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wannab-urs · 11 months

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The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol. 10

Hi babies!!

Can't believe this is the TENTH week of TSD. I really love sharing what I read with y'all (even if it's lowkey embarrassing to admit how much smut I read in seven days). This week I branched out to a Pedro Boy I don't usually read AND I read a couple different series that like... changed my life.

Fic recs below the Pedro ;)

The last great american dynasty - a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes (part of the Folklore Anthology)

I love love love old homes and I also did a research project in college that involved reading historical letters so this was all just a really cool premise for me. Add in the snarky reader and grumpy joel and it's just heaven on earth for me.

Muddy Waters - a Joel / Ezra series by @bonezone44

This is like... weird. It gives me an eerie feeling. And that is such a fucking compliment btw. I am obsessed. The way you've written Ezra is so fucking interesting (and creepy). Love me a murder boy <3 And reader is really fascinating too ugh. This is so cool. (thanks toxic for pointing me to this w your rec ahhhh).

Bunny - a Javi P two shot by @whatsnewalycat

Obsessed with the premise here. Phone sex operator to get through school?? sign me up. The little Dale Gribble moment was delightful and then it's followed up by incredible phone sex with Javier. And then!!! Part TWO we get professor Javi, which is unfairly hot and the recognition from the voice and just.... oh my god it is everything. I mean this is just the perfect set up for dirty talk and boy does Javi have a mouth on him.

LJ's Bangathon - a Pedro Boys... bangathon? by @prolix-yuy

Every single one of these is incredible. I'm especially partial to the Oberyn x Sit on the Throne one because like... murder + dub con vibes and neither in the way you'd expect. I also adored Jack and Marcus Pike. Their dynamic was so good UGH. Anyway they're all amazing and you should read them.

Learning to Live - a Javi P series by @wheresarizona

This fucking fic is ruining my life. I've been completely consumed with it all week. I can see how a casual viewer of Narcos would say it's OoC for Javi, but I actually think it's kind of genius. Throughout the show you get all these slight glimpses into Javi's true nature: soft, sweet, caring, passionate, gentle... but he's so wrapped up in and beat down by everything in Colombia that he has to be an asshole or he won't fucking survive. The post-show Javi who is ready to start letting all that go is so fucking wonderful to see and I love that Cielito gets to help bring that out of him. The little moments of reconnecting with his family and remembering his mom bring me to tears. The long speeches in Spanish are just so lovely. If you need something to make you weak in the knees and a little teary eyed this is it. Passionate, adoring, filthy, gorgeous smut sandwiched between beautiful little moments of fluff and just the right amount of angst. Me encanta esta historia <3

With or Without You - a Javi P/Frankie series by @jksprincess10

Frankie is so adorable and sweet in this. He just wants to make reader feel good and he also wants to please Javi ugh. And reader is so mischievous getting Javi to do what she wants ahhhhh. And of course our dominant little Javi P is wonderful in this. Fucking top tier smut, Nad. We all know I love a MMF threesome fic lmao.

this is me trying - a Joel one shot by @swiftispunk

This is such a sweet platonic Joel and Ellie fic ugh. I really love fics that explore their relationship post season 1 and like... Joel coming to terms with everything. I loved the set up (similar to his panic attack in episode 6 when he sees the girl by the tree) and I love how Ellie comforts him in her own quintessentially Ellie way. You can see the bond they have where she just kind of knows what to do and say instinctively and it makes me so happy. I see a lot of fics where Joel is trying to comfort Ellie or get her to stop hating him for what he did and it's just really nice to see a fic where Ellie comforts him instead.

take what you need darling - a Joel one shot by @iamasaddie

big thick dick daddy joel what more do you need?

punch the clock - a Javi P one shot by @deathwife

Listen this is exactly what would happen if I worked anywhere near Javier Peña. I would find a way to get him to come with me and I would also be a sassy lil bitch to him constantly. Not like it would be difficult to get Javi to come with pretty much anything with legs and wearing a skirt, but still.

I Can Feel Your Heartbeat - a Jack (Whiskey) series by @psychedelic-ink

Cowboy Jack Daniels is a character who begs to be written as a stripper and this fic delivered. He's hot and sweet and I love it. Part two is sexy as all hell and features clumsy as fuck reader (which is so me). And then it drops the ANGST on you. God I love this. I cannot wait for part three.

The Secret - a Marcus M series by @frannyzooey

This collection of drabbles about a much older Marcus Moreno sneaking into your dorm at night is so fucking hot, y'all. I don't read a whole lot of Marcus Moreno unless he's being sweetly seduced by my favorite piece of shit human, Dieter Bravo. So I clicked on this bc it's by one of my favorite writers and was rec'd by another of my favorite writers and... alright. I'm on the Marcus Moreno train. I get it. And the drabbles left me desperately wanting a full story... wishful thinking?

----------oldies but goodies-----------

Soft - a Dieter one shot by @mishasminion360

Home for the weekend - a Joel one shot by @loquaciousferret

Genesis - an Ezra series by @max--phillips (I'll kiss you if you write more)

Perfectly Intoxicating - a Javi P series by @gracieispunk

Es Tarde y Te Necesito - a Javi P one shot by @gar6agef1r3

Say My Name - a Javi P one shot by @palioom

I Only See Daylight - a Din series by @millersdjarin

A Fresh Start - a Din series by @theidiotwhowritesthings

----------my shit------------

Nothing new! I'm planning a little Javi P thing maybe? Based on my username... MAYBE! Do not get excited.

And maybe a lil Dieter thing based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but again don't hold me to it I am useless most of the time.

-------------------------------------

Happy Reading <3

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #vol 10 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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cherry-liss · 1 year

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CHERRY~LISS | masterlist

hi~ im cherry~liss, call me cherri for short !! i like writing fanfics so if you have any requests in mind, im here to bring them to u!!

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

dream SMP:

C!Tommy

C!Tubbo

CC/C!Wilbur

CC/C!Ranboo

C!Technoblade

C!Nikki

C!Eret

CC/C!Dream

CC/C!Punz

CC/C!Sapnap

CC/C!BBH

CC/C!Quackity

etc.!!! *minors are C! and 18+ members are CC!* *if you ever request on MINORS, i will only do PLATONIC relationships <3. if any content creators OR people who are uncomfortable with ANY of my fanfics, i would gladly take it down!*

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

any anime/game characters from:

Genshin Impact

JJK/ Jujutsu Kaisen

Honkai: Star Rail

Honkai 3rd

BDS/ Bungou Stray Dogs

Oshi No Ko

Black Butler

Tokyo Ghoul

Death Note

Code Geass

Parasyte

Sailor Moon

Card Captor Sakura

Madoka Magica

Undertale

Chainsaw Man

MHA/ My Hero Academia

Shaman king

Demon slayer

HXH/ Hunter X Hunter

FairyTail

Lycoris Recoil

Spy X Family

Naruto

Cells At Work!

TSDS/ The Seven Deadly Sins

TPN/ The Promised Neverland

Angels of Death

AOT/ Attack on Titan

Bleach

Assassination Classroom

ATLA/ Avatar: The Last Airbender

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

if you ever request on MINORS, i will only do PLATONIC relationships <3 ex. Anya Forger from SXF, i would make it as, comedic side more than the romantic side. because Anya is a minor!

If people REALLY REALLY want a minor paired up with reader/y/n, then i would age up the characters!!

for people who are uncomfortable with ANY of my fanfics, i would gladly take it down!

please specify pronouns if needed!! if you request for a specific character from a show/etc. please add pronouns if possible <3 but if you don't, it's fine as well!!

if you want a specific scenario with chosen character, please specify as well!!

