt of the hit; the wind was knocked out of your lungs, though, and you bent forward. You didn’t see which one swung at you the second time, nor what hit you; you just felt the impact in your side. You grunted as you went down, the cold, hard sidewalk instantly freezing you as you slumped against it.

“Freeze, NYPD!” Carisi’s voice shouted over the commotion. Him and the other officers bolted after the three men, who dropped their weapons, the metal clattering, and took off.

Rollins knelt by you, a hand on your shoulder as she looked you over. “[Y/N], are you okay?” she asked.

You groaned, holding your side. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just a bruise.” You struggled to your knees, trying to push yourself to standing. The bite from the cement was already seeping through the clothes and into your skin.

“Woah, woah, take it easy. That was a heavy hit,” Rollins said. You ignored her, your legs wobbling slightly as you got them underneath you.

“Get this stupid thing off me,” you ordered through gritted teeth, unable to reach the clasp behind you for the fat-suit.

Rollins quickly unclipped it, sliding it gently off you. She helped raise your shirt, lightly prodding the spot you were hit in. You sucked in a breath in pain, tears in your eyes.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“It’s already bruising; I’m taking you to the hospital,” she replied.

You nodded, resigning to your fate. Suddenly, Carisi’s voice came on over the earpiece. “We got all three on the gang members. [Y/N] okay?”

“Fine; I’m taking her to the hospital. Can you get a ride back to the precinct? Let Liv know?” Rollins explained, wrapping an arm around your uninjured side and guiding you back towards the squad car.

“No problem; go,” he said.

 **************************

Rafael was sitting in his home office, trying to focus on work. But his mind kept going back to you, wondering if you were alright. He often caught himself staring out the window, wondering where you were, debating if he should text Rollins—he knew you couldn’t answer while undercover—just to make sure everything was okay. Soon enough, he gave up work altogether, going to the kitchen to pour himself a lowball glass of scotch, to help settle his nerves. You’d been undercover before and you’d been just fine. But he had a bad feeling about tonight.

When his phone rang, your ID flashing across his screen, he nearly dropped it in his rush to answer. “Hermosa, everything okay?” he answered, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

“Fine, Rafi; just wanted to give you an update,” you replied, keeping your voice light. But he could tell instantly that something was wrong; there was a strain in your voice that wasn’t there before.

“What happened?” Rafael asked, his stomach dropping.

You let out a huff which could have been laughter, but just sounded like pain. “I was hit with a baseball bat; nothing bad, don’t worry,” you rushed to say. “Rollins took me to get checked out by the hospital, but I’ll be home soon.”

His heart fluttered in his chest. “I’ll be right there; Mercy Hospital?” He made his way towards the door, grabbing his winter jacket from the coat rack.

“No Rafi, don’t. By the time you get here, I’ll be on my way home, anyways,” you chuckled before it turned into a hiss of pain. “It’s just a bruise; I’m fine. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Rafael sighed heavily, rehanging his jacket and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Fine. Just…get here soon…please.”

“I will. I promise. I love you, Raf,” you said, smiling into the phone.

“I love you, too.”

 *******************************

Sure enough, you were walking through Rafael’s front door 20 minutes later, a deep bruise in your left side, but otherwise unharmed. He was instantly off the couch, hurrying over to you. Rafael put his hands on your shoulders, holding you at arm’s length, eyes scanning your face before he brought you against his chest in a tight hug. You hissed in pain, and he instantly released you, though he kept his hands on your shoulders, unable to keep from touching at least some part of you.

“I’m sorry, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Where were you hit? Show me,” Rafael demanded, his words rushed, like he didn’t know where to start.

You gave him a tired smile. “I’m fine, baby. Just a little sore.” You turned your side towards him, lifting your shirt to expose the deep black, blue, and purple bruise overtaking your left side.

“Oh hermosa…” he mumbled, his fingertips ghosting over your skin lightly. You winced when he touched the spot where the bat had connected with you.

“It looks worse than it is, but there’s no internal bleeding, no broken bones or torn muscles. Just a—a flesh wound,” you replied. Rafael examined you for a moment more before he finally tore his eyes away from your injury, his eyes trailing up to your face. He looked so…worried still, so sad and devasted that you were hurt. Unable to stand that look in those normally bright green eyes, you embraced him, nuzzling your head against his chest. Gently, much more gently than normal, Rafael wrapped his arms around your torso, careful not to touch your left side. His hands went to your back, rubbing comforting circles into your shoulder blades.

“I’m okay, Rafi. I’m safe,” you whispered into his chest, tugging him impossibly closer.

“And I’m so thankful you are,” he muttered back, kissing the top of your head.

You leaned back enough to look up at him. You looked into his eyes, then to his lips before you moved to kiss him, your hands threading into his short hair. He kissed you back, needy, desperate, putting all his affection for you into the kiss. You could feel his worry, his nervousness, and you kissed him harder, trying to make those feelings fade away, until there was nothing left but the two of you, your love for each other stronger than anything else.

You pulled out of his grip, taking his hand, and leading him to his bedroom. By some unspoken agreement, you both started undressing yourselves. Once in your bra and panties, you gave him a look. “Help?” you asked. Like with the fat-suit, you couldn’t reach behind your back without your side barking in pain.

Rafael’s eyes softened as he moved to you, unhooking your bra for you. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked despite his darkened eyes, his already half-hard length.

“Yes, Raf…I need you. Tonight, I just need to feel you…everywhere.”

He helped you our of your panties, then kissed you slowly, passionately. You walked backwards with him until your legs hit the bed, then sat. He stood, stroking himself lazily to full hardness, while you pulled yourself up the bed until your head was on the pillows. Once ready, you beckoned to him and he climbed on top of you, his lips trailing over every bit of skin he could reach. He propped himself on one arm, careful not to put his full body weight on your injured side while he kissed you deeply, his other hand dipping between your thighs, stroking your slit slowly. You moaned against his mouth, your hands trailing over his sides as he slid two fingers into you, stretching you.

“I was…so worried…I knew something had happened,” Rafael murmured, pumping his fingers into you.

You rocked your hips against his hand, wincing as the movement stretched your side painfully. “I’m okay, Rafi. I’m here, I’m safe now,” you whispered back, kissing his cheek. He pulled his fingers from you, lining himself up. He slowly pushed into you until he filled you completely, then stopped, waiting, watching your face. He stroked your cheek, brushing your hair out of your face.

“But what if you weren’t?”

Your heart strained with how vulnerable he sounded in this moment.  You clutched at him tighter, resting your forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes. “Don’t worry about ‘what ifs,’ Raf. I’m here, and nothing’s gonna change that.” You tightened your pelvic muscles, clenching around his cock, and he let out a groan. “You can feel me, right? Don’t we fit together perfectly? Just focus on feeling me right now.”

Rafael nodded, kissing your forehead. “I feel you…I feel all of you…I just hate when you’re undercover. I hate not knowing if your coming home, or if you’re lying in the street somewhere, bleeding out.”

“I know baby, I know,” you scratched his back lightly. “But that’s the job sometimes. I don’t try to get hurt. You know I try and come home to you every night.”

He sighed. “I know. Of course, I know. Just…don’t make this”—his fingertips lightly graze over your side, and you sucked in a breath—“a habit.”

“I don’t plan on it,” you smiled at him. And finally, finally, he returned it, the worry and concern disappearing from his eyes as he kissed you deeply. Then, he moved, his thrusts slow, deep, careful. You held him close to you, your lips never leaving each other’s except to whisper how much you loved each other. He reminded you over and over again how much he cared about you, and you let him know that you were home with him, safe with him there. When you eventually came, it was with his name on your lips, his fingers intertwined with yours, and your heart full of love. Rafael came soon after you, his forehead pressed against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek.

He rolled off you, laying on his back next to you. You tucked into his side, and he wrapped an arm around you. He sat up enough to look at your bruise once more before laying back with a huff.

“Next time, you get Liv watching your back. Not fucking Fordham.” He muttered. You laughed, cuddling closer to him.

[soulwillower]

heat waves • stanley uris

(stanley uris x reader smut)  

requested: stanley uris fic where he plays baseball and she plays softball please? best friends to lovers if you can! (bonus for borrowing each other's clothes) 

warnings: softball player! reader, swearing, smut at the end sorry, oral (male receiving), fluff mostly though, i promise, unedited as fuck i wrote this all in the last few hours LOL

i hope u dont mind i added smut at the end

(this was inspired partly by the song heat waves by glass animals but just a bit idk) 

[losers + reader are 18+.]

3.2k words i think

♡

it was hot.

in fact it was boiling fucking hot, in stan's opinion, and despite loving nearly everything about summer, the heat was the absolute worst of those characteristics by far. 

he sighs as he flies down the backroads, away from the baseball fields and towards his house. he's pushing his curls back from his face and groaning as he feels sweat beads on his forehead, his eyes catching the dying sunlight and making him itch to wash his hands.

it's june, and there's a deep heatwave that hit derry that's caused all the a/c units at the store richie works at to disappear from the shelves, the public pool that bill and eddie work at the become overcrowded with kids and families escaping the heat, and the baseball fields to be extremely blistering as mike, stan, and you had to stand under the sun all day the last two days.

his lips twitch up faintly at the thought of earlier today, when he'd had a ten minute break and had ran over in his spikes with mike to catch an inning of the softball game on the fields adjacent to theirs. 

the only reason they'd gone was to see you play, of course - and to your embarrassment, they'd caught right when you'd stepped to the plate and had hollered "yeah, baby! y/n/n!" loud enough to make everybody in the stands' head turn and embarrassing enough to make you giggle as you waited for the pitch. 

you'd hit a double then, which had also scored in two runs and stan had seen your smile as you stood out at second base, breathing hard and brushing the dirt off your pants. and when he'd waved to you, you waved back with so much pride and excitement that he'd felt his heart skip a beat.

he smiles to himself as he turns the corner into his neighborhood, squinting slightly as the air moves in squiggles feet above the pavement. he swears with a shake of his head - he fucking hates the heat, but the double edged sword of baseball season in the summer makes it worth it. 

his phone buzzes from where it's placed in his cup holder and he grabs it, smiling at the y/n y/l/n !!!!! that pops up at the top. he rolls his eyes as he answers, remembering the time when you'd called him a psychopath for having your full name in his phone contact, claiming you knew for a fact he somehow didn't know any other y/n's, so you’d added the exclamation points ‘just for flare.’ 

he answers, "hey, how was the last game?" he asks as he pulls into his driveway. "we lost." you grumble and he hums as he pulls himself out of the car, leaving his bat bag in the trunk since he's got practice tomorrow. "i'm sorry to hear that. d'you want to come over?" he asks casually as he makes his way inside and sighs at the relief of the air conditioning. "yes, yeah. i do." you say and stan smiles down to the ground at your goofiness. as he enters the kitchen he realizes his parents are out, so he asks, "can you bring food?"

you sigh and he can imagine your grin as you say, "god, the shit i do for you, uris. why can't we go together?" you whine. he snorts, "but i have to shower." he tries to reason, but you retort, "i just spend thirteen hours in the heat too, stan, i need to shower as well."

he smiles, walking up the stairs towards his room. "alright, alright. we can go together, just come over and you can shower here."

"did i mention i love you?" you sigh, almost dreamily. stan stops in his tracks, heart stopping and mouth going dry but still grinning as he hears his name yelled by a voice in the background of your line and you hiss back a muffled, "shut up!"

his face is red as he mutters, "yeah, yeah. love you too, y/n/n. i'll see you soon."

your voice echoes in his head as he stares at the tiles of his shower the entire time he's showering. did i mention i love you? as the ice cold water cascades over his sore muscles, relaxing him and breathing energy back into his tired body, he can't get you out of his head. 

your voice, your hair, the way you have so much confidence on the field and yet are the sweetest and funniest person he's every met. as his mind wanders, he thanks god that his shower is freezing and he groans, trying to stop imagining his best friend while he's in the shower.

did i mention i love you?

he steps out soon after that, feeling like a bit of a creep. as he ruffles his towel-dry hair, he hears his front door open. opening the door to the bathroom, he's suddenly facing you, clad in your dirty uniform, your visor still on your head and a tired but happy smile on your face. "where's donny and andrea?" you ask and stan shrugs, chuckling a bit at your dumb nickname for his father, "think they had some meeting and went out after." he's not really focused though, because he's aware that he is standing with only a red towel hanging low on his hips as you stand in front of him, your cheeks red and eyes wide, bouncing around him and avoiding eye contact, flustered as you clear your throat.

did i mention i love you?

he grabs his dirty uniform to sweep into the laundry and gets you a fresh towel, gathering clothes for you to change into before residing to his own bedroom. the shower turns on right as he pulls on his shirt and flops back onto his mattress.

he can't get you off his mind, which isn't necessarily a new development, but ever since the heat wave, his mind has been stuck in a loop that's never ending. y/n, baseball, y/n, baseball, y/n, y/n, y/n....

did i mention i love you?

it's hot in his room and he stares at the patterns in his ceiling, lifting a brow as the spots morph in and out of shapes and suddenly it's back to you, your angelic face in his vision and he almost groans. he loves you way too much, he thinks. 

he knows every single feature about you; enough so that your face, beautiful and clear as always, appears in his vision and he's fucked because he knows he’s still be able to remember where every feature, mark or blemish on your face is, even when you're not with him.

even though he knows that your relationship is just platonic, he still finds himself imagining his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and he yearns to touch every part of you, to be touched by you. he can't get you out of his mind.

the shower shuts off so he sits up and rubs his eyes - the danger and power the you have over him almost makes him laugh, especially because if you knew half the things he thought about you, you'd probably kill him.

he's smiling dumbly, thinking about the time you and bill got caught sneaking onto the derry golf course and made richie and stan pick you two up, right as you pad into his room.

"i look like a dumbass, stan!" you groan, lifting your arms as you spin a bit, and he almost dies. he has to shake his head to avoid you seeing his blush because you're standing in front of him, wearing his baseball team practice shirt that has his last name on it and his gym shorts, cinched at the waist to keep them on you and neither things fit you very well but he thinks he's going to lose it because his heart feels so warm. 

your hair is wet and making the shirt totally wet where the ends of the strands touch, your skin bright from washing off the eyeblack you'd worn all day. he's so lost in the image of you that you have to repeat yourself.

"stan! stop looking at me, oh my god i want to die." you shove your face into your hands and laugh. he shakes his head rid of his stupor and stands from his bed, laying a hand on your shoulder. "you look incredible right now, y/n. let's go, i'm hungry."

he grabs the hoodie he'd insisted you order for him early last year - with your club team's logo on it and a big, white #2 and your last name on the back. he knows it's too hot to actually wear it, but he's going to take it because you always get cold under his car's a/c.

he's not always the best at approaching you in a way that is comforting, but you beam at him as you follow him out towards his car. you're both walking slowly through the hot nighttime air, half because the air is so thick it feels like you're wading, but half from the exhausting day you'd both had. 

every muscle in stan's body aches as he pulls himself into the driver's seat, making sure everything was straight and in place. he doesn't even blush when he turns the key twice before starting the ignition, knowing that you don't mind and even show affection towards his compulsions after all this time. his heart thumps at the thought.

