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wyniepooh · 8 months ago

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Coach

patrick zweig has an interesting approach to coaching; it becomes even more interesting when it’s with you.

coach!patrick zweig x tennisplayer!reader. You desperately need a coach to help you, coach zweig seems to want something else 🤘🤘 (and you don’t mind ofc). Mentions of being broke #relatable. I imagine this to be set either before the challengers match, or after, either way works.

If it were up to you, you’d say that the place was a little sketchy.

if it were up to you, you would’ve left the moment you saw the lone beaten up car in the lot and the acrylic chipping off of the concrete ground.

But in the end, it really wasn’t up to you. The continuously decreasing numbers in your bank account was a constant taunt, a bullying reminder that if you wanted those numbers to change— to rise— you’d need a coach to push you into the championships.

Even if that coach choose a training spot that looked damn-near abandoned.

“hey. uh… patrick. patrick zweig,” he extended his arm.

You took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze as you dropped your bag onto the bench beside you. you smiled. “Shouldn’t I call you coach zweig?”

he smiled, chuckling at the ground, then shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “whatever you want."

he cleared his throat, “so uh… what’s your plan here? I mean- what are your goals? why do you play tennis?”

You pulled out your racket and a couple of balls, setting them on the ground before quickly throwing your hair up into a ponytail. “Why are you coaching tennis?"

His arms crossed over his chest, and your eyes flickered to his biceps for a quick second before returning to his gaze. The silence was long, but surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward like silence usually is. he smiled, and laughed again at your innuendo as he bent down and picked up your racket.

Grabbing the handle from his extended hand, you grinned. “That’s exactly my goal, too.”

You bounced the ball as you walked towards the court, closing your eyes for a moment to feel the sun on your skin. The sun was hot; burning, even, but the wind offered a cooling solace. His crisp voice snapped you back to reality.

“So, let’s see your serve.”

The next hour completely diminished whatever doubts you had about patrick zweig. Despite his rather tattered clothing that proved he was a low-ranking player with no sports sponsorships on his back, and despite his racket that seemed to be slightly crooked— he knew the fucking game.

And he also knew just how to provoke you.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Hunched over the ground with your hands on your thighs and sweat dripping onto the green floor, you panted, “what?”

“You’re getting sloppy. Having stamina is crucial to the game, you know.”

You chuckled. “I can keep going. No problem.”

“Then prove it," he tossed you another ball, your slippery hand barely catching it in time, "come on, keep going."

Your next hit bounced off the net. Your next serve was out. After the ball attacked the net yet again, you threw your racket to the side, curses spilling out from under your breath.

“Thought you could keep going?”

“Give me a break," you muttered as you crouched down to stretch your legs that didn’t need stretching.

“No.”

you groaned. “come on, coach, I’m in a slump. Give me five and I’ll get back on it.”

“You don’t get to slack off in a real game. And based off of how gently you just threw your racket, you probably can’t afford to, either.”

Your body snapped up. “the fuck did you just say?”

He laughed lightly, raising his hands up by his head defensively as he walked closer towards you. You mirrored his movements, stepping closer until all that separated the two of you was the net, flowing freely with the wind.

“Look, all I'm just saying is, I don’t usually get many students signing up to experience my coaching. Not because I’m not good," he swatted his arm as he spoke, his other arm using his racket as a cane, "fuck no, but because my going rate is pretty low. the lowest, even. I’m just making an observation.”

You rolled your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly as you rested your hands on your hips. patrick had a grin about him, a stupid, annoying smirk that almost made you believe he knew something about you that even you, yourself, didn’t know.

Walking a couple steps closer to him until you felt the harsh scratch of the net against your knees, you whispered, “don’t assume anything about me.”

Your eyes subconsciously fluttered to his nose, then his lips, before coming back up to his eyes. smoothing out your brows, a layer of subtle desire spread behind your stare. you muttered, “Maybe I wanted you to coach me simply because I like you.”

His expression softened with feigned surprise. “Oh, do you now?” His face came closer to you.

you finally had an opportunity to ponder over his face; his messy stubble all unkempt and long, the sweat on his forehead soaking his dark curls so perfectly on his face. or a moment, you weren't sure of where to go or what to do. In the end, he broke the stare-off with a murmur, “show me how much you like me, then.”

you didn't know if the heat spreading to your face was from the bright sun, his words, or from the blooming ache in your stomach. Either way, you stepped back with haste, grabbed another ball and prepared to serve.

A loud grunt came from you as you made your hit, and patrick reciprocated your energy, returning the ball with the same brutal force and speed.

Maybe he did poke at a sore wound. Yes, you were broke and young and desperate, but wasn’t he in the same situation? did he think you wouldn't notice the absolute state of the rented court and his shabby shoes?

But whatever it is that he did, it worked. Your feet were off the ground in an instant, and you heard the smack of the ball against the concrete before you even saw it. When you came back down, you immediately became aware of the sweat dripping down your face, your back, your legs, and the absolute relief of it all.

“There it is.”

You looked up. Patrick was smiling, widely, with that same old grin, like he was so proud that his trick had worked. as you began walking off the court, you couldn’t help but laugh, albeit dryly, at the whole situation. grabbing a towel from the bench and swinging it over your shoulder, you chimed,

“Hey, uh… coach, how much are you charging again?” you looked down at your feet, fidgeting nervously with your fingers as you mustered up all your strength to meet his eyes.

you tried to hide your shock when you finally turned your head to look at him, catching the sparkle of blue and a hint of something else in his eyes. he was standing close, really close, close enough for you to smell him and see him and practically feel him.

your eyes followed the movement of his arm as it reached towards your shoulder, his hand grasping one end of the towel and dabbing the fabric against your temple. he dropped the cloth, fingertips dancing over your cheek as he grazed a stray hair behind your ear, barely breathing a response,

“How much are you willing to give?”

a/n: I DO NOT PLAY TENNIS NOR DO I RLLY KNOW HOW IT WORKS. love the art appreciation but I feel like we need to step it up w the pat fics as well so I’m taking one for the team 🫡

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leqonsluv3r · 5 months ago

Note

Hello Queen Bee :) Your blog is awesome and Leon is BAE! :D

If you're still taking requests, can I please request headcanons for RE2!Leon falling in love with an older female cop who's of a higher rank (Sergeant or above) and confessing his feelings to her after he saves her from being attacked by a suspect?

guilty as sin?

��re!2!rookie leon kennedy x sergeant!cop reader, a headcanon list

masterlist taglist prompt game

an: sorry i’ve been so MIA, i suck balls ik. i love you all though for being patient and loving me anyways. this shit was so sweet to write it gave me diabetes ngl. pls reblog and like, yk the drill pookies <333

rookie!leon who notices you the first day at his police academy training, he doesn’t notice that you seem him staring. you think it’s endearing and it’s been a while since anyone has looked at you like that. you decide to let him stare, what’s the worst that can happen?

rookie!leon who enjoys the way you always bite your lips when your worried, when your trying to have a debriefing, he knows your probably worried because of all the pressure that’s on you. but he always makes sure to give you his undivided attention and respect. it’s the best he can give you. for now.

rookie!leon who makes sure your doing okay when you work late hours, he always stops by your office to check on you. sometimes you let him come into your office, sit with you, talk a bit. something about the passion for the job in his eyes, it puts you at ease, makes you feel better. like being a sergeant was worth it at the end of the day.

rookie!leon who tries to make sure he has no problems with issuing complaints to you. he doesn’t like putting more stress on your shoulders but it’s the least he can do, you have a big and stressful job. he just wants to make it easier for you. even if it’s only a little bit.

rookie!leon who tries to deny after four months that he has feelings for his sergeant, he knows he shouldn’t. he knows you probably don’t feel the same way. but after months of getting to know you and being close to you…it was so hard but it was equally as rewarding at the same time.

rookie!leon who goes on his own patrol for the day, hearing over the radio that your taking a 10-64 (a crime in progress) which wasn’t unusual for you as a sergeant. but still, he worried even though he shouldn’t. he knew you were a strong and capable person but things still happened, things that weren’t always in your control.

rookie!leon who hears you call for backup when he stops for gas. you barely ever called for backup, but he jumped in his car as fast as he could (like he normally would’ve for anyone else) and copied on the radio. he had never driven so fast in his life with his sirens on and weaving in and out of cars like his life depended on it.

rookie!leon who makes it there, but it’s too late. you’ve been shot in the shoulder, kicked and beaten like you had gotten into a fight. he calls for EMTs and medical, holding your beaten body close to him. your in and out of it, trying to stay awake and leon does what he can. he even tries to crack those corny jokes that you swore you hated.

rookie!leon who holds your hand when the paramedics come, you hold it back with whatever strength you have left. despite the situation and the immense worry he has for you right now; his stomach flutters. he would jump in front of a bullet for you, he has a feeling you would do the same.

rookie!leon who helps you recover and heal, offering to stay with you on leave while your shoulder and bruised ribs heal. offering to do whatever and help as much as he can, he swears he’s not in love with you, but…he can’t fight the truth much longer and neither can you.

rookie!leon who rubs your back and plays with your hair when your sleeping on your couch, it’s a miracle you finally got into a comfortable position. it’s weird to think that your his sergeant, that he’s supposed to be at your beck and call but your not even strong enough to lift your shoulders. he doesn’t mind, he swears it’s platonic despite the butterflies that swarm his stomach when your around.

rookie!leon who takes you to your chiropractor and your physical therapist, desperate to help you heal. he needs you to be better again so that he can be better again, he needs that more then he needs air (he believes).

rookie!leon who keeps trying to deny it, same as you, that you both have fallen in love with each other. so when he invites you over for dinner, making his famous pasta (it’s really spaghetti), your thrilled and you accept. he’s convinced that he’s doing all this because you’re better and because your healing. but that’s his mind just trying to deny what his heart wants.

rookie!leon who cooks the dinner, watching as you arrive maybe an hour later in a beautiful little sundress. he’s never seen you dress that way, it brings color to his cheeks and makes his heart race. he doesn’t know how to react or even think straight. the scar on your shoulder from the attack is healing, reminding him that your brave and that you survived something terrible. but despite all that, your still here with him.

rookie!leon who serves you both dinner in his tiny apartment kitchen, serving you both wine and spaghetti. he tries to fight down the butterflies long enough to eat the food he spent so long on. but it’s impossible with you smiling at him like that across his small table, your eyelashes fluttering and your face cast in a warm glow. he feels so damn lucky right now to just be in your presence. even if your not aware of it.

