#once my soccer coach told me i talked too much in middle school but that didn't stop me i just quit soccer

[findingahomeonthevolleyballcourt]

How volleyball helps form relationships that last a lifetime

The connections that we make in life will often lead us back to the place we once called home. For Endicott Men’s Volleyball Head Coach George Chapell, this rings true. After playing volleyball competitively at the college level, Chapell finds himself right back where it all started.  Starting in 2003, Chapell played on the Endicott Men’s Volleyball Team under Head Coach Tim Byram. Byram, now the head coach of the Endicott Women’s Volleyball Team, was once head of both the men’s and women’s programs at Endicott. Coach Byram, who guided Chapell on his athletic journey during his four years at Endicott, now acts as his mentor, as Chapell found a passion for coaching himself. Upon graduating in 2008, Chapell took the assistant coaching position with Byram for both the Endicott Men’s and Women's Volleyball Teams. When the programs split into two a few years later, Chapell took the lead over the Men’s program. 

Chapell found a love for the sport at a young age that has since turned into a successful career. Chapell, who learned a lot from Byram as a person and a coach, appreciates the relationship that the two of them have formed. Although the two men are now colleagues, Chapell has never lost the urge to refer to Byram as “Coach.” The passion and appreciation that Byram has for the game was most certainly passed onto Chapell. Both coaches see the importance of fostering healthy relationships with their athletes, and love the connections that they form along the way. They both desire to build successful programs by recruiting players whose main goal is to be a great teammate. While both men have experienced the ups and down that college coaching can bring, they have demonstrated that they have what it takes to be a successful coach. 

Within his Q & A Interview, Coach Chapell demonstrates that he appreciates the relationships he has formed over the years, and understands that volleyball is so much more than a sport; it's a way of life. Chapell explains how he got his start in the world of volleyball, and where it has taken him over the years. He touches upon Coach Byram’s influence on him as a person, as well as the impact Byram has had on his own coaching style. While he shares some of his memorable moments along the way, Chapell talks about transitioning from being a player on the court to a coach on the sideline. 

How did you become interested in volleyball? 

I first became interested in volleyball in middle school. My cousin played; she played for our high school and told me I would be good, since I was tall and athletic. I was a soccer player through and through at that point. I tried it, and got pretty serious about it my freshman year of highschool. I started playing club and here we are. 

Can you describe Coach Byram as a coach during the time that you played for him?

Byram was fiery. He was much younger, obviously, at the time. Probably in his late twenties, early thirties. Much like myself now, maybe even younger. He was fiery, I’d say. He had the respect of the locker room. People looked up to him, he was very transparent, very honest with you. You always knew where you stood. 

Are there any memorable moments of stories from your time playing for Coach Byram?

A bunch of good wins. Just funny trips. When we went out Vassar College, the bus broke down. On their senior night, we showed up four hours late and swept them on their senior night, and they were so upset. Our bus to pick us up there was late too. We ended up having a WWE wrestling match out in front, because some kid on our team loved wrestling. They [the Vassar team] walked by us in their suits and ties, so mad at us. 

We had our worst trip ever going out to North Carolina. It was 55 hours on the bus and five days. We all hated each other at the end of the trip; he [Byram] hated us. It was just too much time condensed together. 

We did California too my freshman year. This is a funny Tim story too. We flew into San Jose, played at Santa Cruz, driving down to L.A. for day two. Tim said ‘alright we’re going to drive the scenic coastal interstate.’ We left at 6 p.m. from Santa Cruz, California, so an hour into the ride it's pitch black. So we drove seven and a half hours in pitch black, on the scenic route. 

If you could describe Byram as a coach in one word, what would it be? 

Probably passionate. As cliche as it sounds, it’s the fire this sport burns in him. He gets passionate when he talks about the sport, he gets passionate when he talks about you young women. He loves being a college coach and he loves this program. I think it’s had so much success under him because of the time and the hours he puts into it, which is a passion. It’s a labor of love, and he loves it, so I’d say passionate.

How would you describe your experience as a college athlete? 

Much different than what it is today, but it connected me with some of my best friends, still to this day. I have a group chat that goes back with guys that graduated in 2004. So, 20 years ago now. I’ve been to nine or ten, maybe even more weddings for teammates I’ve had. I’m starting to get invited now to weddings of my players. It’s just a really good group of dudes that came together with one interest at the beginning and that’s what brought us all through those doors. But you just become interested in so much more together. 

How would you describe the atmosphere of your team while Byram was your coach? 

A bunch of guys that liked to have fun, playing the sport we loved, but took it seriously as well. We didn’t have the player development tools that you guys behave now with strength and conditioning. Athletic training was much smaller back then. Just a bunch of guys that respected the game, respected each other, and respected Coach. 

