#baseball player-lookin head.....

[wellfine]

I mowed him sorry (← guy who thinks buzzed heads are handsome)

[e-dubbc11]

Out of Left Field

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of violence but not really, drunk fan, a couple swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 1.8k-ish

Summary: You’re attending a baseball game with a friend and you weren’t expecting to meet a tall handsome stranger.

A/N: This is part of the Thirsty for Cox writing challenge for the month of June. The prompt was “Hey, is that guy bothering you?” It was difficult to NOT set this one at a bar because let’s be honest, that’s the most likely place someone would use that line, amirite? 🤣 Anyway, I hope you like it! 💕

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“These are great seats! How did you score these?” Your friend Jackie, asked.

When your stepfather said he had four tickets to the Yankee game this weekend, you jumped at the chance to go.

It was the beginning of June, sunny with a few fluffy white clouds slowly moving across the bright blue sky and thankfully the hot summer weather hadn’t arrived yet so it was still just warm and dry.

A perfect day for baseball.

Sitting on the first base line, you’ve never been this close before. The warm early afternoon sun kissed the high points of your face as you took in the view.

You were only three rows back from the on-deck circle and could smell the sunscreen the players had on as they waited for their turn at-bat.

“A client gave them to my stepfather and he couldn’t go so he offered them to me. We have these four seats so we don’t have to worry about anyone sitting next to us.” You told her.

Suddenly, you felt a pinch in your side.

“OW!! What did you do that for?!” You yelled and glared at her.

“Oh I didn’t pinch you that hard, listen…really hot guy checking YOU out. Your four o’clock. Don’t look yet.” She said.

Waiting a couple of minutes before turning around, you looked over your shoulder and there he was…a baseball hat covered his dark brown hair, he had a short well-groomed beard, eyes as dark as the night sky and a smile that would stop anyone dead in their tracks.

“Jackie, are you sure he was looking at me? Because he has to be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in real life. Every woman in this area is looking at him.” You whispered to her.

She started to chuckle at little. “Well he sure as shit wasn’t lookin’ at me, I’m married anyway and he wasn’t looking at ANY of those other women, he was only lookin’ at YOU.”

Another inning went by and it was time for another beer so you stood up and headed for the concession stands. Walking up the stairs, you phone vibrated in your back pocket. It was a text from Jackie that said:

Hot guy is following you up the stairs, YAY!!

You couldn’t help but laugh a little and shake your head as you put your phone back in your pocket. And now that you knew he was a few steps behind you, it wasn’t the sun that was making you feel warm anymore. Another text came in:

You look really cute today, relax!!

She knew you all too well. She knew you were shy and easily flustered so that was a text pep talk to calm you down a little.

Standing in line, you could feel him behind you, watching you but almost in a protective way. You noticed there were a lot of people around that had already had a few too many, one of them being directly behind you. Swaying in place, and looking like he was about to fall over at any moment, the man spoke to you.

“Y-you look like you wanna buy me a beer! You are a p-pretty thing, aren’t ya.” He slurred.

The man took you by surprise, yelling in your ear like he did, but you tried to be as nice as possible.

“You sure you need another one? You look like you’ve had enough already.” You said with an uncomfortable smile.

The man tried to move closer to you but you stepped to the side a little.

“W-well I w-want you to b-buy me another!” He said, putting his hand on your shoulder.

And that’s when your tall handsome stranger stepped in.

“Hey, is that guy bothering you?” He asked, trying to get in between you and the drunk.

Looking a little nervous, you nodded.

His eyes looked darker than they were when you saw them before, his lips were pulled back to expose clenched teeth, and the heated glare he gave the man was filled with rage.

“Take your hand off of her…now.” He said with a low growl.

The man grabbed your shirt at the shoulder and gripped it tightly in between his fingers. “This doesn’t concern you, pretty boy. This is between me and her.”

And with those words he shoved you backwards into a person carrying two cups of beer that ended up splashed down your back and caused you to fall to the ground.

What happened next, happened so fast that you missed it but looking up after hitting the ground, your admirer suddenly had the drunk man pinned to ground face down when security came running over to take him away.

The handsome stranger rushed to your side and gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ok, miss?” He asked, looking you over to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Well…I have beer all over me but other than that, I guess I’m fine.” You answered.

He laughed a little and continued to smile that perfect smile at you.

“Well this is not how I wanted to introduce myself but HI…Billy Russo.” He said in a slightly sarcastic tone and extending his arm for you to shake his hand.

You gave him a warm smile. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Billy Russo. I’m y/n. Thank you for what you did, I’ve never really had anyone come to my rescue before.”

He gave you his hand for you to take and helped you to your feet.

“Well I’m just glad I was the one to rescue you. Come on, let’s go buy you some dry clothes.” He said.

A little embarrassed, you told him you only brought enough cash with you for beer, the rest of your money was with your purse, at your seat. He said it was on him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“What? No Billy, I can’t ask you to do that. They charge a small fortune for all this stuff.” You said.

Billy winked and smiled at you. “You didn’t ask, sweetheart. I offered.” His slight New York accent coming through. “This way…”

He was so handsome and charming. It was hard to say no, so you didn’t and he led you to a shop to get some dry clothes.

You picked out a new DiMaggio t-shirt since your other one was soaked with beer and a pair of joggers, you were thankful that your socks and sneakers didn’t get wet. Billy had the same t-shirt on.

“At least this one doesn’t smell like beer.” You laughed. “What do ya think?” You asked with a smile and a 360 turn.

Leaning against a rack of clothes, he smiled back at you. “I think you look perfect.”

You felt yourself start to blush. “Thank you for this, Billy. You really didn’t have to. Can I take you dinner, as a thank you?” You asked him.

“Hey that’s my line.” He said with a sly smile as he inched closer to you.

Looking up at him through your dark lashes, you could not take your eyes off of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It suddenly felt like it was a thousand degrees inside the store.

“Tell ya what…let me take you to dinner and you can buy me a beer on the way back to our seats. How does that sound?” He asked.

You extended your hand for him to shake it. “You got yourself a deal, Mr. Russo.”

On the way back to your seats, you bought four beers. Billy’s friend Frank needed one as well and when you got back to your seats, Frank was sitting with Jackie, and they were showing each other pictures of their kids.

“FINALLY! I’ve been dyin’ of thirst down here.” Jackie said. “Ummm, why are you wearing different clothes? What have you two been doing?” She asked with a wink.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell ya in a minute.” You said.

You smiled and extended your hand to Frank. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

Frank firmly shook your hand. “Frank Castle. Nice to meet ya.” He said with a smirk.

You handed him his beer. “It’s nice to meet you too, Frank.”

Looking at Jackie, you introduced her to Billy. Her response made you crack a smile.

“Oh I’ve heard a lot about Billy from this guy over here.” She said, pointing at Frank.

The four of you enjoyed the rest of the game together, sharing peanuts, drinking beer, and singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game.

Billy told you he and Frank were in the Marines together but now Billy owns his own private security company and Frank works closely with him.

As the game went on, Billy snaked his arm around you and draped it over your shoulder. Goosebumps peppered across the exposed skin on your arm as he lightly brushed it with his long slender fingers.

You could feel him stealing glances at you when you’d lean over to talk to Frank or Jackie, or rubbing your back before he’d get up to use the restroom or if it was his turn to make a beer or snack run.

These little gestures caused your ears to turn red and gave you butterflies in your stomach. You were already smitten with him.

After the game was over, you were chatting with Billy outside the stadium when you heard Jackie’s voice.

“So are you guys goin’ out on a date or what?” She asked, very directly. “You two look pretty cozy already.” She said, looking at Billy’s arm snaked around your waist.

You smiled nervously at her before looking at Billy then turning back to Jackie. “Uh, yeah. Billy wants to take me to dinner.”

She looked at you, then at Billy, smiled and whispered in your ear. “I have a good feeling about him.”

“I do too.” You whispered back.

You bit down on your lower lip and looked up at Billy. He gave you a little wink as he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I’ll call you later, sweetheart.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Russo.” You said with a smile.

He leaned forward and feeling his warm breath against your ear, Billy whispered. “Ya know it drives me absolutely crazy when you call me that.” And he planted a light kiss on your cheek.

“Well, I’ll have to remember that.” You said with a slight smirk. “I’ll see you soon, Billy.”

Billy took one last look at you as you walked away from him. You could feel his eyes on you just like earlier waiting in line, watching over you and making sure you were safe. Once you were out of sight, Frank turned to Billy and said.

“I have a good feeling about that one, Bill.”

Billy smiled as he quickly glanced at the ground and back up to look back at Frank and said.

“I do too, Frankie. I do too.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[tparker48]

Request for 0Vorenation0

"Come on 26, you can make it!"

"Make it to home and we win this!"

The little guy would put his all his sprint as the plate was just a couple of feet away. He was just about to touch the plate until sudden a large shadow casted over. A force sent him tumbling to the ground as he rolled closer to the base. He reached out to touch it as his body ached from the fall. But a large cleat would touch the base before him as another player stood over him."aww, so close. They don't don't make players like they used anymore don't they? They should know not to bring littles into the underground baseball. Looks like you're out little man"

"That was a foul move and you know it. The rules say that you can't hit a player except with the ball"

"There are no rules here. But best keep your mouth shut, but you play with the big boys"

"Like hell I will" number 26 said dusting off his uniform. The other player didn't like this as he balled up his fist. But soon loosened as he say the other team's players coming to help the little guy.