rookie!leon who manages to eat, making small talk with you and laughing at your jokes. but when you laugh at his, he feels like the entire earth has been tilted in an axis. he’s so happy, so in love with you and it sucks because he knows you don’t feel the same. you couldn’t feel the same, your his superior, his boss.

rookie!leon who is oblivious to your touches on his arm and the way your looking at him like you want to eat him alive. he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, the sweetest man you’ve ever let into your life and you feel like your heart could escape your chest whenever you look at him. especially now, when he’s talking so adamantly about his passions and things he enjoys outside of the station. it’s like he’s coming to life in front of you in a way you’ve never seen before. and it makes your heart palpitate.

rookie!leon who doesn’t stop you when you move his small little chair closer to his at his tiny kitchen table, sipping on your wine and keeping eye contact with him. your just listening to him talk, share his story and his life, something that hasn’t happened yet.

rookie!leon who swallows when you lean in and press a kiss to his lips, his brain freezing and whatever stupid story he was telling dying in his mouth. he has a more important matter because your lips are touching his. they’re soft, they’re moving slowly and gently against his like pillows. he doesn’t know if he can get his brain working fast enough to kiss you back.

rookie!leon who kisses you back a little when you try to pull away, his hand gently coming up to hold your jaw as he moves his lips against yours. his brain and his heart cheering in succession that he’s finally getting something he desires and deserves.

rookie!leon who flushes after you both pull away from the kiss, not quite knowing how to react. your both adults here but the situation causes both of your cheeks to heat up like little kids with crushes. he has no choice but to confess his feelings, explaining things carefully incase you regretted the kiss. he just doesn’t want to have his heartbroken again, he wants you, he needs you. he’s convinced.

rookie!leon who is shocked when you confess that you feel the same, your hand moving to hold his and sooth his worries. the doubts circling his mind like water down the drain. he doesn’t mind now, now he’s got nothing to worry about now that your here. now that your telling him you feel the same. he swears he could die happy.

rookie!leon who makes it official with you two weeks after the dinner. taking you out on an official date. you both go to dinner and he drives you home. another kiss is shared on your front porch, not the first but the second and it’s even sweeter. leon is convinced he could never get tired of kissing you.

rookie!leon who’s not really a rookie anymore, after five years. he’s made a name for himself at the RPD with you by his side. the only difference now is that you both wear rings to signify your love and your carrying his child. he got what he deserved and what he wanted most and he swears that life with you is the best it could get. and he can’t wait for the rest of it.

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carajilloplz · 7 months ago

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Omg can u write a fic abt Art Donaldson and Patrick trying to hit on foreign exchange student!reader, could end in fluff or smut

no bc this is literally my fantasy i’m an international student at a D1 tennis school IM GONNA GO FERAL. loosely based off of my experience with the cornell men’s tennis team but we’re not talking about that.

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, patrick x international student!tennis player!reader, this might be bad i wrote this over the course of like 3 days and changed the plot completely lol, smoking and drinking, oral!male and female receiving, facesitting, technically cheating? vague but everything is morally dubious with these three, unprotected p in v, hair pulling

uh enjoy ig i hope it's not too bad

Tashi? You’d known her since forever. You attended the same tennis camp when you were girls and never lost contact. Having played a few matches during Juniors, you stayed pretty close. So when you saw her on your match schedule for the upcoming month, you shot her a text saying you had to go out together when you were at Stanford for the weekend.

Your match rolled around and you were definitely focused. Winning meant you stayed at the top of your conference, which wasn’t the ATP ranking but it was still important to you. So you trained, and hard. You were a good player, quick on your feet, and the training paid off in your first doubles game that weekend. Before your game, you got to catch a wave and a smile from Tashi sitting in the stands, next to a mousy-looking blonde guy and a very cocky brunette. You noted that the brunette was more your type, but the blonde was cute enough. Must have been Tashi’s friends.

You started your match, extremely harmonious with your partner, and you swiftly caught every ball headed your way. From the stands, Art and Patrick were shamelessly throwing around comments as they saw the ball bounce back and forth.

“She has an insane serve. I heard she’s like a tennis prodigy in her country.” Art gushes, getting cut off by Patrick quickly with “I don’t know how you’re paying attention to her serve when she has such nice legs. I’d like to have those wrapped around my head soon.”

Winning the game 4-6, you were happy with the result.

You watched Tashi play her doubles match, flawlessly annihilating your teammates. When the time came for yours and Tashi’s match, you felt the playfully challenging energy in the air. Patrick and Art were at the edge of their seats, and as the game started they both were practically drooling at the match. They couldn’t decide whether to look at you, or Tashi, or the ball. Both you and Tashi were smoothly tearing each other to shreds, grunting and running around, you always catching the ball just in time.

“I don’t know how she’s doing it but I think she’s going to beat Tashi” Art mumbles, slumped into his seat as he switched his focus from the ball, to the way you moved, to your figure.

“I call dibs” replies Patrick. He was staring at you too, staring intently and admiring the way your arm smoothly hit the ball with a thwack in a way that threw Tashi off.

“Don’t do that to Tashi.” mumbled Art again, playfully hitting the brunette next to him. He didn’t even take his eyes off of you. He knew too damn well that Patrick could not care less, and didn’t know whether to feel for you or Tashi. Pat and Tashi had been having a rough time anyways, so it was really a matter of time before either of them caved.

Finishing the match, you and Tashi gave each other a friendly hug. You noticed that the two boys that had been sitting with Tashi were rushing down to congratulate the two of them.

“Great game, babe.” The brunette said, giving Tashi a small peck. You noticed that she didn’t really appreciate the gesture. The boy turned to you, “And this is?”

Tashi introduced you, explaining that you went to tennis camp together, the whole history. “And these two idiots are Art and Patrick.”

“Nice to meet you too, you guys play tennis?” you ask, intrigued but it was kind of obvious.

Art answers before Patrick can open his mouth— “Yeah, I play here at Stanford too, I’m just injured right now,” he says, pointing to his shoulder, which had muscle tape peeking from the sleeve of his shirt. “Pat’s just… there.”

“Hey! I play too, dipshit. I’m playing the Miami Open in a few weeks.”

Tashi was done with her games of the day, and said she’d be taking a short break. “I’m going to take a shower and heading to bars later, want to come?” She asks.”You can come and get ready in my dorm with me.” You nod in approval, following them as you headed to the locker rooms. Patrick and Tashi were walking together as he was clearly rambling about something that she was unfazed by.

“So they’re a thing huh?” you ask Art, who was walking next to you.

“Yeah I mean, he comes to visit every once in a while but I don’t think that they’ve quite put a label on it yet.” He answers quite honestly, “She’s a very focused person.”

“I know, that’s why it was strange to me that she was with somebody.”

Art nodded in understanding, “I know, I say the same thing and they’re surprisingly sticking it out.”

“Honestly I don’t know how she does it.” you admit. The few times you had been involved with someone it went to shit because of your schedule.

“What do you mean? I thought Tashi said you were dating someone.” Art asks, furrowing his brow.

“Oh no, I broke up with him forever ago, he was on my team before he had to stop playing because of an injury. He’s a full-on NARP now and that really got in the way.” You scoff slightly, laughing to yourself and shaking your head. “Doesn’t seem strange to me that Tash wouldn’t check my Facebook, I’ve deleted all my posts with him since.”

“Yeah she’s like that,” muses Art. “Lives in her own world and we’re all moons revolving around it.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

After changing in the locker rooms and staying to watch the rest of the singles games, you headed to your hotel to freshen up a little to head to Tashi’s and get ready.

Walking over to the dorm, you run into Patrick, already wearing what you assumed to be his bar clothes — some jeans, nikes, and a gray shirt that says ‘I told ya’.

“Hey Patrick, you heading to Tashi’s?” you say amicably, trying to strike conversation with your friend’s…? You don’t know what he was.

“Yeah, you?” he asks, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and lighting one. Pat sends the pack your way as an offering “Want one?”

“Yes please, and yeah, I’m getting ready at Tashi’s for tonight. She’d said we would go to bars?”

Patrick goes to light your cigarette and you two continue your walk towards the dorm. “I think you look gorgeous just like that, but to each their own.”

You roll your eyes and fill the rest of the walk with small talk, which to your relief was a relatively short walk so it didn’t get too awkward. As you headed into the elevator, you went to press the button and couldn’t remember what floor Tashi had mentioned. “On what floor does she live?” You ask, as the elevator comes to a close. You could feel his eyes on you. Looking back at him, you catch him staring and give him a questioning look.

“Patrick?”

“6th floor”

A moment of silence passes between you two. He, of course, breaks it. “Your accent is cute. I don’t know, it fits you.” Patrick is very clearly snaking his eyes up and down your figure, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to stop yourself. “You’re not from around here are y-”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Patrick, but you’re with my friend and that is not something I want to intrude in.” You snap. It felt a little mean but it’s not something you’d want to do to Tashi.

He snorts, laughing to himself and furrowing his brow, “I’m not with Tashi, if you haven’t noticed. She barely gives me the time of day unless she wants me to fuck her.”

You’re surprised at his statement, a little less so at his crass choice of words, but you realized that that’s the kind of person he was. Extremely conflicted with how to react, you noticed the lustful look in his eye and the little bite he gave the inside of his cheek. You couldn’t. You turned away and looked at the numbers of the floors go up excruciatingly slow. Pat hesitated, but at this point he had nothing to lose.

“If it raises the chances of you being interested in me, then no. For all intents and purposes I am not with Tashi.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Later that night, at some dingy college bar, both Patrick and Art were inquisitively leaning towards you and Tashi. You'd all had your fair share of drinks and there was something in the air, you didn't know what it was but it made you feel magnetic, especically towards Art and Patrick. You liked Art and everything, but you couldn’t help but notice how he would always be catching a look at Tash and sweeping in to mediate when she and Pat would begin a harmless spat. Patrick, on the other hand, had very much caught your eye. Something about him made you curious, maybe it was his nonchalance and light cockiness towards everything. But from your previous conversation, you now knew that he was clearly intrigued by you, leaning his head to the side like a confused puppy as he listened to you explain that you were an international student.

“Oh so you’re far far from home” He comments, “And you’re not from the US?”

“Don’t act too surprised Pat, a lot of international students come to US universities to play tennis.” you reply, “And yes, I’m pretty far from home”

He nods in understanding. “That’s cool, honestly. I’d love to visit and see what your country’s like.”

You smile back, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and the liquid confidence taking over, “You can come anytime.”