"where to?" you yawn as you ask and he can feel your eyes on him as he's leaning back, backing his car out of the driveway. he flushes once again under your beautiful gaze.

stan then finds himself in the back of his trunk at the quarry, the windows still up because you insisted it'd be too hot with the door open. he'd listened to you because you're you - but if it had been bill, or eddie, or ben, or mike or bev or especially richie he would have groaned and complained about how bad it was for his battery to keep the a/c running.

but it was you, so he did it with a smile on his face and a thump in his heart. you're sitting with your knees touching, stomachs full of fries, burgers, and vanilla milkshakes.

you're still working on your milkshake, spooning it into your mouth slowly as you tell stan a story about your day. "-and she slid under the tag - no, don't look at me like that, she was under it! - and the fucking ump called her out." you grumble, glaring into your milkshake. stan just grins, taking in your natural hair and how it's framing your face, the way your legs gleam in the moonlight and showcase the random bruises you have from taking pitches to the legs.

he forgets to respond and you look up at him, lifting a brow. "oh, yeah, i got a few bruises." you mutter, examining your leg yourself. you perk up, "look at this one! it's got stitch marks!" you say enthusiastically, pulling your bare thigh up so it's across stan's lap, scooting closer to him. he gulps, the proximity of you to him making it hard to focus as you run your fingers over the skin.

"shit." he mutters, hingers falling to touch the purple skin that was blossoming in a faint circle, red and purple stitch marks from the softball etching their way onto your skin. "that must've stung." he adds, eyes glued to your bare leg. you hum in agreement and suddenly your eyes are meeting his and he can't breathe at all.

you're closer than he'd expected as you straighten up, leg falling flat against his lap as you stare deep into each other's eyes. yours are swimming with wonder as you watch him, and he almost jumps when your hand lands on his shoulder. "what're you thinking? you're in your head a lot tonight, stan." you say gently, with all the care in the world and he doesn't really feel the usual twinge of guilt he feels for being more reserved than usual - instead he just feels like he may explode if he doesn't just tell you.

"y/n." he says it so quietly that all he can hear is the first part of your name. "uh-i... uh, maybe it's the heat wave, but..." he shakes his head, knowing that excuse with not work. you're too smart to believe a fib that simple. he sighs.

"no. no, i just- sometimes all that i think about is you." he says, his hand falling to rub over your bare thigh. he feels your muscles tense under his palm and he searches your eyes, his stomach tying itself into knots of anxiety as he waits patiently.

"what-what do you mean?" you ask softly, eyes flickering between his and he bites his lips, looking out to the quarry quickly before looking at you. he thinks about the days you've spent together with the others down at the water, all the drunken nights where you find your way to the clubhouse you'd all built in middle school.

he thinks about how you always, always make it to his games when you're not also playing; how you always sit at the far top right of the bleachers and scream his name loud enough that he can hear you even when he's way out in center field, how you always wear his away uniform jersey and give it back to him with a hug after the games. he thinks about all the hours the two of you have spent together at derry's batting cages, competitively keeping tallies of how many line drives you can each hit.

"stan?" you ask again softly, biting your lip. "i think about you too." you tell him, and he shakes his head, knowing that you aren't totally understanding him (but that's definitely not your fault).

"i think i love you."

he says it louder than intended, and it slices through the midnight air in a way that makes the world stagnant. he swears, even the frogs stop croaking, the cicadas stop buzzing, the wind stops blowing through the leaves in the forest.

"like... like you love me?" you ask, your leg still across his lap, hand still on his shoulder reassuring him that you at least weren't completely disgusted by his admission.

"like i'm in love with you." he reiterates, looking straight into your apprehensive eyes as he says it. it takes barely a split second before you're smiling at him in a grin that knocks the wind right out of stan's chest again. 

"what made you decide that?" you ask with a huge, breathtakingly sweet smile as your hands slide to hold his neck. he huffs a laugh, unsure still, "dunno. lots of things - everything about you, really." he mumbles, feeling slightly stupid but still incredibly giddy as you lean closer.

"well i'm in love with you, stan." you say, lips ghosting over his. he grins, the feeling of you so close to him making his fingers tingle as one hand stays on your thigh, the other falling to your hip.

he can't speak, so instead he closes the gap. your lips are warm against him - your whole body is - as you come to life, kissing him like you've been doing it your whole life. you whimper lightly and it makes him sigh with pleasure, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tasting the vanilla of your milkshake on your tongue.

slowly, you slide onto his lap and his hands move up your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his tongue swiping against your plush lips. you're straddling him, cupping his jaw with both hands as you accept his tongue, yours caressing his sweetly and he wonders why you haven't been doing this your whole life.

he pushes against you, pulling you closer to him as you pull back for breath. "i've wanted to do that for so long." you mutter lowly as his lips immediately attach to the soft expanse of your skin, his fingers tickling down your bare thighs. he grins as he feels goosebumps form under his palms, biting down and sucking the soft skin on your throat, eliciting a moan from you. 

he pulls back a bit, "me too." he says, lips peppering kisses all the way up to your lips and catching them again, your hand sliding into his har and tugging on the strands.

you slowly grind against him and he groans at the feeling of you around him, the pleasure making his mind fuzzy as all he can think about it you. 

and then he’s dying because you’re trailing a hand down to palm him through his pants and all he can do is groan a bit against your chest and look at you because holy shit.

 you slide off his lap and down on to your knees in the small space between his legs, watching him with those beautiful doe eyes as you slide down his shorts slowly. 

he’s watching, lip caught between his teeth as you pull him free from where he strains against his boxers, licking your lips and pumping his base a few times. he grunts as your hand moves, the feeling making him twitch in pleasure. his cock is dripping precum and you slowly reach your tongue out, swirling around his tip. he lets out a dejected moan and grips your shoulders as you slowly take him into your mouth, wet and warm and perfect.”good girl.” he mutters quietly through his bliss and he notices how you flush under the praise, your tongue flattening as you take him further in. 

 as you bob your head down and try to take as much of him as you can, you look up through your lashes to watch him, the eye contact making his legs weak.

 his lips are parted, watching as you suck him off as his hips twitch, hands playing with your hair through his pleasure. "fuck, y/n..." he moans as you start to bob your head quicker, lifting one of your hands to grab his own. he lets you guide his hand to the back of your head and you gently put pressure on it.

he thinks he might faint as he realizes what you want. slowly, he pushes you further down on his cock and he gasps at the tight feeling of you gagging around him. 

 he groans, “you like that, hm?” quietly as you whimper around his cock, the vibrations nearing him to his high. “holy shit.” he mutters to himself as he moves your head, the lewd noises of his cock in your mouth and his moans filling up the car. 

you take him as far into your mouth as you can and he feels you try to relax as he gently pushes you further down on his cock until he hits the back of your throat. you moan, the vibrations pushing him to the edge as his hips buck up slightly.

you choke and pull off of him, catching your breath as you make eye contact, “being so good for me.” he mutters, his eyes glazed over as he watches you pump him. you smile, cheeks pink from the praise and he almost swoons with how fucking perfect you look. 

he lets out a low moan at your warm mouth taking him in, bobbing up and down. his hands push you down onto him again and he holds you there while he gently thrusts up, your hands on his thighs. he tilts his head back, eyes squeezing shut in pure bliss. 

its only a few seconds and he barely gets out a, "fuck, y/n, i'm gonna-" before he's spilling into your mouth. to his surprise, you moan around him and slowly lick him up and swallow, looking up at him with a tired smile.

“holy shit.” he says yet again, staring at you as you pull his shorts back up and bite your lip. he pulls you into a kiss and he can taste himself on your lips, making his stomach flip. 

"date me." he says quickly as he pulls back, his cheeks flushed from the taste of you on his tongue and the post-orgasmic bliss. you pull back, grinning. "well you don't have to be so polite about it." your voice sounds fucked-out and kind of raw and he’s certainly a dead man. 

he chuckles, rolling his eyes at your sarcastic tone. he loves you so fucking much.  "fine. y/n, please be my girlfriend. i want to be your boyfriend, i want us to date. please, will you go out with me?" his voice is dead-pan, but he's serious about it, and you can tell by his boyish grin.

you laugh, shaking your head. "god, was that so hard?" you ask, your hands rubbing over his chest, where his muscles tense in soreness. he then realizes you're still straddling him and how fucking sore you must be. he pulls you closer.

and then you pull him in for another kiss, both of your teeth clashing slightly from your grins. you didn't even explicitly say yes, stan wants to say, but instead he mutters, "did i mention i love you?"

you smile, cheeks red. “you might have mentioned it.” you say bashfully. he grins, kissing your cheek sweetly, hand running up your thigh slowly. “can i taste you, babylove?” he mumbles against your skin and he feels you shiver as you let out a quiet moan. 

you grin, kissing him on the lips, “why dont we go back to your place...can i stay the night?” you ask, cheeks aflame as you look at him. “i want to take our time.” you add. 

it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen and he nods, grinning at you. “fuck- yes, yes you can. of course.” he says, smiling at you. you kiss him heatedly, grinning as you pull back and lean over to crawl back to the passenger seat. stan slaps your ass lightly as you do and you squeal, grinning back at him with a lifted brow, “c’mon, uris. you’re scoring tonight.”

he rolls his eyes at your cheesy words and groans a bit, but he can’t ignore the butterflies that thrash in his chest nonetheless. 

you love him.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier @simplesammyx​ @dickology64​ @clownsloveyou​ @baby-yoda-a​ @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro​ @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman​  @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 14: No Call No Show

Characters: Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: We find out where Shane went Monday after work and exactly why she hasn’t been responding to any attempts at communication…and unfortunately, she’s not just taking some “me time.”

Want to reminisce about when this was just a happy little fluffy romance? Return to chapters past, or look at my other smutty drabbles here!

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings:  SHANE FIGHTS BACK, BUT DEFINITELY GETS HER ASS KICKED, SO FAIR WARNING, IT’S VIOLENT. Language, mature themes, emotional abuse, mention of narcotics (morphine), vomiting, foreshadowing and mention of potential future violent/non-con/dub-con activities, but if those acts occur, they will not be portrayed on the page, but rather between chapter or section breaks, so don’t worry. Also, I use the “R” word, but not to discuss non-con, but rather to add an educational note about why one should yell “fire” when one is being assaulted. Basically no Sy material whatsoever, but he’s mentioned, so I’m tagging it as such! Shane being somewhat blasé about her mortality. I really don’t want to trigger anyone, so please read with caution or wait until you emotionally are ready to deal with our girl going through the shit.

Author’s Note: Really REALLY nervous about this one. This is not the resolution you are looking for, my friends. In fact, it’s not a resolution, at all. Lol. I foresee many people disliking this chapter for some reason or another. That’s actually okay. It’s not a chapter you’re meant to “like” per se. I don’t “like” it. I’m prepared for it to get very few notes, and I’m positioning it anyway. I think it’s some of my better writing, but I hated putting Shane through the ringer like this. It’s just one of those chapters you “get through.” And honestly, if you truly didn’t like it please give me feedback so I can improve and tweak. {For reasons other than “My beebeeeeee!” or “never mention anything less than consensual ever again kthxbye” because a) of all, MY beebee too, and b) of all, that’s what warnings are for and why they should be read.} That being said, I hope it at least tides you over until the next chapter. At least you know where she is…not that THAT’S a big relief under the circumstances! Lol!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland (apparently deactivated, idk what’s up with that)

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

@wheretheriversrunintothesea

@heartfelt-pen

@auds24

@geekycanuck 

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@coldmuffinbanditshoe

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Previously, in Virginia…

"Shane left work Monday and hasn't been back since. No one has seen her. Apart from you, I presume. "

"I haven't seen her in about a week and a half. I'm training out of state for a job. I've been away from my phone since Monday, and I just got back to it now."

"She isn't…with you? I assumed…"

"Well, you know what they say, Susan. I'm coming back early if I can manage it. See if I can do something to help find her."

Three days earlier, in Missouri…

Shane blinked her eyes open to little avail. She couldn't tell where she was, other than what seemed to be the back seat of a fairly new-model large vehicle, like a Suburban or a Tahoe. She thought it was new because the new car smell was still overpowering the nicotine and tobacco odor of at least one of its occupants. She could also smell the sickly sweet stench of artificial cherry permeating the cabin. The source must be very close to her nose as she lay there helplessly restrained while the vehicle jostled down the road. The smell reminded her of the horrible liquid pain reliever her mother would give her as a child when she had a fever or leg pains. She had taken enough of it then to make her averse to most cherry flavorings as an adult. She wanted to retch.

She could also make out the faint glow of a dashboard lit with LED lights, brighter and softer than those of older models. But she soon had to shut her eyes again. Her head was throbbing and her memories were fuzzy. She remembered very little of Monday…was it still Monday? But she was trying to think, despite the pounding of many drums in her cranium where a brain should be.

She remembered staying at work late to finish notes. She remembered heading home…and she remembered forgetting her phone at her desk and deciding to turn around to get it…when suddenly she was surrounded by vehicles and unable to move without having an accident. Had she known the circumstances then, she would have tried to muscle through. The horrific events came flooding back in traumatic flashes like lightning, or the pulse of passing streetlights in an unfamiliar city.

She remembered…

The glass by her left ear shattered. A hooded, hulking figure reached in through the new opening, fumbling for the handle to open the door. She'd had the presence of mind to fight back there. To punch at the probing extremity. But the extremity hit back, landing a solid smack against her left cheek, stunning her for long enough that the cruel apparition found the unlock button, pressed it, and opened the door. She didn't go quietly. She fought like the hellcat her mother always told her to be. Her foot found the odd solar plexus and groin before enough dark nemeses arrived to overpower her. They dragged her away from her car and out onto the pavement of the church parking lot she'd used to turn around. She did not make it easy for them. She kicked and punched and tried to twist out of their grips like vices. She yelled "fire" as she was taught as a young woman, not knowing the men's intentions, but certain they weren't kind, and knowing that yelling "rape" was not always effective at summoning help. Either way, it didn't matter. She could have shouted anything. No one was near enough, or cared enough, to come to her aid. As soon as her soft hands hit the gritty pavement, though, the violence intensified. She lost count of how many times she got kicked in the back, stomach, ribs. One asshole even kicked her in the tit. She'd find out who that was and he'd find himself in a special brand of pain…if she ever got out of this alive. She heard them calling her awful names that she was sure she hadn't earned, and especially not from these guys. About six of them, she thought. She hardly knew six guys. She certainly didn't know six guys that would want her roughed up like this. She heard one of the men start to say "Come on, guys, we better save some for--" and with that, she blacked out to the tune of the distinct "thunk" of a wooden baseball bat making contact with the back of her head.

She wanted to forget…for it to be a terrible nightmare…to wake up.