"Spirited runt, let's see where that gets you" the player trailed off the field as the bell rang for the half time. The players were free to rome around for til the second bell rang for the next half.

During this time, the little player decided to head to the bathroom as he went to tend to business. Standing near one of the custom stall for his size, he noticed a shadow peer over head as two black cleats rested along both his sides.

"Hey squirt" the voice soothed above. He was barely able to turn around before his vision was covered by a gloved hand. Its gripped kept from slipping out as the sound of rubber rang all around. The area was dim as he looked at the light that peeped through the wedges. But would began to darken as the large thumb moved out the way. It was the player that he caught him on the field.

"You!"

"Yeah, me" he said slowly "you know for someone so fiesty, you sure are looking pretty small up close"

"Put me down. When the coach hears about this he'll-"

"He's bot gonna gonna know what's gonna happen. None them of will once til I teach a good old lesson of the pecking order"

"Wha-what are you talking about"

"Think its time for your sit the game out. You know runts with spunk aren't really good at playing on the field with the big boys. But rather... he unfastened the tie around hus pants as he leaned closer to the stall. Pulling out his shaft as his tilted it upward "they make good strugglers to get the juice going"

"Wai-mph!" The gloved thumb would cover back over him as it pressed firmly on his helmet.

"Can't have you spoiling the opportunity, same that voice for when you're inside" the player lowered his hand down to his shaft as he wrapped his palp around the tip. Tightening his grip to narrow the space between, he pressed his thumb down as he felt their legs penetrate into surface of his slit. The inner tube welcome their embrace with soft squelches as the rest of them was worked in. "That's it, ease in there nice and easy"

"The heck ya doing in there" one of the team player yelled from the door "the games about to start up again. Save your jack off session til after the game" the door soon closed up again as the silence returned. The player still against the stall as he held position.

"Kill joy. If he was the size you are, i'd probably send him down with you too. But you'll do for now" feeling his thumb reach touch the head, he lifted it up as he saw the little player nuzzled up against the slit. His helmet being the only thing above sticking out of it their face mushed along the inner tubes muscles. "Aaw, look at the wittle guy" rocking a finger across their helmet "lookin' like a wittle bobble head"

"Get me.." He mumbles as the slits lips closed in "out!"

"Fat chance, im rather liking this view. Gotcha right where I want you. Shame I have this little conversation short runt, but I gotta make sure your team takes this loss" rocking over his helmet one more time, he placed both arms along the stall's walls as he gazed at the head between his slit "and with you stuck in there, heh, i consider that a bonus" he thrust his hips forward as the lips enveloped around the little player. Their helmet being knocked off in the process as it fell to the ground. As their muffled voice traveled down the fleshed tube, they disappeared into his pants as they picked up their helmet between his finger "I'll be keeping this as a souvenir" he placed into hus pocket as he returned to the field for the second half of the game. Enjoying the crowded space in his crotch as his balls carried his captive. With each sway he could feel press along the orbs as he did his best to act casual.

An hour had past in the second as the player stood there in the field as he pretended to fumble at his glove. Rocking his leg into his as he rocked it against his balls. He felt the round form jostle as he managed to pick up the fainted kicks inside. "That's it squirt, keep my balls nice and filled. We're just about at match point. Not long now til your team loses the game. Heh, i can almost see them rage from here. And the coach, phew, never seen a man look so heated before" he felt the struggles inside turn into a flury as his balls bounce from side to side "well, at least til you met my balls that is" he shifted his position as he grinded his foot into the sand. Nudging his let deep into his inner thigh as he huffed in ecstasy. But he soon turned towards the batter on plate as he heard the sound of the balls.

The inside was cramped as number 26 shifted inside the fleshy chamber. Feeling around for the tube that deposited him inside, but his hands only squished into its clammed folds as the cum inside rocked like waves. "Hey! Let me out of this thing you bastard. When I'm out of here your through! You hear me" he yelled into the walls. But only the sounds of the announcers muffled voice would be the only thing that responded back. Out of anger he tackled inside the side of the walls as he pressed into deeply. His face began to become covered from the oozed substance along the walls before he felt the contracted. As it thickened, the muscle clenched back in place as he catapulted him backwards. Sending him to the other side as he tumbled into the musky puddle below. "Ugh, some of that hot my mouth" he say as he spat to the salty after tastes off his tongue. But the sudden shift of the chamber would catch his attention as the announcers voice muffled louder.

"And that's game folks. The winners of this game were the Rockets. What an intense game that was"

"It's over already?!"

"Good game you guys" a muffled players voice muffled above.

"No no! Guys, you have to help me! Im in here! Get me out of this players balls!"

The player he was inside would be walking in the line as he high fived each of the players from the other team. With all commotion goin in his pants, it seemed that he knew that number 26 recognized what was happening, but pretended not to notice as he looked forward. High fiving the coach last, left the line as he went to collect his gear from the lockers. Smirking to himself as he did as he rubbed over his crotch. Heading to the bathroom, he stopped at a stoll as he closed the door behind him. He unfastened his pants as he took out his shaft. Pulling out his balls along with them as they swelled out from the pouch. "Phew! Man you really made my balls nice and plump squirt. Im impressed you even managed to pull that off" he jostled his sac in hus hands as he filled the inner fluid swirl around. With how full they felt, he could almost imagine that he was practically swimming in his balls.

"You had your fun alright! Now let me out!"

"Yeah about that, I don't think that's happening. See, your team's already left squirt. Your coach wasn't too keen on losing that match. Let alone losing a player that, what was it again, abandoned the game"

"What?! I didn't abandon them!"

"Well your coach certainly believes that. So he told ours that if we find him, be sure to return him to us with his gear. And with that, he simply left"

"Bastard, you caused this! When I get out of this im goi-" the player let his sac go as they swung back between, fluid submerged his speech as he as he moved towards the surface.

"That ain't gonna be happening for a while squirt. But don't worry, my balls will be taking great care of you til we see your team. Could be a week, could be a month, who knows. But i do know one thing.." Scooping up hus balls towards the pouch "you're stuck with me now" as number 26 muffled in rage, the player pushed his balls back into his pants before he place shaft over it. Caressing over its length as it flexed. Fastening his pants back up, he made his way back to his team as they waited for the bus. Smiling towards them as he greeted them. But keeping a smug look on his face as he left the little guy to struggle inside him.

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

Tag List

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[bigbrotherlouis]

i’m obsessed with joel farabee and morgan frost and you should be too: a primer

hello! welcome! recently i have become infatuated with morgan frost and joel farabee for a lot of reasons but mostly because of that one post that i spent like twenty minutes searching various blogs for that said “people are freaking out about sexualising hockey players, meanwhile joel farabee is one instagram comment away from telling morgan frost he’d suck him dry.” in my head rent free. hit a girl up if you have the post.

anyway! frosty and beezy:

[hard cut to me whispering “oh my god even their nUMBERS are friends” i’m fine.]

this is more like about vibes and less about facts, so you can google if you want to know more about their, like, bios and stats and stuff that’s not 99% rpf or conjecture. this primer is just the things that make me scream. however, that being said, they do play well on a line together and both are very good players.

joel farabee is american, from new york i believe but his dad is from philly, and falls neatly into the category of BORN TO BE A FLYER. longtime fan, hugely excited to play for the team, brings it up all the time.

morgan frost, from ontario canada, was not.

a real, actual tweet. he tweeted this with his WHOLE chest and then joined the flyers like three years later. i adore it. another real actual tweet i adore:

sweet, sweet joel. he misses his buddies :( no doubt including morgan because they are, by all appearances, obsessed with each other. i’m trying not to keep  using the word obsessed in this primer but it’s hard because they are. morgan’s a year older, a first round draft pick in 2017 and joel’s a first round pick in 2018, but they didn’t start playing together until 2019, i believe, because joel played for a college team in boston. side note: he also captained team usa and wore a number 28 in honour of claude giroux and i am absolutely not okay about it.

e! mo! tion! al! incidentally, frosty wears danny briere’s number when he plays for the flyers, which. take from that what you will. iykyk. their NUMBERS are FRIENDS. HERITAGE SOULMATES. joel’s been called up to play on the flyers (and did really well in the playoffs!) but we’re still waitin’ for morgan to come along too but the coaching staff hasn’t recognised the raw power of true love yet so.

at this point, you’re probably saying “sasha shut up about their fucking numbers and talk about why they’re obsessed with each other” but good news! i do not need to do that because the official flyers media has done that for me! (x) i’d recommend watching it because it’s a lot packed into a neat 100 seconds, but notable moments include the voice over saying “joel farabee and morgan frost have found that going at it together has its benefits” within the first thirty seconds. that is a real direct quote. i can’t believe it either. there’s also a lot of light homoerotic bonding over playing chel, them sitting across from each other  on their beds, the admission of being ROOMMATES (oh my god they were roommates), this shot of them sitting with their mouths wide open on either side of their dad,

and also joel wearing a hat with a canadian maple leaf on it, despite being from the the united states. wonder where he got that from. please watch the video.

when they’re not playing chel or, you know, going at it together, they’re being horny in each other’s instagram comments. there’s honestly.... so many of these that i can include but we’re just gonna go with my favourites.

when i say i think about this comment on a picture of morgan with isaac ratcliffe, a fellow flyers prospect on a daily basis, i mean it. i’ll be just doing my thing, minding my own business, and MORGAN MAKES ME VENMO HIM JUST TO TALK will pop into my head, completely uninvited. king shit for morgan to do and king shit for joel to admit on social media for the world to see, but joel admitting things he maybe shouldn’t is a running theme. 