Eventually, you and Patrick keep up the conversation, drinks flowing, and notice that Art and Tashi had disappeared, God knows where.

“Did they really leave us here?” Patrick asks, bewildered when he noticed that Art and Tashi were nowhere to be seen. You shrugged. “I mean, I don’t mind it to be honest. I had to head to my hotel so I would have been going back alone anyways.”

“I can’t let you do that, that’s dangerous.” Patrick said, quickly inserting himself as the hero of the situation. “I’ll take you to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

“Oh just at a Holiday Inn down the street.”

“No way! I’m staying in that one too,” he says. “C’mon I’ll walk you back.”

You don’t know if it was the drinks or the tension you still had from today’s game but somehow, you ended up making out with Patrick in the elevator on your way up to your room. Patrick’s lips clashed against yours, bringing you closely into his embrace as you two killed the time before getting to your room. You separated the kiss for a moment, looking Pat dead in the eye.

“Not a word to Tashi about this.”

“No worries baby, she wouldn’t even care. She’s probably busy doing Art right now. She prefers him.” he admits, shrugging unconcerned and leaning back in to kiss you.

Luckily, your room was one of the first ones accessible as you got out of the elevator, so you reached into your pocket as you both stumbled towards the door. You fumbled with the key for a moment as Pat left some kisses on your throat, lost in you and your every move.

Finally being able to open the door, you two connected in a kiss once more and clumsily moved towards the bed, clothes coming off sloppily. Bumping against the end of the bed, you and Patrick fall onto the soft and fluffy duvet, heavenly on your tired muscles, heightening the pleasurable sensations of Pat’s lips on yours.

His kisses were desperate, frantic, rushed, matching all the possible descriptive words for the way he was reaching at all of the grippable parts of you as he sloppily kissed you, teeth clashing. He was panting, and you were also desperately clawing at his t-shirt, moving your tongue against his and travelling your hands back into his hair. There was something about how the two of you just melded together, maybe fuelled by the underlying guilt of what you were doing, but also the insatiable need to blow off some fuckin’ steam.

You could feel how he was starting to grow hard in his jeans, starting to kiss your jaw and neck.

“Let me get on top, Patrick” you gasp, out of breath, pulling him back into the kiss and rolling over so you’re straddling him. He’s reaching up to you, grabbing your ass as you wrap your arms around his neck in order to keep him close. You start rolling your hips, bringing yourself to hit that sweet spot, easily accessible through under your skirt, and moaning into his mouth at the feeling. Gripping the edges of his shirt, he follows your lead of taking it off as you remove your top as well. For a moment he stops, slowly leaning back into his elbows, taking the sight of you squirming on top of him.

“Suck my dick.” He says, something so gluttonous yet pleading in his eyes. “Please.”

You look down at him, licking your bottom lip at the mere though of hearing his moans with your mouth on him. Nodding, slowly, you start kissing at his body, making your way down and occasionally looking back up at him. He’s got his head thrown back taking in the tenderness of your touch. You get to his jeans, tented up by his hard cock and start unbuckling his belt. Making your way through his layers, you reach into his jeans and start palming him, feeling how hard you had made him feel. You hear him moan shamelessly at this, saying your name and encouraging you to continue.

He starts pulling his jeans and underwear down, barely enough for you to be able to access his cock, which you grab in your hand and spit on, beginning to pleasure him. His moans are loud as you continue, licking his tip and sending him into a spiral, moaning a load of curses and your name. As you keep going, he starts tangling his hands in your hair and trying his best to get it out of your face.

“God, baby you look so good like that sucking my cock, fuck.” He groans, throwing his head back. You look up at him, and his blissed out expression just fuels you even more, his stomach muscles contracting and his eyes scrunching closed giving you more of a reason to keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock. You gag around him, your mouth already salivating and sloppy, and you went up to take a breath.

“Want to return the favor, Pat?” you ask, looking up at him through half-lidded, pleading eyes while you kept languidly stroking his cock. He took a single look at you and nodded.

“Yeah, of course baby,” he says as you sit up. “C’mon, get on me.”

You furrow your brow— “You want me to sit on your face?” You reply with a smirk, climbing up his body

He smirks back, “How else would I return the favor?” Pat leans in to give you one, long hard kiss, the taste of himself in your mouth making his dick twitch. “Can’t wait to taste ya, babe”

You giggle, straddling him as he moves backwards a little in order to reach under you. At the first contact his lips have with your throbbing pussy, you let out a surprised moan and you grip his hair. He grabs your hips, a strong grip pulling you down towards him and making you have to find support against the headboard.

“Fuck, Patrick that feels so good.” You moan, throwing your head back and leaning into his grip. You didn’t care if he suffocated right now, at this point what was of utmost importance was the pressure in your stomach building as he continued to run his tongue along your folds, taking his time to kiss at your sensitive clit. He really did know what he was doing.

“Patrick please, shit you’re gonna make me come.” He doesn’t budge, just pulls you closer and nods his head against you, speeding up his movements and making you a moaning mess, gripping at his hair and rocking your hips against his mouth to keep that momentum and buildup in your belly. Patrick clearly senses this, moving his tongue faster and more intensely.

“Cum, baby” you feel him mumble. Immediately at his words, you feel yourself snap and a rush of energy archs your back and makes you gush all over his face. He comes up, making you straddle him, and he smiles at you with his mouth still glistening with your release, looking voraciouslt at you.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

Patrick brings you into a passionate kiss, once again sloppily coming together with him manouvering himself to be on top of you. All of your clothes had come off at some point, all of the contact had been so frantic, truly taking your mind off of everything else as you felt him on you. He was rock hard, still aroused from your blowjob, and he started nudging the tip of his cock on your entrance. You come back to your senses, pushing him away for a moment and giving him a look, which he quickly realized what it meant.

“Fuck I— I’ll just buy you a pill tomorrow.”

This was enough for you to give him a nod and make him start sliding inside you, letting out a heavy groan as he bottomed out. You let out a tense moan, grabbing at the bedsheets next to your head, and bringing your arms around his back as he began his thrusts, breathing hard into your neck, kissing it erratically between moans.

“You’re so tight, oh my God” He groans, picking up his pace, making you a moaning mess and pulling him closer to you. He was hitting a spot inside you that was bringing your orgasm back, the pressure in your belly building again as he roughly grabbed your hips. Patrick brought his lips back to yours, sloppily kissing you with tongue to shut your high-pitched whines up. “Don’t be too loud baby, your neighbors are going to complain.”

A solution clearly comes into his mind as he sits back and turns you around to be on all fours, the sudden force on you making you yelp as he pushed you down against the pillow. He teases his cockhead against your folds, then reaches down to speak wantonly into your ear. “Now you can be as loud as you want baby.”

At that, you melt in his touch and let out a long, languid moan at the feeling of him slipping into your cunt, sopping with your arousal and absorbing his hard thrusts. You scream into the pillow as the pressure in your core keeps building and his thrusts hit the right spot that send you into a delirium. Patrick is a moaning mess behind you, the obscene combination of sounds, skin against skin and pleasurable moans making him even more aroused. He’s harsh, pulling your hips to match his pace and you feel him reach up and pull your hair back, revealing your fucked out face to him. “Make me cum again, please Patrick.” you groan, rolling your eyes backwards in pleasure as he speeds up his thrusts, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m going to come baby—” he moans, his thrusts made more erratic at the sensation of your cunt around him. You begin to feel yourself let go as he thrusts sloppily one, two, three more times and pulls out of you, coming all over your back. You collapse under him, and he kneels back to admire your gorgeous ass painted by his work. “Patrick, you better not tell Tashi about this.” He hears, mumbled tiredly from under your messed up hair. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes (because really, you were thinking about that now?), he gets off the bed, walking into your bathroom to grab a towel for your spent, cum-stained body.

a/n: hope u enjoyed ig !! took me forever lol but if you liked this would like to request some ideas you are more than welcome to !!

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan #challengers

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strawberri-elixir · 1 year ago

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╰⇢ Bllk characters with you as their motivation to score

Requested: this lovely request here

Characters: Rin, Isagi, Reo, Bachira, Nagi

Warnings: none

Note: this request is so cute thank you again for letting me write it!

Rin

To be honest, I don’t think Rin really cared about the reward system that came with scoring goals and earning points. To be fair, I don’t think that he even remembered that he could call you if he got his phone back. Poor boy wouldn’t have thought about it until one of his teammates mentioned how lucky he was to have scored so many goals in the first selection.

But as soon as he remembered that he could text you and call you with his phone if he got it back, he immediately went to exchange those 3 measly points for his phone. The first thing he did was call you. He didn’t trust himself to be able to wait for your response if he texted you first.

He was over the moon to hear your voice after a few rings. Despite not showing it outwardly, he really missed being able to see you every day. But getting these moments to call you meant the world to him. Not to mention how he’d spend pretty much all of his free time texting you.

‘Just got out of the shower.’

‘How was your day?’

‘Nobody here is worth my time.’

‘I miss you…’

Isagi

Everyone on Team Z could tell he was more motivated to score the day after he found out about the point system from Kunigami. The thought of being able to communicate to him fueled his determination way more than even he expected. He’d alway be in an open position when he was near the goal, ready for the ball to find his feet and then eventually, the back of the net.

When he finally scored three goals, he immediately went to exchange the points for his phone. The first thing he did was send you a message telling you how much he missed you. And even if you couldn’t respond right away, he was happy to wait. At least he had a way to talk to you again. And when you finally did respond, he was already thinking of a response to whatever you said, eager to continue the conversation. And he would continue to check up on you, making sure you were properly taking care of yourself.

‘Hey, I hope you’re doing okay ☺️ I really miss you!’

‘There’s a lot of amazing players here!’

‘Good morning! Did you sleep well?’

‘Make sure you eat and drink lots of water! I love you <3’

Reo

Already being ranked on the higher end of the group, Reo and his teammates easily racked up a fair amount of goals. Him included. He browsed the options of rewards he could exchange points for. When his eyes landed on the reward for his phone, his face practically lit up.

He was so excited to text you. An image of you and him displayed as his lock screen, your arms wrapped around his neck, huge smiles on your faces. He clicked on your contact, ready to send you a message. While he waited patiently for a response, he scrolled through his old photos from a few months prior. The more he looked, the more he realized he missed seeing your smile.

‘I love you so much, I miss seeing you everyday.’

‘Send me a selfie, I want to see your smile.’

‘How was your day?’

‘I hope you know how much I miss you.’