**I DON'T DO SMUT/NSFW!!** i will do n/b or she/her for y/n most of the time.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

thank you for reading! have a good day/night~!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ~ cherry~liss

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joonsytip · 1 year

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first of all i love ur pfp and tsd and PHEW- selfish indeed! Your writing is amazing so i hope you dont take this as a critique of that bc it's just the Characters i wanna gossip abt heheh. I'm the anon from waaaay back who was team dk and now ive decided....im team OC. maybe in the future when reader has a chance to properly look at dk then yes but hannie is NOT it for her oh my gooooood like i felt like i was rlly watching a drama like, jeonghan 😭 how did you make this poor girl suffer for 2 years bc of ur own complex. Reader wasn't faultless bc she did keep approaching and shoulve put her foot down sooner but tbh jh was too wishy washy with his actions and made it seem like he purposly was trying to go out of his way to hurt her and then oh a week later, he's in love???. I like the cheol part when he gave advice like cheol and jihoon were the MVPs along w chae but srsly. The cheol part gave us more insight into jeonghans side but bro just bc u have some deep hidden repressed feelings doesnt mean u get to treat oc like that thinking its cute. Tsundere is cute, straight up rudeness isn't. Cheol was so right when he put things from reader's perspective like how are u gonna treat reader like a bug for 2 years then turn around and say u love her. Noooooope, its a no from me 😭. I respect what jihoon said the most like reader can be persistent as much as jh wants to get his redemption. Reader hit the nail on the head when she said he doesnt love her, he only loved being pined after, because thats exactly what it is from her perspective because jeonghan seriouslyyyyy fucked up instead of being honest to his feelings or aware. At this point im so pissed off w jh (the fictional one hehe) and i just want reader to be happy. The friendship dynamics in this are the absolute fucking best !!!!!! Seriously the office culture and dynamics in this MADE the story and i lived for it. I just want reader to transfer and live her hot girl life while jeonghan pines and lives in a puddle of regret. He's gonna need to show a lot more sincerity. Right now he's just trying to prove himself, as jihoon said he's just trying to redeem himself by doing all these flashy things that are just making reader question him more and make her feel like shes being mocked. As cheol said, he needs to put himself in her shoes like the underdeveloped eq jh has in this 💀. Goes from i hate you to i love you in a week and wonders why his sincerity didn't reach. i sweaaaaar he frustrates me like nobody else ughhhh the way you made his flawed character was so good like u had me feeling so much anger over a fanfiction 😆. It balanced out so nicely like the cluesless jh and cheol who sees the bigger picture and wants his friends happiness and then reader who is passionate in her love and jihoon who is really mellow but sees everything for what it is. Then we got the trouble makers and office clows along with the dependable friends and bff hao. Hsjsjs soooo many good character, this was such a good cast!!!

I like healing loves and loves that complete you, jh feels more like a puppy crush that makes ur heart race, the kind love that breaks ur heart and u have to learn from- and thats ok! For example, she has a great attraction to jeonghan and went crazy when he wore the red top (goddamn i would too, that chic office wear????) Like jh excited her but a love like dk feels more like home, you know? What i would tell reader if i could is that life is sooo much more than that boy you think is ur first and last love. Sometimes what u really need is ur friends and to enjoy your youth bc this aint it and in my humble opinion jeonghan is not it for her. I know they'll end up together bc its a x jeonghan and this is a fictional world but i took this way too seriously bc i got invested LMAO. Felt like i was in the damn office with soonyoung fighting the copy machine and texting boo seungkwan from the rival office next door about all the drama just to hear his hot takes 😂 I wanna have a sad bitch party with reader and chae and just blast 'you're not sorry' by taylor and then bust her out in a hot outfit for a revenge type plot LMAOOOO the way im sucked into this fanfic you would not believe hahahha. Like reader shows up at the og office after her transfer looking like jeonghans dream girl and she gives him the same treatment he first gave her 😤 the reversallll!! Oh my god and she brought her new coworker, hottie kim mingyu who anyone can see from a mile away is a literal 😍 around her like theyre giving puppy gf x puppy bf and jeonghan is feeling the heat hehehe. As u can see im fucking delusional and ive continued this scenario like its my own life in my head for so many different scenarios LOL.

Thank u for writing and listening to my ramble<333

Gosh. First of all, ANON WE SERIOUSLY NEED TO TALK???? I really loved how you laid out your perspective about the storyline and the character, specially the protagonists.

I do get where your thoughts are coming from and tbh it's a real tough deal to make Jeonghan get his redemption arc coz redem. arcs have always been difficult.

And the way you continued the storyline after the part 2, it's so satisfying actually???

Thanks for dropping by and please keep rambling on me from time to time, I love it! 😂🫶

#the selfish dilemma #joonsytip ask

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crazyfreckledginger · 4 years

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Melodias x Reader - “Devil Angel Newbie”

Melodias is a little in awe when a new angel goddess with a pretty bubbly personality becomes part of the Ten Commandments.

Requested by @alvarsliver: “Request for seven deadly sins imagins Ten commandment meliodas x goddess reader Meliodas who part of the ten commandment is surprised when the goddess compliments him saying how they love his wings and wouldn’t mind having wings made of darkness since their wings is a hassle to clean.”

A/N: Hope you like it! Sorry for the wait!

Warning: violence

She had been under wraps for a while, training, becoming stronger and being tested on her loyalty.

People were talking though, and rumors were spreading everywhere.

"I can't wait for the day everyone shuts up about (Y/N)." Zeldris sighed exasperatedly, his expression still remaining stoic.

It had been the past few weeks that she was the talk non stop.

"Speaking of which... " Estarossa smirked.

"What do you know?" Melodias turned to his brother.

"Apparently she'll be introduced this week."

"Do you have any more information about her?" Melascula raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"I've heard she's very beautiful, she's a goddess afterall," the man expressed, amusement in his eyes as he lounged back on his seat.

Melodias looked into the distance with a blank expression.

****

"I have been given the wonderful mission of presenting our gorgeous new member to the commandments." Estarossa moved out of the way to show her to the group. They stayed silent for a moment.

He's right, Melodias thought, she is very pretty. Her (H/C) hair had been neatly tucked away from her face, making sure to highlight all her features. She was wearing a semi revealing outfit, showing not too much skin to be able to move freely. He liked the type of girl that didn't show off her body to appeal to others.

That wasn't the thing that captured the Dragon Sin's eye, however. What captured his attention - - and he's sure it was the same for the others, were her beautiful white wings that nearly touched the ground. They were breathtakingly perfect, not a single overly ruffled feather, which looked very fluffy by the way. They weren't overly large, just enough to highlight her figure. It was truly a sight to behold.

When Estarossa cleared his throat, he was immediately pulled out of his thoughts and noticed how she was subtly shying herself away from their preying eyes when they weren't saying anything about her arrival.

"Zeldris, nice to meet you." his brother extended his hand out, the gesture lightly confusing her, seeing how blank his expression was.

"(Y/N), it's a pleasure to meet you all." she gave them a smile.

****

After her first week with them, things were going smoothly and the commandments were becoming s childishly around her as she was around them.

Her and the demon brothers had been sent on a special mission to take down a few Holy Knight with threatening intentions.

"Which one do you want to fight, (Y/N)?" Melodias turned to her, giving her a small smile.

"The one in purple, he looks like he thinks he's the best, I want to break that." They exchanged a smirk.

"You all look so pathetic, talking with each other." one of the Holy Knights roared in laughter.

Melodias rushed to him at full speed, readying a punch. The man effortlessly stopped it, but didn't expect the punch in the gut he received after the blonde's not-too-far-fetched distraction.

The man was easily vanquished and when he turned around, he perceived (Y/N) blocking a sword with her armored wing before hovering above the ground a meter or so away from the man, spinning on herself for a moment and throwing sharp feather-like shards straight at him. The majority hit him and he grunted in pain upon moving his dirty, cut, bloodied arms.

"You're pissing me off." the Holy Knight grunted, cracking the earth and telekinetically pushing a few rocks off of the ground and threw it to her.