cool. TOTALLY not flirting or anything.

joel. also both their exhibitionist streaks should be explored in fic more i am JUST sayin.

ok but bee you were lookin. like you can chirp but you were lookin, don’t lie. 

when ur in love with ur roommate but ur both hockey players so u can only communicate that love via chirping when he’s with the boys :(

what’s it called when you vibe really well with someone and also live with them and also comment on their shirtlessness and also maybe kiss them on the mouth a little? d... da... dating?? can’t be it.

morgan is a little more composed in the comments and mostly just posts inside jokes i cannot comprehend, or compliments. it’s still cute.

this was on a playoffs pic where joel’s wearing #28 love 2 see it love a supportive boyf always

this one was of joel with a fish he caught and i’m sorry but i did not want it on my phone.

but morgan can’t hide his affection for long. (me, in the distance: TWENTY EIGHT TWENTY EIGHT TWENTY EIGHT!!!!!!!)

there’s more comments but they’re boring and this is long, mostly joel chirping  morgan for wearing baseball or football stuff. however! they are also on twitter where they keep each other humble after incredible goals, like bros do,

this is DEFINITELY flirting. like, blatant. it’s like that kind of flirting when you’re thirteen and you don’t know what to do with your body so you just kinda steal your crush’s stuff or insult them because all attention is good attention, right??

but when push comes to shove, beezy is always gonna look out for his boy (because they are in love):

some important pictures of them together, for your pleasure: 

this is so DUMB and i love it

friends supporting friends!!!

this is them meeting their hockey dads :) so cute :) joel is promising g that he’ll have morgan back by ten yessir he will be respectful of boundaries and curfew. jake is high fiving morgan on getting some. this is facts i just call em like i see em.

and finally!

is this allowed?????  is this allowed???? it’s hard to tell but i’m pretty sure that’s joel on his knees for in front of morgan and i just??? how is that allowed???? it’s been five days and this picture has RUINED me. someone write me an essay to have on my desk by morning, stat.

also v unrelated but here is a video of morgan frost reading, proving he’s the smart one in the relationship. that’s not saying much but, hey! at least there’s proof he can read.

obviously different ships capture people in different ways but there’s something about them to me, personally, that is just so captivating. there’s a lot of potential for different fic vibes, and joel in particular always has a really fun voice to read (and also to write). they definitely have chemistry, they’re pitted against each other so there’s a good-natured rivalry going on, CLOTHES SHARING AND HERITAGE SOULMATE NUMBERS, and, like, they just genuinely seem to enjoy each other. someone PLEASE write more fic for them or by god i’ll have to do it myself.

ok that’s everything for now, i believe. they’re in love and don’t care who knows it and i’m obsessed. (however, i’m also obsessed with joel farabee and andrei svechnikov together, for which i have a one-picture argument for here.)

(p.s. anything not linked i screenshotted myself thank youuu for reading have a good day and remember: morgan makes joel vemno him just to talk 😌)

edit: hello. i wrote this on election night as a way to take off the edge of my nerves and it is not as funny or screechy as i wanted it to be so i’m going to add some now.  

[vventure]

Liar - Atsumu Miya Must Die, Ch. 2

Series Mini Mlist: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x fem!reader

Genre: Angst (only lightly this part), Fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: cheating, small spoiler for post time-skip manga

Summary: Atsumu Miya is a player; dating three girls from three different friend groups so they don’t find out. What happens when they do, though? And how does [Y/N] play into their plan for ultimate revenge?

A/N: Apologies on this taking so long to come out. I hope you like this next part. You’ll get to meet Osamu, and it gives you a little insight into what’s to come in the next chapters. Atsumu’s character is kind of assassinated this chapter, sorry sjfddfkjk

Taglist: @for-ests​ @miyulovestowrite​ @letmeshouyou​  @babyboytsutomu​ @captain-shittykawa​ @writeiolite​ @lunarknox​ @heccingdead​ - let me know if you’d like to be added (or taken off)!!

Last Time:

“[Y/N]?” Ami’s voice drifted through the open door as she looked for you. “We’re gonna go get something to eat now, actually. Riku is hungry and I think I am too.”

She thinks she is? You rolled over and sat up to look at her.

“Y’know, Riku seems really nice. I don’t think you have to, like, change yourself for him or whatever you usually do for the guys you date,” you said while swinging your legs over the edge of the bed to stand.

Ami just rolled her eyes and rejoined Riku in the living room. You were fast on her heels, slipping out of your house shoes and putting on your sneakers.

“Alright!” Riku said with a smile. “Let’s go get onigiri!”

The walk to the onigiri shop from the apartment was short, but lovely. Tall buildings had the slim, asphalt street surrounded and the paved sidewalks were bustling with life. You passed by food stands and flower shops as well as manga cafes and bookstores, each location giving off a leisurely and homey vibe.

Ami and Riku walked hand-in-hand in front of you, Ami pointing to various locations with a whispered comment that only Riku could hear. They were making you the third wheel, but as long as you got a tasty meal out of it you could deal with them.

The bell on the door jingled brightly as Riku held it open for you and Ami, a satisfied smile gracing his face. A tall man with black ruffled hair who appeared to be around your age was reading a little from a newspaper when you walked in, but immediately dropped his leisure activity as he took in the new customers. 

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya,” he spoke, a smile spreading easily across his face. “Good to see ya again, Riku!”

“Hey there, Osamu,” Riku responded with a small wave, striding across the length of floor between the front door and the counter where the guy stood. The guy Riku called Osamu produced three paper menus, passing them to your sister’s boyfriend.

“Who ya got with you? I’ve only ever seen you come alone,” Osamu queried, his eyebrow raised in genuine interest.

“Oh, this is my girlfriend Ami, and her sister [Y/N], they just moved down here. Ami is living with me and [Y/N] just transferred to the local university.”

“Pleasure to meet ya, Ami and [Y/N],” Osamu said, his eyes lingering on you. He spoke with a distinct accent that you found rather endearing. “By the way, Riku, do you know anyone that’s lookin’ for a job? I need to hire another assistant.”

“Hmm,” Riku said, gripping his chin. “Not off the top of my head, but I’ll ask around.”

“There’s a reason you’re my favorite customer.”

Riku stepped from the counter and gestured to one of the four-seater tables in the main area of the restaurant where the trio sat and peered at their menus.

“So, you come to this restaurant often?” Ami asked Riku, barely looking at her menu. 

“Yeah, it opened a little while ago and I like supporting the small businesses in walking distance. Osamu is a good kid. He’s actually 21, just like you [Y/N].”

“This is a big responsibility for a 21-year-old to handle on their own,” Ami said, looking over her shoulder at the young man who was now making sure all of his various ingredients were in order.

“He has help,” Riku said, closing his menu and placing it onto the laminated surface of the small table. “He’s got Chika, who’s a little older than he is and helps with cooking and the books, and he also has his twin brother Atsumu. His brother is in college, though, maybe that’s why he needs new help.”

“You should apply, [Y/N],” Ami said, setting her menu on top of Riku’s. “It’d be nice for you to have a little extra money for booze and stuff.”

“Ami,” you whispered, narrowing your eyes at her. Yet again, your sister’s brain was acting on whims, and this time she was directing them at you.

“I’m not wrong.”

“It could be a good way for you to meet new people, it’s really close to campus so a lot of university students come here for a cheap meal,” Riku interjected.

“Booze money and friends!” Ami said, clapping her hands together. You rolled your eyes at the double-team assault on this matter, but they did have a point. Having extra cash in uni was helpful and it could expose you to a lot of people you’d never get the chance to meet normally.

“I guess you’re right, I’ll ask him,” you said with a huff. “What do you guys want to eat? I’ll order while I’m asking for an application.”

You swept the menus into your hand after taking their order down mentally and walked over to Osamu, handing him the small stack of pamphlets.

“What can I get ya?”

“Can we have two salmon and a minced chicken onigiri, please?”

“You got it,” he responded, writing it down on a little pad of paper. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, smiling sheepishly. “Can I have an application?”

“I don’t really have a formal application, and I’m guessing you don’t have a resume on ya,” he said, giving you a little smile. You shrugged and showed him your empty hands in response. “Well, then lemme take down your number and I’ll give ya a call for an interview. You can bring your resume then.”

“Okay, cool,” you said, taking the pad of paper out of his hand and jotting down your digits.

“Your order number is 22, I’ll give you a shout when your food is ready.”

--

Osamu called you the next day to ask you to an interview. On the way out of the restaurant that night Riku had lagged behind, putting in a good word for you so that when you got to the interview with the young entrepreneur it was more of an orientation than anything else. He provided you with an apron and baseball cap and started in on teaching you how to make each of the onigiri on the menu. 

It wasn’t expected that you’d know what you were doing right away, so in the following days he made sure to put you on the schedule with either he or Chika. This type of partnering saddled you with bussing tables and checking on customers while they were eating, which you were more than happy to do. 

You got to know Osamu pretty well, but really bonded with Chika. She was older than you were, but she’d gone to university at the same school you’d be moving into at the end of the week. Her insights into the school--such as quirks about your dorm building’s location and what food was best--were invaluable and you were thankful that you’d gotten to spend so much time with her.

The week between moving to Hyogo and starting university flew by with your new job, as Osamu put you on the schedule almost daily to free himself up to do paperwork and budgeting for the flourishing establishment. 