What made you want to become a coach?

I was originally a physical education major, that’s what I got my degree in. And also went to work in the business world upon graduation, while being the assistant coach at Endicott. Everyday at work, I hated being in a cubicle and hated the office, and thought about how much I couldn't wait to get out of there to get back into the gym. I think coaching with Byram at his camps and clinics really got it started first. One of my semester long internships was at my high school with my high school coach. I was the head coach for the freshman girls volleyball team and then assistant coach for the varsity team. I started coaching at a club too and that really got the fire going. 

How was it transitioning from being Byram’s player to his colleague?

I still call him ‘Coach.’ I only call him Tim when we are in a room full of coaches and I can’t just say ‘coach,’ and then 20 people look at you. I’ve always respected him. He and I have always talked a lot. It’s weird being next to my former professors. They are my neighbors in my office. I still struggle with it at that point, because they were my professors, and now I'm 12 years into this. It was weird at first being the head coach when he was the past head coach. I was always thinking, ‘is he judging me’ or ‘is he thinking what I’m thinking on court about how he would do it differently?’  I think at first it threatened me. Not threatened me, but I was nervous about what he would think. But now, he and I can sit down and just have conversations about it, and I can use it to my advantage, and he is. We will sit down and just talk about games. I am at all of your [women's team] games at home, so he and I talk theory, talk lineups, talk about what we would do differently, and then ask for opinions. So, it’s a good, valuable tool to have. 

How would you describe your own coaching style? Did you learn a lot from Byram?

I would say I’m fiery as well, I think as you’ve seen. I’ve adapted some stuff from him, some stuff from other coaches I’ve seen. I think the biggest thing is to just be yourself. You can take aspects from different people, but if you’re not being who you are, you’re automatically lying or trying to put up something you’re not, it’s going to catch up to you sooner rather than later. 

I think the biggest thing with Byram, is that back in my day recruiting was so different. You’d have to go in person, there was no online, there were no files. You would send VHS tapes and the advanced kids sent DVDs, those were the rich kids! It was more just seeing you, and then calling your house phone. There was one coach that called me everyday in high school, and I knew what his number was and I would avoid him. Tim was pretty passive in the recruiting process. I think that’s what I do, even with our top guys right now. We have two Four-Star guys left on the board. I reach out to them once every week, once every two weeks. I don’t want to be that overbearing person, because you’re making the biggest decision of your life. You know I want you here, you know I love you here, let’s make it happen. If not, I’m not going to be knocking down your door to be here. 

How would you describe Byram’s coaching style today, as a fellow coach?

He is much more analytical now. He was always honest and transparent, but now he harnesses the stats, and will sit down and tell you exactly where you stand, even if you don’t agree with it. He’s not going to hide it from you. He’s got all the numbers and the film to back it up. 

How would you say today Byram helps to create the atmosphere that the team loves to be a part of?

I think it starts in the recruiting process. He and I both look for gym rats. Kids that you're going to have to kick out of the facility, kick out of the gym, and get away. It’s a really good problem for me to tell a young man, or for him to tell a young woman, that they need some time down, and to go rest. As opposed to looking at the super talented kids that you can't drag in for individual reps. That’s like pulling teeth for them. Those kids are going to cause you so many more headaches in the long run. Empowering and encouraging those young men and young women that are passionate about it. If a kid is wavering on that line, and they see that young man or woman getting positive feedback or growing and developing quicker, you hope that they will pull them along with them. It all comes down to culture. You recruit hard, and it pays off in the long run. Sometimes you swing and miss, and sometimes you hit ones that you don’t see coming. But you try to do a good job of vetting it out, talking to high school coaches, club coaches, the parents… We think about whether this young man or woman will work with us. 

How would you describe the atmosphere of your own team? What role do you play in creating that atmosphere?

Again, going back to losing. We are just below .500 for the first time in 11 years, and you’d never know, talking to our guys. It came up on a recruiting visit today. A young man from Colorado witnessed me giving kudos to these guys for coming in with the same energy and trying hard. I think Covid has kind of shown me, when we've lost it all and it was all taken away, that it’s a gift that we get to be out there everyday. It’s the original thing that brings us all through those front doors of 376 Hale Street, but there is so much more that we have to offer here. Every day that we get to work together is a good day, and we need to keep trying to get better and better every single day. I think it again goes back to recruiting. You try to vet people out that will be any cancers or negative influences. But if you have those guys that are buying in and know a brighter future is ahead, they know that they will be able to keep pushing. 

What would you say is the number one quality a coach should have? How do you integrate this into your own program?