Bachira

To say Bachira was excited to text you was an understatement. His motivation went through the roof at the thought of being able to talk to you again. He’d blow past all of the opposing team’s defensive lines and score goal after goal. You were his motivation, his will. And he just couldn’t wait to text you after he finally earned enough points.

As soon as he was given access to his phone again, he clicked on your beloved contact and immediately started texting you even if you weren’t available to text him back. At first, it’d be little “I miss you” messages, before turning into his excited explanations of every game he’s played once you finally respond. Then, whenever he got the chance, he’d text you.

‘I miss you! \(^ヮ^)/’

‘Guess what Isagi did today’

‘Play 8-ball with me!’

‘I can’t wait to see you again (￣▽￣)’

Nagi

Despite being told about the possibility that he could get his phone back, Nagi didn’t really give it a second thought. That is, until an image of you suddenly flashed through his mind in the middle of a match. It was like a switch in his mind. He wasn’t really one for expressing how he felt, but his sudden desire to score more didn’t go unnoticed.

Now, even though he got his phone back early on in the first selection, the mental note he made to text you completely slipped his mind. He was too absorbed in his games to think about anything else. It wasn’t until he saw a notification from you pop up at the top of his screen that he remembered why he wanted his phone back in the first place. Nonetheless, he immediately texted back.

‘It’s such a hassle being here…’

‘Do you want to join our Minecraft world?’

‘I’d rather be with you.’

‘I miss your cuddles.’

~ Please do not repost! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! ~

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pedripics · 1 month ago

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PRESS CONFERENCE ahead of SPAIN v SWITZERLAND - November 17, 2024

About playing in Tenerife:

"For me it is a source of pride, as it is for Ayoze and Yeremy. It's a very special match at our home. I'm very happy to be here, especially because the national team hadn't been here for a long time. And we will try to make people happy."

About rivals being 'scared' of Spain

"Well, yes, it's normal. I think that after winning a tournament like the Euro, it's normal to be much more afraid, but it's true that inside we know the potential we have, the players who play, whoever plays, it's clear that we're going to give a great level and that shows in the squad and in the matches."

What grade would you give the team after winning 13 out of 16 games so far?

"There is always room for improvement, so a 9. It's been a spectacular year. We hope to close it tomorrow with a victory and that what you say is achieved."

About playing with Dani Olmo

"Yes, well, now with Olmo I'm lucky enough to be able to play for Barça as well and it's clear that I like him and I get along with him and well, that's a decision of the coach and I think I don't have much to do there."

About the FIFA ranking (potentially becoming 1st tomorrow)

"I think that if it is valued like this and we can become first, then we will be. I think we focus more on playing and enjoying football and talking on the pitch, which is what we have to do."

About how many people have asked him for tickets

"Many have asked me, indeed, I have not been able to give them to everyone I would like. I've been asked for a lot of tickets, I've asked for 45."

About what has changed for him this year

"Well, above all I've changed things, I've found something that physically suits me. I'm back to enjoying football, which at the end of the day is what I like the most and well, it's a year that for me is finally going well, I am very happy and hopefully it will continue like this for a long time."

Where do you feel more comfortable? Barça or the national team?

"No, the truth is that in both teams, both in the national team and at Barça, I feel comfortable. At the end of the day they are more or less similar in football terms, they are possession football and I feel quite good. It's true that I was also lucky enough to come only to championships. On many occasions I missed call-ups that were not from a championship. It's true that there you can shine much more and you get much more ball, so to speak."

About playing so many games

"It's a lot of games and you have to find your body. When you have an injury and you start to relapse, you have to look for solutions until you find the key so it doesn't happen again. I think that today I can say that I have found what suits me and I feel confident when it comes to playing and I have that continuity that I like."

A message for the children in Tenerife who have Pedri as a reference

"I want them to enjoy what they are doing, also school, it goes by very quickly and then you remember the moments you live at school. For those who dedicate themselves to a sport, that they enjoy it and that, if they really want to dedicate themselves to it, then they should work, that with work… I'm not going to say that everything comes, because you never know, but you are much more likely to succeed."

About the defensive efforts of the team

"In today's football, if all eleven players work, it's easier to defend. In the national team, everyone gives something extra and it shows when it comes to defending. When you have much more possession and you take it away quickly from the opponent, you dominate the game and from there it is easier to win it."

About Las Palmas and the rivalry with CD Tenerife

"Well, above all it was Las Palmas that gave me the opportunity. Many people say that I have a grudge against Tenerife or something like that, the truth is that there is no grudge, it is a team that I like, it is the team of my island."

About his contract renewal with Barça

"Regarding the renewal, I'm very calm. My agents are handling it and there is no news so I think everything is going well."

What it's like going to play at the Heliodoro as a Tenerife native

"‘Well, if they applaud me, then it will be very nice. The truth is that it is a stadium that I like because it's my home stadium, the one of my land and well, it will be a match which I will never forget. I'm looking forward to it and to enjoy the day, for me and the other two."

About his relationship with Tenerife

"Well, Tenerife is my home, every time I can, I come to enjoy the island. I have my family, my friends here, it's where I grew up and well, I always have very good memories since I was little, when I played outside my house, in Laguna, in Tegueste... I think well, they are memories of my childhood and it's what has marked my life the most."

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #spain nt #*nations league #*interview

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salmonro3 · 10 days ago

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𝒮𝑒𝒾𝒿𝑜𝒽 𝐵𝑜𝓎 - ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ ᴛŌʀᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝒮𝑒𝒾𝒿𝑜𝒽 𝐵𝑜𝓎 - Part One

You had been going to all of Karusuno’s boys' volleyball games. You were in your third year and the elder sister of Tobio Kageyama. You grew up watching your little brother play volleyball when you went to high school; you ended up being friends with the boys on the team in your grade. You became a loyal fan and supporter, cheering on your brother and his team. You were always there to give him moral support and encouragement. As the years passed, your relationship became more substantial, and you became closer to the team.

But the private high school of Aoba Johsai High always piqued your interest. Honestly, it was more of the players on the volleyball team than the school itself. The school was highly ranked as they played and won in matches. The team consisted of intense, powered players and even members who were stars.

The captain of Aoba Johsai was someone who had always caught your eye. You couldn't help but admire the captain's skill, leadership, and dedication. The star player who was the captain was Tōru Oikawa. He had dark brown hair, curled locks, and eyes that matched perfectly. He was brilliant at setting the ball and had a charm most girls liked; he had a flirtatious smile plastered on his face with a wink that followed it. He was…

“Y/N!” a voice shouts.

I looked at the court from the bleachers, my elbows perched on my knees as my chin rested in my hand. I watched as Tobio’s teammates, Tanaka and Nishinoya, waved at me. I watched my brother grumble something to the boys. I waved at the team with a large grin on my face.

“You got this, boys!” I exclaimed, smiling as the third years, Asahi, Daichi, and Kōshi, watched me from the court, prideful with the support the team was receiving.

Today, there was a practice match with Aoba Johsai and Karasuno.

The boys from Seijoh began to enter the gymnasium. You observed as each player walked onto the court, waiting for Oikawa to appear. Oikawa was the last to join the gymnasium. He was wearing his teal jersey, which matched his white shorts. He smiled as he looked around the court before giving a quick nod to the team. His fangirls cheered as he made his way to his place on the court from the stands on the opposite end of me. I rolled my eyes slightly, eyeing the girls who were all googly eyes over him.

Gosh, they’re so fucking annoying. I thought, huffing softly. Who could ever stand a bunch of pre-teenage girls always following you and watching your every move? I groaned as Oikawa blew a kiss to the stands, giving the girls a wave.

Sometimes, you wondered if Oikawa remembered you from middle school.

Both my brother and Oikawa had the same position on the volleyball in junior high. But since Tobio was younger than us, there was tension between the two. Tobio had a natural talent for volleyball, just like Oikawa. Both boys were brutal with their sets as they played.

There was one issue with Tobio back then. He always wanted to be the one in control of the court. He would boss his teammates around and struggle to get along with the other boys as they played. He lacked teamwork skills, essential in a sport where everyone needs to work together. His peers at school teased him with the nickname “King of the Court.”

Tōru, on the other hand, was very good at reading the emotions of the other members of his team. He understood them as the game progressed and knew how to bring out the best in every boy as they played volleyball. Those qualities he obtained allowed him to become a good captain in high school.

Tobio and Tōru had a rivalry. Since Oikawa was my age and we were older, I would hear rumors that Oikawa did not like Tobio's talent at a younger age. But even then, I knew Tobio looked up to Oikawa when they played. He was his role model.

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, and the tension in the gymnasium was palpable. Seijoh quickly took the lead with Oikawa's precise serves and strategic plays, showcasing his ability to control the court. Meanwhile, Karasuno fought back with their own powerful spikes and blocks, determined to prove themselves against their formidable rivals.

One conversation you had with Oikawa during junior high always lingered in your mind.

Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High, our school, had won another game. After sitting on the bleachers all afternoon watching the boys play, I went outside the gymnasium to get a drink from the vending machine. As I exited the gymnasium, I heard a slight groan, and I saw a boy leaning over by the door, grabbing his knee. The skin around the knee had reddened, and my eyes widened.

During the game, I recalled Oikawa falling on the polished floor of the gymnasium as he attempted to save a ball from falling to the ground. He was the boy who leaned outside the door, grabbing his knee, his teeth clenching slightly. His eyes met mine, and he quickly allowed his knee to relax. His face turned pink.

“Oh my God,” I mumbled, my eyes staring at his knee and back at him. “Should I run to the nurse and grab you an ice pack? God, you should’ve sat out during the game. How could you still keep playing after a fall that hard?”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a slight smirk. His fingertips brushed against his knee again, and he clicked his tongue. “Maybe an ice pack would be nice.”

“Wait here,” I replied, quickly walking to the nurse’s ward.

After a few minutes, I returned to the outside of the gymnasium. I see Oikawa's back leaning against the wall, his reddened knee pulled close to his chest. I crouched before him, showing him the small packet of cold, frosty ice.

“Do you want to put it on?” I asked softly, my arm extended out slightly with the packet. His gaze met mine again, and he looked back down at his knee, not responding. “Okay, I’ll do it for you.”

He removed his hand from his knee, letting his arm fall to his sides. His eyes bore into my face as I gently pressed the ice to his knee. He pushed my hand off slightly, and I glanced at him, confused. His face reddened as he mumbled.

“It’s too cold,” he softly mumbled, looking at the ground.