But she was awake. This was a waking nightmare. The cold leather on her cheek was made colder by the harsh air conditioning blowing toward her from above and below. She shivered from the chill and from the terror she was trying to suppress. Where were they taking her? For what purpose? And for whom were they leaving parts un-bruised…though it didn't feel like it.

She finally felt them slowing, heard a turn signal clicking, the courtesy of which she applauded despite her position in the active abduction taking place, and felt the gentle displacement of her body toward the driver side, knocking her head into the door. A right turn. Not that it would matter too much, but at least when she escaped, and she made herself think "when" and not "if," she would know which direction to turn to get back to town.

The blow to the head had left her sensitive to light and sound. As she was yanked from the back seat, all she could see was the glow of a dusk to dawn light above them. Normally a soft, guiding light, this one just as well have been the sun itself the way it stung her tender eyes. She squinted against it, thankful as she never would have thought to be, when a shroud was placed over her throbbing head. She could still hear the power coursing through the bulb and fixture, though. Normally a dull hum, in the state she was in, it was as loud as accidentally switching your TV to the snow channel at full volume.

"Bring 'er inside." She heard an unfamiliar male voice say.

Two strong, ruthless hands grabbed her by the armpits, causing her to cry out in pain. Such a tender place to bear weight, and why even big strong Sy hated crutches…Sy. Would she ever see him again?

"Shut up, bitch, or we'll knock you out again." She believed them, and being fairly certain she had at least a mild  concussion, she wasn't sure what a second blow of an indeterminate velocity might do to her brain. She dealt with the stabbing pain as the men dragged her across what sounded like gravel, then grass, then something hard and smooth, maybe the slabs of an old, sunken, and somewhat uneven footpath. Soon, she felt the pain of her knees hitting what she assumed were porch steps. One, two, three of them. She was trying to concentrate through the fog now setting in, and maintain consciousness. Paying attention to the sensations, she told herself, was not only helpful for that task, it might help her escape. Remember the scents, too, she reminded herself. She tried to shake off the nauseating cherry and cigarette stench from her olfactory glands and take note of the bouquet around her.

Burnt leaves…gasoline…engine grease…the tang of sappy, just cut firewood…straw…manure…this seemed to be a farm. With a barn nearby…perhaps with horses. She loved horses. If she could find a gentle horse in the night…escape might be easier than she'd anticipated.

Entering the house was a noisy affair. There was a metallic keening from the spring of an aluminum screen door. She imagined it had one of those big swirly cross beams like her grandma's used to have that she always though was supposed to resemble a butterfly. A heavier, wooden door creaked open as the three figures muddled their way in, and the floorboards protested, as well, at the weight of her captors. So, she thought, not only a farm house, but an old farm house.

"Where do you want her?" the man on her left asked into what she only knew as the void, so far.

"Take her to the cellar. I've got things set up down there." a familiar voice chuckled and growled. How did she know the voice? Was he a patient? She couldn't think of anyone she'd treated that would want her abducted and brutalized.

"You got it, E." Ugh, for some reason it bothered her when guys referred to each other by their first initials. Girls, no big deal. But bros…there was something so thoroughly douchey and…familiar about it all…

"Hold on." the man called "E" said, and she heard footfalls approaching her. As he got closer, she smelled…patchouli and incense…and the sea…and it brought back a rush of pain from past trauma followed by literal pain from his punch to her gut. She hadn't been expecting it. Obviously. The wind had been taken out of her. Literally and figuratively. She did know this man…all too well.

"We've got some catching up to do, sweetheart." the pet name dripped like venomous honey from the tongue of the snake before her.

"Elliot." it wasn't a question. She coughed the name out like a pill that had gone down sideways.

Her escorts continued their transportation of her prone body to its destination…she didn't want to think FINAL destination, but the more she learned about her situation, the more she worried that she wouldn't make it out alive.

They had to get creative in carrying her down the narrow staircase to the cellar. They argued for a moment about who would take the top half and who would go backwards.

"How about the one who takes my top half goes forward and the bottom half goes backward?" These idiots. Where did Elliott find clowns like this who needed to be told by their prisoner the best way to sort out their domestic dispute.

She thought she felt them shrug, and silently take her advice as she felt herself being lowered down the stairs, feet first, panic threatening to overtake her restrained limbs.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they stood her up to remove her shroud, and cut the zip ties from around her ankles and wrists. She then noticed a small cell that reminded her of the ones in the sheriff's offices in some westerns she'd seen. She started to freak out, anticipating her future in that horrid place.

"Guys, please. No. Please don't do this. I don't know what Elliott's told you about me, but I'm a good person. I don't deserve this. I have a job and friends and a family who will worry sick about me. I am begging you to let me go. Please!"

"You're wasting your breath, lady." one of the men said, gruffly.