The woman easily dodged midair.

"What a great witty remark, you must have used your brain for that, I hope it didn't hurts." she teased sarcastically, a playful smile on her face as she pulled her own sword out from its sheath on her back.

Melodias stood there in awe. It wasn't obvious on his face but it seemed impossible to look away.

"Finish the job, (Y/N)." Zeldris grumbled from beside his brother.

Estarossa was also fighting one of the last Holy Knights, he wanted to prolong the fight, injure his opponent slowly until his body collapsed completely, it was only a game to him. It's what made him and the angel's fight so different and completely contrasted their characters. She treated this like a challenge - - granted, not a great one but she found the fighting helpful in her training. If she had to be party of the ten commandments, she had to live up to their power level and fighting skills.

"Heads up." she announced, spinning spinning around to give him a powerful kick in the jaw.

The poor man groaned in pain.

"Ouch," Melodias wonders for him, "that must have hurt." he didn't hide his entertainment any longer as he kept his gaze glued on (Y/N).

"Watch out." Zeldris expressed indifferently. Melodias peeled his attention towards him only to see him staying at something behind him. The Holy Knight that was previously fighting Estarossa was heading straight towards him, probably knocked out of dead due to the absence of noise he was making.

Rarely did he react as slowly as he did.

In fact, he didn't have time to move out of the way that he collided with heavy armour and went flying off the cliff.

"Melodias!" he heard her voice call out.

"Don't go after him, he's fine." Estarossa placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Why did you do that?" she frowned turning towards him.

"Don't be angry with me, Princess, he is fine, look." the grey hair commandment nodded back to the cliff.

Her head spun around and her (E/C) eyes widened in amazement. A tattoo-like shaped became much more apparent and he had demon-like wings to help him fly up. He held the defeated Holy Knight effortlessly in his right hand.

"What did you do that for?" Melodias inquired, doing the man on the ground as his feet were placed back on the dirt. The wings he had disappeared and edge women audibly gasped.

"Testing your reflexes." his brother shrugged.

"Hm." the blond hummed.

(Y/N) pushed past them to speak to the man in question.

"Wow, you have wings made of darkness! That's awesome!! I would love to have that, it's such a bind to take care of them and groom them. Plus they regenerate so you don't even have to worry about scaring them!"

Melodias saw the twinkle in her eyes and he didn't know what to say. He was so caught off guard, no one has ever said anything about his wings, let alone stare at them in admiration.

"Thanks, I guess." he quickly caught himself up and smiled cheerfully at her.

"Can you tell me more?" she asked as her own wings fluttered subtly under the w weight of the extra gold armour it was carrying.

"Sure, whatever you want to know." he answered as they started heading back.

Comments, votes and feedback improve motivation, writing and publishing, so it is in your best interest to leave some! :)

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Tagging: @lumifuer @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx @lostnliterature @batette @schweeeppess @gearsinice @mizmahlia @tina8009 @alex--awesome--22 @disa @caswinchester2000

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totheblood · 3 years

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two slow dancers | p.p.

chapter 3: in the rearview mirror

summary: y/n stark has always hated peter parker but her hate is taken to a new level when she finds out he's the soul heir to her dad's legacy. sadly, its up to these two angsty teenagers to protect the world and they cant do that if they're fighting all the time.

y/n beats peter's ass and he likes it

enemies to lovers, slow burn

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: mention of death, y/n is annoying so that's a warning...

You were a very empathetic, kind, and feeling person.

But you never let anyone see you in that light. You took on the “rich girl” persona that was thrust upon you when you entered high school as a way to protect yourself from anyone getting close. The one person who did, surprisingly, was Flash.

He found you under the bleachers one day your freshman year crying your eyes out and you clued him into the fact that you were incredibly lonely. You had no friends, no one your age you could talk to, and you had never even had your first kiss. He asked you if you wanted him to be your first kiss and you burst out laughing. He wasn’t offended and it was then that you knew you had a friend for life. Flash was the biggest shocker of your life, but he was just you in a different body. He was neglected, overworked, and under an insane amount of pressure and it caused him to act out, just like you had. He had to put on this act everyday like he was cool with his life but he was just as sad and just as broken as you.

But Flash knew you. He knew you were gentle and caring and cried at nearly every movie with a dog in it. He knew you hated seeing people in pain and that you would do what you could to make them feel better. But he also knew that none of those rules applied when it came to Peter and when he asked why your whole posture changed when Peter spoke or entered a room, you let him know everything.

You did kind of feel bad when it came to Flash and Peter’s relationship because you knew you were the reason that he bullied him so relentlessly in the first place. You didn’t want to necessarily make Peter’s life a living hell but everytime Flash made a rude remark to him you couldn’t help but throw your head back in fake laughter just to add an extra punch in.

But now all you felt was awful and you couldn’t help but ask yourself if you had taken it too far. Peter looked like he was broken and while you still didn’t like him, you wanted to make him feel better. It was almost natural for you to want to want to help people, but you rarely acted on it. Your dad taught you from a young age that people will do anything to take advantage of you and you assumed that’s why you never reached out to people, even though you had the resources to help. But Peter wasn’t “people”, and you knew he wouldn’t take advantage of you.

So you texted him and immediately regretted it, but you figured you could kill two birds with one stone with this small dinner date. Morgan was dying to see him and you didn’t want her to have to experience too much loss so soon in her little life. Peter was one of about five people Morgan had grown attached to and you were possibly the only thing standing in the way of her happiness. So you invited Peter because you also knew that he had experienced yet another loss and maybe this would help him feel closer to your dad.

Not that you particularly wanted that.

Peter Parker: yeah, sure! that sounds nice, thanks for inviting me should i bring anything? :)

You wanted to kick yourself for this. He was still so nice to you and for some reason, that made you angrier.

You: no just bring yourself

So here you were, at 7pm the next day, waiting for no other than Peter Parker to show up to your house for dinner and you were less than excited. All you could do was hope that your ugly side wouldn’t show and you could be nice to Peter for at least an hour, but you would be damned if you dressed up for him. You were basically in your pajamas and you wanted to applaud yourself for how domestic you looked. This wasn’t a date, and you were not even in the slightest trying to impress Peter but you still threw your hair back and added concealer under your eyes to hide the dark circles that had been growing for weeks. You don’t know why you did that, exactly, but you still did it. Maybe you didn’t want someone to know that you weren’t sleeping. Or maybe you didn’t want Peter to know you were doing just as bad as him.

When Peter showed up, Morgan came running up behind you, her tiny hands hugging your legs and looking up at Peter in awe. He was wearing a flannel shirt, one of his nicer shirts, you presumed and you wondered if he was trying to impress you. He had a plastic container of store bought cookies in his hand and a goofy smile on his face and you did your best to give him a smile back, but it never met your eyes.

“I know you said not to bring anything but I thought it would be rude if I didn’t.” Peter spoke finally, practically shoving the cookies into your hand. “I hope you like chocolate.”

You didn't. But that didn’t stop you from thanking him and moving aside for him to walk into the penthouse.

“Peter! I have to show you my spiderman toy!” Morgan squealed, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside towards her room. He gave her a genuine laugh, beaming down at her as he followed her.

“Woah! You got another one. That’s so cool!” Peter was obviously good with kids. He was able to have a conversation with Morgan like she was an adult and took time to make sure she felt like she was special and loved. He laughed at her jokes that she obviously stole from the TV shows she was watching, and even played dolls with her.

But as you stood in the doorway with your head leaning against the doorframe, you watched Morgan pull out her very own “Iron Man” mask and your heart sank as you watched Peter’s face change. He tried to give her a smile as he politely rejected her offer to try it on, but she was a kid and she was being persistent. He was obviously uncomfortable, so you thought it was about time that you stepped in.