I pulled a handkerchief from my skirt pocket and wrapped it around the ice. Then, carefully placing it on his knee again, I looked for a reaction. He didn’t flinch but sat there quietly. After a couple of minutes, I finally spoke.

“Ugh, the ice is melting!” I exclaimed, pulling it off his skin and frowning at the soaked handkerchief and watery packet. “Do you feel any better, Oikawa?”

“Uh, yeah, it feels less sore now,” he replied, tilting his head again. “Thank you…”

That was the moment I had feelings towards a boy. Now, it wasn’t just any boy. It was a Seijoh Boy.

#oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyu fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #oikawa toru #volleyball #karasuno #kageyama tobio #haikyuu tobio #oikawa x y/n #aoba johsai #seijoh

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ironunderstands · 3 months ago

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What do you make of Childes correlation with Biblical judgement? He was released on November 11th, he is 11th ranked, achievement for defeating him is Judgement Day has not yet come, narvhals theme is called Eschatologia ludicata which is a reference to judgement in theology etc (and make a long yap response or ratio wont be getting lore next patch 😈)

Alright Aleksa alright

*cracks knuckles* it’s Childe-posting time.

yeah my man is cooked.

absolutely roasted.

Honestly it’s not even a remotely new idea within Childe-fan circles that the Tsaritsa or at the very least the Fatui are going to sacrifice him for some purpose (likely by fulfilling the primordial human stuff in order for them to truly duke it out with Celestia)

Childe seems to think he’s going to be right there alongside them, topping the thrones, but unfortunately even without the themes of “judgement day” the vibes of this man getting dropped off like unwanted baggage are absolutely there.

His problem is that he is incredibly loyal to two opposing forces- his family and the fatui (really the Tsaritsa). For him, the worst punishment, or rather judgment, would be being forced to pick between the two, which he will absolutely have to do so in the future, as even if Childe sees no problem with these opposing loyalties, the story, and other characters, absolutely do.

Now I’m no expert on Christian stuff in the slightest, but through cultural osmosis I have learned that Judgement Day is essentially when everyone gets, well, judged, and those deemed worthy get to go to heaven, and those unworthy to hell

Now, the Celestia as Heaven, Tevyat as hell theory is old as balls and honestly I don’t know enough about it (or care enough, as the way it works really isn’t relevant to this discussion anyways) to say much more. However, with this idea of judgement day being so tied to Childe, that makes it seem like he alone will be seperated/judged from the Fatui, either sending him towards heaven (Celestia) or hell (Teyvat, maybe even the abyss).

This could play out in so many ways.

The aforementioned human sacrifice, Childe dying or otherwise losing something (maybe his family/connect to them) to allow the rest of the fatui to head to Celestia, leaving him behind, and proving to him that he never should have put his trust in the fatui in the first place, which would be so goddamn angsty that I have no choice but to adore it.

They attempt option one and fail MISERABLY. Ironically, Childe is judged the only one worthy to head to Celestia- likely because he chooses his family above the Tsaritsa, something he always will do. From there idk but maybe then he shits on them for his own reasons (imo he probably discovered what they really did to khanreia while in the abyss, so he’s got plenty of reason to not like them based off that, especially considering Surtalogi is one of the sinners, even though I don’t think they’ve met).

Childe willingly offering himself to be “judged” by the heavenly principles, which could either end greatly or horribly depending on which loyalty he chooses (both of which have their own good/bad outcomes).

Secret fourth option. To be honest, we don’t really know enough about project Stuzha or what exactly the Tsaritsa is planning on doing with the Gnosis, although I as well as a lot of people suspect it’s got something to do with Childe, as that primordial human shit never leaves the consciousness once you learn about it, and if anything could make him one of those, it would be a gnoses.

How exactly this “judgment” is going to work or what it’s going to do is unclear to me, however after going over it, there are a few things I’m confident are going to happen.

-This will happen. I know, an extremely hot take, but you’d be surprised how many people think Childe’s role in the story is just done

-If we are ever going to see how he earned his vision, this is when, as that’s a very crucial part of his character the game has not offered even a lick of explanation for, although we can make some guesses

-he’s going to have to pick between the Tsarista or his family, and he will choose his family, even if it appears he’s picking the Tsaritsa (aka she forces him to do whatever she wants him to do by threatening his families lives otherwise)

-he will survive this. Even if the game goes full human sacrifice, in some capacity Childe will live on, either literally or through his words/wish for the traveler, he will get the last laugh

That’s about all I can say for now. Honestly I’d like to keep Childe theorizing, but I’m very, very rusty on his lore and haven’t really kept up with his communities perception on him, so I’d need to read that all over again. Through observation I’ve learned that him being named Ajax isn’t necessarily that he’s a reincarnation of the previous ones, but rather they share a fate because they share a name, and names add important.

What implications that has? We shall see

#childe #genshin impact #Oh how long it’s been #Tartaglia #Childe is in for such a time 😭

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zeevoidlight · 7 months ago

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Vegeta and Nappa, why did Vegeta killed him.

One of my favorite characters of all time since i was a child is without a doubt Vegeta.

I've seen this question being asked constantly so i'll give my take one it now. I know many people don't like the "because Saiyans" type of explanation but one cannot ignore that their nature is much different from humans and is a great part of who they are and why they do the things they do. So my approach is usually try to see what of all that is actually because of their nature and what is just being used as a cultural shield, specially when it comes to both Vegeta and Goku. More Vegeta because he lies a lot as well, and despite being Saiyan his status as royalty changes the usual dynamic a bit compared to others of his own species. (note that i watched the latin version so my interpretation of the character might be different from that of the english one)

So regarding the topic:

Realistically and sadly, as much as I like this alternate reality people usually like to portray of Nappa being Vegeta's assigned babysitter, taking care of Raditz as well, the three of them being like a small family unit given that they only had each other as survivors of their people's extinction... I think the reality is a lot more complicated.

Being a Saiyan, and more than that the strongest Saiyan by far in their recent history, even stronger than the King himself, Vegeta was capable of taking care of himself better than Nappa. He never saw Nappa as a protector because Vegeta was leagues ahead of Nappa in terms of strength and rank. We see that on the first Bardock movie where he treats Nappa as a servant, and even asks Frieza to let him go alone to a more challenging planet to conquer where he ends up killing everyone, sitting on a rock in the middle of a pile of corpses of his own making and eating twinkies or something as he was getting news of his Planet's destruction, thinking already what was going to be his next move and hiding his concern from Frieza's informant. All of that at the age of 5.

He never saw Nappa as akin to family because for as young as he was Vegeta was still his superior. Plus Vegeta considered himself smarter than him too, and he actually was even as a child. Vegeta was, on the contrary, protecting Nappa and Raditz, and consequently himself, against Frieza and his men by playing the long game while those two probably constantly screwed up and tried to engage in an unwinnable battle. This kid didn't had the opportunity to be a kid since he was born. Always on a minefield.

As how I see it, the reason why Vegeta killed Nappa then wasn't only because Goku broke Nappa's spine and paralyzed him leaving him quadriplegic and unable to fight rendering him as dead weight, but because he was years long fed up with Nappa as well. Maybe even with what he represented as the last remains of the Saiyan kingdom and the past since he was perfectly comfortable being the last Saiyan alive as representation of what a true Saiyan was in his own understanding and values of it, considering himself the peak of that and the example for everyone else to see, which being a prince he was kinda always pressured into being that and thinking of himself as such anyways. And Nappa's embarrassing fight was the last drop and the perfect excuse to get rid of him. Dude couldn't fathom something so disgraceful that he preferred to kill him than keep enduring his presence any longer while pretending he cared (and the emotions were kinda running high).

Even after in GT when he sees Nappa again there's nothing but contempt against him. And you could say anything about GT but what I appreciate greatly of it is the character consistency.

Note: I've been watching DB and Z and it's very clear from the moment they arrive to Earth that Vegeta can't with Nappa's recklessness. When Nappa destroys East city Vegeta is like 'dude, has it ever occur to you that the dragon balls could have been here? You idiot! Don't destroy the planet, we could sell it, don't be a stupid, think, fight better, concentrate, his not fighting intelligent... Lol, by the time of Nappa asking Vegeta for help I can totally imagine Vegeta was thinking 'you know what Nappa... FUCK YOU' *yeet!

#vegeta #dbz nappa #saiyans #dragon ball #theory crafting #character analysis

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imaginationlane · 2 years ago

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Six Nights In Paris [Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader | Prologue]

Warnings:

Adult Language & Themes, Violence, Death, & [Eventual] Smut.

Rating:

Explicit (18+) [Minors, if I catch you in my notes -- I will block your account from my page.]

Author's Notes:

I cannot fucking believe this character brought me back here. I've been revived from the dead for a sociopathic character with no empathy. Of course, my ass would come running for this walking, talking, red-flag factory. What the hell is wrong with me and why tf am I like this?!

On a side note, this Prologue is a little shorter than what I've written for stories in the past. But we dive into the meat and potatoes of the story in chapter one and it'll be a fairly long chapter that most of you may have been used to from me. So enjoy this reprieve, lol. It won't last long.

Summary:

Winston was out of his element, and it showed. It was rare to see such a proud man fall so far from grace, but he knew I would be one of the very few people left to answer his calls and he was right. According to him, the job was simple: Get to Paris, make an appearance at the Grand Masquerade Ball to celebrate the newly anointed Marquis, and infiltrate his ranks to gather intel on him. After all, the Marquis was rumored to be a ruthless wildcard. The High Table appointing such a man could spell disaster for anyone who happens to get in his way.

But I should have known that nothing ever goes according to plan. In an underworld filled with assassins and spies, it is a certainty that people distrust and use everyone they encounter as a means to their own ends -- and the Marquis and I are no exceptions. Now, as my reputation hangs in the balance, ending up as his newest obsession is, quite frankly, the most dangerous game of cat and mouse that I've ever played with my life, my mind, and my heart.

He had to have known that he was driving me to the point of pure madness. My black polished nails tapped impatiently against the scrapped and marred oak table in front of me as I listened to my burner ring for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Winston was calling again, and God only knew why.

Twelve years of insanity. That's all he brought me since he blew into my life like the gale-force winds of a hurricane all those years ago. And I was still no closer to getting any of the answers I was so desperately seeking from him. This man knew more than he was saying about my past, answers that I couldn't find no matter how hard I tried. For years, he dangled what I wanted from him like a carrot on a string; holding it over my head as if it were something to taunt me with in order to get me to do his fucking bidding.

He had a lot of nerve calling me right now, I'd give him that much.