"PLEASE!" she appealed, desperate to get through. "Don't you guys have wives or girlfriends? Mothers, sisters, aunts, or female cousins? What if a woman you cared about was in this situ---" and before she could finish the question, one of the men punched her for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. She fell to her knees, vomiting. And the world went black again.

~~~~~~~

There were no windows. There was no clock. There was just a small twin mattress in one corner of the cell, and a bedside commode in the other. As accommodations went, it was hardly a Hilton, but it could have been worse. It was all lit by a 60-watt bulb in one of those hanging fixtures her dad had always called a trouble light situated on a hook on the side of one of the exposed joists outside the cell. He'd had a similar one for the longest time. He and mom will be worried sick before long, if they aren't already, she thought. The light was aptly named for these circumstances she was in. Trouble. A heap of it. And no idea of how to get out of it.

And honestly, no idea why Elliott would want her here. How he could do such a monstrous thing as having her kidnapped. How he came to live in this place when he never worked a day in his life. She was so confused. She hoped at the very least, he'd give her answers before he murdered her, if that was his plan.

She had woken up on her side, almost her stomach, with her right cheek on the scratchy surface of the bare mattress. Whoever put her to bed had been wise to position her like this given the likelihood that she might puke again. She noticed a small bucket, presumably for that purpose, next to the mattress. There was a caseless pillow next to her head, but she hadn't found that comfort during her nap of…she couldn't tell how long. Not that it mattered. The more she slept, the less time she'd have to process this horror movie she was currently living out.

She heard the door open at the top of the stairs and Elliott shout at one of his flunkies, "What do you MEAN you didn't get her phone?" a pause while indistinct words came from said flunky across the room, or maybe the house. "Well, find it. Tear that piece of shit Explorer apart if you have to. I want that phone." She took exception to her sweet little Norah getting called a piece of shit. That was her Millennium Falcon. And yes, she'd gotten flack for naming her Norah the Explorer, but she didn't care.

Elliott stomped down the stairs, grinning the most infuriatingly happy grin she'd ever seen on him. She wanted to maul him. To tear those stupid eyes out of their sockets with her own fingernails. But she controlled her anger and resisted even acknowledging his greeting of "Hey, sweetheart."

She ignored him.

"It's good to see you."

Silence.

"I missed you."

She stared right through him.

"I heard you and that meat head soldier broke up."

She scowled at him.

"There she is. There's my girl."

"I'm not your girl, Elliott, and I haven't been in years. Why am I here?" She broke. She couldn't take it.

"We'll get to that why soon enough. First, let's talk about why you and Cap'n Crunch are no longer breakfasting together? Soggy cereal? Limp toast? Was he letting you leave the table unsatisfied?"

"As if you ever satisfied me when we were together." She spat back, calling Elliott out on his notorious selfishness in all aspects of life and relationships.

"I've changed."

"Bullshit." she rolled her eyes.

"It's true!" he insisted. "I can give you references."

"I honestly don't give a shit. We're not together. Sy and I are. Happily. And you better let me go soon. He was expecting me at his place after work. He's probably out looking for me right now." she lied. It was worth a shot.

"Now it's my turn to call bullshit, because I know that isn't true." He looked at her with that patronizing stare he had.

"You don't know shit, Elliott."

"I know that your boy took off over a week ago for Virginia and hasn't come back, at least not the way he left. I believe he's supposed to be gone at least a few weeks. Maybe a couple of months. He wasn't sure at last report."

She was literally willing him to burst into flames before her. Her gaze revealed her hand.

"Told ya. You think you're the only one with connections at the fort? I've got me a sweet little sergeant who works in ATC over there. She can out-squat anyone else on base…and let me tell you, it shows." he lifted his eyebrow, lasciviously.

"You disgust me."

"Why? You never seemed to mind my…sexy imagination." he winked at her.

"No, I'm happy that you're getting it good on the regular from an ass that won't quit. But come on. You clearly only got with this girl because you thought it would give you the upper hand against me."

"Well, that's very self-absorbed thinking."

"Really, Elliott? Do you see where we are right now?" they looked around at the dank cellar and he shrugged, unable to deny or rebut. "And this woman. Does she know about this little scheme?"

He gave her one of his more evil grins. "Who do you think kicked you in the tit?" Okay…she was new levels of pissed off now.

"Why…the actual FUCK am I here, Elliott!?"

"Well, Shane, you embarrassed me with that little stunt at the bar a few weeks ago. You thought you were hot shit, parading your sasquatch of a boyfriend around in front of me, in my town, humiliating me as all of my friends watched. And then that dickhead sucker punched me in the parking lot. I shoulda pressed charges. But him being a veteran, I knew how that woulda gone in this town. I didn't have a snowball's chance. So I waited. And I planned. And I was patient. And I watched for my moment. And it finally came. I've been watching you leave work every night for the past week, and you're always with someone, or headed somewhere else, or going straight home. Last night…last night I knew was the night when you didn't leave until after 7. You were the last one out, and I knew that it had to be then. The plan, not that you need to know, is to plaster your social media with humiliating photos, piss off everyone that you love, including your precious Sy, and alienate everyone you've ever cared about until you're miserable and alone."

Shane was crying now. She thought she might be sick again. She reached for the bucket. The delusion of this man thinking that anyone in that bar besides maybe the ones that were there with him that night gave a shit about him. Thinking that the town was his. He was a nobody there. He hadn't grown up there, he didn't work there, he didn't participate in community events. He was kidding himself if he thought anyone cared enough about him that he should feel shame over her relationship with Sy, especially five years after their relationship with each other had ended.

"How's that for a 'why,' sweetheart?" he boasted.

"It's making my ask myself a lot of questions. Like why I ever agreed to go out with you all those years ago. Why I didn't see the signs that you were a psychopath sooner. And why I put up with your terrorism for so long thinking you'd ever really change. I can't believe I ever slept with you, you absolute barbarian." and she heaved into the bucket, non-productively. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and that had to be well over twelve hours ago.

"Well, ya did. And ya can't change the past. But I'm about to take your future into my hands. As soon as we find your phone, we're gonna have us a ball, little girl."

"You honestly think I'll cooperate with any of that?"

"You won't have a choice." he held up a little glass vial. "Morphine. A tiny dose of this stuff, and you'll do anything I tell ya."

"Please. Just let me go now, and I won't press charges. I won't go to the cops, at all. I'll call in to work with a headache, or something and you can live your life with Sergeant Squats and we can leave each other alone."

"A good offer, but I need to get something out of this. I need my pride back."

"And you're gonna get that by dragging me through the mud online from my own Facebook account? Is that really the way you wanna do this? When you could just show me what a great life you've built for yourself. This is a great place here, it seems, I mean, I only smelled it, and felt how big it was while I was getting dragged around the place. But, Elliott, if you had just told me about all this, I would have been happy for you!"

"This place is Sasha's."

"Oh." she grasped for something, anything to make him see how insane he was being without saying the words. "Well, I'd still have been happy for you finding an established woman with a great job. Why couldn't you have just written me a letter telling me that? An email! Something."

"This is how it's getting done, Shane. Because this is the only way that truly ruins your life in the process. Because at the end of all of this, the backlash is going to be too much for you, and you're not going to be able to handle this life anymore…"

"No. Elliott, no."

"Yes. You're gonna take one last hit of the morphine and drive that shitty Ford right into the lake."

"You used to care about art. About beauty. You used to be sensitive. You used to have a soul. What happened, Elliott? What happened to your humanity?" Shane asked, crying, in mourning for the man he used to be. The one that she used to care for.

"I fell in love. And she broke my heart. And nothing has been the same."

"Elliott, I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, fuck, not you, don't be stupid. No, Kara. I met her right after you kicked me out, and SHE broke my heart." he  turned and started up the stairs, pausing to look over his shoulder and say, "I'll be back when I have your phone. And I'll bring friends." before he ascended, shutting the door firmly behind him.

She had never been so relieved to NOT have her phone in her life. Hopefully, her coworkers had it safe and sound, and locked up at work.

Up Next: Chapter 15-Recon

[theodorecanaryhood]

Say Hi to Joker for me

Jason Todd/Red Hood x female reader

Description: reader got abducted by Black Mask, the events of Red Hood DLC take place (Batman Arkham Knight) and saves reader.

It was dark where you were, cold, damp and smelt funny. You couldn't remember much from before you woke up, at least not until you saw...him.

Before: You were in your apartment when you heard the front door get bashed in, suddenly you heard a man shout 'find her, bring her to me' and you ran.

You knew self defense, Jason was always very protective and showed you a few things about how to take care of yourself when he wasn't around. You grabbed a baseball bat and swung at the first thug you saw. The next came from behind you, stomping on his foot and elbowing him in the abdomen. Turning to then punch him in the face.

'Now!' Was the last thing you heard before you felt this weird electricity surge through your body.

That was 5 hours ago, now you were tied to a chair and face to face with the man that took you,

'Sorry about the tase sweetheart. But, damn' black mask laughed 'you sure can fight, guess you really are Red Hood's girl'.

Black Masks attention was brought to the TV screen that showed all the security camera views. Red Hood was here, beaten down the first lot.

'Keep her company, I want Hood for myself'

Red Hood crouched on a beam as he watched all of Black Masks thugs keeping guard of the warehouse,

'You guys are about to learn that crime doesn't pay' Jason said to himself as he jumped down to the ground. Taking a few more out as he made it to the next level.

'Oh, gonna feel that in the morning' Jason said to himself as he snapped one Thugs neck. Knocking another out with the butt of his gun, 'not worth a bullet' Jason growled to himself.

Jason walked over and held a gun to one guys head, the guy cowered a little as he tensed at the sight of Red Hood,

'I want a word with your boss Black Mask, where is he?' Jason growled,

'You ain't gonna shoot me' the thug said

'Do I look like Batman to you? Rethink your answer before I fill you up with lead' Jason said as he took off the safety on his gun, the thug gave in,

'Ok, ok. He's at the docks'

'Appreciate that' Jason said as he shot the Thug point blank in the head, execution style.

At the docks, you were moved here about 30 minutes ago, Black Mask waited patiently for Red Hood to stumble on his men. As Jason did and took them all out, Black Mask burst in.

'You made a big mistake coming here, big mistake' Black Mask said as his men fought Red Hood.

The fight was brutal and Jason didn't hold back, you could hear it from the room over. Everything Jason said he sounded angry, aggressive. A tone of voice you'd never heard from him before.

'Careful with that thing dummy, you might shoot yourself' Jason remarked to Black Mask who was holding a gun up to shoot him.

'Gonna feed you to my dogs, make you eat the dirt off my shoe'

'Roman, seriously?' Jason said comically as he took down the last thug, Black mask lay on the ground. Jason approached him menacingly,

'Black Mask, you should've left when you had the chance' Jason said as he lifted Black Mask onto his feet, holding him near the fifth story window,

'You don't have to do this, I'll give you anything you want. Weapons, drugs. Leave Gotham, never show my face again. Go anywhere you want' Black Mask said in a panic, Red Hood pulled him closer,

'How about you go to hell' Jason said as he kicked him out the window, Black Mask let out a scream as he fell and hit the ground, 'say hi to Joker for me' Jason said again.

You managed to loosen the rope enough to get your left arm almost out of the binds. You struggled as you tried to pull it out in the hopes to free your other arm and legs. Suddenly, your door swung open and you saw Red Hood standing in the doorway.

'Y/n' he said as he rushed over to you, you took a few seconds to recognise who he was as you'd only seen him fully dressed up like this once, to be honest you were half expecting Black Mask to come back.

'Jason' you said relieved, he untied you and pulled you up onto your feet where he threw his mask off and kissed you hard. You returned the kiss, thankful that he was ok.

'Don't ever scare me like that again baby' Jason whispered to you, you only nodded and smiled.

'Did you throw him out a window?' You asked, Jason looked at you smiling,

'I believe the word is kicked' Jason informed, you rolled your eyes a little at him and chuckled.

'Overkill much'

'Meh' was all Jason had as a response as he kissed you again, glad to have you back in his arms.

Gif credit to owner ** also wanted to shout out to the lines I used from the game, they were my favourite ones!! Especially Jason's dark arse sense of humour lol

[toosicktoocare]

“I’m to wide awake to sleep so ya’ boi has an idea for a fic! What if Peter gets sick but pushes it to the side and decides to go superheroing but that means he is less alert so he gets captured. The bad guys tell the Avengers that they will not give Peter back until they get some money or something. The bad guys sign the note with a special mark that Loki remembers. Loki tries to tell everyone that he knows where Peter is but no really pays attention. So it’s up to Loki to save sick Peter!”

I got this prompt a couple of weeks ago, and I remembered that I really freaking loved it, so I’m going to give this a swing!

Update-- I wrote half of this, like, a year ago, and I uploaded it tonight to hopefully help a friend in need. Considering it literally ended on a mid-sentence cliff-hanger, I went back and finished it, lol

To Peter’s heightened senses, the large outdoor trash bin beside him smells horrid, but it’s the first piece of grounded, steady surface that he can lean against that comes to sight amid his swaying vision. He falls against it with a dull thud, his back taking the brunt as he struggles to catch his breath. He’s winded, more-so than he should be, and his head feels heavy while his mind feels light, unsteady. 

He sucks in a deep breath that triggers a bout of coughing, strong enough that he’s forced to slip his mask up above his mouth. He coughs harshly into his fist while his free arm snakes across his abdomen. The coughing is starting to hurt really bad. 

“Peter.”

“I know, Karen,” Peter gripes out in-between coughs. “I should have stayed in bed, but really, it’s not that bad. I mean, my head feels like it weights a thousand pounds, and my ribs and chest hurt from all the coughing.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “I’m freezing and dizzy, but, like, that’s it, honestly. I can still patrol.” 

He blinks slowly, trying to clear his vision, but darkness is creeping around the edges, and it suddenly sounds like water’s rushing into his ears. He fails to hear the crunch of broken glass being stepped on behind him, and it’s too late when Karen yells in his ear. He spins around just in time to see a large bat swinging toward his head. 

*****

Loki can feel the tension wafting in the air before he enters the conference room. A hint of a frown creeps at the corners of his lips as he shoves the conference room doors open. The Avenges are geared up, but no one is making a move. All are staring at a small card in Tony’s hand; no one even reacts when he fully enters the room. He circles around the table until he’s close enough to read the card. 

“Stark, 

Your Spider-Brat has a mouth, and my question to you is: how much is that mouth worth to you? 

30 millions dollars, and you can get him back alive.”

An address is scribbled underneath, and at the bottom right corner of the card is a single “R,” curved, lean, and all too familiar to Loki’s widening eyes. 

“Stark, I know who this is-- the address is a decoy.” 

“And it’s the only address we’ve got,” Tony says, voice deep, furious. He spins on his heel, shoving past Loki as he starts barking orders to the other Avengers. 

“Thor,” Loki grabs onto his brother’s arm. “The address is a death trap. You have to decipher the small note on the card. That’s where the real address lies.” 

“Loki, Young Peter is in danger.” 

“I know, that’s why I’m--”

“Thor!” 

Steve’s voice ringing out cuts Loki off. 

“Let’s go! We don’t know what condition Peter is in. We’ve got to go. Now!”

“Thor,” Loki presses, but his brother’s eyes are already to the door, and the Avengers exit the room in great haste, leaving Loki alone. He curses under his breath and snags the card off the table. It only takes him a few seconds to decode the real address, and with narrow eyes, dangerous and determined, he tucks the card into his coat pocket and storms out of the room. 

*****

“I have to say, I’m impressed with how quickly your uncovered the true address; however, it may prove to be quite foolish to have come alone.” 

Loki says nothing; his fingers only tighten around the brief case he’s carrying. Posing as Stark is difficult; any wrong word could lead to his, and Peter’s, demise, so he opts to stay quiet. 

“You must really care about this kid, Stark,” the man-- Roger Riggins-- says. “You haven’t cursed at me, threatened me, nothing at all.” 

Loki keeps his eyes forward, yet a scowl pulls at his lips. 

“Well, I assure you,” Roger says as he places his hand on the door he’s been leading Stark to, “the kid is just fine.” 

He shoves the door open, and it takes Loki’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim lighting, but once they do, a hot, burning angers fills his core. Peter’s lying on the floor, one foot shackled to a wall. There’s an impressive pool of blood close to his head, and he’s shaking from head to toe. He’s paler than Loki’s ever seen him, and he can barely lift his head. 

“T-Tony?” 

“Just fine?” Loki growls. “You call this ‘just fine?’“

“Well, the kid was already sick when we found him. My guys only had to rough him up a bit.” 

“Is that so?” Loki growls out. He slowly drops his disguise until there’s no traces of Stark left. He turns, ignoring the blatant look of pure shock Peter is sporting and spinning slowly on his heel until his icy eyes meet Roger’s. 

“Well, this is a surprise.” Roger’s tone is cool, but his eyes flash with a panic Loki’s seen before. 

“I can see you didn’t learn the first time,” Loki whispers, leaning forward. 

“Sorry,” Roger deflects, stepping away from Loki. “I expected Stark to come after this brat, yet here you are. Interesting. Last I remember, you despised Stark.”

“Well, that hasn’t changed.” Loki’s eyes scan across the room. He doesn’t remember seeing any other men when he arrived. “However,” he drawls out, turning to face Peter, “I don’t despise the kid.” 