It was midday on the eve of moving into your dorm, and Onigiri Miya was quiet. Chika was playing on her cell phone as you read from the book you’d been trying to finish before school started when the chime on the door rang to announce the entrance of a customer.

You looked up from your position behind the counter with a smile, but had to do a double take when you examined who’d entered. The guy looked exactly like Osamu, but his hair was bleached blond and he had a girl dressed in a tight-fitting tracksuit attached to his hand. 

“Hey, Atsumu,” Chika said, barely looking up from her phone to acknowledge him. 

“What’s up,” the young man said with a wide smirk, pulling a chair out from one of the tables with two seats and offering it to his companion. “You know the usual, right?”

“Yep, coming up,” Chika said, putting her phone in the pocket of her apron and getting started on the food that he’d ordered without even saying what it was. 

Atsumu--it sounded familiar to you, and you wracked your brain to find the solution to your confusion. He looked just like Osamu, hadn’t Riku mentioned a brother? One with that name? 

“Who’s that?” You questioned Chika. She turned and gave you a small chuckle.

“That’s Atsumu, Osamu’s twin brother,” she replied, shaping the onigiri. “And one of his little friends.”

“Twin brother? One of?”

“Yeah, that’s why they look exactly alike, dumbass,” she said, elbowing your side playfully. “And you’ll see what I mean later today.”

You took another glance at the couple seated in the dining room. Atsumu had his hand over his date’s, his eyes fixated lovingly on her as she stared moonily back at him. They made a cute, sporty couple in your eyes.

That image of Atsumu’s infatuation with his obvious girlfriend quickly disappeared when he entered the restaurant for a second time that day, another woman on his arm but this one with a pastel, preppy style. Same order, same interactions between Atsumu and his companion.

“What the hell,” you murmured to Chika, grabbing at her sleeve and gesturing. 

“Help me with this,” was all she said, dismissing your confusion.

The final straw came when Atsumu waltzed through the door for a third and final time that day, 45 minutes before closing. Yet another woman accompanied him, this one different from the last with an adorable teal dress and wedges. You didn’t question it while he was in the business this time, opting to wait until you and Chika were closing to grill her about the situation. 

Stopping your sweeping, you called to Chika, her head popping out from the back room where the dishwasher was.

“I’m guessing you want your answer now,” she said, wiping her hands on a stained white towel before slinging it over her shoulder. “Sit.”

Chika laid down the facts: Atsumu was dating three different girls from three different friend groups. It was a secret to everyone but he and Chika, and now you, that he was doing this. Atsumu would only come to Onigiri Miya when Osamu wasn’t working. 

He was somewhat of an idiot in that respect, and Osamu had caught him with different girls at the establishment before, but the bleached twin had played it off as him seeing different girls every week; something that wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility for the player.

Chika went on to explain that while Atsumu used to work at the onigiri shop for his brother, he had taken time off in order to focus on university and his club volleyball team at the school. He was arrogant and self-centered, and often lied to his brother even about small things. The picture Chika painted was far from flattering.

You sat looking at her during her spiel, your jaw basically on the floor. 

“So, yeah,” she finished. “He’s kind of a mess and a jackass.”

“Thanks for the warning, I’ll try to avoid him.”

“About that,” her smile strained as she spoke her next words: “He’s moving into the same dorm as you tomorrow.”

[aesoterik]

15 Questions, 15 People

tagged by @gohnnyjuitar

Nicknames: literally not a single one my name is impossible to nickname, other than the one my mum uses but 🔫

Zodiac: leo and it’s so obvious i’m the stereotype of a leo i hate it

Height: 5’8” / 173cm

Last Thing I Googled: haflinger because i was lookin for reference photos for an oc idea lmao

Song Stuck In My Head: uuhhh honestly polish cow dancing at 4am 😔

Number of Followers: 123 baby i’m like da count from sesame street

Amount of Sleep I Got: ok so i went to sleep at 12am, woke up at 4:20 (haha), then fell asleep again, and woke up at 10, so altogether 10 hours but emotionally it didnt feel like it

Lucky Number: can i legally say 69 or bc if not then 16

Favourite Song: hmmm right now i gotta say Oh No by Andrew Bird idk why it just sticks in my noggin

Favourite Instrument: ok this is impossible i love instruments and music but i’ll say the euphonium bc its my baby :)

Dream Job: being sexy hot and cool also i have a horse and everyone just sees me and goes wow :) sexy :)

Aesthetic: see above hmm but seriously green pastures and textured paper, sun peeking through clouds and daisy chains, the smell of dirt and strawberries

Favourite Authors: i do be illiterate ✌️😔✌️ i haven’t read more than one of an author’s books in so long lmao but right now i’m slogging through divine comedy and its pretty funky

Favourite Animal Noise: when a horse sees me and starts walking over and does the silly little snort to go haha hey i’m comin over :)

Random: im literally so boring but ok six months into my exchange in at the sports festival i was watching softball w my friend and this baseball player was refereeing and his ass was in my face so i turned and said to my friend that i didnt come to watch his ass and he spun around and was like “AILÍS SPEAKS JAPANESE????” and i think abt it all the time he was my himbo king i’d been in his class the whole time as well,,, anyways i think abt him a lot hope he’s doin good

also idk if u wanna do this tag me and say we’re buddies i’ll back u up dw go talk to that girl she definitely thinks ur cute

[abovethesmokestacks]

Hello love, congrats on the milestone! Could you please write "I'll be your blanket" with Steve?

Whenever

“Hey, you okay?”

The short answer is no, but no one needs to know that. Least of all Steve Rogers of all people. You’re surprised he’s even talking to you, even more so that he’s seen you. You didn’t figure the varsity baseball team’s star to be sitting on the roof. Steve Rogers, best shortstop to play the school’s varsity team in decades. Steve Rogers, senior and most likely to succeed. Steve Rogers, everyone’s idol and everyone’s swoon object.

Including yours, let’s be honest.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, wrapping your arms tighter around you. You really should have brought a sweater.

“Right.”

You expect him to ignore him, so you carry right on letting your anxiety wreak absolute havoc on you. This was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to have a senior year with minimal stress, a fun spring break to look forward to next year, making memories with your friends, get into your dream college. Not… this.

“Hey!”

Yelping, you flinch as something lands next to you. 

“Did… you just throw your shoe at me?” you ask, and you hate how your voice starts wavering.

“Shit, no,” Steve stutters from where he’s standing right at the edge of the roof of his house. “I mean, yeah, I threw it, but I didn’t mean for it to land that close.”

“What do you want, Steve?”

He looks a little bashful, a strange look on him. He’s always walking around oozing confidence with the rest of his team. The Howling Commandos are the royalty of your school; popular, good-looking, a little rambunctious. You’ve seldom seen Steve without a huge grin on his face.

“I.. I kinda heard you cry earlier. ‘S why I asked if you were okay. And why I threw my shoes. I was trying to get your attention.”

Great. 

“I’m fine,” you grumble, but Steve is not giving up now that he has your attention.

“No offense, but you’ve said that twice now and you sound like not even you believe yourself.”

You throw your hands up, turning to face him, “Fine! I’m a little stressed, okay!”

Steve has the audacity to look pleased with himself. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Across the roof? Sure, just let me get a bullhorn so I can announce it to the entire neighbourhood.”

“Fine. Catch.”

You barely have time to react before Steve’s pulled off his other shoe and tossed it over and backed up a few yards.

“Steve? What are you-” Eyes widening, you watch as Steve braces himself to start running. “Steve! You’re gonna fall! Your coach will kill you!”

“Not if I make it!”

With that, Steve breaks into a sprint, launching himself across the gap between your houses, landing in a crouch that is far too graceful for someone of his build. A grin spreads on his face as he shuffles over to sit next to you.

“See? Made it.” He ignores the way you glare at him, letting his grin melt into a friendly smile. “Now, are we gonna talk? What’s up?”

Steve Rogers, star baseball player, voted most likely to succeed, the most popular guy in the senior class… is asking you what’s up. It’s hilarious, bizarre and just… You shake your head. Fuck it.

“I’ve got the math SATs in two weeks. Because in three attempts I still haven’t gotten a score that will get me into my college. Mr. Zemo is on my ass, my parents are on my ass, and no matter how hard I keep staring at the prep material it still makes no sense, and I have to submit my college applications before mid-December. I’m studying and studying and it just makes me want to cry so I came up here and now I don’t want to go back inside to get a blanket because it’s fucking cold.”

The silence is deafening after. Steve isn’t saying anything, not that you really expected him to. You, on the other hand, feel a little lighter. Just having voiced your worries makes them feel a little less crushing, although you still hate the feeling of going back inside to your books and notes. When Steve wraps an arm around you, you have to fight your instincts to shy away. Your experiences with someone putting their arm around you have not been great.

"Well… I’m not the best at math. I barely scraped together good enough scores to get into my dream college and that’s all riding on whether I get a scholarship or not. Coach Phillips has been grilling me all season. ‘You gotta put your back into it, Rogers. Those scouts are gonna be lookin’ at ya and they’re not gonna pick a halfassed shortstop, so keep working!’ I swear, every time I see him, he’s got his stop watch out, I feel like he’s timing me on how fast I walk the hallways.” You both let out a little laugh, and Steve pulls you in a little closer. You’d be lying if you said your eyes didn’t flutter close for a split second, relishing in the warmth he’s exuding. “So yeah, I can’t help you really with the math. Bucky’s much better at that. But… I could keep you warm.”