Part of me wanted to continue to ignore his calls. I owed him nothing and the last I heard, he was excommunicato -- so that would be an automatic death sentence for me if I were caught breathing within a five-block radius of him. The word on the street was that Wintson was out, the New York Conntennital Hotel was deconsecrated and decommissioned, and as for his favored concierge that was glued to his side like a shadow? Well, apparently, Charon took a bullet in the chest for him. It was official: Winston was radioactive and people would drop like flies around him. The message was crystal clear to me: if we all valued any semblance of our shitty existences, we'd stay the fuck away from him.

I could picture him now, sighing dramatically into his phone as he waited for me to pick it up. Had I really become so predictable that he just instinctively knew I was going to answer his call eventually? Of course, I had. Because he knew just how passionate I was for the answers I was seeking from him. For a moment, I continued to wonder about the options that lay ahead of me as I nursed a glass of whiskey in my hand and stared at a Cuban cigar sitting in the ashtray beside me. Twelve years in this business and Winston knows I'll come running whenever he calls. Figures.

Perhaps I really am that predictable. But believing that doesn't soothe the fierce emotions warring with each other deep within the recesses of my mind and soul. I hated being in this position and what's worse was that I hated how I kept doing this to myself.

Screw it, if I'm going to die, I might as well enjoy this fucking cigar while I still have the chance.

Without another thought, I flipped open my phone and placed it to my ear.

"This better be fucking good, because me just answering this phone call will probably put me on the High Table's shit list."

Winston chuckled softly as if mocking my impatience with this situation. "And here I thought you liked it whenever I called you."

My eyes closed momentarily, straining to hold in a tired sigh.

"Before you were excommunicated, sure. But you know as well as I do that me answering any calls from you now puts me at risk," I quipped back. "Now, what do you want Winston?"

He sighed over the other end, knowing my patience was running thin.

"I have a job for you --"

"Go to Hell, I'm not interested."

"If you weren't interested, little Dove, you wouldn't have even picked up your phone in the first place," his smooth baritone was amused at my initial refusal. "Besides, you will be once I tell you that your life is in danger if the new Marquis finds out who you are. Right now, there's a journal on its way to Paris and making its way into the Marquis's hands. A journal, by the way, that belongs to me."

I released a frustrated sigh of my own as I ran my hand over my face.

"I'm failing to see how that's my problem. A lot of people have worked with you in the past. Surely the High Table can understand that," I stated confidently.

Screw the cigar, I'm gonna need a cigarette just listening to him being cryptic as fuck like this.

"Maybe if John had not killed The Elder, then sure. You'd be right. But the new Marquis is pulling out all the stops now and he's on a warpath."

Wait, what did he just say?

"I'm sorry, John did what? I thought John was dead." I question incredulously.

Winston was silent for a moment, absorbing the fact that I sincerely had no idea what the hell he was even talking about. It shouldn't have been surprising for him though. When I'm not handling assignments, I'm dropping off the radar and ignoring the rest of the world until it's time for me to step back into it again. "You didn't know? Apparently, John Wick survived his brush with death at my hands. And it appears that I have a lot to catch you up on. Meet me at the old safe house location in Albany. You know which one I'm talking about, right?"

I hesitated for a minute, but my hesitation was futile. He knew I had agreed to meet him just by picking up the phone.

"Only on one condition."

"Name it, little Dove."

"I know you know who I was before this. For twelve goddamn years, you've kept me in the dark about who I am, what my past was like, how I ended up here -- and you've refused to tell me anything. I want every shred of information you have. No more hiding, no more games. Because if you dick me around again Winston, so help me God... I'll save the High Table the trouble and kill you myself." I stated matter of factly. I was done. The games stopped here or he could find someone else to do his fucking dirty work for him.

Winston remained silent on the other end of the phone, clearly contemplating his next move.

"It's non-negotiable Winston. Do you want help? You wanna stay alive longer than the next day or two? I need my answers, that's my price. You give me what I want and I'll not only meet you, I'll do whatever you need to keep you alive and help you undo the excommunicato. Do we have a deal?"

Sighing heavily to himself, he knew it was over. If he wanted my help, he was going to have to give me exactly what I wanted or he could take his risks with John Wick eventually coming after him.

"You want the information? It'll be yours. Get to the safe house by this afternoon. We've got a lot of ground to cover and time is of the essence," and with that, the other line went dead.

I snapped my phone shut and tossed it carelessly on the table in front of me. For twelve long years, this man used me as a means to an end. The training, the jobs, the marks that have nearly killed me until I killed them first; there was so much blood and death surrounding me that I gave up a long time ago on ever being able to wash my hands clean of it. My only question now, was how the hell did I get here and how come I couldn't remember any part of my life prior to Winston finding me? He had the answers and he sat on them, refusing to tell me anything. Now, I finally had a reason to force his hand in telling me everything.

Snatching up my glass tumbler, I downed the rest of the whiskey and stood up from the table. Plucking up my cigar, I was slightly depressed I wouldn't have a chance to smoke it today. No matter though. When this job was finished and I had every answer in my hands, I'll smoke it then. Besides, if I wanted to make it to Albany by the afternoon, I needed to pack up and leave immediately. Traffic was going to be a bitch anyway, thanks to the fact it was a weekend, so I needed to pick up the pace and hurry.

I wasted little time searching out my backpack and stuffing it with a change of clothes, necessary toiletries, an extra pair of boots, and a selected stash of guns, knives, and other lightweight weapons. Once that was complete, I walked to the front door to grab my helmet, riding gloves, and leather jacket. As soon as I was dressed and ready to ride, I strapped my pack across my back. Depending on what Winston would require for this so-called "job" of his in Paris, I may already have what I need at my French safe house location so it was important that I pack as lightly as I could. After locking up my penthouse, I was opening my garage and climbed on the back of my Black & Silver custom BMW S1000RR motorcycle. I didn't have to worry about too many folks being nosey in this neighborhood, as many of these people had their own secrets to hide anyway.

And as I began to gently coast along the quiet and sleepy neighborhood street on my bike, riding along serenely into the early morning orange rays of the sun, I took one last look around before I turned off that familiar little street and drove forth into a destiny that would change everything for me. __

Tag list: SkarsgardDreams, Parrabellum, FourteenGemStones, @egotistical-bastard4532 @adoringsebstan @adrilari @orenmcdamia @olivia11803 thelovethatnortherndownpoursent @thewastelandwriter @davvydobrik arabellaofmaddness, ladscarlett, @shadowfirecat @blue-1505 sallyp-53, heartrot666,

The next chapter will be posted within a week!

See you lovelies on the flip side!

#marquis vincent de gramont imagine #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #six nights in paris

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princeoftheeternalbog · 7 months ago

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my one piece friend who hasn't seen one piece strikes again

I'm rubbing my hands together like a flea... it's time

Once i actually dropped a bowling ball on someone's foot i felt so bad anyways

this is not really an x reader? more just headcannons so

LETS GO

Luffy

Picks the heaviest bowling ball + drops it on someone's (Usopps) foot + slides down the bowling alley + still manages to get a strike. Going bowling with Luffy is like going bowling with a hurricane. He's somehow really bad and really good at the same time and he doesn't even care about winning he just finds it fun.

Zoro

Silent killer. He is so good bro it's unbelievable. Nobody knows where or when he learned how to bowl but he gets a strike every. single. time. Wins almost every round but also will help Chopper and let him win (basically will just hold him while bowling and say it's Chopper doing it)

Sanji

Really good but too scared to hurt his hands in any way so he just gets all the snacks and drinks and takes Luffy to the arcade section when he gets too aggressive with the bowling balls. Will sit with anyone who doesn't want to bowl or is starting to get too tired.

Nami

Makes bets on who's going to win with Usopp and then purposefully sabotages people so she wins the bet. Ends up arguing with a random person because they took the ball that Chopper kept using for their kid instead, ends up getting the crew banned by threatening said parent😞.

Ussop

Unsurprisingly good. Listen he's our sniper ofc he's gonna be good at bowling. But he always picks the heaviest bowling ball first and always drops it. Every time. Poor love. But usually he ends up fairly high ranked at the end because he gets strikes about 70% of the time.

Robin

Bad. Real bad. Until she starts cheating by using extra limbs to guide the ball and then she gets a strike every time. Also starts talking about a scary amount of bowling related accidents :/ which then throws off some of the other crew (Usopp and Brook) so she ends up in like 2nd place.

Chopper

Tries his best but really not that good. He can't bowl properly because of the hooves and even when he's in his bigger form he ends up actually throwing the ball instead of bowling it and it's a whole mess so he just gives up halfway through the night.

Franky

Amazing and fits right into the aesthetic of the place, though he mostly starts playing all the arcade games they usually have on the side. Definitely wins one of those giant teddy bears. He's really naturally good at bowling but the others keep accusing him of cheating BC he's a cyborg so he "must have aiming technology"😭poor love.

Brook

Has to use that kids aiming thing but he's really good at picking the exact right spot so he's constantly getting strikes. He also ends up separating from his body to go have a look inside the mechanics of the bowling alley, he also screams when a ball rolls directly through his spirit face.

Jinbei

So good but underestimates his strength, like yk that clip where the person throws the bowling ball into the ceiling by accident...yeah... He just laughs it off though...the bowling alley owner doesn't- Anyways he really likes it and he likes playing the arcade machines with Franky but he's really bad at them.

#one piece fics #one piece headcannons #monster trio headcannons #luffy headcanons #zoro headcanons #sanji headcanons #nami headcanons #robin headcanons #usopp headcanons #franky headcannons #chopper headcannons #brook headcannons #jinbei headcannons #jimbei headcannons #jinbe headcannons #romance dawn trio headcannons

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weirdmarioenemies · 1 year ago

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Name: Outmaway Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

It's officially been over a month since Super Mario Bros. Wonder was released, meaning our embargo for covering its plethora of new enemies has been lifted!

Or at least, that's what it looks like on your end. Hi! I'm Mod Hooligon from a month ago, and I'm writing this post on October 21, 2023, having beat the game just earlier today and going "Wowie-zowie! That was Super Mario Bros. Wonderful! Those sure were some Weird Mario Enemies Dot Tumblr Dot Com! Time to write posts about them that won't be published for another month instead of finishing my galaxy rankings like I should be doing!"

Anyhoo, to kick things off, let's talk about Outmaway! Right off the bat, Outmaway makes a great first impression with all the hallmarks of a good enemy: cute little creature, Eyes-in-a-Black-Void-Face, funny name, and the trademark Mario Enemy Shoes. It's such a Video Game Enemy Design in all the best possible ways.