Loki hears the quiet click of a pocket knife, and Peter’s eyes go wide, a silent signal to warn him, but Loki’s already working three steps ahead. 

Years ago, he spared Roger’s life, unwillingly. There were too many of Roger’s men after him, so he ran from the battle, not without leaving a warning-- as the small scar that runs from Roger’s temple to his left eyebrow shows. 

With just a flick of the wrist, he forces the pocket knife into the side of Roger’s neck, and he doesn’t look back, even when he hears the low thump behind him. His focus is solely on Peter. He’s crouched down in front of him, hands hovering, unsure of what he can do without pressing potential boundaries. 

“Are you alright?”

There’s brief hesitation as Peter contemplates the question, but he shakes his head with a deep cough that pulls uncomfortably at his chest. “I feel awful.”

Loki gets to work on the shackle wrapped around Peter’s ankle. “Elaborate.” He orders as he shakes his hand out, prepared to work some magic on this lock. 

“Well, I’m not sure if the headache is from the fever or the fact that I got hit with a baseball bat,” Peter says, and when Loki looks up quickly with arched brows, Peter waves him off. “It’s fine. Head wounds always bleed a lot.” He sucks in a breath, prepared to offer more, but his lungs tremble until he’s hunched over coughing harshly over and over. 

“And there’s that,” he wheezes out, one hand pressed to his chest. 

“There’s that,” Loki repeats, hiding his concern as the shackle falls off Peter’s ankle. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Peter gets to his feet with Loki’s help. He’s dizzy the second he’s up, and Loki snakes an arm around his waist, concern now evident on his face through furrowed brows.

“You like like you’re about to faint.”

“I feel like it,” Peter admits. 

Loki keeps his steps slow to accommodate Peter’s condition but deliberate. The faster he can get Peter back to Stark Tower, the better. “How come your suit tracker device didn’t notify Stark of your location?”

“Dunno,” Peter mumbles. His head is foggy, and he can’t stop shaking. “I think they did something to Karen-- I can’t hear her.”

Sighing, Loki nods. Questions can happen later. Right now, he’s got a far too sick kid who needs help. 

*****

Loki can tell that the Avengers are back when the cab pulls up. It seems like every light in the tower is on, and the second he’s out of the car and helping a barely conscious Peter out, the doors to the Tower swing open, and Stark’s charging down steps with the others close behind. He looks worse for wear, but there’s still a burning fire hot in his eyes.

“Loki,” Tony growls, but the second he sees Peter, his demeanor falls into a mix of fear and relief. “Where?” He asks, taking the majority of Peter’s weight. 

“I told you I knew who took him,” Loki answers with a loud sigh. 

“That’s convenient,” Tony spits out, but Peter’s hushed voice has everyone stopping. 

“He saved me, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s rapidly blinking back graying vision to no avail. His legs are trembling, and it sounds as if water’s rushing into his ears. “I think I’m going to pass out,” he manages before going limp against Tony’s side. 

Tony spares an unreadable glance to Loki before he starts up the steps with Peter in his arms. 

*****

Waking up is hard, but Peter pries his eyes open, frowning at the uncomfortable pressure in his chest. He pats at his face mask, and the small movement has Loki moving from his chair. 

“Don’t take it off.” 

Peter slips it away from his mouth, and Loki groans out a sigh, sinking back in his chair. 

“Are you deliberately jeopardizing your health? Stark’s constantly barking out that you’re a walking death wish, and I’m starting to agree.”

“I want to thank you--”

“--save it,” Loki interrupts. “And put the damn mask back on before Stark kills both of us.” 

There’s no bite to his tone, and Peter replies to the small curve to Loki’s lips with a smile of his own.

[winterune]

Forgotten Joy

A Persona 5 Fanfiction

Late entry for Day 9 of Daybreakers 2020 by @p5daybreak

Character: Ren Amamiya/Protagonist - Prompt: School Life

Word count: 2340

Summary: On one Friday afternoon, Ren decides to visit the batting cage in Yongen-Jaya.

A/N: I wanted to write some fluff but it became angsty near the end lol

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

He had always been interested in baseball. Not that he had ever played the game. With how Ren grew up in an environment filled with his father’s favorite phrase it’s a waste of time (really, though, it seemed everything was a waste of time to his father except school, cram school, and studying), Ren never had a chance to play or do much of anything that kids his age would have normally done. So, when he saw the batting cage in the backstreet of Yongen-Jaya, the thought had immediately entered his mind: I’m going to play this game even if it’s the last thing I do. However, with the whole Kamoshida thing happening in the past couple of weeks, Ren’s life had been in such a frenzy that he had simply forgotten the place existed.

That was, until one Friday afternoon when he had just gotten back from school and was heading to the supermarket that Morgana suddenly spoke from inside his bag.

“What’s this?”

Ren stopped mid-step and looked to his right. A narrow set of stairs tucked between buildings stood there, leading up to who-knew-where. There was a yellow sign at the top of it that said, ‘YONGEN-JAYA BATTING CAGE’.

“A batting cage,” Ren said, mostly to himself, and he caught himself. Hadn’t he wanted to visit this place for some time now?

“A batting cage?” Morgana echoed. The cat had pushed his way out of Ren’s bag and popped his head over his shoulder, placing his paws there as though Ren’s shoulder was a steppingstone. The sudden shift in weight made his shoulder sag. He seriously wondered sometimes why the cat wouldn’t walk on his own. His left shoulder was getting stiffer by the day.

“A batting cage in a small place like this?”

Ren shrugged. He did wonder where the cage exactly was, because there was the supermarket on one side and…Ren didn’t know what the other building was—it always had its shutters down every time Ren walked past it.

“What’s it like inside?” Morgana mused.

Ren glanced at the cat. “Do you wanna check it out?”

“Sure.”

***

The batting cage was nestled at the rooftop in-between buildings. Up the set of rickety stairs to another flight of stairs before Ren reached the topmost landing where he was met by another sign on a white board. A doorway to his right opened up to a narrow hallway, with a receptionist counter on one side and the netted batting areas on the other.

“So it’s on the rooftop,” Morgana said as Ren ducked underneath the doorway.

It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t crowded. In fact, they were practically the only ones there. However, despite its size, the place didn’t feel cluttered at all. “Nice,” Ren murmured under his breath. There were a few tables and chairs for people—if there were any—to sit and wait. Its roof only covered the receptionist area and half of the batting cages. Ren liked how the people had used a spare space to make a little bit of money and give some sort of downtime activity for anyone in the neighborhood without having to travel very far. He already liked this place very much and could see himself just sitting there, reading a book.

“Can I help you?” The voice from the counter interrupted his reverie and Ren found a middle-aged man standing behind it. He wasn’t as tall as him, and a little stout around the edges. He was probably around Sojiro’s age—probably younger. He wore a bluish-green shirt and a matching cap that Ren had initially thought might be a uniform, but he couldn’t find any sort of logo or even the words Batting Cage on it.

However, before Ren could say anything, the man had tilted his head to the side and said, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Oh—um, yes, I just moved here last month,” Ren said.

“Ah!” the man exclaimed, eyes widening at the realization. “The one staying at Sakura-san’s place?” Ren nodded. He didn’t know how much he could tell him, as Sojiro had explicitly said not to talk much with the people around here. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard about you. You go to Shujin Academy, right? I heard you’re helping Sakura-san with his cafe?”

Right, that was what Sojiro was telling people: that Ren was working part-time there. Then, not exactly sure what he should do, Ren bowed and introduced himself formally, to which the man smiled and nodded and replied with, “I’m the owner of this batting cage. Feel free if you want to play some game. It’s your first time here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we only have one type of machine at the moment, but I do plan on adding some later on. They’re five hundred yen a game,” the man went on. “Also, to get that youth blood pumping inside you, we give out prizes if you manage to hit all of them. There might even be some little extra if you hit a homerun.”

“Prizes?” came Morgana’s muffled voice from inside Ren’s bag—the cat had shuffled back inside when Ren started talking with the owner. “Do it, Ren! They might be useful.”

“Shut up, Mona,” Ren muttered from the corner of his mouth, giving his bag a quick squeeze.

“Hm? What’s that?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” Ren quickly answered. “Anyway, yeah, I guess I’ll play.”

***

Ren entered one of the cages and set his bag down on the ground—the batting cage token on one hand and the baseball bat on the other. His fingers flexed around the hilt.

“Have you ever played baseball?” Morgana asked.

His only experience in baseball was in some of the PE classes he had had back in middle school or watching his school team practice from his window in the classroom.

“A bit, I guess,” Ren said, inserting the token to the machine. “If you count PE classes.”

“What about with your friends?” Morgana asked again. “You know, like local neighborhood matches?”

Ren chuckled. “How do you know kids often have neighborhood matches?”

If cats could scoff, Ren swore Morgana had done just that. “I told you. I was a human. Don’t underestimate my knowledge of a normal human life.”

Normal, huh, Ren thought. If playing catch or having friendly neighborhood skirmishes counted as normal, then Ren felt he wasn’t much of a normal kid. But still, he laughed as he positioned himself on the base and gripped the hilt of his baseball bat tightly.

He heard the pitcher machine started, the cogs and wheels moving, then—

His body moved, swinging the bat wide.

The ball hit the net behind him.

“That was close,” Morgana said.

That had been far from close. Ren frowned, rolling his stiff shoulders and neck. He had run around a Palace and fought Shadows. His body had felt so light and nimble and fast. Could he really not hit one measly ball?

The pitcher machine moved again.

Ren swung his bat too fast.

He sighed. “Want me to change with you?” Morgana said.

“You can’t even hold the bat,” Ren retorted.

“And you can’t even hit it.”

Ren glanced at the cat, who seemed to be smirking. He couldn’t help but feel his own lips stretching into a grin.

Third time’s the charm, he told himself. He tried to remember what it had been like to hit the ball—the stance he had to have, how tight or how loose he had to hold the bat, how flexible his body had to be. Watch the ball. He remembered someone telling him once. Watch the ball and predict its trajectory. Not that he understood much about baseball to be able to do that.

The machine should only throw fastballs, so…

The machine moved, and Ren swung his bat. It grazed the underside of the ball, though not enough of an impact to send it flying to the other side.

“Aaah so close!” Morgana commented.

It had been so long. Was it three years—four—since the last time he last played the sport? He hadn’t played it enough for his body to remember any sort of kinesthetic memory. But he had managed to touch the ball, so that was something. Now, if he could just do that again but better.

The machine shot the ball toward him and—

Ren swung hard and fast, timing it carefully. The bat made contact, and the ball flew to the other side, hitting the net.

“You hit it!” Morgana cheered.

Ren watched the ball fall to the ground on the other side. He remembered it, the feeling of his bat making full contact with the ball—the resistance and vibration that followed—and then seeing the ball flying to the other side. A sort of jubilation he rarely felt filled his whole being and before he knew it, his lips had already stretched into a wide grin.

“All right! There’s more of that where it’s coming from!”

***

He didn’t get the prize. Well, of course he didn’t, not after those first three failed hits. “We’ll get it next time,” Morgana had said. Before Ren left, the batting cage owner told him that they were going to have new machines installed over the summer, offering more challenging faster pitches. Though he had yet to master this beginner stage, as he liked to call it, Ren still promised the man he would come by once in a while.

Ren was quiet on their way down from the batting cage. The sun had set, plunging the sky into a deep indigo hue with streaks of dark red and orange by the horizon. There were no clouds to be seen, but unlike his hometown where Ren could often see the stars and make out constellations in the night, the Tokyo night lights often obscured those same stars from view.

He heard Morgana’s voice in the background. The cat was talking about how the batting cage could improve Ren’s handy works, which might help in future Palace infiltrations. Then he started wondering what kind of prizes they would get. Then Morgana told Ren not to forget to stop by the batting cage so Ren could improve his batting skills.

“Hey, I’m not trying to become a Koshien player, you know,” Ren interjected with a laugh.

“I know, but I think this skill would come in real handy to have,” the cat said. “A good coordination between your eyes, your hands, and your mind? That’s a skill any Phantom Thief should have.”

Ren gave a small chuckle, keeping his eyes to the ground. “Yeah, okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

There was a pause, before Morgana popped out of Ren’s bag and he felt the cat climbing onto his shoulder. “Hm? What’s wrong? I thought you were having fun there.”

Ren glanced at the cat, not sure what he was getting on. “What do you mean? I am having fun.”

“You don’t sound as enthusiastic as before though.”

Enthusiastic?

Ren stopped in his tracks. What did he mean by ‘enthusiastic’? Ren was enthusiastic, wasn’t he? He was, but…

After leaving the batting cage behind and feeling the cool evening air brush against his face, that rush of adrenaline he had felt hitting one ball after another had subsided, leaving him feeling somewhat empty. The elation from before felt like a distant dream, a brief reprieve before he was thrust back into reality.

This feeling had felt like an everyday thing that Ren had never noticed it. Like a protection gear he had put around himself to brave whatever reality had to offer. As though a part of his mind had settled on the fact that something would take away his happiness and joy and he had to be ready for whenever it struck.

The image of a broken bat came to mind. His father’s cold eyes. The screaming he had heard behind closed doors. Ren had retreated to the park, as he always would every time his parents fought. He didn’t remember if he had cried—it hadn’t seemed like something worth crying for—but he remembered now the pain he had felt when he heard the crack and saw the splintered wood.

Ren had completely forgotten about it—the first and last time his father ever broke something of his. His mother had given it to him, after seeing him enjoying the sport in a local event. A glove and a bat—ones he could play with the kids in the neighborhood.

“Ren.”

A soft furry touch to his cheek, and he realized his eyes were wet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, quietly taking his glasses off and wiping his eyes. “Dust must’ve caught in them.”

“Hey, if it’s hard to talk about—”

But Ren shook his head before Morgana could finish his sentence. He realized he had never told anyone about it—about his parents—not even when he still lived with them, because people knew them, and they would expect Ren to be the proper young man worthy of them. Now he was here, living by himself, gotten rid of if he were to use Sojiro’s words. Would it be all right if he talked about them now?

Ren blew a quiet breath from his mouth, putting his glasses back on, then leaned against the railing of the stairs. The streaks of light in the sky were fading away, the streetlamps flickering to life.

“You asked me if I’d played with some of the neighborhood kids, right?” Ren said. Morgana nodded. “Well, I did, for a time. But then my dad found out, and…I stopped.”

It took him a moment to realize that Morgana probably couldn’t understand a single thing from a short explanation like that. As expected, Morgana then asked, “What happened with your dad?”

Ren chuckled under his breath and gave the cat a bitter smile. “Let’s just say, he’s not the best dad around.” And in the quiet of the night, Ren began telling Morgana about his parents.

~ END ~

[izzy-b-hands]

Play Ball

A bit of Sledgefu that I’ve had brewing in the back of my head since I made this post: https://aboutthatmelancholystorm.tumblr.com/post/186689955621/okay-but-sledgefu-with-a-baseball-related-plot

Please note that if there are any baseball inaccuracies in here, it’s because I’m not a huge Sports Person, and despite trying to double check rules and how the game goes, it is very possible I fucked something up. Forgive me if you find any lol.

He was unhinged, a wild beast of a man, his blood boiling. 

And they hadn’t even started playing yet. 

“You always this...passionate, about baseball?” Snafu asked, watching Eugene pace and sulk, glaring down the other team. 

“They have the nerve to show up this late, we could have left by now, and they’re talkin’ shit,” Eugene spat. 

As if on cue, a player from the other team called over abuse to their bench, something Snafu could only half hear, about how they couldn’t hit a ball if their lives depended on it, and Eugene exploded. 

“Come over here and say that! I fuckin’ dare you!” 

Sid, the reluctant team captain/amateur coach sighed. “This is why his dad made him stop playin’ when we were kids. He gets a half mile within a baseball field, and...well.” 

“I mean, I don’t hate the passion,” Snafu replied as he watched Eugene nearly climb the fencing that separated them from the team and their bench from the field. “Just...haven’t seen him like this since Okinawa. And that was war, this is...” 

“Not war?” Sid snorted. “I know. But I already told him, he keeps himself together or he’s out for at least a game or two. Ain’t healthy, him gettin’ that upset.” 

“You know, you wanna talk about us not hittin’, but what about you showin’ up on time? Get a watch, motherfucker!” Eugene was almost spitting with each word, his muscles tense to the touch as Snafu gently pulled him back to the bench. 

“C’mon, wait to beat ‘em out there,” Snafu soothed, wondering if he wouldn’t have to actually sit on Eugene to get him to stay on the bench for the next few minutes until they could run to the field. 

“Oh I will; I’ll beat ‘em off the damn field,” Eugene hissed, then paused. “Wait, no-” 

But it was too late, and Sid’s laughter along with the rest of their teammates interrupted him. 

Snafu watched a smile break out on Eugene’s face. “Shit. I didn’t mean...” 

“We all know Snafu’s the only one you do that to, Eugene. Maybe reword that next time though, huh?” one of the older team members, a veteran who’d fought in the European theater laughed. 

The break in Eugene’s anger was a nice one, and Snafu felt a bit better as they ran out onto the field. This might be okay after all, and might even be a fun thing to add onto their summer schedules from here on out. 

The other team’s batter strode onto the field like he couldn’t be bothered to be excited to play. He barely swung at the first two pitches, and Snafu could feel everyone else’s confusion joining his. The fuck was this guy’s issue?

The third pitch, he gave an electric grin, and hit the ball sky high, giving Snafu a chance to watch Eugene, who was far enough out in the outfield to go for it. 