I’d say honesty. I think even some of my guys now, the freshmen especially, for the first time since I took over 11 years ago, are not having the best record. So there are some losses going on, and some guys may question lineup choices, or why. If you come in here and sit down on a couch or chair in my office, I will tell you exactly why I make the decisions. If you don’t have those conversations, and don't come in and let it boil up under the surface, it can come to a bad head. So just come in and have the conversation. I always tell a young man not to approach a conversation with me about somebody else. If you go in asking why player X is starting over me, it’s the wrong way to handle everything. If you have the mindset of what can I do to get out there, or what can I do to improve my chances, then a coach is much more willing to have an honest conversation with a young man or young woman. I tell them that where they are standing right now is not locked in, but also tell them what they have to work on. I’d say honesty, first and foremost. 

As a coach, how would you describe a successful/healthy team dynamic?

Again, honesty, but conversation needs to happen. There’s going to be conversations from coach to student athlete, student athlete to student athlete, and student athlete to coach, that are going to be uncomfortable for all parties involved. You are not always going to have what that individual wants to hear. If a young man is thinking about transferring, that's an uncomfortable conversation to have, but I want every kid to have the best four years of their lives here, but it’s not for everybody. If a young man is coming in to talk to me and I have to tell him he has been benched or passed by somebody, that’s not a fun conversation. And then, players to players: if they are not doing the right thing on weekends, or they are not in the weight room training, or getting individual reps. If your team and the student athletes can't hold each other accountable, where are you? 

What is your favorite part about coaching at the college level? 

Hopefully being able to play a role in having these young men have the best four years of their life. I want to win a national championship, for three out of the last five years we have finished number four in the country. Knocking on the door to that. I’ve started getting wedding invitations from my former student athletes, my former players. I had the first offspring of my players come out this year from San Diego. I would still want to win that national championship, don’t get me wrong. It’s first and foremost, but it’s rewarding to know that they value your input and your relationship enough that once they are gone, for eight to ten years, you are still on that invite list. Or, they call and just talk life. Some guys I talk to daily, we have an alumni Snapchat group for our fantasy sports leagues, for bragging rights only, obviously. And then there’s some guys that it’s once every two weeks we call. One young man just became a dad and was struggling with some stuff. I hadn't heard from him for two months since, but it’s been more weekly and he calls and catches up and touches base. We unfortunately lost one of our young alumni, Billy. He was killed in a car accident post-graduation. That really brought us all back together. That night, when he was in the hospital before he passed, nine of us drove down and were there until 5:00 in the morning. We drove home, freshened up, and then went back down to the hospital. We had guys flying from California, Chicago, overnight from New York City. We had about 35 alumni in that hospital room say goodbye to him at the end. Winning a national championship is first and foremost, but knowing that the lessons and the value of the relationships that I got out of it, that they're getting out of it as well is still being passed on is pretty cool. 

What is the hardest part of coaching at the college level? 

Telling a young man or a young woman that they are not good enough. Making a cut will always be the worst thing about my job. Asking for administrative stuff, like donations and fundraising is not my strong suit, because I don’t love being put in that role, but on court coaching stuff, having to cut a young man or young woman that loves the sport. Just saying that our program has passed you by or that they can't play here is not fun. That’s the worst part of this job. 

What separates a good coach from a great coach?

Recruitment. Recruiting first and foremost. There’s a few other coaches outside of Endicott that I talk to and we say the best programs, the top ten programs, are made up of 80% recruiting, and 20% coaching. That last 20% is what really separates the top two from the rest of the top ten. You can recruit great kids all day, that can’t play a lick. You're really testing how much you're going to win. And then you can recruit great kids who are really talented, that might not be great kids, and I think you’re still capped at how much you are going to win. But if you can recruit great kids that are great teammates and really can play, then the sky’s the limit for you. 

How important is teamwork when it comes to team success?

I think it’s pivotal, obviously. If players one through six on the court are pulling in a direction and then players seven, eight, and nine are just messing around on the end of the bench, the rest of the bench is going to follow them. If players two and three get hurt, seven and eight are just messing around and aren’t ready to go in. So, I think like Coach Byram said, being passionate about playing, being a good teammate, and buying into being a good teammate is true. If you aren’t all going in the same direction, early morning lifts, the off-season workouts, will get to be really repetitive. It’s got to be a relentless pursuit year round. You don't have to be perfect, or have your top A-game all the time, but teamwork, and everyone buying in helps people thrive and helps you push each other forward and forward and forward. I think it’s pivotal to what the team does.

[fanficbitch]

Introductions // Aaron Hotchner

I raise my hand to knock on the apartment door, then I stop myself. I kind of can’t believe this is happening. Then again, I have never dated anyone with a kid before. Am I even good with kids? Yeah, I babysat when I was a teenager but that was 15 years ago.