“Come on, Morgan, he doesn’t want to play that.” You scolded, walking in and taking the mask from her and throwing it back in her playbin. “Plus, it’s time to eat dinner, anyways. You can show Peter another time.” She huffed but she still accepted your hand as you led her out her room and into the kitchen where Pepper was setting the table with the food your chef had made.

You hadn’t said a word to Peter since he got there, but it was mostly because you were unsure of what to say. You didn’t have much in common, you didn’t really like him, and you were also feeling really guilty. He could probably tell that since the air around you two seemed awfully heavy. Regardless, he still gave you a small smile every time you asked him to pass the salad or the rolls, as his way of saying “I understand you don’t want to talk to me, I’m just happy to be here.”

God, he was like a puppy.

You pushed your food around as Pepper asked him questions about his summer, whether he would be coming back to his lab at Stark Industries, and how his aunt was doing. All of which he answered politely and grinning, but you weren’t listening to him really. You thought you were done with Peter after your dad died but here he was, sole owner of the Avengers, sitting and chatting with your step-mom. Granted, this was all your fault, but still.

Then the topic of college came up. It was your senior year and everyone was planning where they were going and what they were going to do after high school but it hadn’t crossed your mind in a while. Would you be working full time with the Avengers, or would you have to study business in order to take over Stark Industries? Right now, you were uncertain but you let your mind wander as Peter spoke.

“I might go to NYU for engineering, or something like that! I’m looking around a lot right now, but since I have the “internship” at Stark Industries, it’s more like schools are looking at me.” Peter answered so nonchalantly that it almost made your blood boil. Your dad had set him up for life.

“So how are you going to go to school full time and lead all of the Avengers?” You practically spat at him, your anger quite evident.

“Y/N,” Pepper started, closing her eyes and setting down her fork.

“W-what are you talking about?” Peter looked at you, his mouth open and eyes wide. He looked completely in the dark and it hit you that maybe he didn’t know he was also your dad’s heir.

“Oh, you didn’t know? You’re next in line to lead the Avengers, as requested by my dad.” You stood up, vengeance in your eyes as you towered over him.

“W-wha-?” Peter’s eyebrows were knit together, genuine confusion washing over his features. He was cut off, however, by you throwing down your towel and running into your bedroom.

Peter was unsure if he should follow you, but he needed to know what you were talking about. He had no clue he was even in Tony’s will. No one had contacted him or let him know the status of Tony’s will, but it wasn’t like he was expecting anything. But now, as he was being yelled at by you at the dinner you invited him too, he probably felt as guilty as you had. He had no idea he had taken so much from you, and if anything, Peter wasn’t a taker, he was a giver.

So Peter followed you, slowly opening the door to your room to reveal you sitting on the edge of the bed, hands covering your face as you sobbed quietly.

“Y/N?” Peter kept his voice quiet, trying not to startle you, but you only sniffed in response. So he moved to sit next to you, and kept his hands in his lap as you tried to collect yourself.

“When you said, in the hallway, that you lost something because of me, were you talking about this?” Peter wondered out loud causing you to look up at him, your eyes all puffy and red.

“Yeah, what else would I be talking about?” You wiped your nose on the sleeve of your shirt and for the first time, you couldn’t look Peter in his eyes.

“I thought..” Peter caught himself. He didn’t want to make you more upset or open any wounds, but he wanted to be transparent with you.

“I thought, you thought, I was the reason your dad died.”

This time your eyes met Peter’s, but your expression was unreadable.

(¬_¬)ゞ♥︎ˀˀ ...

✎ . . . ♡: a/n: sorry this one's short! i wanted to get the dinner in one chapter while not getting too too deep into things... dont worry: they aren't mending fences just yet. let me know what you think!! if you liked it, if you didn't; whatever it is, i wanna know it!!

taglist:

@runawayolives @osterfieldshollandgirl @anqel-eyes @bigassnocash @chipot-lol @starknik22 @enjoymyloves @hayhays @thexplosivegirl @baueoud

#tsd #peter parker #peter parker imagine #stark!reader #spiderman #spiderman imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker series #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter x stark!reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #peter parker fan fic #tom holland fan fic #marvel imagine

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fascination-street-writing · 3 years

Text

In the Gathering Gloom | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

You think you might want him to hold you, but you refrain from crossing that line. It is a game that lovers play – and he is not yours. To love him, for what he has done and more, is sacrilege.

A continuation of Stealing Past the Windows

Content Warnings: P-TSD

You never cared for bruttiboni very much, but you do not mind the ones that Leone purchases from the bakery down the street at La Torta e il Coniglio. In truth, you are thankful for anything he brings home, for you remember what it was like to nearly starve so clearly that it might have been an old habit of survival. It has made you appreciative of the dry almond biscuits. Besides, they are far better dunked in hot coffee.

Leone takes the seat across from you at the breakfast nook. Laid out in front of him is nothing more than a ceramic mug of sweetened tea. You have learned, in your time living together, that he seldom eats in the morning – something to do with luncheons with his coworkers and not wanting to spoil his appetite. You finish your meal but before you can rise to carry your emptied plate to the sink, he has already taken it from your grasp and placed it within the basin.

Water hails from the spigot. “Thank you,” you tell him. He nods.

You fasten the apron to your torso. You have taken up a job at a local café, though not out of a monetary incentive; Leone provides for you plenty. Anything you request, he brings to you on a hypothetical silver platter – so you have stopped asking. But you understand his sense of obligation. You suppose that, in his situation, you would do anything for the child of the man you might as well have killed with your own hands. Bruttiboni will not bring back your parents; though, you appreciate the gesture.

Truthfully, you work because you need the distraction. There are only so many books to read in a day until something miniscule reminds you of the circumstances you escaped in the not quite so distant past. Perhaps it is the turning of a page in a romance novel – the scratching of parchment to parchment – that reminds you of pattering mice in the rafters. Or, the air coolant system that sounds like the rusted box fan of your former abode; to call it that – an abode – is an underserved gratuity. On several occasions, you have had to remind yourself that the gunshots on the streets below are truly nothing more than the thumping of life and movement in the apartments around you.

Regardless of it all, the verbal silence is the worse, because it is akin to the loneliness you once felt. It is unbearable when Leone is away. And so, you press espresso shots for underpaid businessmen and lattes for mothers who rush to work after dropping their children off at school – just as your own madre had used to do every morning. Occasionally, the businessmen congregate together and stay for at least an hour; they are always cordial enough, and never leave too much of a mess to clean. The mothers, on the other hand, are gone the moment their overpriced beverage meets their grasp. You are glad that you are neither a businessman nor a mother. But you wish you still had yours.

Leone sets the cleaned plate atop the drying rack. Water splashes on the plates that have already dried. Somebody ought to put them away, you think. Although, it is convenient to leave them there for next use. What good is it to stack a plate in the cabinet when you are going to pull it back out for dinner?

You sling your purse over your shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” you say to Leone. Taking a quick breath, you leave the sanctity of the apartment, not quite ready to face the new day. You suppose you should be beholden to the predictable, albeit boring, cycle that has become your new life.

After all, you have found exactly what you wanted.

“Didn’t I?” you ask to no one in particular but yourself.

You did.

You settle onto the couch and twirl the fork through the mound of pasta. The tender trofie, complimented by the simple addition of pesto and cream, is the embodiment of comfort; content, you sigh and prop your sore legs upon the ottoman. It is a simple dish, to be sure – and Leone has perfected it. It has become a favorite of yours. He prepares it once a week now.

Seated beside you, he eats. The low hum of the television resonates throughout the room. It is nothing more than meager accompaniment to the words leaving your mouth. Between bites of your meal, you mutter unrepeatable expletives regarding incompetent coworkers and rude patrons. Regardless of the grievances that leave your tongue, you are relatively – though not quite entirely – happy.