It was intense, and impressive. Eugene had a hell of an arm on him as he tossed the ball back towards their team members nearer the bases, screaming for someone to tag him out. 

He screamed even louder when they failed to do so, and absolutely howled as the next batter walked up, chuckling. 

“Look at him, he can’t hit shit! We got no goddamn excuse now!” 

“Eugene!” Sid’s voice rang out across the field. 

“Yeah?!” Eugene shouted back. 

“Shut the fuck up and get ready to catch somethin’!” Sid was half-laughing as he shouted, but Snafu noticed that didn’t seem to catch Eugene’s attention. He was petulant after the reprimand, red in the face and clearly irritated. 

Their pitcher seemed immune to all of it going on, as if he was somewhere else, pitching well without a care in the world, well enough to strike the batter out, and strike the smarmy grin off the player’s face. 

“Told you he couldn’t hit shit!” Eugene was bouncing on the balls of his feet in the field, glaring down the next batter before he was even fully in the batter’s box. 

Sid caught Snafu’s eye, and gestured to Eugene as he called for a time-out. 

Snafu trotted out to him and sighed. “You gonna be good for the rest of this?” 

“I’m fine,” Eugene said. 

“Bullshit. The hell about this goddamn game has you so riled up?” 

Eugene shrugged. “Just...don’t like losin’ at it, for some reason. I know it doesn’t mean shit whether we win or lose, I just get out here and...” 

“Okay, well you gotta relax, or Sid’s gonna pull you. You know he will. Won’t wanna, but he will. You good?” 

Eugene nodded. 

The next batter seemed half afraid as he looked out to them, but he hit the ball. 

At least, that was as much as Snafu could remember before waking up on the side of the field, a circle of concerned faces from both teams looking over him. 

“I will rip you to fucking shreds! So small they won’t have shit to bury!” Eugene’s voice was the loudest and clearest thing as he came back to himself, sitting up despite the protests of the other players. 

Sid was sitting on him in the dirt, motioning for the batter that had just been up to leave. “He’s gonna be fine, we’ll have a doctor look at him, you aren’t in trouble.” 

Snafu clambered to his feet, ignoring the ungodly ache of his head, and wondered how big the bruise on his head would be from where the ball must have hit him. “Hey, you the kid that hit me?” 

He looked to be all of nineteen, and took a step back as Snafu approached him.

“Relax, you’re fine. Shit happens. I made through Guaducanal and Peleliu, gonna take more than a rogue baseball to take me out,” Snafu smiled, and held his hand out for the kid to shake. 

Eugene, Sid, and everyone else had gone completely silent, watching them. 

The kid smiled, and shook his hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for yo-” 

“Ah, ah, I only brought that up so you know you didn’t kill me. I’ll be fine, and as long as you don’t make a habit of beanin’ other players in the head, you’ll be fine too.” 

Sid climbed off of Eugene, and sighed. “Everyone fine with us just reschedulin’ this one? I got a player to take to a doctor, and a goddamn headache.” 

The other team’s coach sighed as well, in relief. “Next Sunday?” 

“Sounds good,” Sid said and the crowd began to disperse. 

“Thought he fuckin’ killed you,” Eugene was beside him suddenly, and Snafu jumped. 

“Nah. You should know better by now; I got a skull so damn hard even common sense can’t break into it,” Snafu grinned, but Eugene didn’t smile. 

“I scared the shit outta that kid, actin’ like I did. This is my fault,” he said softly, and wrapped Snafu in a hug. 

“You need to do better at the next game,” Sid agreed, walking over to them. “But this isn’t your fault. Could have hit anyone, we coulda been up to bat and hit one of their guys. Just an accident.” 

“We’ll call my dad over, have him check you. I’ll tell him to come for the next week; we’ll just have him over for dinner each night and that way if anything happens-” Eugene had gone from sad and remorseful to frantic. “Let me look at your eyes, he told me what to look for once.” 

Eugene’s hands were on his face, pulling his eyelids up before he could bat him off, and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Eugene asked, moving his hands from Snafu’s face to his waist. 

“Look in my eyes, Sledgehammer,” Snafu quoted himself, remembering the day he’d spent begging Eugene to try and diagnose him with an illness he hadn’t had. “Think a head injury is worse than the heebie jeebies?” 

Eugene smiled. “Even with a head injury, you’re somethin’ else, you know that?” 

“You can tell me how much of somethin’ else I am while you drive me home,” Snafu teased, though his head really was killing. 

“Both of you are gonna get in the backseat and shut up,” Sid sighed irritably. “Or did y’all really forget I drove us here?” 

“...thank you for drivin’ us home, Sid darlin’,” Snafu grinned. “And for bein’ the best coach we could ask for.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sid shook his head. “Just bring your best next weekend, and please, Eugene-” 

“I know,” Eugene interrupted. “Sorry, Sid. I’ll rein myself in next weekend. Promise.”

The drive home was still a bit awkward, if only because Sid had meant his command to stay quiet. If they so much as giggled, he shushed them like a frustrated father and reminded them of his headache. By the time he’d dropped them off, they were shaking from suppressing their laughter. 

Mentally, as he rested on the couch with Eugene’s father checking him over, he made a note to have them try some other sport in addition to baseball. Something calmer, that might not raise Eugene’s blood pressure to dangerous levels. He didn’t know what that might be, but he figured he’d have plenty of time to ask Eugene what he’d want to try, while he insisted on waiting on him hand and foot, refusing to let him move from the couch and then their bed later that evening, treating him like a potentially-concussed prince.

[curiosity-killed]

I was bored and so I did it. Link to questions to be added when I'm not on mobile at work lmaooo

Callebero

1. Would your OC ever accessorize with a cape?

Honestly, it’s part of his daily attire.

2. If they were to encounter a bear, what would they do?

Probably hold still and watch it pass by. 

3. Your OC has the the chance to grab pepper spray, a baseball bat, a knife or a shoe, which one would they grab?

Baseball bat - he likes range.

4. It’s a sunny day outside, what is their reaction?

Pure happiness: face tilted to the sky, arms outstretched to soak in the warmth.

5. Have they ever swum with sharks before?

No.

Peronell

6. Oh no, your oc is hungry and has no money, what do they do?

Go pester a friend until they caved and either bought or gave him something to eat.

7. If they had the chance to kill someone without being caught, would they? If so, who?

Honestly, probably not.

8. What gif describes their life?


9. What would their username be on tumblr?
pantasticperry or smth

10. What is their 3rd favorite color?

Cognac

Siobhán

11. Would they rather own a three-headed dog or two-headed cat?

Three-headed dog. Regardless of what she actually named it, everyone would think its name was Baby.

12. Can they do the splits?

No lol

13. If they knew the only way to get the chocolate cake was to murder the person guarding it, would they?

No but like she’d be tempted

14. Do they know which way east is?

Yes

15. Have they ever been kicked in the kneecaps before?

Yes - she and Peronell have a decidedly sibling-like relationship, including childhood Mortal Kombat style wrestling matches

Veria

16. If they had a chance to go up in a hot air balloon, would they?

Only if the princess insisted on going. She’s not afraid of heights, but the lack of control and number of things that could go wrong is...Not Fun.

17. Would they rather ride horseback or on a camel?

She wouldn’t really have a preference except that she would prefer Not To.

18. How many different knots can they tie?

Probably at least 6

19. Would they stop to look at pretty flowers?

Only if no one was watching and if she didn’t have important things she was supposed to be doing. Even then, it would only be a quick, surreptitious pause.

20. If they saw a zebra, what would their reaction be?

“Neat.” Followed pretty rapidly by a risk assessment, evaluation of its use as food, etc.

Pi

21. If they had to hike up a mountain, what would their attitude be going up?

Jlahdsklj SHE IS A MERMAID. Uh. Optimistic confusion.

22. Would they ever make a sock puppet?

Absolutely. With extra details and limbs

23. Would they rather banter back and forth with friends or talk about philosophy?

Banter

24. They have acquired a lion, a peanut butter sandwich, and a purple rock - what is their next move?

Probably immediately try to show all of them to Veria and/or her family and then be confused by their distress.

25. They see a magic wand - do they touch it?

Immediately and probably while someone is telling her not to.

Ryu

26. If a skeleton talked to them, would they be scared?

No. She would definitely go into Intimidation Mode and possibly try to eat it, though.

27. If they entered a restaurant and saw a floating beach ball, what would they do?

Hit it.

28. It’s nighttime and the zombies are everywhere, your OC is on the corner of a crowded city block all alone, how do they get off the street?

(Small question about ‘crowded’ and ‘alone’ but anyway…) The benefit to corruption is that she’s not really all that corporeal, so she’d slink into the shadows and feed off the fear inevitably caused by a zombie outbreak.

29. An alligator jumps out of the water and starts to talk to your OC about the economy - what does your OC do?

Bite it.

30. Your OC is scuba diving and comes across a mermaid - what happens next?

She probably bites it. Look, Corrupted!Ryu doesn’t have a whole lot of complex thought or emotions. If it seems like a food source, she’ll lurk around it. If it doesn’t, she’ll try to get rid of it in case it might pose a risk to her food supply.

Micah

31. What is your OC’s go-to dance move?

Like finger guns but without moving her elbows away from her sides

32. Your OC has access to a boat and $5 million - now what?

Considering there are neither reservoirs nor oceans on her planet, the boat would probably be repurposed into a bench or bed or bookshelf. The $5 million would be stashed under her mattress to avoid an investigation into how she suddenly came into such a lump sum and would slowly be doled out mostly to treat her mama and her friends.

33. Your OC accidentally dyed their hair purple - now what?

Honestly, after the initial shock and dismay, she’d probably just groan and roll with it. 

34. What would your OC’s reaction be if there was a giant dog that came to them with a huge bone, wagging its tail in excitement?

Nervous but cautiously intrigued.

35. A frog appears out of nowhere and starts to criticize their life choices, what does your OC do?
“Big Mood.” She’s hard enough on herself that there’s very little the frog could say that she hasn’t already thought/said about herself.

[quirkycoterie]

❤ : What are some role-plays that you have done/are doing that you particularly enjoy and wish to share with your followers?

Kai…. you has done me wrong. I have been lost for hours in old RP. Every time I think of one I want to share with y’all, I end up reading more and more only to find that the pieces are longer than I remember and then think maybe I shouldn’t chunk those massive bits into an answer. So… I think I’m going to go with some summary tidbits from the things.

In a past life, Aliiza was much closer to death from her shipwreck, and while wearing a bigger scar on the outside, she had decided maybe she needed friends. Mind you, she was still great at pushing people away and screwing things up…. but she also learned to be chatty and playful and sometimes vulnerable, especially with the man who somehow became her husband. She got gussied up in fancy dresses and high heels, was often a team player, let people help her with a phobia of water, and lived in a beautiful room, surrounded by keepsakes she gathered. She had a lot of really great interactions and while I sometimes miss how far she’d gone, I also love getting to play her now and seeing how she’s developing without those same influences.

I am a sucker for her and Alex. Totally. Completely. Every time I go back to the start of their relationship, I giggle. Sometimes I get a bit teary. He avoided saying “I love you” in that order but still had to use the word love itself in like 3 different ways for her to get what he was saying because if he didn’t say it the way he was scared to… he obviously couldn’t mean it that way. Both so certain they were unlovable. Him, disappointed because she didn’t seem to want to say it back. Her, confused because she didn’t think he was saying it. They are idiots and I love laughing with @cadrenebula behind the scenes over our precious, awkward, stupid, accidental OTP.  I also love watching her call him on his bullshit when it’s clear to her. I enjoy when she makes him share and grow by refusing to be afraid of the things he thinks are so terrible about himself.

OMG this got long… other character bits below the cut.

These two… Aqua was a “better” person in her past life. Qatun was a one shot I was bored and wanted to wear my pretty lingerie in front of people and her name was Ocelot. lol It’s fun getting to really break them out of their former roles and explore their potential. I love getting into telling fortunes (both fake and real) on Aqua and will be forever grateful to @eviloblivion for helping me find inspiration for her. I don’t manage to play Qatun often, but I very much enjoy seeing how she treats each character she meets, from being friendly out of boredom and playful sadism, to downright manipulative or mean.

Cashmere has always been one of my favorite characters to play. She’s fun and sometimes unpredictable and I can work her into almost any situation so she’s flexible in more ways than one. ^_~ In her past life, I absolutely loved her dynamic with the other 3 characters she regularly interacted with. They were mages who awakened to their powers via pretty much… dying. In fact, suspecting she was a mage who hadn’t awakened yet, they tried several things to “help”… including attempting to hit her over the head with a baseball bat. They however, hated vampires for being undead and thereby outside the life cycle. So she spent half her time teasing them about how they weren’t any different than the vampires. When she did finally come into her powers during a fight with a minotaur (that existence surprised her more than vampires), she was more powerful than any one of them. That got super fun. She’s got snark that… I don’t even know where it comes from. It’s not mine.

Like Sana, these characters are originals, no past lives. (Chrysalis is a recycled name but she’s not a reincarnation.)  My favorite RPies from all of them have come in building them with my RP partners. 

Tsume would be only half the character he is without his brother @wkiba-ffxiv, even if Kai does let me write more of their history. I love the brainstorming and the bits and pieces we throw at each other as we RP. It feels wonderfully natural.

Chrys, well, she’d be lost without @zollo-ffxiv and @cadrenebula. She’s only got it together due to the support of her bestie (again, Kai spoils me with our creations) and her cousin, Keaira (my girl Dest also gives me so much of her time and energy, across more than just these characters even). We’ll see how much shine we can dim on all of them together I’m sure…. LOL

I was ready to toss Kuri away. She was boring and plain and while I loved her look, I wasn’t sure what to do with the original concept I had when I made her trying to be nice to someone else that it turned out I didn’t want around. Then @of-the-growing-horde took my ranting and crying about it, and catapulted one of their new creations us…. and suddenly, I had a starting line for real depth and interest. Now… I get to challenge myself by writing someone who constantly tries to see the best in everyone, including her very, very messed up bestie. She turns the other cheek. Gives the benefit of the doubt. Slaps an understanding smile on… and tells herself and you that it’s going to be just fine… and damn some days that is hard to play, but I looooooove every piece of RP I write with her.

Really… if I didn’t mention you here and we RP, I love that shit too! I don’t write outside of RP creations. I may write solo pieces at times, but I don’t sit and do novels or stories otherwise. My RP partners really make this worthwhile for me and you all rock. You’re my favorite part of RP and I want to read yours, too!

[lovelydob]

The Accidental Friendzone

Stiles x Virgin!Reader Author: lovelydob Words: 4.4k

Warnings: NSFW Smut. Jeep sex, unprotected sex (yeah, don’t do this. real life don’t work this way.), dry humping, female masturbation, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talking, and swearing. Also a sassy bff Lydia, a tiny amount of angst and self pity, low self confidence and a complicated pining triangle? Idk if that’s a thing lol.

A/N: This is the fic you all voted for in celebration for reaching 1k! Thank you for that! I hope you guys like it even though it turned out wayyy fluffier than I thought it was going to. *shrugs* Oh well. I loved writing it, and I think it’s pretty cute. This is 194% better than my first time, like wtf where was my Stiles? Thanks to my bff @ninja-stiles for helping me choose a title and look over it for me! Don’t be afraid to let me know what you think!

“There he is.” Lydia whispered to you while shoving your items in your locker, making you roll your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this. We both know he’d only be coming over here to talk to you.” You said as you slam your locker shut and face her.

“That’s not true. You two have been getting pretty close, don’t think I haven’t noticed you ditching me for him lately.” She joked, sending you a devious grin.

“Yeah. Sorry, I just really like him Lyds. You understand, right?”

“Of course! Everyone needs a good lay every once in a while.” Lydia says nonchalantly, your elbow instantly connecting to her ribs at the statement.

“What?! It’s true!” She continued.

“Yeah, except I’ve been friendzoned by him. Hard.” You sighed again, opening the water in your hand to take a few swigs.

“I bet that’s not the only thing you wished he’d do to you hard.” Lydia laughed, this time guarding her ribs with crossed arms.

Water sprayed from your mouth, a few students in the hall looking at your with confused looks as they pass by. You were just thankful you didn’t hit any of them with the small droplets of water.

“Lydia. Can you not reveal that sensitive information in public as loudly as you just did, please? Jesus.” You groaned as you closed the water bottle, glancing back at Stiles who was rummaging through his locker, thankfully unaware of the discussion between you two.

“Also, it’s kinda hard to do when all he talks about is you. No offense, but not my biggest turn on.”

“That’s a valid point.” Lydia agreed, peeking her head over your shoulder. “Oh, look who’s coming right this way.” She smiled at you.

You turn around to see Stiles walking up to you. His tight, red shirt clinging over his chest and biceps, making your body ache with lust.

“Holy shit.” You whisper to yourself, Lydia elbowing you this time to tell you to shut up.

“What are you two giggling about over here?” Stiles smiled, glancing between us both.

“Oh, just that story you told us a while ago. Freshman year when Scott almost hit you with his baseball bat because he thought someone was breaking in.” Lydia was quick to come up with an excuse.

“Oh.” Stiles chuckled, adjusting his book bag on his shoulders. “Yeah, still haven’t forgave him for that by the way.”

Awkward silence grew between you until Stiles cleared his throat.

“So, you going to the party tonight?” He directly asked Lydia, making you feel out of place.

Lydia glanced at you and back to Stiles. “Yes, we’re going to the party tonight.”

“Okay, cool. Sorry, just didn’t think Y/N was going, not really her thing. See you there.” Stiles smiled at you before walking past us and through the exit of the building.