I take a deep breath and then finally knock on the door. It takes a moment, but my boyfriend appears behind the door. I immediately notice his clothes which are a sweater and jeans. It’s quite different from his usual work attire that I mainly see him in. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to you not wearing a suit,” I say and he smiles. Aaron leans in and kisses me. He pulls away and stares at me for a moment then quickly adjusts himself. 

“Come in, come in,” he says, standing aside from the door. I look around quickly and glance over his living room and dining room. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice!” I assure him. I notice there are toys on the floor, but otherwise, everything is pretty neat.

“I tried to clean up, but-,”

“It’s lovely Aaron,” I say and give him another kiss. “So, where is he?”

“He’s in his room. I can go get him,” he says and starts to move, but I stop him. 

“Wait,” I say, placing my hands on Aaron’s chest. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I tell him.

Aaron places his hands on my shoulders. “We talked about this. You are ready,” he tells me, but I’m not convinced. 

“What if he hates me?” I ask.

“He will not hate you. He will love you, just like I do,” he says. “Let me go get him.”

I stand by myself in the living room, silently freaking out. Meeting your boyfriend’s kid is a big deal. This could honestly make or break the relationship. I quickly hear footsteps coming down the hall and prepare myself. 

They turn the corner and I see Aaron and a mini Aaron. Jack seems a bit nervous because he holds Aaron’s hand. Aaron crouches down to Jack’s height and smiles. “Jack, this is my friend Y/N,” he says and Jack gives me a small wave. 

I crouch down to Jack’s height as well. “Jack, it is so nice to finally meet you. Your dad is always telling me about the amazing lego sets you build,” I tell him and he gives me a small smile. “Do you have a favorite one that you’ve done?”

“Star Wars,” he says quietly.

“You know I love Star Wars,” I say.

“Do you like Luke Skywalker?” Jack asks me.

“Yeah, he’s super cool,” I say.

“Well, dinner is just about ready,” Aaron says as we both stand up straight.

“What’s for dinner?” Jack asks.

“Spaghetti,” Aaron says.

“Yay!” Jack says then jumps in a chair at the dining room table. I pull out a seat to the left of him, but he stops me. “You can’t sit there. That’s daddy’s seat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say then move to his right. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack confirms and I sit down. Aaron places a plate in front of me and Jack and warmth wafts up to my cheeks.

“Hmm, this looks so good,” I say. “Do you like your dad’s cooking?”

Jack shrugs. “He mostly makes dino nuggets,” he says which causes me to laugh.

Aaron sits down across from me with a plate of his own. “Jack, are you giving away all my secrets?” 

“Oh, no I am really enjoying learning these things,” I say. Aaron’s foot finds mine under the table to start a nudging game.

I stare at Aaron and Jack for a moment as they eat can’t believe that this could possibly become my new normal. Jack is such a sweet boy, and he’s been through so much.

“Y/N?” Aaron asks, snapping me back into the moment.

“Hmm?” I hum.

“Jack is becoming a very good soccer player,” he says. “He’s always practicing at the park after school.”

“How did you start soccer, Jack?” I ask him.

“Mommy showed me,” Jack says.

“That’s awesome! Do you score goals?”

“All the time,” Jack says which causes me to giggle.

“I’ll have to see you play sometime.”

“I have a game tomorrow!” Jack yells.

Aaron exchanges looks between me and his son. “Buddy, Y/N is very busy and I don’t know if she-,” Aaron starts to say.

“I would love to come!” I tell him.

Aaron flashes me a surprised smile. “Just to warn you, the game starts at 8.”

“Don’t worry, my boss makes me get up early for work all the time,” I smirk at him.

                                                            **********

I carefully tip toe around all the soccer fields at the sports complex. Aaron said that Jack’s team would be wearing red uniforms. The only problem is that I see at least 3 teams in red uniforms.

I nervously shift my weight from foot to foot. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. Maybe it’s too soon. I quickly turn on my heel to go back to my car but am met with my boyfriend.

“Hey,” Aaron smiles.

“Hey,” I say a little awkwardly.

“Thanks for coming. Jack had such a great time last night and is really excited you’re here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Aaron says as he points to the field. I spot Jack with the number 2 on his back running around the field. He looks up at us and gives me a big wave which I return. I look back to Aaron and realize he is wearing a whistle around his neck.

“Why are you wearing this?” I ask with a laugh.

“I’m kind of the coach,” he says slowly.

“No way! This is gonna be more fun than I thought,” I smirk at him.

“Listen, I gotta go get the boys ready, but do you want to get breakfast after the game?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say then plant a kiss on his lips then let him return to his duties.