Leone reaches for his wine glass, bending his wrist to swirl the nectar. Threads of red velvet flush the edges, only ever for a fleeting moment. He raises the Castello Silenzioso to his mouth. It will be his only glass tonight. It is plenty, for he drinks your soliloquy as if your words are a sweet wine poured from a from a bottle of blush – insobriety without consequence.

He enjoys listening to you complain about work far more than he should.

Once in your hand, the fork now rests against the plate, still. You catch Leone’s gaze, unexpecting to see the look of adoration that sweeps across his ombre eyes; perplexingly so, it fills you with a pang analogous to guilt. It is true that he is indebted to you. But that does not mean you cannot feel like an extortionist.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I shouldn’t rant about work, especially considering that I don’t even need to be there. Mio Dio, I just feel like . . .”

A burden.

“You’re not a burden,” he interjects, as if he can peer through your clouded mind and devour the thoughts pulsing within. “If you ever say that again, I –” He cuts himself off, takes a second to breathe, and continues: “It’s not good to keep things bottled up inside. You know that.”

He is right; but the bottle has saved you once before. “You say that, but you don’t ever talk to me about your work, which is obviously something stressing you out. Perhaps, you should practice what you preach: pratica ciò che predichi, Leone.”

“No, because telling you would be a burden.”

You have no doubt that it assuredly is. And yet, your final threads of distrust for this man cling to the uncertainty of his identity. Leone gave you a home after he destroyed your first, and a family of two to replace that which he stole away. With each passing day – each morning spent in cool silence and evenings shaped by dinners of trofie – your once-steady flame of hatred for him extinguishes ever so slightly.

But forgiveness lies in the lavender fields still beyond your reach.

“Don’t I at least have a right to know what you do for a living?” you inquire, practically teetering on the edge of the soda. “Or how you came up with the money to pay off the debt?”

“No.”

You pout and desist. Perhaps he is right – perhaps it is better that you continue to dwell in the perpetual state of innocent ignorance of which you have lived in for so long now. Better that than to be the judge of something you cannot understand. Conceding is never easy, yet you do it anyways.

“Forget I asked.” You trail off, pausing before seeking an exit to the conversation. “It’s my night to do dishes; I should get started.”

Maybe tonight, you will put them away.

“Wait,” Leone says with a heavy sigh, catching you in mid-stance. “Just wait.”

You sit down. He supposes it would not hurt to tell you about his day – barring the incriminating details, of course. The smile upon your face when he begins to speak is confirmation that he has made the right choice.

Because you look at him as if his stories are as interesting as yours.

“That’ll be ₤11,500.”

“Grazie. Keep the change.”

The handle of the grinder is stuck again. The stray coffee bean catches betwixt the blade and the stainless-steel cup. You jerk the handle back and forth in an attempt to jostle the wedged apparatus free. It cracks under the tension of your grip, so much indeed that it might break at your touch. You would rather not be the one to break the stubborn coffee grinder, and it certainly would not be pleasant to have to pay for a new one. You decide that it might be best to leave it for the next person to find.

Pausini is scheduled to work after you. Though you would never say it to her face, you find her to be terribly boring and a klutz. Better her be the one to break it than you. Besides, your boss would not be surprised if she were in fact the one to do it.

“Hey, signorina.” The cramped space of the café smells of stale cigars and a peculiar cologne with the inclusion of the latest customer. It is a familiar blend that makes your palms clammy and your knees shake. “Seems like you have your work cut out for you, eh?”

You look to the man before the counter. Although a fresh, healing scar adorns the corner of his lip to the highest crook of his eyebrow – the stitching is so crude that it looks as if his torn skin had been zipped back together – his is a face you recognize in nightmares: the man, your former procurer, who murdered your mother and forced you to work the corner.

With plenty of grit, fixing a jammed coffee grinder is easy. But confronting your past is as arduous as Atlas holding the globe with his own two hands. Regardless, you are not paid enough to do either.

The coffee grinder falls from your slackened grasp and shatters on the floor. You do not have the chance to meet the fearful look in his eyes, for you have already fled by the time he can process your face. He remembers you from nightmares as well. He remembers the man with sleek bobbed hair who split his cheek in half with the mere swipe of his finger, too. And the dirty ex-cop who nearly pulverized his kneecap with the heel of his shoe in the process, as if his bones were no more than fiberglass.

He leaves the café without bothering to place an order and finds himself glancing over his shoulder more often than not. Meanwhile, you push past street patrons and venders alike, ignoring the angry shouts thrown your way. Your cellphone vibrates in your pocket as your shift supervisor attempts to call you, to coax you back into work. But you cannot go back there right now. You will not. Instead, you squeeze your palms and bite your lip to ward off the ever-growing panic in your chest.

Never before has Leone’s apartment door looked so enticing – so welcoming – to you; not even on the night he first brought you home. You throw yourself inside and slide against the wall of the foyer, hand raised to your mouth to stifle your own sobbing. In the living room, Leone stands. You had not realized that he would be home. You are torn between running into his arms for comfort or running away. He makes the decision for you, catching you as your knees buckle and nearly cast you aside.

He holds you flush, your head to his chest and his hand through your hair. For a moment, you are back in the alleyway with your skirt bunched around your ankles and a chill to your spine. Broken bits of green glass lie on the cobblestone and catch the fleeting glimmers of moonbeams. You stop and listen to the beating of your own obstinate heart. It tells you that you do not want his help – you simply do not. You need it.

“Hey,” he coos as you quake in his embrace, like a newborn fawn. A fawn with wings perhaps, for you feel your lungs inflate, as if you have been cast into the sky. To anywhere other than Napoli. You suppose the world will stop for a moment if only you just close your eyes. And so, you do. Though your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip, and your chest might split in two, you keep your eyes shut, to salvage that which has mended and threatens to unravel if you should let go.

The trouble of it all, you know, is that you had never really healed. You simply had not given enough thought to it. You are young – trapped in what are supposed to be the grandest years of your life. But life is not forgiving, and you despise her all the same.

You feel only loss. And it is suffocating.

“Sei al sicuro, [Y/N].”

Leone does not ask why you have barged home hours before the end of your shift. But it does not matter.

“You’re safe.”

You do not believe him – you cannot even speak. You clutch him tighter and realize that he has been drinking. The scent of wine shrouds him like a perfume. Now you are dizzy and leaning on him is not enough: second-hand intoxication. He carries you to bed instead, for despite your shuttering of breaths and your gasps for air, you have asked him to do so. In the fortitude of a rumpled comforter and sheets, you lie awake, clutching the pillows that smell like his shampoo – honeysuckle, leather, and cedar. Admittedly, Leone has not slept in the comforts of his own bed in months, ever since he took you in. The couch is good for him, because you deserve the bed more, he thinks.

“You’re safe.”

But the pillows still smell like him, of course.

“I saw him, Leone.”

His hand brushes your back, hesitant, before it rests along your spine.

“I’m sorry.”

You meet his sunset eyes. He looks different without his makeup – he looks as tired as he truly is. And so do you.

“Please, just say you’ll protect me,” you bed, hushed. “Even if it isn’t true. Just give me something.”

Something to cling to, because the buoy is out of reach.

“Always.”

A wave knocks you adrift.

“Don’t leave me.”

You are pulled asunder.

“Never.”

You must be drowning.

He had not meant to fall asleep next to you. In your infectious exhaustion, you had succumbed, and he felt the temptation to do the same, soon enough. Though he promised himself that he would leave once you calmed down, he could not follow through. Your dampened cheeks had felt slick and sticky beneath his palms as he wiped them away. He lingered, admiring the way your lashes kissed the soft skin of your cheekbones, before he lied down. On his back, he memorized the pinprick holes of the ceiling, lost in thoughts of you.

He also promised that he would not fall in love with you – Leone never was one for keeping good to his word, was he? Feelings are harmless; if he does not act on them, he is content with longing. Alas, he settles in and away.