“W-what?” you stutter, looking up at him. Part of you is expecting to see him with a leery expression on his face, but you only find him look at you with his brows slightly furrowed. 

“You said you were cold.” Steve wrangles out of the oversized cardigan he’s got on, stretching it out and wrapping it around you. “I can keep you warm while you sit out here. See, it’s big enough for both of us. I'll… I’ll be your blanket.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, although it’s only a token protest, your body already relaxing from the gentle heat.

“‘S okay. It’s the least I can do. I mean, it’s not gonna help you pass the SATs, but I promise I’ll keep you warm whenever you want to.”

It feels as if the world is stopping on its axis. Whenever you want to. 

“Whenever I want to?” There’s an unspoken question behind your echo.

Steve Rogers, sans the prestige, sans ulterior motives, leans his head against yours, holds you tighter. “Whenever you want to.”

| Pia’s 3k Drabble Round (closed) |

[kentparsonbirthdaybash]

Meeting Kit Purrson

submission from ronanlynchisneversleepingagain for KPBB Prompt Week Day One: Kit

(about 2k words of silliness about Jeff Troy getting traded to the Aces and how he has to fight Kit Purrson for custody of the guest room - a small part of this had been published before on tumblr but never anywhere else! Posting now for our inaugural KPBB Prompt Week - check that out here! @kentparsonbirthdaybash)

--

A huge guy in a black jacket and sunglasses met Jeff Troy at the airport with a discreet sign that just read “TROY”. As soon as Troy made eye contact with him, he nodded and put the sign under his arm. 

“Is that all you have?” the man asked without introducing himself, nodding towards the single suitcase and duffel that Troy had managed to pack in the few hours notice he’d been given.

“For now,” he answered with a shrug.

“They email you a schedule?” the man asked, but didn’t wait for Troy’s nod. He started walking without warning and Troy re-shouldered his bag before striding after him. He had been in the Vegas airport a couple dozen times by then, but the presence of a hundred slot machines right by the baggage claim was still jarring every time. Some guy tried to hand him a flyer for a burlesque show on his way out and he hastily handed it back. He tucked his baseball cap even lower over his eyes and hoped there was no-one around who recognized him enough to be snapping pictures of his arrival in Vegas. It wasn’t something you normally had to worry about the farther west you got, but after three years of playing in Toronto, Troy felt like he had a target on his back sometimes. 

Troy found himself being dropped off at the practice rink out in Henderson, luggage and all, less than an hour later. 

Mathis, one of the assistant coaches, met him at the door.

“You good to skate?” he asked as he shook Troy’s hand.

Troy nodded and patted his duffel where his skates and gear were packed. Mathis clapped him on the shoulder and steered him inside. “Sorry there’s no breathing room to get you settled. Olivia in the front office can help you find a place for the next week or so until you have some time to sort it out. We’ve got a stall set up for you and the rest of the guys are already on the ice.”

“Uh, thanks,” Troy said as he swallowed hard. Mathis led him into the locker room and pointed at a stall where a practice jersey hung neatly on a hook. 

“We’ll make sure to get you one with your name on it for tomorrow, eh?” Mathis said with a chuckle. “Just come on out when you’re ready. I promise none of ‘em bite. Well, except maybe Lerner.”

“Sure,” Troy said. He knew at some point he’d be expected to give more than one-word answers to everything, but his throat felt like it had a stone lodged in it. The black and red of the locker room was giving him whiplash from the familiar blue he had worn for the last few years. Mathis left him with another clap on his shoulder and Troy found himself alone in the locker room. He dropped his duffel on the bench and pushed his suitcase to the most out-of-the-way corner he could find before sitting down and rubbing his face. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see three missed calls from his mother and one text from his sister amongst a flurry of messages from other players and friends who had heard the news. He hit the sleep button to make the screen go black. He’d deal with that later. 

Mathis was watching for him as he came out of the room a few minutes later, fully dressed and ready to skate. He was waved onto the ice without ceremony and a few of the guys nodded hello and then got back to work. 

Troy saw Kent Parson before Kent spotted him, so he was prepared when the hulking Swedish guy next to Kent nudged him and pointed to Troy. Troy nodded as soon as Kent made eye contact, but instead of nodding back, Kent glided over, abandoning whatever it was he had been doing. 

“Swoops,” Kent said with a smirk that hadn’t changed in almost ten years. “Lookin’ good. Didn’t know if they’d actually be able to tear you away.”

“Hey Parser,” Troy said. “Good to see you.”

Kent’s expression flickered briefly, slipping into a frown, and Troy shrugged in response. He knew his tone was still flatter than it needed to be, but it would be a few days before he was happy about packing his entire life into a duffel bag probably.

“You better not have told them about the ‘swoops’ thing,” Troy said, catching the vintage nickname Kent had used on him a moment too late. 

Kent grinned.

“Bro, that was like Task #1,” he said. “I sent the video to the group chat.”

“How do you still have a video?” Troy groaned.

Kent laughed, loud and long, getting the attention of more than one curious teammate, although everyone still kept their distance.

“You don’t throw away comedy gold like that,” Kent said. “I knew one day it would pay dividends. I just didn’t know how.”

“You’re still the fucking worst, Parse,” Troy said.

“You love me,” Kent said confidently and socked him on the shoulder. “Glad you’re here, bro. It’s always good to play with an old friend.”

Troy shrugged off his hand and looked him up and down. Kent was broader now, his face sharper, but he was still obviously built for speed. They had been on the same line more often than not back in the Q, but their styles had diverged somewhat since then. Troy would be surprised if he shared much ice time with Kent. 

“Well, I’m no Jack Zimmermann, but I’ll do my best,” Troy said instead, looking out across the ice at his new teammates. It helped to know that Kent was here either way, even if they almost certainly wouldn’t be playing on the same line like they used to. Troy looked back at Kent when he was silent for a beat too long and kicked himself immediately, recognizing his gaffe. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have --”

“No, it’s fine,” Kent interrupted. His cheer had evaporated into something professional and distant, but Kent grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly even as his expression stayed carefully neutral. “It is. Don’t worry about it.”

Troy slung an arm around Kent for a moment and tapped his helmet.

“It’s good to see you, Parse,” he said before letting him go. “Even if I had to come to this godforsaken desert to do it.”

Kent’s smirk slipped back onto his face.

“It grows on you,” he said and then without further comment, he looked over to Mathis and nodded. Mathis waved them over to another patch of ice and started barking orders without any further ado. 

Later, after they’d showered, his new teammates inundated him with introductions and handshakes and in one case, actual tears of laughter as one of them recounted the “Swoops” video in detail for Troy, as though Troy himself wasn’t intimately aware of the drunken incident that Kent had caught on tape years ago when they were still kids and Troy had gone through a brief but intense obsession with learning how to slam dunk. 

Troy hated Kent a little bit for sharing the incident with a new batch of teammates, but also acknowledged that it was almost impossible to actually hate Kent in practice. Somehow Kent always managed to weasel his way out of any hard feelings. 

When Kent sank down on the bench next to him after the crowd of teammates had thinned out, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. When Troy caught the motion from the corner of his eye, it made him smile.

“What?” Kent asked, seeing his face.

“Nothing, man,” Troy said and turned back to his stall. “It’s just, you always used to do that. You know, the dramatic sigh and running your hands through your hair bit.”

This time Troy carefully stepped around the I always thought it was for Zimms’ benefit part. Whatever weirdness had cropped up earlier because of the mention of Jack didn’t need to be repeated. Kent was looking down at his hands, as though considering the movement before he pursed his lips and looked up at Troy with clear eyes.

“You got a place to stay?” Kent asked, out of the blue.

“Hotel.” Troy shrugged. He didn’t actually know if that was the plan. He would need to hunt down some woman whose name he’d already forgotten in the front office in order to find out for sure. Or he could just go to the Marriott he’d spotted down the road and figure it out tomorrow. 

“I’ve got an extra bedroom,” Kent said, surprising him again.

Troy gave him a long look and then pulled his cap on. It was better than a hotel.

“If that’s cool with you,” he said and shouldered his duffel. 

“Yeah, man,” Kent said. “You just have to watch out for the cat.”

--

In his defense, Troy had no idea his experience of Kent Parson’s cat was akin to seeing Bigfoot as far as the Aces were concerned. He had only been with the team for about ten days when it finally came up in the locker room and only four of those days had even been in Vegas. (More specifically, in Kent’s guest room. Even more specifically in “the cat’s room”.) At that point in time, Troy would have actually classified Kit Purrson, the cat in question, as more of a grumpy hell demon than a figment of Kent’s imagination, but the Aces apparently remained unconvinced.

“How much did Parse pay you to tell us that you saw his cat, huh?” Lerner asked after Troy let it slip that Kit had knocked over his glass that morning ten minutes before his alarm.

“What?” Troy asked as he pulled off his skates. Lerner shoved his shoulder with a deep guffaw.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Lerner said. “We all know the truth. We even found the instagram he steals all of his pics from.”

Before Troy could so much as roll up his sleeve to show Lerner the very real cat scratches on his arm, Kent sank into the empty stall beside him and sighed dramatically.

“I told you that you can come over to meet her anytime, Lerns,” Kent said. 

“Oh yeah?” Haddy joined in from across the room. “You need 24 hours notice for that visit so you can rent a cat from someone, Parser?”

“Nah,” Kent said with a shrug. “Just two or three is fine.”

Lerner howled, as though that were particularly funny while Haddy just shook his head. Troy gave Kent a questioning look but Kent just cocked an eyebrow at him. After that, Troy kept his mouth shut about the fact that Kent had no reason to rent a cat because he already had a very large, very angry one at home. 