If you couldn't tell from the fact I bolded the word earlier in the post, Outmaways love to kick things that are in their way that should be the name of the enemy we're talking about. Or maybe they hate it. It's hard to tell when they have a serious case of resting cute enemy angry eyes.

Regardless of how they feel about their lot in life, kicking things out of their way is what Outmaways do best, whether it's blocks of ice or Koopa shells. Do you ever think of how often you kick Koopa shells to take out rows of enemies? Well Outmaway is here to turn the tables, and show you how it feels! You can try throwing a shell at it, but don't say I didn't warn you...

Of course, if you're a fellow Weird Mario Enemies Afficionado who read the line about it kicking around ice blocks, you might be thinking "Hey, that's kind of like Buster Beetle, isn't it?"

Indeed, Outmaway is the second enemy to join the exclusive club of "2D Mario Platformer Enemies That Attack By Using Ice Blocks As Projectiles." But can the two co-exist peacefully, or is Outmaway here to steal Buster's job...?

As we mentioned in our original post on Buster Beetle, the decision to make Buster Beetle a Buzzy Beetle relative feels weird and arbitrary given how little the enemies have in common. And if you couldn't guess from our blog title, we love weird and arbitrary! But it is a questionable choice from a game design perspective, given you'd expect a Buzzy Beetle relative to behave like a Buzzy Beetle. It's very possible that this is why Buster has been missing in action since Super Mario Bros. 3, and that Outmaway is less stealing Buster's job than filling an opening.

Regardless of how you feel about Outmaway replacing Buster Beetle as Mario's voice actor, I think it's a great enemy, and I hope it can become a Mario Mainstay. When it comes to new Weird Mario Enemies, it can be difficult to tell which will stick around. Some of them rise to the occasion, like Goombrat, while others go the way of the Dondon...

I'm hoping for an ideal world, where we can play as Outmaway in Mario Tennis: Ultra Smash 2! It doesn't even use a racket, it just kicks the ball back.

#outmaway #weird mario enemies #super mario bros wonder #mod hooligon

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sealz888 · 11 months ago

Note

Gage for the ask me anything! If you don’t do DLC characters then Nick Valentine please and Butch from FO3❤️

Thank you for requests! Another Anon sent me an ask with 2/3 of the characters and with Old Long Fellow so I'll post that soon for them. In the meanwhile, please enjoy. CW for Butch: Child abuse. Triggering content below the cut.

Nick Valentine

Ever since he was a young boy he's had a knack for investigating.

First got into introduction to it was family game night, where they had one of those fake investigation game thingies. He got it pretty fast, much to his families dismay. They got some more, and he only got better.

Started to watch detective and crime shows and movies and he'd often pick up on the culprit quickly. Listened to true crime radio shows too.

When he was 16, his neighbour hired to him to investigate if her husband was cheating on him. He found out and got photo evidence. The husband was cheating and he got paid handsomely for finding out.

Frequently corresponds with DiMA, exchanging letters and parcels. He tries to visit at least once a year. DiMA still tries to convince him to stay.

One time while they were staying, DiMA found one of those investigation games. A whole bunch of Synthes and DiMA tried to figure it out, Nick sat there watching and helping whenever he could. He ending up bringing it back to the Commonwealth with him.

Pre-War Nick was pretty close with Jennifer's nephew, becoming an uncle figure. There bond only got got stronger after Jenny got murdered. Nick and Little Shaun now share this bond.

His internal fans speed up and get really loud when he's flustered of caught of guard. If it's really quiet and you get up nice and close you could almost hear a mechanical heartbeat.

Porter Gage

I haven't played or watched too much on Nuka-world, so forgive me if I have anything off.

Gouged out his own eye. He was dared to prove his courage, loyalty and balls.

His brother is Red-eye. They were both adopted into the same raider family. They also have sister and another younger brother who were birthed into the ranks. The Sister and brother died in one of the raids, but Red Eye and Gage made it to Nuka World.

Doesn't like the taste of Nuka-Cola, drinking it so much as made him miserable. He's so tired of using it to marinade meat. He's so tired of the same fizzy texture. He's so tired of the taste, the colour, everything.

Tends to help out with agriculture and farming considering his roots.

Is debating betraying the SoSu considering their status with the Minutemen, dissatisfied at the recent information. He's also planning a full scale invasion of the Commonwealth.

He also wanted Nuka World too himself as well, so he has Red-Eye spy on SoSu.

Butch DeLoria

Content Warnings for Child Abuse the cut.

His dad ran off to Vegas. Growing up his mother would warn him about gambling, Chems and alcohol. Also bares a striking resemblance to his father, his mother resents him for it.

When he was a young child, he'd often ""run away"" from their room and ask to sleep for the night. He'd end up frequently having sleep overs with other kids and spend more time at theirs than his'.

Was really hoping to get a mechanic on the G.O.A.T and absolutely hated being a barber at first. However, he really like doing his hair and got really good it, so he excelled in his training much to his dismay.

Opened his own barber shop in Rivet City and people from all over, and I mean all over come to see him and to get a haircut. His skills are insane.

Listens to a lot of Elvis and can do a few of his dance moves.

Big comic book nerd despite bullying a lot of kids in the vault about comics. He's a grognak kinda guy I reckon.

Helps MacCready out too and knew him as a kid. He often visits little Duncan and brings him lollies, sweets, sodas and comics. He'll read Duncan the letters MacCready sends him in silly voices to get him to laugh.

Big ol' softie, wants a wife and to settle down in a family but his past experiences and absent father makes him second guess himself. He has a dog though.

He got counselling from James to deal with his trauma. Also apologised to the LW and Amata too.

Happy to leave the vault and never come back!

Continued below cut

He'd run to the guards and overseer and tell them about everything, most of the guards wanted to help him and would let him stay around them. They did everything in their power to get him help.

but when the overseer confronted his mother about she denied everything and said that he was lying.

He was not. Could you hear it.

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differenteagletragedy · 1 year ago

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so… idk how interested you are in stuff like bridgerton/pride and prejudice/etc, but i’ve been obsessing over the idea of like a Regency au ever since my friend was like “baxter is in the wrong genre. that man is suited for historical romances. he dreams of writing by candlelight and fainting onto couches.” so do you have any hcs on a regency/historical romance au? assuming you do aus? thanks :)

I haven't watched Bridgerton! It's been many years since I read/watched Pride and Prejudice so apologies if this is a little too Darcy, but I think there would be some similarities between him and Baxter!

-- Baxter is a fancy man now, so living in a time period when men dressed fancier in general, he's going to have to kick it up a few notches. I'm thinking flashier colors, maybe some floral patterns.

-- Those little dances they threw all the time? You know he's there all the time. He has tons of one night stands with people he meets there, but then he meets MC and they are Different.

-- Baxter on a horse Baxter on a horse

-- Does he need a cane? No. Does he have a fancy one anyway. Yup.

--You're not going to catch him in a hat. He knows he's pretty and he doesn't want to take attention away from his face.

-- Basically this version of Baxter is unbearable lol but he does have his charms! Maybe he's playing charades with MC and throws the game just to be a silly little guy and make MC laugh. Or maybe they're playing cards and he keeps pretending to make dumb mistakes, again for a laugh.

-- Everybody talks with that flowery language, so he's going to have to lean on something else to make him stand out, and I think it would be his goofiness. Like he's still charming, of course, but he's not going to be a weirdo in the way that the Baxter of today is.

-- He'd still go on a walk with MC and make up a bunch of nonsense about the things around them.

-- Why am I researching this like I'm writing an essay

-- He would very much want to court MC, but he wouldn't feel like he was worth it. So what I think would happen would be that he began the courting process with the knowledge that he'd eventually just stop.

-- Liz is their chaperone lol

-- Baxter and MC are going for a walk and Baxter is running his mouth and Liz is just like "good god this guy ..."

-- A historian spoke to PBS (this is getting so serious) and explained, “You would initially address one another as sir, my lord, or madam, depending on rank, and then progress to Mr. and Miss So-and-so, or Lord and Lady So-and-so. To use a person’s Christian name during courtship was a special mark of intimacy. And we can often see the moment in their letters when someone asked to be called by their first name, signaling that a relationship was becoming much more serious and, in fact, might later progress to pet names and things like my dearest love or my dearest life.”

-- So the first time MC actually says Baxter's name it's just going to absolutely wreck him, it's going to hit him right in the heart.

-- And when they end up together Baxter calls them "my dearest life" CAN YOU IMAGINE

-- Apparently if you ended a courtship then the proper thing to do was return the letters you'd sent each other, Baxter cannot do this emotionally

-- He'd be like "I burned them they can't have them" and keep them like under a floorboard so he could read them at night and cry.

-- MC's reputation is definitely going to take a hit. Baxter's was already bad but now it's worse, and now he feels guilty for messing with MC in the first place.

*a few years of mess*

-- Baxter has traveled, seen places and done things, but he finds himself back in his hometown. There's a ball. He'd decide to go for old times sake, and you were probably married by then so nbd

-- There you are though!

-- He wants to throw up, but he asks you to dance anyway because he can't help himself. MC agrees because dang that Baxter is smooth.

-- Ok ok, so back in those days if you danced with somebody twice then people thought that was a Big Deal and that you basically wanted to marry them.

Baxter: I would ask for another dance, but I don't deserve it.

MC: Why don't you try asking anyway.

Baxter: But if we have another dance, people are going to talk ...

MC: Let them talk ... Baxter.

Baxter: *swoons*

-- Yeah that's corny and silly, but we're just having fun here.

#our life beginnings and always

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christinescupofcoffee · 2 months ago

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Quarter After Twelve

Chapter Two: The Gutter Club

“Hey, Rich, come and check this out.”

Richie lifted his head and turned his attention over to Isaac as he nudged at the conspicuous pile of leaves down by the water’s edge with a long stick. From his standpoint, it looked like nothing more than a pile of leaves that had collected around the edge of the marsh but as Isaac set the end of a stick on one part of the pile, it was obvious there was something in there. He set down his glove on the bench behind him and hurried over to his long-haired best friend, who stood there with a puzzled expression on his round face at what was there.

Isaac nudged at the pile with the long thin stick some more, and Richie caught a whiff of something that reminded him of rotten eggs. He wrinkled his nose and stepped on closer to his best friend.

“It smells like shit,” he complained.