Hours later, you wake to the sound of gentle breaths next to you. Leone sleeps, caving after months without sleeping in a bed. Despite the additional blanket draped over both your bodies, you still shiver. You notice, too, that he has kept his distance. You think you might want him to hold you, but you refrain from crossing that line. It is a game that lovers play – and he is not yours. To love him, for what he has done and more, is sacrilege.

The daytime blues have blended into the nighttime rift of Napoli. The dark sky outside confirms that you have slept well into the evening, as if the analog lock on the bedside table was not telling. You glance over to Leone, who sleeps as if to forget the obligation of your existence. He looks younger this way, though you suppose that he is only a man of twenty, after all. He ought to look his age.

Your stomach churns into knots as you begin to recollect the events of this afternoon. Your phone has several missed calls from your boss, and a text from Pausini informing you that you have been fired for your transgressions. No questions, no inquiries: just fired. You wonder what did it. Fleeing before the end of your shift, or the broken coffee grinder – perhaps the culmination of both. Realizing that you are still wearing your apron, you untether it and throw it into the darkness of the room. If you never find it again, you will be better for it. Never mind the emblems of your mistakes. They will only make you grieve.

It is an undeserving punishment, and one that will tar your resume forever. It feels as if your dreams have slipped past your fingers yet again. Groaning, you bury your face in your hands, unaware of Leone’s stirring behind you. You wish to escape to the place where no one you have ever known will come – to start anew, wherever that may be anymore. Alone, with no husband, no baby in a bassinet, and no lavender fields.

You crave solitude to wallow in your shame. Leone sits up, casting the blanket aside. “I lost my job,” you mutter through your palms. “They fired me. I lost my fucking job.”

“You don’t need it,” he tells you. You suppose it is his way of reassuring you, though it does you little good. “The job, or the trouble it’s caused.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Sit in the living room all day eating bonbons, reading books, and watching television, like a princess in a castle?”

“Would it really be that bad?”

“For me, yes,” you affirm.

He sighs. “Alright,” Leone begins, “then we’ll start job searching tomorrow. In the meantime, it would do you good to take some time off.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to take any time off. I can’t, Leone. You don’t understand. I need a job.”

“What do you want me to do about it right now?” You have no answer. “Conjure up one out of thin air?”

Until you do: “What about at that restaurant you always go to? Il Libeccio, or whatever. Do you think they’re hiring?”

He stiffens beside you. A cold look sweeps his face. You know that you have said something wrong.

“No,” he tells you with little room for debate. “And even if they were, I wouldn’t let you.”

But it is not your folly. To Leone, the rationality behind his refusal is simple: he wants nothing more than to keep you away from Passione. Even from his closest comrades. And even from Il Libeccio. Perhaps, it is that he fears what you will think of him should you discover his occupation – or his self-professed fall from grace, to go from being a poliziotto alongside your father, to a soldato of the most powerful gang in Italia. Indifference, anger, trepidation; he cannot fathom, and he does not wish to. He tells himself that, by keeping you away, he is keeping you safe.

But you do not understand that. And yet, how could you? In your ignorance, you scoff, irked by his insistence. “Why not? Are you afraid that your friends might see the consequences of you’ve done to my family and hate you for it? Maybe they should, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

You have wounded him, though still he will not tell you the truth. You regret the words before they leave your mouth. His face morphs into a scowl, for your accusation has struck him, as if a knife has been placed to his belly. Your heart grows heavy with regret even as he exits the room, long overdue, with nothing else to say. The door slams so hard that it rattles on the hinges, and it makes you flinch. You are certain that your neighbors have heard it, for in the distance, a woman shouts, and a dog begins to bark; you feel like a proper idiot and a child, sitting there in the remnants of your work uniform. You wish the bed could swallow you whole. You wish to be anywhere but here.

Leone was wrong – you understand that now. A new wave of tears spills from your eyes, and you hastily wipe them away with the corner of your polo shirt. You know that you are a burden to him, indeed. You wonder what kind of apartment you will be able to afford with the money you have saved up. Perhaps it is time for you to fly the nest that you and Leone have both built together.

Perhaps it is time for a new start.

| 3492 Words |

Tagging: @honeytea8 @gloomygoregirl @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero

#leone abbacchio x reader #abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio #jjba x reader #vento aureo

78 notes · View notes

coraltae · 6 years

Text

Catch for Me Pt. 1

genre: fluff, sports, slice of life, high school au, baseball player au, diamond no ace au

pairing: taehyung x reader (ft. bts and seventeen members)

word count: 3800++

warning: none

author's note: hi everyone, I’m back with another series, which is quite different from The Seven Deadly Sins (TSDS is still my priority). I love sports anime, so I really want to try writing sports au, though I’m not too sure if it turns out to be a complete failure lol. I was trying something new as I was working on this story. Hope you’ll like this one too!

summary: Being a daughter of a former professional baseball player, you had been taught how to play the sport since you were little and you’d grown to love it - a little bit too much, actually. Even if you couldn’t play in official games, you still enjoyed playing catcher for the team’s pitchers. However, it’s not until after meeting a certain pitcher in high school that you finally found someone’s pitches you wanted to catch the most.

Part 1 (on-going)

"Strike! Batter out! Game set! South Korea team wins!"

The second the umpire announced his last judgment of the game, half the spectators in the stadium jumped to their feet and roared in joy at once. Some of them threw their caps up high, some others hugged fellow spectators to celebrate. A lot of them were seen tearing up in happiness.

It's the one and only time South Korea national baseball team won the Baseball World Cup. How you wished you were there in person during the historical moment to watch the game live. Moreover, when your dad was the ace pitcher standing on the mound, throwing the last pitch that struck out USA team's last batter.

"Yes!" you cheered in unison with the crowds on TV as if you were there with them in the bleachers at the same time when in fact, it happened around twenty years ago when Dad was still active as a part of South Korea national baseball team.

Sanghyuk, your one year younger brother, shouted even louder than you while slamming his fist on the dining table excitedly, almost spilling his milk as he did. "Way to go, Dad!"

Your mom emerged from the kitchen with her hands on her hips, looking furious. Glaring at her daughter and son, she approached the dining table and grabbed the remote control to turn it off.

"But Mom," you protested, "we haven't got to the winning ceremony part yet."

Sanghyuk jumped to his feet and attempted to snatch the remote control from Mom only to fail miserably when she shoved it inside her apron's pocket.

"I have nothing against you replaying your dad's game," Mom started fumingly. "But it's not okay if it's going to make you late on your first day of school. Get up and go already! Your dad is going to be late too!"

However, Dad was currently preoccupied with the sports news he's reading that he couldn't hear what his wife was saying. "What? Black Dragon lost again? Just how many losses are we going to have this season? It's our longest losing streak. If only I can-"

Mom was practically boiling with anger by now as she yelled, "Just get out of the house, you baseball freaks!"

You, Sanghyuk, and Dad flinched at Mom's thundering voice. The three of you quickly got up from your seats and grabbed your things on the couch. With backpack slung over one shoulder and sports bag in hand, you hurried out of the house, following Dad and Sanghyuk into the car. Sanghyuk occupied the seat beside the driver's like usual, so you got into the back seat.

"Your mom called us baseball freaks but she loves us anyway," Dad sniggered as he started the engine of the car.

Sanghyuk crossed his arms across his chest after putting on seatbelt and huffed in irritation. "I don't get it. What is Mom so angry about? She watches the game a lot of times more than us at home."

You peeked at the digital clock on the car's dashboard and let out a strangled yelp. "Mom's got a point. We're late. Don't you have a shoot this morning, Dad?"

"For the sports drink ads? Yeah, but it won't start until-" Dad glanced at the clock. "What? It's this late already?"