Later, when they were alone, he brought it up as they were grabbing lunch. Kent shrugged and said, “Kit doesn’t like them anyways, so it’s fine. That way they won’t wreck shit looking for her when they’re over.”

Troy wisely didn’t point out that Kit Purrson didn’t seem to like much of anything, including but not limited to, Kent himself if the angry red claw marks down the side of his arm were anything to go by. Kent seemed to correctly divine his thoughts anyway and squinted at him.

“She’s sweet once you get to know her,” he said defensively.

Troy grunted non-committedly.

“She is,” he said.

“Is that what the shelter staff told you?” Troy asked.

“No,” Kent said. “They told me she’d already been brought back twice and if I brought her back, she was probably out of chances.”

Troy frowned.

“Sounds like one of those Sarah McLachlan commercials,” Troy said, then affected a falsetto. “If you don’t help, no one will. Take home a hell demon today.”

Kent punched him on the arm. 

“Sucker,” Troy laughed and Kent laughed with him.

“So what if I am,” he said and shrugged. “It’s not like I’m ever home.”

“Yeah, you’re not the one who has to steal her bed every night,” Troy said.

--

Come participate in KPBB Prompt Week - the prompts are a daily surprise!

[joybooth]

Vogue 73 questions with Mike Lawson and Ginny Baker

“Hey Mike, what’s going on?”

“Not much, lookin’ forward to doing this interview.”

“I am too. Are you guys ready to answer 73 questions?”

“Sure, let’s go find Ginny.”

It turned out they found her sitting on a lounge by the pool in leggings and a t-shirt.

“So, you guys just finished playing in the World Series, any regrets?”

“No, we were excited to get there again this year,” Mike answered sitting next to Ginny.

“I mean, I hate to lose, but we played hard and that’s all you can do.”

“How many baseball games do you think you’ve played in your life?”

“For me? I have no idea. I’ve been playing since I was 5. That’s 35 years, between little league, AA, AAA and the majors? Let’s just say a lot,” Mike laughed.

“Same, minus 10 years,” Ginny added.

“Which of your competitors has helped you improve your game the most?”

“I would say Aaron Judge, a great hitter always makes me work that much harder for a strike.”

“Nolan, Nolan Arenado. I like to steal, but he keeps me honest.”

“If you could play any other sport, what would it be?”

“Tennis?” Ginny shrugged.

“I’ve always liked hockey.”

“Past or present who would you love to play with?”

“I gotta say Babe Ruth,” Mike said.

“For me, Cy Young or Yogi Berra.”

“What’s are you superstitious about?”

“I like a certain practice cage. I don’t know if it is a superstition, but I always go for that one if it’s available, and Mike used to sleep with his bat on game days.”

“Where do you go when you need to relax?”

“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be relaxing anymore,” Mike joked.

“We spend a lot of time at home, but we just took a vacation to Baja and that was really nice.”

“What is your nickname?”

“I call him old man.”

“And I call her rookie.”

“Who is the funniest person you know?”

“Dwayne,” Ginny answered after a moment of thought.

Mike nodded. “He is great. We were at a fundraiser for his foundation the other day, and everyone at the table was laughing crying.”

“Wait, do you mean Dwayne Johnson?” the interviewer asked.  

“Yeah, we met at the Espys and get together every now and then. He throws a great BBQ every year.”

“OK, what is your go to karaoke song?”

“Baker loves anything by Beyoncé or Katy Perry. I stick to the Eagles and Duran Duran.”

“What song always makes you want to dance?”

“He is right. I love Katy Perry and Beyoncé, but Uptown Funk is my jam.”

“I don’t dance much, but no one can resist Love Shack.”

“What is your walk out song?”

“I have a mix I listen to, it’s mostly instrumentals to help me clear my head.”

“I go for the classic, eye of the tiger.”

“If you could only read one book from now on, what would it be?”

“Treasure Island has been my favorite for a long time. I’ve read it 5-6 times, and I wouldn’t mind reading it again.”

“That is really hard for me, because I don’t read things more than once very often, but… I’m going to say Esperanza Rising. I know it is a kid’s book, but I still have the copy I read in 5th grade. Someday I want to be able to share it with my kid.”

“Most absurd rule in baseball?”

“It’s not really a written rule, but there is this thing where everyone must be involved in am on-field fight. When Gin went after the Mountain, our assistant coach had to walk out there and hold onto the other coach. These guys are in their 60’s hugging on the field so it is nice and even numbers. I mean I get it, but it can look pretty silly.”

“Describe your style in one word?”

“Comfy?” Ginny ventured.

“If you could raid anyone’s closet who would it be?”

“David Beckham,” Mike answered quickly.

“Serena Williams.”

“Any hidden talents?”

“I love to knit.”

“No kidding. I can’t tell you how many times she got me with one of her needles on the bus.”

“On purpose?”

“No, he is just clumsy and doesn’t look before he sits down.”

“I did get some cute hats and that blanket over there out of it, though.” He gestured to a knit blue and white blanket with a Padre’s logo on it draped over a leather chair.

“Looks nice, now for a hard one. What is love?”

“Baby don’t hurt me?” Mike joked, Ginny batted his arm. “No, seriously, love is different for different for different people but for me, it is a commitment to something that you care deeply about.”

“That and finding someone to see the best in you even when you can’t see it in yourself.”

“What is the most romantic thing you’ve done for each other?”

“He leaves me notes in my locker on days when we don’t work together.”  

“She rubs my back.”

“Best or worst pick up line someone has ever used with you?”

“I thought it was funny when this guy said, I was so distracted by you that I ran into that wall over there. So, I am going to need you name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Who said that?” Mike asked.

“Never mind, what’s yours?”

“A girl just walked up, put her hand out and asked me I could hold it while she went for a walk.”

“Did you?” the interviewer asked.

“I did,” Mike smiled, then he reached out and squeezed Ginny’s hand.  

“Who was your childhood crush?”

“This guy.”

“She finally admits it. She had my poster on her wall, but now I have hers too.”

“What was the last show you binged?”

“We just got done rewatching all of Brooklyn 99.”

“He was a thing for Rosa.”

“She does too.”

“I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

“Name one thing you can’t live without.”

“Air?” Mike joked.

“A good wifi network,” Ginny groaned. “I hate when I’m on the road and we finally get to a hotel and they have super slow internet. I just want to relax and watch Youtube or scroll tumblr.”

“Name something you are terrible at.”

“Bowling,” Ginny answered.

“I suck at word games, scrabble, boggle, all that stuff. She usually beats me by at least 100 points.”

“What is the most nervous you’ve ever been?”

“My first game in the majors.”

“Same. Mine, not hers. I wasn’t really nervous for her because we didn’t know each other, but I remember almost blacking out the first time I walked onto the field.”  

“Name one bad habit you just can’t break.”

“I bite my fingernails, so I have to keep them super short, but that’s fine, because I would have to for pitching anyway.”

“I am an emotional shopper. When things aren’t going well in life, I use retail therapy way too much.”

“He is not kidding. The good thing is he cleans his closet out once every six months and donates a lot of impulse buys to charity.”

“Craziest fan moment?” “A lady told me she named her baby after me and asked me to sign her. I signed her little shirt, but it was a little weird.”

“What is one phrase you use too much?”

“I’m just sayin’. She keeps reminding me how much it annoys her, but it just rolls off my tongue.”

“That’s ok, I always say my bad, and he hates that, so we are even.”

“If you could be any animal, what would it be?”

“I want to say something bad ass, but really I’m a house cat.”

“I can totally see that. I am a… a bear, but mostly because I just want to sleep and be left alone sometimes.”

“Can you say something in a different language?”

“Que bola? Its Cuban for what’s up. I picked it up from Livan.”

“I speak some Indonesian, from my mom. Tidak apa apa is no worries, which is what I use most in like everyday conversation.”

“What is one cause you care deeply about?”

“It is hard to name one, but I work a lot with our local children’s hospital,” Mike answered.

“I support NAACP legal defense fund, Equal justice initiative and the African wildlife foundation.”

“How do you celebrate your wins?”

“Ice cream or beer depending on the day.”

“How do you deal with loses?”

“I try to figure out what went wrong, so I can do it differently next time,” Ginny said thoughtfully.

“How do you deal with haters?”

Ginny laughed, “You just gotta block’em out.”

“If you could redo one game which would it be?”

“The game where I messed up my knee the first time.”

“Yeah, when I almost got the no hitter and instead messed up my arm, that was pretty bad.”

“Besides baseball what would you like to be remembered for?”

“Being a good person.”

“If you weren’t baseball players, what else would you be?”

“I would do something with cars.”

“I would do something with history? Teaching or maybe be an anthropologist?”

“Do you have a pregame ritual?”

“I have a pump mix but mostly I like to meditate and mentally prepare. I usually go over the lineup one last time with Mike.”

“How many MLB teams can you name in ten seconds?”

“The Padres, the Braves, the Dodgers, the A’s, the Rockies, the Yankees, Sox, Cubs, Phillies, Astros, Mariners…”

Mike took over, “Jays, Giants, Angels, Brewers…”

“And that’s time, good job. Name the best baseball player who ever lived.” “Babe Ruth.”

“Willie Mays.”

“If you could only eat one thing forever, what would it be?”

“Pizza?” Mike answered.

“Burgers, but they have to come with fries,” Ginny chimed in.