“See? He doesn’t even notice me when you’re around.” You frowned, your heart aching at his words. Your best friend wrapped her arms around you tightly, comforting you like she always did in situations like this.

“Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll fix that tonight. You just need to get his attention in a different way.”

You flattened your jean shorts with the palms of your hands as Lydia pulled up to the house, the bass of the music already making its way to your ears before you can even get out of the car.

“Lyds, are you sure this isn’t too much?”

Lydia looked you over before fixing a few stray hairs on your head. “Nope, you look perfect. I promise. If this doesn’t work on Stiles, I’ll start to question his sexuality.” She joked, pulling out a tube of red lipstick from her purse and handing it to you. “The last touch. Put it on, it’ll make you feel like you can conquer the world.”

You stifled a laugh as you bought the tube to your lips. “Well, we all know I’m going to need the confidence.”

You finished applying it before handing it back to her, her face flashing one of her famous smiles. “Don’t worry, I have a fix for that too.”

You make your way up to the house, the door already open and inviting as you step inside and Lydia was welcomed by several people. You waved awkwardly as she introduced you to the people, recognizing some of them from school. A few eyes lingering on you more than usual, making you nibble on your bottom lip, a thing you only did when you were anxious.

“Need a drink?” Lydia asked suddenly as she pulled you towards the kitchen.

Before you know it, Lydia is handing you a red solo cup from the island inside the house. You decide not to argue with her, seeing she probably wouldn’t hear you over the loud music anyways. You brought the cup up to your lips, slowly sipping the warming liquid as you glanced around the party. You were looking for someone in particular, but you would never admit it, not even to yourself.

You scanned the room some more before your gaze connected with someone else’s. The amber eyes bored into your own for a split second before you quickly averted your attention back to the cup in your hand, taking a few gulps to calm the butterflies and self doubt currently knotting your stomach.

“Lydia.” You grabbed her arm and pulled her away from her current conversation. Her eyes widened once she looked at your current state, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead.

“Oh my God, Y/N. Are you okay? You look flushed. And you're sweating profusely.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I change my mind, this was a bad idea. It was fun while it lasted, but I'm leaving now before I embarrass myself even more.” You went on before chugging the rest of the drink in your hands while Lydia stared at you questioningly.

“He saw me. And he fucking stared, Lydia. I don't know what that means, but it can't be good, right?” Lydia glanced around the room nonchalantly, until she found him perched on the back of the couch in the living room. His intense gaze was still on you, eyes roaming from the top of your head, lingering on the skin revealed by your jean shorts before he quickly snapped his head back to his conversation with Scott.

A giggle left Lydia’s lips once she realized what was happening, your face twisting in confusion.

“What? What's the matter, did I do something?”

“Y/N, he's eye-fucking you.” She said bluntly.

Your face had reddened even more, if it were possible. This new information and the alcohol in your veins fueled an intoxicating warmth in the rest of your body, including your core.

“Should I go talk to him? What do I say?” you quickly asked Lydia, filling your cup again while you were still standing by the island.

“Yeah, I don't think you'll have to since he's already making his way over here.”

Before you could reply you felt a large hand land itself on your shoulder, followed by Stiles’ lips against your ear.

“Not that I don't think you're usually beautiful, but you look amazing right now.” He simply said, making a shiver run down your spine.

This was the first time he has ever mentioned anything about your appearance besides the occasional ‘I like your shirt’. He has definitely never called you beautiful before, but you could see yourself getting used to it.

Lydia excused herself from the conversation with some made up excuse, shooting two thumbs up your way before disappearing and leaving the both of you alone.

“Um, thanks.” You said as you looked him over. “You look great, too. As usual.” Your eyes widened in horror as you cursed your lack of filter from the drinks you've had. Stiles chuckled at the statement before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter? I haven't drank anything yet since I'm supposed to be DD later. Plus, it looks like your ride is going to be busy with someone else.” His face fell some before you turned to see what he was talking about, making the connection when you saw Lydia flirting with some football jock from a different school.

“I know that feeling” You frowned. You agreed to his offer before he could ask any questions, taking your hand in his before pulling his keys out of his pocket as you both made your way out the front door.

The ride was quiet the whole way to his ‘secret spot’ as he called it, except the low volume of the radio playing random songs in the background. The drinks from earlier still causing a fuzzy feeling in your body enough to dull your nerves.

The jeep turned onto a secluded two-track, just trees and dirt until you eventually came to a pasture, wide open and bright with shining stars.

“Oh my God, Stiles. This is beautiful.” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah, the closest town is miles away so the stars are always super bright. I thought you'd like it as much as I do. I always come out here when I need to clear my head or relax. I've never even told Scott about it.” He explained, grabbing a blanket from the back seat and throwing it over the both of you. “Just incase you get cold.”

“Wait, so why are you showing me?”

Stiles turned his head to look at you, studying your face for a second before answering you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

Silence fell over you both besides the faint crackle of the radio playing songs, your head getting lost in the lyrics as you watched the stars above you through the window for a while before his voice startled you from your thoughts.

“You ever feel like just moving on?” He asked, now looking at you, the question taking you by surprise.

“Wha-, what do you mean?”

“You said you knew the feeling, feeling of rejection and not being good enough.” You understood now, realizing he must have heard you at the party.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard. “Yeah, sometimes I guess. Some days are harder than others. I hate not being noticed by him. At least, the way I want him to notice me. That's actually why I'm wearing all of this… stuff. Lydia said it would quote ‘get his attention’.” You chuckled, gesturing toward your body.

“I was going to ask. It doesn't seem like something you’d normally wear. But you really do look amazing. You have a great ass.” Stiles grinned at you, making you blush and wiggle in your seat.

“Did it work?” He asked, biting his bottom lip

“I don't know, you tell me.” You whispered, dropping the bomb without warning, shocking even yourself that you finally said it.

You stared at Stiles for a moment before his eyes darted to your lips before returning to your eyes again.

“I knew it.” He licked his lips, making your heart rate increase. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?” He said, turning towards you more.

“You were always preoccupied, Stiles. And always seemed generally uninterested.”

“Not anymore.” Stiles pulled you closer to him, gently wrapping his arm around you as you nuzzled your face into his neck. “I'm done wasting my time and energy on someone who will never love me back.” Your heart fluttered but broke at the same time at his confession before he continued.

“I had a feeling. The way you started to act around me, it was in front of my face the whole time. It finally clicked when you looked at me at the party. The way you turned away when you saw me already looking at you. I finally put two and two together and decided then and there I was done wasting my time with her when you were right there. You’re one of my best friends, Y/N. And I’d love to be something more if you’re willing to let me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I’m sorry if I hurt you because of it, I didn’t mean it.”

Your lips parted in awe, completely overwhelmed with emotion as your eyes filled with tears from his words.

“It’s okay.” You mumbled as you looked at him, his face inching closer and closer to yours with each passing moment before your eyes fluttered shut and his lips connected with yours.

This moment is something you had daydreamed about for months, and the thoughts alone did not do the real kiss any justice. His soft, pink lips pushed against your own before they lead you to a more needy, desperate kiss. His mouth enveloped your own, his hands wrapping around your body as you felt his tongue swipe your lower lip, asking for entrance.

You obliged, opening your mouth to meet his soft, delicate tongue to your own. The taste of him was sweet, and you could see yourself easily becoming addicted to the new sensation.

Stiles pulled you into him as close as possible, gripping your shirt in his hands before pulling away suddenly.

“Come’re.” He said lowly as he motioned to his lap, making your panties soak instantly.

You followed his order and swung your leg over his body to straddle him, the bulge in his pants growing harder with each second as it pressed against your core. He pulled the lever on his seat, reclining all the way back and bringing you with him, attaching his lips back onto yours hungrily.

Stiles threaded his fingers in your hair as you ground yourself into his lap in search of much needed friction, causing him to groan into your mouth. His fingers popped the button of your jean shorts, taking you by surprise for a second but you welcomed it by sitting up and removing your own shirt in front of him. Stiles followed your actions by removing his shirt from his body, tossing it in the empty seat next to him.

A mess of kisses were shared between you as condensation started to fog up the windows as a natural privacy barrier, the heat of your bodies growing with each passing second.

Stiles cupped your covered breasts with his hands, your own hands undoing the button and zipper on his pants between you.

“Fuck.” He breathed, “I want you so bad.”

“I want you too Stiles. But I'm kind of nervous since I've never done this before.” Stiles brows furrowed, a look of confusion adorned his face.

“You’re still a virgin?”

You nodded bashfully, looking away from him and pushing your hair behind your ears anxiously. He kept looking at you for a moment before speaking again.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”

I shook my head at what he said, “No, that's not the problem. I would actually probably prefer losing it to you because I'm already so close and comfortable with you… I trust you, Stiles.”

“Okay,” he smiled at you, “so what is the problem? Is there a problem?”

You breathed out a sigh, trying to calm your nerves. “I guess I'm just nervous in general. I've been told it can hurt the first time.” You admitted to him, your face heating up in embarrassment.

Stiles looked at you understandingly, before leaning back in towards you to place another tender kiss to your lips. He then brushed his lips against the shell of your ear.

“I promise, I'll do everything I can to make it as pain-free and enjoyable as possible for you. If you decide you want to stop, we'll stop then and there. Just talk to me, okay?” He had calmed your nerves enough to push yourself back on him, pressing your lips to his neck in a few gentle kisses.

He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, pulling it down your arms slowly before tossing it somewhere in the jeep. His hand instinctively fondled your breasts, his fingertips brushing against your now sensitive nipples. You arched your back to press your chest towards him more, not wanting the pleasurable feeling to end. You almost let out a whine when it does for a second, until you feel his mouth surround it instead. His tongue worked over the bud and you grew wetter by the minute, his tongue circling each one equally as you carded your fingers through his hair.

You slipped your hand into your pants to find some relief of your now aching and slick pussy, Stiles moaning at the sight but quickly pulling your hand from your pants and replacing it with his own hand. His large fingers slid along your folds slowly, warming you up before popping a finger inside of you. You moaned at the new feeling, his finger rubber your walls lazily and you felt yourself contracting around the single digit, your body letting him know you needed more.

“Talk to me, what do you want?” He breathed, panting heavily into your ear.

“More.” Stiles obliged and slipped a second finger into you, scissoring your walls apart to ease the ache between your legs.

“Fuck you're so tight, even with just my fingers.” He continued rubbing them inside of you, his palm pressing against your now throbbing nub.

“Oh shit, Stiles.” You moaned, your body now moving in sync with his hand in search of more friction.

“What do you need, baby girl?”

You thought for a moment before an idea popped into your head, your body tingling in excitement at the thought.

“Your mouth.”

Stiles face lit up at the word, his usual light eyes now darkened and hooded with lust.

“I have an idea.” He said as he pulled his hand from you and quickly grabbed the blanket in the passenger seat. He brought the seat he was in back up before motioning you to crawl in back, him close behind you. He shook the blanket out, laying it down to make a makeshift bed.

He pushed you gently onto the blanket, attacking your neck with open mouthed kisses as you arched your body against his in search of friction. Stiles played with the loops of your shorts and you shook your head in agreement.

He pulled them and your panties down your legs and off of your body, dropping them next to him as he turned to look at you and his breath hitched in his throat.

“You're so fucking beautiful.” He commented, sliding his fingers through your folds again, making you squirm.

“Look at you writhing for me, you're dripping wet. Is this all mine?” He whispered seductively, making you moan at his words. Who would have thought Stiles Stilinski was such a dirty talker?

“I-I need you, Stiles.” You said through ragged breaths.

Stiles pushed his fingers back into you, your head rolling back at the feeling of them filling you once again. The feeling was amplified when you felt him open your legs even wider and nuzzle his face close to your pussy, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine and you grew even more excited.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby girl.”

You groaned at his dirty talk, your body so wound up you knew it wouldn't take you long to snap. Your breathing was uneven, body flushed as your pussy throbbed with need.

“I'm going to cum if you keep talking like that.” Stiles smiled at you mischievously, picking up the pace of his fingers that were rubbing your walls deliciously.

“Do it. Cum all over my fingers, baby girl. Let me feel how much you're enjoying yourself. I bet you've thought about this so many times, touching yourself to the thought of me. How many times have you came thinking if me?”

“Oh fuck, Stiles.” Your back arched as you felt your orgasm creep up on you.

“How many times?” Stiles asked again, watching your face intently from between your legs.

“Every night.” You admitted, Stiles smiling at your answer before flattening his tongue against your bundle of nerves, making you moan his name repeatedly.

You felt your your high hit you like a freight train, hard and intense as your walls squeezed around his fingers and juices soaked his hand. You struggled to catch your breath, only his name escaping your mouth as you panted. He withdrew his fingers from you once you started to come down, your body still twitching with each pass of his tongue over your slit as he lapped up all of your juices.

“Still want to do this?” Stiles asked you as he palmed himself through his pants, his face completely lust-blown as he looked at your naked body in front of him. You nodded once and Stiles pulled his pants down to his knees, fisting his dick in his hand a few times.

You glanced down to his hand and your breath hitched in your throat at his size. He let go of himself before settling between your legs, his cock rubbing through your folds.

“Just tell me if you want to stop. I promise I'll take it slow.”

You answered him by wrapping your hand around him and lining him up with your entrance, and he let out a low growl at the feeling of your hand around him.

“I need you, Stiles.”

Stiles gently pushed himself into you, taking it slow as he proceeded inch by inch until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You felt an uncomfortable, full feeling for a minute as he kissed you feverishly to keep your mind off of it until the pain started to dull. His dick throbbed against your walls, pulsing along with each heartbeat you felt in his chest.

“You're doing great, baby girl.” He whispered into your ear as he peppered kisses along your neck.

Your body started to move against him involuntarily, asking him for more. He caught on and pulled himself from you, only to slowly push himself back in. You winced in pain for a second, Stiles freezing his actions to console you.

“You okay? We should stop if it hurts.” He said as he looked over you with a concerned eyes.

“No, I'm okay.”

Stiles nodded before continuing his slow thrusts, getting you warmed up and stretched for him. Your walls gripped him tightly, and you could tell he was purposely holding back for your comfort.

“You're so tight.” He groaned, watching your face as he started picking up his speed. When he noticed your eyes roll to the back of your head, he knew he found your spot and you were starting to enjoy it.

“You like that baby girl? You gotta tell me, remember?”

“Fuck, yes Stiles. You feel so good inside of me, but you're so big.” You huffed out, Stiles picking up his pace even more.

“But you're taking it so well. Do you want to cum?” You shivered before nodding your head.

“Please?”

Stiles propped himself up on his knees, spreading your knees even wider for him as he started to piston himself into you at the perfect angle, prodding that sensitive spot inside of you with every thrust. Your body was on the edge of bliss, every nerve tingling at the sensation of Stiles fucking you. You've waited so long for him, and you finally got to give yourself to him.

You opened your eyes to look at him, his face contorted in pure pleasure as he watched himself disappear inside of you over and over. You melted at the sight of him, the fact that he was enjoying this as much as you were had only pushed you closer.

That was until Stiles looked at you hazily and started rubbing your engorged clit relentlessly with his thumb.

Your orgasm happened quickly after, with Stiles following close behind. You locked your legs around him as you rode it out and you could feel him fill you up with each throb of his dick. Your heart flooded with emotion as he chanted your name, something you've always wanted to hear.

It was blissful and sweet once you both came down. You cuddled in the back of the jeep, only the blanket covering your tangled bodies as you talked about everything. You fell asleep in his arms, the soft thumps of his heartbeat lulling you into a deep slumber.

You were awoken by bright lights shining through Stiles’ front window, quickly getting up and wrapping the blanket around your body.

“Stiles!” You shook him awake, his face confused once he saw the lights and looked out the window.

“Shit! It's my dad.” He threw his boxers and pants on before jumping in the front seat to roll down the window and answer his father's knocks.

“Hey, dad.” Stiles greeted him nonchalantly. The sheriff had a confused look on his face once he noticed you sitting in the back in only a blanket.

“Hey, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Stiles, what are you doing out here? And why is Y/N naked? You know what, actually I don't even want to know.” The sheriff said as he shook his head.