The game starts and I’m standing by myself for maybe 2 minutes because a group of women at least 5 years older than me approach me.

“Hi, I’m Lauren and this is Katie and Sarah,” the middle one says.

“Hi,” I say as I shake their hands.

“We haven’t seen you here before,” she says.

“Oh yeah, I’m just here to watch Jack,” I say and point off into the field.

“So you know Aaron?” Katie, I think, asks.

“Oh yeah,” I say with a laugh. There is an awkward silence. I can tell they aren’t finished with me yet.

“Just between us,” Lauren says. “All of us single moms are interested in Aaron. So if you could put in a good word for us it would be appreciated.”

I slowly nod. “Will do, will do. He’s told me he’s seeing someone though.”

All 3 women look disappointed but nod. They tell me thanks then go back to their original spot. When they turn away I have to bite my lip to prevent from laughing out. They’re into Aaron? That’s cute. They thought they had a chance with him.

                                                           **********

Jack’s team just won and once they finish their post game huddle, he runs right up to me.

“Did you see me, Y/N?” Jack asks breathlessly.

“Yes, I saw the whole thing. Give me a high five because that was awesome,” I say and he high fives me. “So your dad said a little something about a breakfast?”

A smile grows on Jack’s face. I take Jack’s hand and lead him to his dad. The same 3 women that approached me earlier have him cornered. I try to catch his eye, but after a moment I realize there is no use. Just as I turn around with Jack my name is called.

“Y/N!” Aaron calls and breaks through the wall of women. “There you are.”

“I was just seeing if you were ready to go eat,” I say.

“Yes, I am,” he says then throws a wave to the group of women. Aaron then wraps his arm around my waist and presses a kiss to my cheek.

I can hear the gasps behind me from Lauren, Katie and Sarah. I guess they know he’s mine now.

This time I actually chuckle out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Aaron asks.

“Oh nothing,” I hum then press a kiss to his cheek.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner imagine #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #david rossi #spencer reid #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss #jj #Jennifer Jereau

[jimlingss]

Love Pages

➜ Words: 18k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Yandere!AU, Inspired by Death Note

➜ Summary: You've always had feelings for Park Jimin, star soccer player and cute boy-next-door. But it's been unrequited for years and you expect it to continue that way. Or at least until a certain notebook falls into your hands.

➜ Warning: toxic relationships, loosely implied smut, some victim blaming. This is not your typical love story.