 “What movie always makes you cry?”

“Field of dreams.”

“The Lion King.”

“What movie makes you scream in terror?”

“My friends dragged me to the Omen once, which was pretty scary, but mostly I don’t watch scary movies.”

“I watched the exorcist way too young, and that pretty much put me off scary movies for life.”

“What is the most inspirational sports film of all time?”

“I always liked Cinderella Man with Russel Crow.”

“I really liked the Life of Pi.”

“Who do you want to play you in the movie of your life?”

“I don’t know that they would make a movie of my life, but when they make hers I think Ryan Gossling is a good choice, or Ryan Reynolds, or any of the Marvel Chrises.”

“If they made a movie… I would say… Letitia Wright maybe?”

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

“As a kid I broke my ankle trying to do a skate board trick,” Mike scratched the back of his neck and flushed slightly.

“What is one skill you wish you had but you don’t?”

“I am trying to learn to cook, but Mike still does it most of the time.”

“If you were a super hero, what would your name be?”

“Black Diamond.”

“Beard-Man.”

“Who’s your most famous follower on twitter?”

“I don’t have a twitter.”

“A lot of people follow me to hear about Ginny, I would say Anna Kendrick is the most famous.”

“You travel a lot for work, what are three things you take with you everywhere?”

“My headphones, a neck pillow, and my phone charger.” “Same.”

“Do you have an pets?”

“We have a dog,” Ginny whistled, and a mini pie ball dachshund call running out. “This is Chip. I named her after the cup from beauty and the beast. She is a super sweet girl.”

“What’s your zodiac sign?”

“I am a Libra and Ginny is a Leo.”

“What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“He likes coffee or half-baked and I like Cherry Garcia.”

“What’s one household chore you hate to do?”

“We both hate the dishes, so we do them together, so we can get it over with quickly.”

“Do you have any collections?”

“I have a snow globe collection, and Mike collects baseball memorabilia.”

“Who is more competitive?“

“Me!” they both said quickly, then looked at the other and laughed.

  “What is your go to date night?”

“We like to go see comedians.”

“He just got us tickets to see Ali Wong for our anniversary.”

“If you could go anywhere on vacation where would it be?”

“We are going to Kenya next month, and I am really excited about that,” Ginny answered.

“Me too.”

“What is your love language?”

“I like acts of service and words of affirmation,” Mike answered seriously for once.

“and for me, it is quality time.”

“Sleep in or rise early?”

“Sleep in!” Mike grinned.

“Read a book or watch TV?”

“Watch tv,” they agreed.

“Kiss or hug?”

“Kiss,” they both snapped.

“Strength training or cardio?”

“Cardio,” Ginny answered automatically

“I like strength training,” Mike added.

“You guys recently got married, what was the biggest change?”

“Not really anything? We already lived together.”

“Calling him my husband, is weird sometimes.”

“What was your favorite part of the wedding?”

“When we left?” Ginny laughed.

“What kind of cake did you have?”

“Just plain yellow cake with chocolate frosting,” Mike answered.

“Who caught the bouquet?”

“My agent, Amelia.”

“What song was your first dance to?”

“Unforgettable.”

“What are you doing today?”

“We’re going to the farmer’s market, then coming home for dinner with some friends.” Ginny answered, walking toward the door.

“Can I come along?”

Ginny made a face. “No, thanks for stopping by though.”

[twistedsinews]

Saints Row; GatBoss Week, Day 4; (pre-)Faith/Gat; PG-13

The baseball bat cracked through the empty air.  Johnny’s stance wasn’t in emulation of major league players, and never had been.  The arc of the swing was lower, neatly evoking the impression of busting an imaginary kneecap in.

There was something in her that was discomfited that she knew that.  Even worse, for all that she was neither intimidated, nor absolved herself, was the apathy for all the times he’d done just that.

“What the hell you even want you can’t find in Stilwater?” he wondered aloud, following the line of their conversation.

“Disneyland.”

Gat snorted.  Tearing his attention away from his make-believe opponent, he swung the bat up to balance over his shoulder as he turned to stare at her where she leaned into Julius’ desk.

“Disneyland,” he echoed flatly.

She licked her lip and shrugged, glancing off.

“You wanna throw in everything,” Johnny asked, “For a glitzy fuckin’ theme park?”

He shook his head, turning away from her.

“What’re you gonna do after that?” he prodded further.  “‘cause I can’t see that takin’ up the rest of your life.”

The next swing Gat took went for an imaginary skull.  With no answer was forthcoming, he spun back towards her to investigate.  He rested the bat upright against the desk, and she straightened as he leaned in on one hand in front of her.

“I still don’t get it,” he gestured vaguely at nothing, then his fingers came up under her chin.  “What’s so wrong with life here?  The fuck you wanna go somewhere else and be nobody?”

Faith met his gaze.  

“Maybe I’ll send you a postcard when I find out,” she said. “What’s it to you?”

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, and Gat traced his thumb over her lower lip.

“I’m jus’ not lookin’ forward to the day Julius calls me in here to tell me you run off and he wants you back,” he stated, “in however many pieces it takes.”

There was an approach of footsteps from beyond the arch.  Gat moved smoothly out of her space, and she slipped aside as Dex meandered around the corner.  He barely glanced between them, then to the empty chairs.

“Julius ain’t here yet?”

“Nope,” Gat answered.

Rubbing the edge of her hand to her mouth, Faith hung about the corner of the table.  On a whim, she dug into a pocket of her vest for a cigarette.

[viewfromthevault]

Companion Meme

Thanks to @nonbinaryrobot for the tag!

NAME:

Lesley Mathews

COMPANION PERK:

One with the Blade

(chances of gaining a critical hit increases by 30% when using melee weapons)

WEAPON OF CHOICE:

Shishkebab, baseball bat, pistol (will she use it? Probably not)

I THINK WE SHOULD TRAVEL TOGETHER:

“Sweet! ‘Bout time I had a change in scenery.”

“Oh thank god, I was getting bored sitting around here.”

“Alright, but don’t be surprised if shit hits the fan at any point.”

USE MELEE:

“Yeah, now we’re speakin’ my language!”

“Alright, who’s lookin’ to get stabbed?”

“Now watch as I demonstrate a proper ass-whooping.”

USE RANGED:

“Are you serious? Fuck, you’re serious.”

“Okay but I’ll have you know I was a shitty shot before I lost the arm.”

“Ah I see you want us both to die today.”

“God, I just want my fucking sword...”

OPEN INVENTORY:

“I get to use some of this shit, right?”

“Anything worth caps? Asking for a... friend.”

“Sure thing if you carry some of my junk.”

OVER ENCUMBERED:

“Heh, idiot.”

“Whatchu lookin’ at me for?”

“Looks like now’s as good a time as any to tell you you have a fucking problem.”

STAY CLOSE:

“Damn, I didn’t think we were this far in our relationship yet.”

“Has anyone ever explained to you the concept of toothpaste?”

“Good idea, this place is sketchy.”

KEEP DISTANCE:

“I feel like the two of us have grown distant lately, hehe. Aw c’mon that was funny!”

“Alright, I got your front if you have my back.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

STEALTH:

“Commence the sneaking.”

“Those fuckers aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em.”

“Hey, when do I get to jump out and whack somebody?”

BACKUP:

“Listen, wise ass, you fuck with them, you fight with me!”

“Ooooh this one’s lookin’ to get kebabed.”

“Hey, can I hit this skid mark yet?”

BE PASSIVE:

“Aaaaawwwww whyyyyy???”

“I’ll only behave if they do.”

“Not promising shit.”

BE AGGRESSIVE:

“Oh don’t sweat it, I plan to.”

“Is that a request? C’mon, you know me.”

“One pint-sized maniac coming right up!”

USE STIMPACK:

“Hey you think this stuff regrows limbs? Hehe just kidding I already tried that.”

“Thanks, pal. Don’t forget about you though, ok?”

“It’s sure a good thing you can afford this stuff, otherwise we’d both be dead.”

WAIT HERE:

“Ok... but call me when shit goes down, alright??”

“That’s either a good idea or a bad one.”

“Sure thing if you remember to come back for me.”

FOLLOW ME:

“You left some baddies for me, right?”

“Alright, let’s go.”

“I was wondering when you were coming back.”

DISMISSED:

“The gang splits up. Welp, you know where to find me.”

“Okay, smell ya later, nerd.”

“Aight, try not to get yourself killed out there, alright?”

SEND HOME (FOLLOWER BASE): “Yeah I should head back and see if Butch torched the fucking place.”

“Nice! Get a break from sleeping on the ground.”

“I’ll head back home, the big guy is probably missing the hell outta me.”

ENEMIES (LONG RANGE-OR COMPLIMENTS ON PLAYER CHARACTER’S CONFIRMED KILL USING A SNIPER RIFLE ON LONG RANGED TARGET):

“Daaaammmnnn!”

“Nice shootn’, nerd.”

“Does it count if I beat them with the gun?”

“C’mon what’s the use in shooting at me from all the way over there?”

ENEMIES (CLOSE RANGE):

“Wassa matter?? Can’t take a one-armed girl?”

“Come get some, asshole!!”

“Step right up I got free stab wounds for everybody!”

“RRRAAAAHHHH!!”

AGGRESSION: aggressive/not aggressive/very aggressive/frenzied

CONFIDENCE: cowardly/cautious/average/brave/foolhardy

ASSISTANCE: helps nobody/helps allies/helps friends and allies

Tagging:

Anyone and everyone who wants to do this. It’s pretty fun.