“Yeah, I wonder what it could be,” Isaac confessed. Richie craned his neck and gazed on at the thickest part of the pile by the water’s edge: it almost smelled like the underside of a leaf pile in fall, but more. There was something more, something that gave the pile more of a large shape, but they couldn’t exactly tell as to what it was, as if the thing buried underneath was a part of the earth itself. Isaac prodded at it some more with the end of the stick, while Richie crouched down to better examine it for himself, but it was hard to tell with that rank smell emerging out from underneath the leaves, and not when the other boys were calling them over to the diamond for the first new round of their next game.

“Game’s starting,” Richie said, and Isaac tossed down the stick onto the marshy grass next to them, and the two of them ran together like the couple of ball players they were.

The five boys were out by the baseball diamond whereby they contemplated starting a new game after the last one had ended in a rainstorm, and yet they had no idea as to how long this one would last given the sky had lit up more than usual that morning. It was a strangely cool day there in Miami, and one that was perfect for playing a game of baseball, and hopefully a game that would last longer than it did the day before when a freak thunderstorm hit straight from the tropics.

Jesse was the eldest as he stared down the final year of middle school with his thick glasses and constant ball cap upon his head. Dexter had the powerful arm and he threw a pitch as if he was on his way to the Marlins; his long shaggy black hair and thick dark eyebrows needed the mustache. Milo talked tough and always chewed gum; he kept his brown hair slicked forth into a little rooster tail over his brow like Elvis, complete with his sunglasses on over his face: the only thing he was missing was his leather jacket and big black boots. Isaac was the self-proclaimed Renaissance man as he pitched and also returned home to play about on his bass guitar. Then there was Richie, the boy with the sunny disposition and the rich dark hair down to his shoulders. At eleven years old, everyone believed that he would be an absolute heartbreaker in a couple of years’ time and all the girls would go wild about him and his long tresses and sweet hazel eyes.

But no one could ever know that he was gay.

He was gay and the feelings overcame him whenever he lay eyes on both Isaac and Milo. He would look on at the neighborhood girls and find the beauty in them, but he would always think about his best friend. And he would always think about the devil with the piece of gum in his mouth.

He had never told Isaac about his feelings for him. There was simply no way that he could fess up those feelings about him to him, especially when it felt as though the whole world was watching him all the while.

Richie tucked a single lock of his hair back behind his ear as he looked on at Isaac leaned up against the side of the protective wall of the bull pen. The bright morning sun washed over the crown of his head and the fine crests of his shoulders, over those tender curls and the softness of his skin, over the fitted shape of his belt around his slightly rounded waist.

So boyish. So beautiful.

Richie swallowed down his nerves as Milo picked up the bat and held it before his face with his spine fully erect: he stuck his denim-clad ass out, and Richie couldn’t help but let his eyes wander there. He was completely prepared to slug one from Dexter.

His long sinewy arm extended back. He pitched like the big leagues.

Milo knocked the ball with the metallic side of the bat, and the ball bounced onto the grass. Nevertheless, he dropped the bat and began running towards Jesse there at first base. Richie always thought they needed more boys on their team for a legitimate game, but as far as he was concerned, the five of them were considered “the Gutter Club” to the rest of the neighborhood, which Richie and Isaac both found odd given Jesse and Dexter seemed as though they could fit right into the actual team. There was another baseball team in the neighborhood, one that actually took the game seriously, but they weren’t really allowed to partake in it because the five of them only did it because they liked it. They took the diamond when the actual team wasn’t around.

They played in the gutter when no one was looking. Four short and yet they still went about in the leaves and the mud as if it was autumn.

Isaac then picked out his glove from the bench and doubled back out to third base. Richie let his eyes wander to the seat of his pants, and he shook his head about.

C’mon, Rich. Focus.

He hurried off the bench and into the bright sunlight. He squinted his eyes against the bright light. Ten o’clock in the morning and yet the sun hung in the sky like high noon.

Richie picked up the bat and adjusted his grip on the handle. He nibbled on his bottom lip as he let his eyes wander over to Isaac, who was stooped down over third base with his fist tucked in the palm of his glove.

He wanted to impress him. If nothing else, he could show Isaac what he was made of.

Dexter nodded and flashed his eyebrows at him. Richie nodded back at him.

Though the day was cool, the sun beat down on his head and shoulders with the heat of the days leading up to a hurricane. For a moment, he had completely forgotten that Isaac was right behind him at third base. Milo remained there at first base in preparation to take second.

Dexter chucked the ball hard and fast at him.

Richie swung and missed. The ball knocked the outside panel of the bull pen and ricocheted down onto the ground. He kept the bat over his shoulder and then picked it up and chucked it back to Dexter.

“Focus,” Dexter called to him with a point straight out from his face.

Richie let out a low whistle and nodded his head. He tapped the end of the bat against home plate. Dexter extended his arm back with one leg bent up. He hurled it hard and fast at him.

Richie swung the bat, and he hit the ball like they did in the big leagues. The ball sailed over Dexter’s head, to which he watched it fly. Jesse took off his hat and shield his eyes to watch as well. Isaac gaped at the sight of it. Milo took off from first base like a sprinter. And Richie trotted along the line to first base in victory.

“Goddamn, was that your first homer?” Jesse asked him with a hand extended out to him.

“First in a long time!” Richie declared for the free high five. He rounded second base right as Milo stamped down onto home plate and then staggered around. He had no idea where the ball went, but it didn’t matter because he knew he had impressed the boy of his heart,

“Jeez, good hit, Rich,” Isaac said to him as he ran back up to home plate.

“Eh, it wasn’t that good,” Richie assured him with a shrug. Panting, he scurried down to home plate and jumped up before he reached the edge. He stomped onto home plate with a loud gasp, which coaxed a laugh out of both Jesse and Dexter. He clapped his hands over his head and turned to Milo who popped a stick of gum into his mouth.

“Got anymore?” Richie asked him, out of breath.

“Yeah, of course—” Milo handed him a stick of spearmint and he was eager to slip it under his tongue.

“You hit the ball into the water, dude,” Jesse called out to him.

“Yeah, right onto the leaf pile,” Isaac said with a slight chuckle.

“Shit,” Richie muttered to himself. Then he remembered. “It hit the thing over there!”

Isaac nodded his head with a slightly worried look on his face, and then the five of them ran over to the edge of the marsh, to the leaf pile and whatever was hiding in there. Indeed, the baseball was floating upon a small patch of leaves between the figure and the water’s edge.

It was there they caught the smell of whatever was hiding under there.

“Holy shit,” Jesse blurted out as he covered his nose.

“What the hell is that thing?” Milo demanded as he, too, covered his nose. Isaac picked up the stick from before and tucked the end under the leaves. Richie thought about braving it and picking out the ball from the water, especially when it looked more and more like Isaac was about to knock it off the leaves and into the water.

He lunged for the water’s edge and reached out to the ball rested upon the leaves. His fingers curled around the crown and the threads. He lifted it off the leaves.

He wasn’t prepared for one leaf to stick on the outer skin, nor was he prepared for a whole patch of leaves to come detached straight from the figure. They fell away from the top half. Richie staggered back with the ball in hand and the patch of leaves spread over the grass like old gauze.

It was a corpse. Hands bound at the chest. Deep, ferocious burns covered the man’s face, which was also rotted from his left eye down to his neck to the point a hole had opened up around his mouth and showed off his teeth. Bound in a pinstriped suit. As stiff as a sarcophagus.

Richie staggered back some more, such that he fell onto his back next to a stunned Jesse.

“Holy shit, dude!” Isaac exclaimed; he dropped the stick and hurried over to Milo, who looked ready to run away.

“Oh, my fucking god—!” Richie choked out, and he scrambled or his feet.

“It’s dead, you guys,” Jesse pointed out, albeit with a grimace on his face. He took off his ball cap and held it to his face.

“God, it smells like the locker room after that eleven inning game last year,” Milo complained with his hand over his nose.

“Worse than that,” Dexter retorted as he backed off a bit.

The five boys looked on at the corpse floating on his back in the water, but the foul smell—so foul that it was beginning to make Richie’s eyes water—wafting off its rotting flesh made them turn away anyway.

“Jesus Christ on a bike…” Isaac groaned as they ran on back to the safety of the diamond. However, the stench followed them over like a ghost, such that not even Milo’s spearmint gum could remove it from Richie’s nose.

“We have to tell someone,” Jesse declared as they reached second base.

“How do we say it, though?” Isaac asked him with one hand clasped onto his chest.

“We’ll tell the cops that we found a man in black floating in the marsh. We’ll also say that he stinks to high heaven and we can’t play with the fact that he stinks to high heaven, too…” Jesse’s voice trailed off as Dexter gasped and groaned from the stench. He stooped down with his hands pressed to his knees.

“You okay, Dex?” Milo asked him as he chewed on his gum with his mouth open so the smell of spearmint could go about, but it was practically futile at that point.

Dexter hurried over to the other side of the diamond; no sooner had he reached the edge of short stop when he stopped and vomited on the dirt. The other four boys recoiled at the sight of it, but then they glanced back at the corpse floating in the murky marsh waters back there, and Richie knew that that was by far worse.

“Yeah, let’s call the cops,” Jesse said as he put his cap back on. Milo ran over to Dexter and put his arm around him. Dexter was shaking and trembling from having thrown up as he stood up to his feet. Richie realized he was alone with Isaac, and yet he had no idea if this was the right time to confess to him. He cleared his throat, but Isaac was more fixated on running after the others.

“Isaac?” Richie finally spoke, even with the stench of the corpse wafting over them. It was not the right time, but his name already left his lips.

“Yeah?” Isaac raised his eyebrows at him in concern.

“I, um… don’t know how to say this.” Richie shifted his weight and clutched at the ball. Even if it was resting atop a lily pad of leaves and they had stuck onto the bottom, the ball had stayed dry.

“Thanks for getting our ball back,” Isaac told him with one hand on his shoulder. His touch sent Richie into overdrive, and he couldn’t help but let forth a lopsided smile on his face. Isaac’s eyes seemed to sparkle, even if they were only a few feet away from a decomposing dead body.

“Rich! Isaac! Come on, guys!” Jesse called out to them from the payphone behind the fence and the two of them chased after them. Richie could feel his face growing warm with embarrassment, but he knew that he had to tell Isaac at some point or another. Even if he wasn’t in the best place. Even if it meant confessing to him at the worst time.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #original story #original fiction #original series #original character #scifi #science fiction #crime fiction #also on ao3 #text #quarter after twelve #tw corpse

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