Dad stepped on the gas and hurriedly drove you to school, mumbling how Mom would kill him if she knew he dropped you off late. While Sanghyuk kept complaining that it's totally fine to be late because he didn't have any intention to be a model student anyway. You told him off, reminding him that Mom wouldn't let him play baseball if his performance was bad at school. He fell silent immediately.

You rushed out of the car as Dad pulled over at Yonhap High School. The backpack and the sports bag weighed you down, but you had no choice other than sprinting all the way to the school hall. Since you're awfully late, the entrance ceremony must have started already.

Dad rolled down the car window. "I'll come back later after school, Y/N!"

Sanghyuk's laughter was heard from beside him. "Run faster! You might have a chance to enter the track team!"

He's lucky you had no time to deal with him. If not, you would have smacked him in the head for his unnecessary comment.

You cussed under your breath as you entered the school and were faced with the shoes lockers, which meant you had to change your shoes first with indoor shoes before stepping into the school premises. Luckily, you were wearing slip-on shoes, so you managed to change shoes much quicker.

Without even stopping to find out which class you're assigned to, you ran straight to the school hall, dismissing the teachers in the corridor trying to scold you for being late. The hall was already packed with students when you got there and the ceremony was halfway through. A male student - you supposed he was the student representative - was standing on the stage, in the middle of giving his speech. You thought you were doomed, but then you spotted your friend from middle school, Jihye, waved at you. Ignoring the stares from the teachers and the other students, you went over to sit next to her; you're grateful she'd saved a seat for you even when you forgot to ask her to.

Jihye sighed as you put down your things on the floor near your feet. "I don't even want to know why you're late. I can pretty much guess why. You should have at least tried to be punctual on the first day, though."

You laughed apologetically. "Sorry, Jihye. You know our family. We get distracted most of the time. So, what did I miss?"

Shrugging, Jihye said in an uninterested tone, "Nothing much. Some lame ass speeches maybe." She cocked her head towards the male student delivering his speech in front of the whole school. "But don't you think that guy is cute? He's in our class."

So you were in the same class as Jihye and this speech guy. You studied the guy for a while. Instead of paying attention to his face to confirm what Jihye had said, you were more interested in his somewhat quite built physique. "He seems pretty athletic. I wonder if he plays baseball."

Jihye shook her head at your excessive passion for baseball. "I should have known. You haven't changed at all, Y/N. I haven't met you since our last day in middle school and still, there's only baseball in your head. We're finally in high school. You should give a bit more thoughts on dating."

Honestly, dating had never really crossed your mind until Jihye mentioned it. You'd been actively playing baseball and joining little league team since elementary school days, although you couldn't be a regular in middle school because the regulation forbid women to participate in official baseball tournament. With so many practice schedules, you had no time to think about relationships.

"Maybe later. I'd rather focus on baseball for now. Baseball is all I have after all," you answered drily as your attention slowly shifted from the speech guy to the guy sitting next to you.

What caught your eye was the baseball he was holding. He kept tossing and catching it - very softly so the ball wouldn't fly too far away from his hand - as if he was playing catch on his own. Occasionally, he changed his grip on the ball before tossing it again. He was trying not to be conspicuous by not letting the ball go higher than his face. Although, you doubted the teacher wouldn't notice a student holding a baseball in the middle of entrance ceremony.

It didn't take an expert to guess that he played pitcher after a few minutes of close observation. He changed his grip rather often, so you assumed he had quite a few variations of pitches. He would be a great asset for the team, you thought happily.

"Hey there," you greeted him out of the blue, catching him off guard, causing him to almost drop the ball to the ground. "Are you joining the baseball team?"

He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes showing that he totally didn't expect you to talk to him, much less ask him about joining the school's baseball team.

You practically beamed at him in excitement. "Cool! I'm joining too as a manager! I can't wait to see you throw later! I'm Y/N by the way, what's your name?"

"God, Y/N! You're too loud!" Jihye hissed from your other side. "And you're scaring him, for goodness' sake!"

Laughing awkwardly, he shook his head. "No, no. It's fine. I'm Taehyung."

"My name is Jihye," Jihye introduced herself. "I apologize for my baseball idiot friend, Taehyung. And if I'm not wrong, you're in class A?"

Taehyung seemed surprised. "How did you know?"

Jihye shrugged. "I saw your name when I was searching mine and hers." She cocked her head towards you. "We're in the same class."

"Can I ask why did you come to this school?" you asked the question weighing on your mind since before the start of school year, cutting short the introduction session. "I mean, I'm grateful that baseball players actually want to enroll in this brand new school, but won't you normally want to go to powerhouse schools like Shinyang?"

"I was scouted," Taehyung simply answered. "This school provides accomodation for sports scholarship students from out of town. On top of that, I don't need to take any academic exams. So yeah, I accepted it. It's a hard work to convince Mom that Seoul is safe, though. She thinks it's dangerous here."

It was a rather disheartening answer from a baseball player. You were quite disappointed to hear he didn't take baseball that seriously. But then again, you shouldn't judge people just from their passion for baseball. Not all people playing baseball were as dedicated as Dad and Sanghyuk. You should stop comparing other players to them.

"But," Taehyung suddenly spoke again, stopping your train of thoughts, "I want to challenge myself. From where I come from, there aren't many guys my age who play baseball. That's why I came all the way here to Seoul. I want to see if I have a chance against the awesome players here."

Listening to his words, you couldn't help but break into a smile. Taehyung wasn't as bad as you'd thought. He was just a pure, innocent baseball freak who went out of his way to leave his hometown to see how far he could go in a big city. His strong enthusiasm for baseball was seen through his fiery eyes, and that sight always successfully captivated you. Nothing was more admirable than seeing someone passionately chasing their dream.

The countless speeches with varied speakers from the headmaster until the representatives from each after school clubs - when it was baseball club's turn, you were dragged to the stage by one of the teachers, probably as your punishment for being late - finally came to an end after what seemed like forever. Bringing you to the teacher's office instead of your new classroom, the teacher who had made you say a few words on behalf of the baseball team against your will gave you a long lecture about the importance of punctuality. You tuned her out after the first few seconds.

The chatterbox teacher sent you back to your classroom when the homeroom was already finished. Somehow, you and Taehyung ended up as class representatives without you agreeing to the extra job. Jihye filled you in that the homeroom teacher thought you would be able to learn to be more responsible with this. Apparently, Taehyung was also chosen because he was caught playing with baseball during the entrance ceremony. The first day of school was pretty much a hassle so far.

"I can't wait for the school to end," you mumbled, your voice muffled because you buried your face in your backpack on the table.

Jihye, whose seat was in front of you, turned her back to say, "The first period hasn't even started yet."

"I want my ball back." Taehyung sighed as he kept clenching and unclenching his right fist in the seat next to yours; the homeroom teacher had confiscated his baseball. "It feels weird if I'm not gripping something."

Jihye groaned in exasperation and spun around to face the whiteboard again. "I can't believe I'm stuck with two baseball freaks. Give me a break. Just don't talk to me."

Lucky for Jihye, the first period's teacher walked in the next second and forced the class to fall silent immediately. You could hardly concentrate on the lesson since the nextdoor class' first period was P.E. and they were playing baseball outside. From where you were sitting, right by the window, you could clearly see the baseball field beside the school's building. And the clank of the metal bat hitting the baseball sounded very nice in your ears that you wanted to join them play badly, instead of listening to the boring history lesson.

Taehyung must have the same thought. His head snapped towards the window everytime the clank was heard. It'd been a while since you met a person who was as crazy in love with baseball as your family. With all the latest trends in technology, you were happy that some people still loved playing old school sports like baseball.

Baseball hasn't died yet, you thought cheerfully.

***

Taehyung was beyond frustrated when Teacher Bang, his homeroom teacher, asked him and you to stay behind in class to help him with completing the class' attendance list after the school ended. Despite already itching to throw some pitches, he sat back down and quietly worked on the list since Teacher Bang promised to return his baseball once he finished with the task.