[micycle--wheeler]

2

William vs the Homo-Geneous World

Will Byers lives a perfectly normal life. That is, until his life becomes perfectly unnormal, and his life becomes something straight out of a romance novel.

///

Or, Will gets a secret email pen-pal.

read chapter 1 here

read on ao3

FROM: indescisionsbuggingme@gmail.com

TO: evier.maple@gmail.com

DATE: Sep 2 at 11:23 PM

SUBJECT: please respond

Dear Evier,

I’m just like you.

I live a pretty normal life. My parents were the perfect love story, my mom working a low-end job to become pretty successful, and my step-dad is about as awesome as anyone can get. My brother likes photography  and enjoys making weird foods that always seem to taste good (he made kale pancakes that tasted too good to be real. I’m still sure he’s putting sugar in it when he keeps insisting he’s not).

I have the greatest friends anyone could ask for. Two of them, I’ve known pretty much my entire life, one being my sister (how embarrassing is that? A sister as a best friend…). The other I met just a few months ago, but it feels like I’ve known her just as long.

We do everything friends do. We drink way too many caffeinated drinks, stay up together far later than we should, and we spend way too much time on social media.

So yeah. My life is pretty normal.

Except I’ve got one huge-ass secret.

I look around at my room for a second time, at the books stacked up on my shelves. One of the pictures on my nightstand showcase that one time Dad drove us two hours to see a play. My fingers type at the keys once again.

—Horatio

I take a deep breath before clicking the mouse.

Send.

And now I wait.

I step away from the laptop, closing it for the night and going to bed.

That next morning,  everything is normal. Too normal, almost, as if nobody knows I just kinda told someone my secret. Evier is the only one who knows.

If he’s even read the email yet.

It’ll probably be put in the spam folder.

But I take my normal shower, so long it’s freezing by the time I’m out. I check my phone.

Nothing.

I get dressed and hop down stairs, skipping every other step, almost tripping over Chester in the process, who decided to come bounding down the stairs at the exact time I did. Jonathan is in the kitchen, handing me a piece of toast as I headed out the door, not even looking back to see if Jane was following me.

I check my emails as I get into the car, finding nothing of interest.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

I jump as Jane leans over, trying to look at my phone’s screen. “Nothing,” I say as I slide my phone back into my pocket.

“Is it a pretty girl?” she guesses. “Aw, did Willy-Will finally find a girl that actually likes him?”

I tell her to shove it as I pull out of the drive, and she in turn flips me off, not even looking in my direction. I ignore her as I turn down Maple Street.

Maple…

evier.maple

Did my phone buzz? I swear my phone buzzed.

I’m startled out of my thoughts as I almost drive into a trashcan.

I stop in front of Dustin’s house, and I take the chance to check my phone again.

Still nothing.

I drop my phone as Dustin climbs in, wild hair bouncing.

“You won’t believe what I dreamed last night.”

“Oh, again with the dreams, Dustin,” Jane turns her head to look at Dustin sitting in the back of the minivan (Yes, minivan. My parents got it from a friend of theirs who was looking to get rid of it).

“This one is interesting, okay?” Dustin defends as I start heading towards Max’s house, which was just down the street. “I was on a train, right?”

“Is this another one of your infamous dreams?” Max asks as she climbs in next to him.

“Yeah! And I was on a train, but everything was strangely blurry.”

“Hmm… What does Freud say?”

Max looks expectantly at me when she says this, mainly because I was the only one that did Psychology last year, and the main thing we studied was dreams.

“Well, good ‘ol Sigmund said that dreaming of trains was analogous to a dick, so…”

“Maybe you wanted to jerk off!” Jane jokes from the passenger seat. “Will does it all the ti—” I try to smack her in the arm while keeping my eyes on the road.

“I do not!”

“Maybe it means you’re not seeing what’s right in front of you,” Max offers. “Like… like maybe you have an idea or an inkling of something, but you still don’t see the full picture. what'd you think, Will?”

I think of what is in the email I sent the mysterious Evier. “No idea.”

I pull up in front of the school, snagging a good spot, away from the kids that like to smoke cigarettes and kick tires.

We all pile out of the car, making our way to our separate classes.

“Nice hair band, Carri, is it new? Oh, new haircut, James? Lookin’ good! Oh, Will!”

Mr, Newby is standing in the hall, doing his morning ritual of greeting students. Just like he did in my freshmen and sophomore year.

“How are you? Nice jacket, even though you wear it every day. Where’d you get it?”

“It’s from a teenager store, Mr. Newby. You can’t enter if you’re over the age of nineteen.”

“Aw, darn.” Mr. Newby shakes his head jokingly as I make my way through the halls and into first period English.

The rest of the day goes surprisingly smoothly, the only even someone interesting occurrence happening at lunch, when Richie Tozier dropped his tray and got applesauce everywhere.

When he sits down at the table, socks soaked in cinnamon, he starts a loud conversation with his fellow baseball player, Lucas Sinclair.

“Did you hear about the gay kid on hawkinswhispers?” he says loudly, shoveling fries into his mouth.

“I did!” Max sits in between Richie and Lucas, practically draping herself over the latter.

“Does anybody know where Jane is?” I ask, ignoring my redheaded best friend. I love Max, but this is just too much heterosexual PDA for me.

“Probably sucking face with Mike somewhere,” Richie throws out, and I try to keep myself from gagging.

“That is the worst mental image I have ever thought of.”

Mike. Jane’s boyfriend. He’s in my theatre class, but that’s about all I know about him except for the fact that he’s Richie’s cousin.

I look down at my phone, planning on checking my email. I open the app and am met with the no internet connection popup.

Right. There’s not service in the building.

“Again with your phone!” Max sighs. “Will, this is the third time today.”

I roll my eyes and ignore her, getting up and heading toward one of the breezeways, knowing I might be able to get at least a couple of bars.

“Oh, Will. William. Willy-Man.”

I look up and find Mr. Newby walking toward me.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“You know the rules. No phones in the hallway. It can cause a collision. So I’ll be having that.” He points at my phone, still in my fingers, and I reluctantly hand it over. “Walk with me.”

I apparently have no choice as he hooks his arm around my shoulder in a I’m trying to relate to you kind of way.

“I remember being a youthful spirit such as you, except I rode a bike instead of surfed the interwebs and killed monsters from another dimension instead of waited for texts from girls.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle uncomfortably. Mr. Newby can be weird.

“So you can have your phone back after school, okay?” Mr. Newby muses. “And you can go back to class.

He walks away at this, whistling to himself  as I’m left standing in the hallway.

Today has been weird.

///

@reddie-tozibrak

[alex-guerin]

I don’t really necessarily believe in fate, or destiny, or signs from a higher being, and as much as I love reading Soulmate AUs and such, I don’t really put much credit/thought to them. That’s just not how real life works, right? I mean, I live in a little world called Reality, y’know? So, those things just don’t happen. 

Which makes what’s happening in my life feel even more surreal and terrifying. 

First of all, I’m Demisexual. I have to have a strong emotional bond with someone before I go, “Mm, hey baby, let’s slip between the sheets and make each others night” So to have thoughts like that suddenly pop into my head even before Jason and I started really talking to each other is like, scary as fuck! Like, what the hell??? 

Also, I’m shy and awkward as fuck around guys I like. It’s ridiculous how terrible I am at flirting and at just about everything. Especially talking to guys I like. It’s just a mess. I’m a mess. ...I’ve been lowkey flirting with him for the last couple of weeks, and for the past two days it’s been pretty hardcore flirting. Like, legit telling him things like, “Oh yeah, well, there was this good lookin’ guy who came into the cooler on a fork truck...” I mean, things like that, letting him know that I’m like, super up on him being pretty damn attractive (to me he is, at least). And scarier still is the fact that there’s been very little lag time in between our texts. We literally have been texting each other since like 7am Saturday morning. And our conversations have ranged from picking on each other over the printer we have to share at work, to me admitting I’m awkward as fuck, to how we both look way younger than we actually are (he’s 37, btw), to the fact that work is stressful and we’ve both almost quit a few times, but despite it all, we still both actually enjoy working there. I mean, he’s told me about how his mom was a single parent and his dad wasn’t really in the picture much, but still did what he could to help support him and his brother. Our conversations have been all over and amazing and so easy for me to be like, telling him things I barely wanted to admit to my closest friends (like he was the whole reason I didn’t quit a few weeks ago, and it was only him telling me to have a good day that kept me from walking out).

And to top it all off, I’m the first to admit that I straight up can’t stand country music, okay? I really can’t. Never have been able to get into it. Before I found out much about him, I had Pandora playing and it started playing Rascal Flatts, Keith Urban, and Lady Antebellum, and they were songs that went straight in me and had me instantly thinking of him. I’ve been listening to country love songs every day since then. I found out this weekend, Jason’s originally from Texas. San Antonio. He was like, “Yup. I’m just an ol’ country boy really.” 

He used to play baseball -- ask anyone, I’ve always been obsessed with baseball and ball players my entire life.

He moved to Illinois in 2007 -- my first actual relationship with someone ended in 2007.

My first schoolyard love was a boy named Jason. My favorite character in the Star Wars EU was Jacen Solo. I had once been determined to name a future son Jacen (instead, that name went to our Boxer/German Shepherd). 

Like...I dunno. Maybe that damned stupid hopeless romantic buried inside me that I reserve for writing my fics is just seeing what it wants to see, and reading into things that aren’t real. They’re just coincidences, right?