“We were just camping, um, in the jeep… and it got too hot?”

The sheriff held up his hand to tell him to stop as he shook his head. “I don't want to hear details, son.” He paused for a moment. “Just make sure you ‘camp' somewhere a little more private next time.” Stiles shook his head in agreement.

“And make sure you take her to breakfast or something, get her something to eat. Be a gentleman.” Mr. Stilinski patted his son's shoulder before leaning toward him. “Get your ass home as soon as you drop her off.”

“Already planned on it, dad.” Stiles sighed, his cheeks brightening in embarrassment.

“Nice seeing you, miss Y/L/N.”

“You too, Mr. Stilinski.” You hid your face behind your hands.

The sheriff walked away and Stiles rolled up his window. You dressed yourself in silence before hopping up to the passenger seat. Stiles held his hand out to you after a minute and you took it happily. You we're going to comment on the situation, but Stiles stopped you before you could, shaking his head back and forth quickly. You finally made it to the pavement before he spoke.

“You want some breakfast?”

“That sounds amazing.” You said as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder, trying to hide your face as you laughed.

TAGS: @golddaggers  @fox-lau @lovefilledtragedy @little-nya 

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE PART OF MY TAG LIST!

[reveriequill-rai]

Chapter 7

(heads up: this chapter is a lot shorter than the others. tbh i was gonna combine 6 and 7 but i wanted an even number of chapters LOL, whoops) 

Lunch time arrived, and I found a note in the spot I usually sat at.

“Change of plans,” it said. “Meet me in the back of the school. Forget your lunch; we’ll get food before we go. -A”

Assuming that “A” was Akira, I headed out to the back of the school building. I honestly never liked coming back here; it’s where all the…shady things happened. It always smelled faintly of drugs, and cigarette remains were littered across the floor. It also didn’t help that there was a long, dark, recessed area where I suspected the shadiest of the shady things happened. I heard several people had been beaten up in this area. One person was even murdered, according to rumors—but Akira and Seb insisted that they weren’t dead…or at least not forever. (You’d think they’d use their skills to figure out who had murdered that poor kid and why instead of whether or not they were actually alive...but considering what Seb almost did to me last night, I really was in no position to make fun of him anymore.)

I felt a vibration in my pocket, and took out my phone to see a message from my mom.

“Hey there,” it read, “I know you’re at school right now, and again, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I called the police station for updates on the investigation. They said that they’re gonna have to put it on hold for right now; they haven’t heard back from the officers that came by the house last night, so they’re trying to get in touch with them. That’s all. We’ll talk more when you come home. Love you, stay safe.”

I let out a nervous sigh. In all honesty, I was rather nervous about going into this myself, so I was kind of counting on the police to find Seb and figure out just what had gotten into him. That being said, the police force was kind of unreliable, so confronting Seb myself could be a good thing...but the last time I saw him, he literally tried to kill me.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Jasper would do once I saw him again.

Suddenly, I heard an odd sound. It sounded like…something opening. A bag, probably. Had it not been for the faint, muffled giggling that accompanied that sound, then my heart would not have been racing as much. I turned the corner and found…nothing.

So what was that—

The tight feeling around my neck and the prickly feeling of a rope around it quickly answered my question.

I found myself struggling to breathe, forcing in and out every breath, trying my hardest not to suffocate. The thick, prickly rope had already been tied quickly around my neck. I was on one knee as I tried to stop myself from getting dragged back by whoever had bound me. I struggled to turn around, but by the time I did, my heart sank.

It was Seb.

A demented smile crossed his face as his peppermint pattern in his eyes continued to swirl. I could barely see the bloodstains on his baseball tee covered by his new black long coat.

“S-Sebs…” I choked out, “wh-what’re y-you…”

Once Seb realized he had me bound, he tied the other end of the rope to a nearby dumpster. I made one last feeble attempt to escape, but the world was already going dark. Though I was already blacking out, Seb made sure to finish the job by taking out the baseball bat I had used to knock him out the night before, and bringing it down hard on my head. The last thing I felt was my head hitting the hard concrete before everything went black.

[avengeultrons]

Title: Cassie the Scammer (Daughter of Scott! Reader x Peter Parker)

Summary: The Reader and Peter are just about to sneak out for a date when Cassie barges in. She won’t tell; if you pay, that is.

Word Count: 1503

A/N: UghH This was so fun! I could just imagine Cassie being a lil shit lol. I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!! I needed some happiness today, it’s the inauguration tomorrow ugh. 

--

It was early on a Saturday morning when you heard a loud rapping sound at your window. The constant tapping made you jump out of the comfortable position you were reading a book in and immediately reach for some type of weapon, your hands finding your old baseball bat in the darkness of your closet. There could be a criminal out there, knowing your life.

Alas, when you tiptoed over to your window in an attempt to see out without lifting the curtain; you saw that it was simply Peter, your boyfriend. Not a villain ready to whisk you away to some evil lair, which wasn't as outlandish as one might think.

You laughed lightly and pulled back the curtains, looking behind you to see if anyone was watching before raising the window to let him in. They weren't; Saturday's were for sleeping in, in the Lang household.

You, being the earlybird, had been up by yourself for quite a while,“What're you doing here?” you shook your head at him as he clambered in, a wide smile on his face. You dropped your bat next to the window and raised a questioning eyebrow while he smiled.

“Whatya mean? Can't I just visit my girlfriend?” Peter laughed loudly while you shushed him, your cheeks lighting up with a blush. Had he ever actually called you his girlfriend out loud before?

“The sun’s hardly even up,” you concluded, nodding to the sky outside your window painted a pastel orange and pink shade from the sunrise. He rolled his eyes and brushed a hand across your shoulder as he walked by, collapsing onto the edge of your bed, “Did you get any sleep?”

“An hour?” he shrugged, raising an eyebrow at your worry stricken face, “I had a cup of coffee. I'm fine, Y/N.”

“A cup of coffee doesn't make up for the seven hours of sleep you missed,” you chided, sitting next to him. You twisted your body until you were upside down, hanging off the side of your bed like a bat.

“Oh, but you know what will?” he lay back until he was upside down too, the beanie that was previously covering his ears falling off of his head and onto the floor.

“Hm?” you quizzed him, a tantalizing smile on your face. You giggled lightly; all the blood was suddenly rushing to your head and everything looked funny upside down.

Peter laughed, too, “If we go out to breakfast together. Down at the diner?”

You pulled yourself back to an upright position and tapped a finger to your chin as if you were thinking hard about it. Obviously, the answer would be yes. Two of your favorites- Peter and breakfast food- at once?

“Is that a yes?” he smiled apprehensively at you and pulled himself up to a sitting position while you scooped his hat up from the floor to place on your own head.

“I guess that could be fun,” you laughed lightly and gave a smirk, tossing your book onto the nest of pillows behind you, “Plus; I'm dying for a coffee. Dad still thinks it’ll stunt my growth,” you chattered on as you threw on a jacket and sneakers, Peter watching with a smile that was full of adoration for you. He couldn't stop staring at you, really.

“Ready?” you quizzed him, gesturing to the window in your bedroom that led to the fire escape which you and Peter had both frequented before.

“Wait, we’re sneaking out?” Adrenaline was already pumping through his veins as he said it; of course you were.

With a somewhat dramatic sigh, he joined you at the window now blowing a cold wind into your room, causing the curtains to twirl around. You smiled gleefully and pressed a kiss to his lips before he climbed out and offered you a hand, “That's half the fun, P.” Well; it’s not like you’d ever snuck out before. It always looked like fun in the movies.

“Y/N, wake up! It's Lang family day!” Cassie’s high pitched, ‘way too loud for the morning’ voice rang through your ears while you and Peter glanced at each other in fear.

“What are you doing?” She cocked her head to the side, watching the two of you. Both you and Peter were frozen in awkward positions, you had one leg completely out the window and were holding Peter’s hand tightly.

“Cassie…” you raised a hand in an attempt to quiet her. Cassie smiled, batting her eyelashes as she pushed her tangled hair out of her face.

She opened her mouth and yelled one word, “Daddy!” It was a magic word. it melted hearts, especially the heart of Scott Lang.

“Don't! Don't tell dad, please,” you begged, shushing her. Peter’s cheeks were bright red and his eyes were wide with panic as he looked between you and your younger sister.

Cassie blinked up at you, an innocent look on her face, “I don't do things just because, sis,” she smiled sweetly at you, a smile that was sickly sweet and full of little sister evilness.

“What do you want? Money?” you sighed, looking over at the multi colored piggy bank sitting on your desk, “Just take whatever,” There really wasn't much in there; just enough for Cassie to maybe buy some candy.

She smirked and took the piggy bank, patting its head as if it were one of her stuffed animals, “Enjoy your date! Remember; Daddy’s taking us bowling at noon,” she blew a kiss at the two of you and skipped out of the room, leaving you and Peter dumbfounded.

“You won't say a word, right?” You called after her from the fire escape. She smiled from the hallway, waving her fingers at you. You didn't trust that smile for one second, but you went anyway. Your first mistake.

You laughed along with Cassie as your dad typed your names into the computer for your game of bowling. Cassie had blown all of your money on the claw machine and won only one little monkey with weird, matted pink hair.

She smiled over at you as she picked up her ball to bowl; a hot pink one that somehow matched the princess dress she had picked out.

“Alright, it's ready. You're up, Cass,” Scott collapsed into the hair next to you and took a slice of greasy pizza from the pan on the table.

She gave a thumbs up and stepped up to bowl, tossing the bowling ball down the lane. Literally tossing it; it made a loud thud that you were sure everyone would look to see what made the noise, “Nice!” your father laughed while clapping his hands, Cassie turning with a pout on her lips.

“I didn't hit any,” she said with a groan, slumping down in the seat opposite of you.

“That's okay, you have another turn!” you smiled warmly, sipping on your soft drink.

Cassie smiled her sickly sweet, innocent child smile and jumped back up to get her ball, “Oh, by the way,” Oh no. You knew exactly what she was about to say, “Y/N was sneaking out with Peter Parker on a date earlier!”

You and your dad both reacted the same; choking on the sodas you were drinking and staring with wide eyes at Cassie while she danced back over to bowl.

“Sorry but...WHAT? Did I hear that right?” his voice was scarily calm, you'd rather him yell at you, “Is that where that hat is from?”

You gulped and nodded slightly; removing Peter’s beanie that you forgot you had on in one swift motion.

“I...don't know what to say? Peter Parker, the Spider-Man?” he laughed in disbelief while you looked around nervously. Scott seemingly nodded in agreement while you shushed him, “The Spider-Man?” he whispered it this time.

“Are you-you're not mad, are you?” you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. Your dad and his opinion was the most important to you and if he didn't approve; you would know what you'd do. How would it work out if he didn't approve?

“I mean, not really. A little confused as to why I found out from Cassie?” Scott shrugged, sipping loudly on his soda, “The topic of boys is not one that I’m very comfortable with,” he laughed nervously.  

“I even paid her to not tell you,” you sighed dramatically and grabbed your bowling ball, ready to take your turn, “You're quite the scammer, aren't you, Cass?”

Cassie shrugged and dropped her stuffed monkey into her lap, smiling sweetly up at your father, “Wow, I've never been more proud to be the father of you two,” Scott said dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, “He really is a good kid, Y/N,” he added while you stepped up to the lane.

Those words made a weight lift off of your shoulders.With a triumphant smile; you took your turn. You got a strike, a true miracle. Things really were working out for you.

[lugano2rwanda]

Leaving Gatagara

Monday we had class with the older kids which we knew would be kind of challenging since they are the group for us that is not very enthusiastic and don’t try to understand English as much. So we had Patrick basically sit in with us which was really helpful. Overall the day was pretty good and at recess we played volleyball as always and Brooke was the vicious one. That afternoon we went to KPI and observed the youngins, which was okay. We were all pretty over the whole observation thing and itching to get out there and play. Especially because it was baseball. Of course it was a beautiful day too. It didn’t even start raining. Monday night we had the really good meal with the dough ball and Maya, Michael, Corlan, Vinny, Sav, Marj, Val, and I stayed up talking till around 12am. It was really funny. Corlan ended up putting on Mayas skirt AND IT FIT HIM SO WELL! It was so freaking funny.

 Tuesday was pretty sad because we all knew it was our last day. We had our class with the youngins which is always amazing because they are so enthusiastic and surprisingly way better with English and understanding concepts than the older kids? We taught the same lesson again and it went infinitely better with the younger students. We played rock tree bridge with them then taught emotions and body parts. We taught them head shoulders knees and toes and the hokey pokey (we added in ichibuno of course which they think is hilarious). We all had so much fun. We even took some funny photo booth pictures on my laptop since I forgot my phone that day. After class we went out and did some songs with the kids took some pictures and said our goodbyes L It was really sad because the kids didn’t understand we weren’t coming back the next day so they just waved and said see you tomorrow. That afternoon Maya told us we were going to finally be able to play with the kids! Unfortunately it started storming during lunch so we almost didn’t get to go to the field so we were all really upset but luckily it cleared up so we all headed to the field. We also got to lead opening circle so we played some rock tree bridge and we all got so into it. I had dirt all over my clothes from sliding under kids that were the bridge. It was hilarious. Then we all split and played some baseball which was really fun. I didn’t get to bat unfortunately but it was still so much fun. We all got so competitive. A fly ball was coming right at me and I thought I had it then 10 people jumped on top of me to get it. It was so insane. The next time that happened I realized I needed to be super competitive and I got the ball. Then we lead closing circle and decided to play sharks and minnows. That was a tough one because they didn’t seem to understand that when you are tagged you can’t move and you are supposed to tag other people. Ultimately it was still pretty fun though. Only one person got hurt (it was on the first run too) sooooo… success? After that we all said goodbye to the kids. A couple of them said they wanted to add us on Facebook and one of the kids said he would pay for me to come back to Rwanda because I was a friend (internal tears of sappiness) The pictures were madness. It was insane everyone wanted pictures and poor Laura was just spinning taking photo after photo after photo. That night we were going to play murderer in the dark and Maya and Patrick had agreed to play with us but we never got to it because we all had to pack and then some people got their hair treated with coconut oil from Maya. We all circled up and just took turns thanking Maya and Patrick and Nadine for everything they did. It got kinda emotional. Then Maya thanked us and said that she has worked with a lot of different groups from all over with a lot of different back grounds but we were the best group she has ever worked with. She said we never once complained which is amazing because she said it would be fine to complain about not having water and such. It was really touching to hear. Then Patrick told us it wasn’t a goodbye because this is just the beginning. It was all very sweet. Nadine even said she hoped she didn’t like us so much because we were leaving. Then we handed Patrick, Maya, and Nadine their thank you cards and their shirts and Mayas bracelet. Then Maya surprised us with tea cookies and non-alcoholic champagne!!! Lol WOOOO! It was all very sweet. And I was feeling really lame about leaving. Then of course Val told us there was no better group to be with and handed us all hand written notes. It was seriously so cute.

 The next morning it was time to leave L breakfast was at 7:30. Nadine made us pancakes to send us off L Then at 8 am the bus arrived and we all said our goodbyes to Susie, Patrick, Maya and Nadine. I had been keeping it together for so long. But as always things don’t hit me until the last minute. So of course as soon as I was hugging Patrick goodbye I broke down. Not just tears streaming down my face though. Straight up sobs. As in I was hyperventilating. Of course Maya saw and came over and gave me a big hug and tried to calm me down and told me that she and I would talk about that possible internship next summer she had told me about the night before. I didn’t stop crying about leaving for another hour and a half. I was on the bus silent, looking out the window and crying. Of course I was excited about Rilima but I just knew I wanted to stay in Gatagara. We were just getting comfortable and getting to know everyone really well and suddenly we have to leave. I don’t understand it at all. Everyone said they were surprised about me crying so much when we left but I told them I didn’t know why because I have been saying I don’t want to leave since the first week there. I just love KPI and Maya and Patrick and val and Michael and the kids so much. I just honestly don’t see why we have to split up such a good thing.  I just feel like I still have so much to learn from Maya and Patrick and I desperately wanted those last two weeks to get to know everyone better. I mean in order to really make a lasting impact you need to really get to know people and bond and it would be so much better to stay in one location so that you get really really close with the people you are around. I know it would make leaving even harder but when leaving is hard that’s when you know something is amazing and that leaves a lasting impression on people. Leaving Gatagara was one of the hardest goodbyes I’ve ever had to make. Just knowing that everything in Rilima will be compared to Gatagara and just knowing that KPI is something I am extremely passionate about and would love to continue to work with in the future. We’ve just gotten so close with Maya and Patrick too and we were getting so close to Yeta when she had to leave to go to Huye L The coaches were finally getting comfortable with English and the kids were finally getting comfortable with us L