"This is stupid," Taehyung heard you mutter under your breath while ticking the boxes beside the names on the list paper he'd created. "Who the hell is Jung Chungoong?"

"It's Jeon Jungkook, actually. The student's rep. You know, the speech guy," Taehyung answered distractedly, not stopping from copying the names of the class A's students list he'd stolen from the announcement board.

In his peripheral vision, Taehyung saw you tick the box next to Jungkook's name on the newly made list and strain your eyes again to decipher Teacher Bang's horrible scribble. You lasted only a few seconds before groaning out loud. "Forget it. I give up. I'll just tick everyone's name. No one is absent today anyway. Right?"

Taehyung only answered with a hum and sprang to his feet immediately as he finished writing the last name. He hurriedly gave the paper to you while grabbing his things.

"I'm going first, Y/N," Taehyung said hastily, rushing to exit the class. "Don't forget to get my baseball from Teacher Bang. Thank you in advance. See you in the field."

"Hey, wait for me, Taehyung!" Taehyung heard you shout as he passed through the door, but he ignored you and ran straight to the baseball field. Although feeling sorry to leave you, he couldn't wait to play with his new teammates. He was too excited to see how awesome the players in Seoul were that he almost forgot changing his indoor shoes with baseball cleats before going out to the field.

The coach and the new baseball team members were seen standing on the field, the players lining up in an orderly fashion, seemingly in the middle of introduction. Taehyung picked the outermost position so that he wouldn't disturb their self-introduction session. The coach saw him coming but didn't say anything; Taehyung assumed he was excused.

"I'm Park Jimin from class A. I play shortstop. I used to play for Hwadam Middle School in Busan," a boy loudly announced, looking very excited and cheerful. Taehyung was elated to know he was surrounded with boys who liked baseball as much as he was. His friends back in his hometown didn't even find baseball fun; they were only playing because he invited them to.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook from class A. I play catcher. I also used to play for Hwadam Middle School in Busan," the boy whom Taehyung remembered as Jungkook from the entrance ceremony said.

"Next," the coach urged when no one spoke afterwards, his eyes meeting Taehyung's.

Taehyung flinched as he realized it must be his turn. "I'm Taehyung from class A. I play pitcher. I used to play for Baeksu Middle School in Daegu," Taehyung copied the way the others did.

"Is that everyone, Scout Han?" the coach asked the lady beside him; Taehyung recognized her as the lady who had scouted him back in Daegu a few months ago.

Scout Han scanned her clipboard and nodded. "Yes, everyone's here. Twenty of them."

"Firstly, I want to ask you..." The coach looked at Taehyung, asking for his name.

"It's Taehyung, Coach," Taehyung offered nervously. It seemed the coach wouldn't let him off the hook for coming late.

As Taehyung had feared, the coach asked, "Taehyung, why are you late?"

"Sorry, Dad. He was with me."

Taehyung saw you running towards the team with Jihye, already wearing training pants. He was wondering why you were here before he was reminded about his conversation with you this morning. You had said something to him about joining as a manager. Jihye must be joining too since she came with you. But what surprised him the most was the fact that you called the coach 'dad'.

"What took you guys so long?" the coach asked you.

"Me and Taehyung are class reps," you said matter-of-factly.

The coach burst into laughter. "I'm worried about the future of the class."

"It's not like I wanted it," you mumbled in irritation.

"Jihye, you're joining?" the coach asked Jihye. Taehyung guessed you and Jihye had been friends for quite a while since your father knew her.

Jihye shrugged. "Y/N begged me to help. I know nothing about baseball, though. Sorry if I disappoint you, Uncle Yong."

"No worries, Jihye. We need all the help we can get." Coach Yong turned to face the players back. The longer Taehyung studied the coach's face, the more familiar he seemed. He just couldn't remember where he'd seen him before. "To all of you, welcome to the team. Some of you might have recognized me, but let me introduce myself. I'm Yong Hyunjin, a former pro baseball athlete." Taehyung nodded as a sign of recognition after the coach's self-introduction, finally getting why he looked so familiar; he must have seen him in TV or something. "You can just call me Coach Yong. I know this school is totally brand new and we only have first-year students this year, but there's nothing wrong with setting our goal high. I'm counting on you guys to bring me to the nationals."

Some of them started whispering, some others laughed bitterly. No one seemed to have the confidence to go to the nationals. Even Taehyung found it nearly impossible. How could you possibly hope a group of first-years which was just formed to win against powerhouses?

"Coach, aren't you expecting too much from us?" a foreign player, whom Taehyung didn't know the name of, asked, sounding more like accusing than questioning. He didn't seem to agree with the coach's goal for the team wholeheartedly and instead, viewed it as a ridiculous request. "We barely know each other on the team while other schools have probably been playing together for three years."

Coach Yong shook his head in disagreement. "It depends on you, whether you take this seriously or not. I believe we can, if we're all in this together. It's up to you to make this work. So, are we good?"

"Yes," a few of them mumbled in a low voice. Some others were hesitant to answer, seemingly still thinking it's impossible to go to the nationals with freshly made team. Taehyung weren't sure of what to think of this. It's worth the try, but logically, it's too early for them to think about nationals when it's still unclear whether they would be able to pass the second round. It's much more reasonable to set the target to reach the quarterfinals or semifinals in the first year. He didn't want to be pessimistic, but he also didn't want to get his hopes up too high.

"Sure, we can!" Jimin the shortstop piped up excitedly, totally a contrast with the others. "We have Jungkook on the team! He's one of the best players in Busan!"

"Shut up, Jimin," Jungkook said in exasperation. "You're exaggerating."

Taehyung supposed that the two of them had known each other for quite a while. He recalled that they were indeed from the same middle school from their introduction. They must have been playing baseball together for quite a while. Honestly, he was envious that they had each other to play baseball with, unlike him.

"I like that spirit, Jimin," Coach Yong said and gave Jimin a thumbs up. "Now, we'll see how good you are in the position you've chosen. Pitchers and catchers first. Pair up and throw some pitches."

Taehyung knew he was in deep trouble. He arrived late at the field when almost all of them had done with their introductions - only Jungkook and Jimin left. The only catcher he knew was Jungkook and someone already came up to him right after Coach Yong finished talking. He scanned his surroundings and his spirit sank as all of the players wearing catcher's gear sets already had their partners. No one was going to play with him too here.

"Hey, why are you just standing there?" You arched your brow at Taehyung, approaching him when nobody else did. "You're a pitcher, right?"

But Taehyung was much more intrigued with the catcher's gear sets you were wearing. "Aren't you a manager?"

“Manager-slash-catcher,” you corrected him. “Dad asked me to help the pitchers train. So yeah, it’s a pain. I’d rather be playing in some real games, but apparently some stupid regulation doesn’t allow girls to play in official high school baseball tournament, so I’m not complaining. This is a lot better than being unable to play at all.”

Taehyung beamed at you, despite your story behind becoming catcher for training pitchers on the team. He finally found a catcher to play with. He couldn’t be any happier than this. “Great! Then can you catch for me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Were you even listening to me? If I’m not going to catch for you, then what am I wearing this gear for?” You threw a baseball at him, which he caught easily with his pitcher’s glove. “Here’s your ball. It’s a hassle to get it back from Teacher Bang - you’re welcome. You’d better throw some decent pitches or you’d be stuck doing class rep’s chores alone for a week. I still haven’t forgiven you for leaving me alone with that damn attendance list.”

“Sorry.” Taehyung apologetically grinned. “Challenge accepted. Make sure you don’t let the balls pass your back.”

You tapped your catcher’s mitt against his chest. “Don’t underestimate me, young man. Although I’m a girl, I’m still the daughter of the famous ex-pro baseball player.”

author’s note: Tell me what you think about the first chapter! I hope I didn’t ruin it too badly. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!

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