The more he ran, the deeper you fell.   You couldn’t help it. Not when the breeze was whisking through his dark strands, sweat was rolling down his face and his brows were furrowed in concentration.    To some, it looked like Jimin was just playing soccer — a mischievous boy kicking a ball in the grassy field. But to you, it was much more than that. He was magic. Leaping through the air. Irises glistening each time the coach hollers and he smiles. The corner of his mouth tugged as his team members jump on his back.    Jimin is the one who manifests the butterflies in your stomach. And that’s magical enough for you.   “You’re drooling.”   Jihyo is startling when she throws her arm over your shoulders and pulls you away, shattering your trance. She giggles as you scoff, finally tearing your eyes from the boy across the field.    “No, I’m not.”    In spite of your denial, you check if you are indeed drooling and your hand wipes at the corner of your mouth.   “You have it so bad for him, Y/N,” your best friend laughs loudly as you shush her. “Relax. No one’s gonna hear. The whole neighbourhood’s gonna find out anyway if you keep staring at him like that.”   “I am not staring.”   “Uh-huh.” It’s clear she doesn’t believe you. “Are you actually going to talk to him or keep looking and making it obvious.”   “What would I even talk to him about, Jihyo?”   “I don’t know. You’ve been crushing on him since what? Eighth grade? Shouldn’t you know what he likes by now? What do nerds like?”   “Jimin is not a nerd,” you defend futility and end up sighing a moment later. Jihyo has a point. But whenever it comes time to strike a conversation, your brain empties and all you can think about is how he’s actually paying attention to you. The problem isn’t that you don’t know what to say, you just don’t know how to say it. “I always end up getting too nervous and make myself look stupid.”   “Need my help?”   “No.”   You glare as she grins. You know Jihyo’s definition of help is screaming his name for the entire school to hear. The whole soccer team would turn their heads as she’d wave and point to you. She did that once and you were beyond mortified. Thankfully, Jimin was considerate enough to smile and wave back.   The two of you begin turning and walking away before you’re late for library duty. “I’m just saying, there’s only four months left before we’re graduating for good. What’s there left to lose?”   “My dignity.”   “I thought you didn’t have any.”   You throw a weak punch, but Jihyo dodges out of the way and laughs.   You know your best friend is merely trying to help. It’s not like you like being this hopeless anyway. But you’re aware that even if Jimin spares a moment for you sometimes, you’re nowhere near his league.   As you pass by the bleachers, your peripheral vision catches Jimin looking your way.   Immediately, you turn your head — heart stuttering. But then you realize he’s looking at Seulgi.    The girl is standing at the front bleachers, sweater tucked into her skirt, cheering him on and waving. And he waves back with an even bigger grin.   Jihyo doesn’t miss the interaction. You feel her hand on your arm, guiding you away quicker.   “I heard Jimin and Seulgi have been getting close.”   “Really? I haven’t.”   Jihyo’s lying. The rumours are running rampant that he’s interested in her. You were hoping it wasn’t true, but of course he would. She’s popular and cute, and even dances. You can’t do any of those things. You can’t be those things—   “Y/N?”   “Sorry?” You blink hard, attention taken by the youthful librarian behind the desk smiling gently.   “Are you alright, dear? Do you need to go home early?”   “No.” You shake your head, feeling the weight of Jihyo’s gaze as well. “I was just thinking about something else. I’m sorry.”   “It’s quite alright. I was saying how all the books have thankfully been shelved and all the things I needed to be cataloged into the computer system is done. Of course, it’s thanks to you two ladies helping me out recently.”   The pair of you respond that it’s not a problem and she smiles before guiding you towards the back and flicking on the lights of the dusty room.   “I was thinking we could tackle cleaning out the storage area today before we close up for the end of the year. It hasn’t been touched since the previous librarian.” She sighs. “I’ve been meaning to get it done but we’ve just been so busy.”   Bookshelves on all sides and a table in the center, there are books without covers and ripped pages coating the surfaces. But it’s still not as terrible as that time you had to reorganize the entire science fiction section. That task alone took two weeks.   Jihyo seems to agree. “It’s actually not that bad.”   “We can probably finish it in a day or two,” you add.   “You girls are more helpful than you’ll ever know.” The older lady breathes a big sigh of relief. “I was thinking we could inspect all of these and sort them into books that can still be used, donated or thrown out. I’ll run and grab you boxes so you can organize them. Oh and if there’s anything you’d like to take home, feel free to! Take it as a perk of volunteering to help out.”   She smiles and you and Jihyo nod before getting to work.   “Look at what I found.” Your best friend holds up a bright coloured book five minutes into it and you burst out laughing. The novel reads ‘You’ve Got A Dog in Me’ and aside from the ridiculous title, it’s completely tattered with a brown stain in the middle. “It looks like it’s some romance comedy. Whatever.”   She chucks it in the garbage can and you notice an old guide on how to spank children from the fifties. It raises your brows and you throw it in the trash too.   There’s a ton of books to go through, but you have fun looking at some of the ridiculous titles or synopsis with Jihyo. Some of them are able to be donated while others are in a good enough condition to be kept after the layers of dust are blown off. It’s clear that no one’s touched this storage area for years.   The room is crowded, so with Jihyo at the front, you venture to the very back bookcase. You dodge stacks and bins, and squat down to the last shelf. Almost instantly, your attention is taken by shiny green spines that seemingly shimmer even in the dim lights. The books are large and heavy duty, requiring two hands to be pulled out with how tightly they’re stuffed into the shelf.   But you manage.   The first book reads ‘The Magical World Explored’. The second is ‘Dark Magic: Beginner Spellbook’ and the third, ‘17th Century Witchcraft History’. Latin and other symbols surround the titles and two of them are with small locks, the other without. Yet you can’t seem to open it no matter how hard you pull.    What’s even stranger is that the textbooks are immaculate. It looks like they’ve been untouched.   “What is it?”    Jihyo asks at your ongoing silence and approaches with the same curiosity that twists to befuddlement you have. “Looks like something edgy you’d pick up on ebay for that witch aesthetic.”   You burst out laughing. “I can’t even open this one. It’s like the pages are...glued together.”   “Maybe they’re cursed,” she says jokingly and your next laugh is a bit more uncomfortable than the last. At the same time, the librarian pokes her head through the door, asking how everything’s going. You take the opportunity to ask her about the odd books.   “Hmm, this is strange,” she muses, tapping her chin. “It looks like it’s from the previous librarian who worked at this school. I only met her a few times but she told me she was from a small village out in the middle of nowhere, so that’s where these probably came from. Anyway, she already passed away so I can’t give them back. If anything, just trash them.”   “Okay.”    You set them into the garbage can before continuing without thinking twice until there’s an interruption.   “Excuse me?”   There’s a familiar gawky boy with rounded glasses at the front desk. With the librarian busy on the other side of the library, you grab your best friend and quirk your head towards him. “Jihyo! Jihyo! It’s Namjoon!”   “What?!”   “Go help him!”   Her face flushes pink. “No! Why don’t you?!”   “Because!” You grin. “Didn’t you say that we have nothing to lose since we’re graduating?”   “Don’t you know I’m all talk and no action?” Her last syllable is a squeal when you nudge her forward and out the side door where she stumbles into his line of sight. Jihyo throws a glare over her shoulder before she clears her throat. “Is there something you need? Or are you here to bother me again?”   Namjoon smiles. “Both.”   You watch the cute interaction for a moment before leaving to give them some privacy. Humming to yourself, you resume inspecting and sorting the books, turning to the back shelf again. And as you clear it out, you grab a stack of novels at the top shelf.   Inadvertently, something topples on top of your head.   Luckily, it’s thin. Not painful whatsoever. Merely flopping to the carpet—   A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’.    It draws you in. Bewitched. Unblinking. Unbreathing.   A mysterious magnetism has you spellbound, curiosity coming within waves.   So you reach down to grab it, fingertips grasping the very edges of the few pages.   You flip it over to the back and your eyes skim the white text on the blushing cover:

The human whose name is written first shall fall in love with the human whose name is written second.

The Pages can only take effect if the writer has the person’s face in mind.

The only way the Pages’ powers can be removed is through erasing the names.

A name cannot be written first more than once at a time. 

Warning: The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Pages shall be. The less compatible a couple is, the more likely undesired consequences shall arise. Utilize with caution.   You’re confused.    You wonder what kind of prank this is. Whoever did it had a really detailed and elaborate yet creative plan to fool someone. But you wonder if they accidentally left this notebook here.    You’re not sure if the notebook should go straight into the garbage, so you toss it on the table and continue cleaning.   It’s not long before you come across a crime novel you’re actually interested in and place it aside to remember to take home. And it’s not long before Jihyo’s coming back in with her backpack.   “Hey, our shift’s over. She said we can finish tomorrow. Wanna go grab fries on the way home?”   “Sure.” You grin. “How’d your talk with Namjoon go?”   Jihyo smiles, the usual assertive girl grown shy under the topic. “How do you think it went?”   You grab the novel and shove it into your bag haphazardly without looking. You don’t realize a certain soft pink notebook underneath that you’ve taken as well.   //   It’s evening by the time you get home. Tired and grimy from the long day, you beeline straight up the stairs to your room as your mother’s voice chirps from the kitchen.   “Have you had dinner yet?!”   “I already ate with Jihyo!” you call back before shutting your bedroom door.    You swing your backpack off your shoulders as you collapse into your chair. Your desk is cluttered with loose leaves of your bored scribbles, college pamphlets and school forms you never read. The attempt to make your room pretty and aesthetic failed years ago with your messy tendencies, but what catches your eye as you look around is the candle of Bundled Roses Jihyo gave you for your birthday.   Golden lid and shell pink container, you reach out and uncap it to dig the wax into your nose. Even after burning half of the candle already, it still smells good.   You smile to yourself, placing the candle back in its spot next to the lighter.   The desk lamp is switched on and you reach for your backpack to dump out your homework. In a few months, you’ll be freed from ever having to sit down and be forced to do quadratic equations again. Graduation was definitely something to look forward to.   But as you spill the contents of your bag out, the crime novel and a certain pink notebook comes tumbling out.   “Shit.”   The Love Pages stares back at you.   It’s tiny print letters on the cover are simple yet annoying. You didn’t mean to take it with you, but that mistake’s gonna cost you a walk all the way to the library tomorrow. Or you could simply dump it in the trash bin now. Dust your hands off. Call it a day.   But for some reason, you don’t.   You don’t turn to stuff it back into your bag.   You don’t shift to drop it in the trash.   Perhaps it’s on a whim, riding the wave of procrastination, preferring to delay homework for just another moment—   You flip it open.   Min Yoongi            Kim Seokjin   Amane Miki        Jeon Jungkook   Kim Taehyung      Ellie Windsor   It’s funny. In a strange sort of way. There’s an endless list of names spanning across the pages, each line consisting of exactly two but the writing is starkly different. For some of them, it’s clear that they were written by the same person. Straight lines, small letters, the occasional loops.    Yet for others, it’s chicken scratch writing or scribbles, hearts drawn on the side, thin lead to thicker ones. It looks like the notebook’s been passed to lots of people in spite of its immaculate exterior.    As you flip, you find faded names barely legible as if they’ve been erased. More importantly, there’s more than ten pages that have yet to be written in.   For how silly and complex this prank is, maybe it’s a good luck charm.    Maybe these couples actually got together and this notebook somehow fell into your lap as a sign of fate. Maybe. It’s ridiculous. But would it hurt to try? It’s not like anyone would know. Plus, you’ve doodled your name as ‘Park Y/N’ more times than you could count. Secretly, of course.   Compelled and childish, you reach for the pencil on your desk.   You flip to the next clean new page and recall the rules of the Pages.   And you call to mind kind smiles, half moon eyes and a sweet voice. Your pencil loops his name onto the paper.   Park Jimin              L/N Y/N   It’s done. Your breath hitches.   You blink once. Then twice.    But — nothing happens.   “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”    You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it’s not like Jimin’s going to fall in love with you simply because you wrote his name down in some stupid book. That’s not how love works.   You shut the Love Pages and shove it away before cracking open your algebra textbook with a tired groan.    //   It’s early morning when you’re trudging along the path to school, rubbing your swollen eyes that you’re sure Jihyo will make fun of you for. But it’s not your fault that you ended up scrolling through your phone instead of tackling the chem assignment and forgetting that it was due today until you were laying in be—   “Y/N?”   It’s an unfamiliar-familiar voice.    Unfamiliar in the ways that you’re still not used to it. That you haven’t heard it directed to you enough times. But familiar in the ways that you’ve always listened to it. That your ears always perked when you passed by him in the halls, trying to pick up on the sweet syllables that rolled off his tongue. You’ve always hung off every sentence that he had to say.   Holy fuck.   Park Jimin is looking at you.   “Y/N?”   And he’s smiling, tilting his head, eyes tender. He’s so close and if your mind could actually function, you would realize that he’s just standing there by the school entrance as if he was waiting for you.   “Are you alright?”   “Y-Yeah.” The word chokes out of you and you try to shake off your nervousness. You muster a smile as your heart begins to pound into your ears. “S-Sorry.”   “Good morning,” Jimin tweedles with a growing grin.   “Morning.”   You start walking alongside him. “How’re you?”   “Good. You?”   “I’m good too.” Jimin’s eyes are crinkled and he steals a glance at you at the same time you do. It’s a moment that has your heart stuttering in your chest. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”   You’re caught off guard, unable to believe this is happening. But his presence is more than welcome. In fact, Jimin doesn’t know that he’s already making your day.   “Y-Yeah, it has been. How’s….soccer practice been?”   “Really great actually. We have one more game left. We’re versing West Side this time.”   “It’s the final match of the season?”   “Yup! We’re all pretty excited. Everyone wants to win but even if we don’t, then we come in second place in the entire school district.”   Your steps slow as you get to the front doors, still wanting to savour each second and luckily, he slows as well. Neither of you are eager to move on. “That’s incredible, Jimin.”   “Y/N!” Right as the conversation is simmering down, Jihyo disrupts any awkwardness that might settle. She appears out of nowhere and swings her arm over your shoulder. Your best friend gives you a knowing look and then to Jimin. “Hey there, Park.”   “Hey.” He smiles politely, then redirects his gaze to you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”   “Y-Yeah. Totally. See you.” You wave, still struck and baffled by the interaction.   Jihyo seems equally surprised as well.   And once Jimin’s gone from sight, she nudges you roughly with a sly smile. “What was that all about? Did you finally grow some balls?”   “No. He was the one who approached me,” you murmur, not sure what to say.    You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing, but that’s impossible.   It was merely a prank notebook made by someone bored.   //   It’s hard to focus in class with what happened in the morning. You keep replaying the scene in your head. His soft voice. The look in his eye. How he was standing around and his smile lit when he saw you. It’s a record, a movie, that’s played again and again in your mind. Soaking every second you couldn’t take in at the time. To some it might simply be mundane small talk, but to you, who’s always looked at him from afar, the butterflies are still tickling your tummy.   The world has never been so rosy.   It’s after class that your head is still in the clouds and you’re trying to repress your giddy smile to yourself.   You’re holding your textbooks to your chest as you pass by the field, making your way home alone with Jihyo at her after-school anime club. She had a small interest in it but it only grew after befriending Namjoon there. As much as she likes to make fun of Jimin for being a nerd, Namjoon’s the real geeky one.    But that only makes your best friend and him all the more endearing. You hope they get together soon.   In the midst of your thoughts, you don’t notice the soccer practice going on.   Not until there’s fast sprinting steps crescendoing to your left.   “Y/N!” There’s an out of breath shout of your name and you halt with your eyes wide. Jimin’s panting as his team members disperse from the field. He grins. “I thought I saw you!”   You’re stunned and watch as he wipes the sweat dripping on his forehead with his blue jersey.   You blink hard, mouth full of cotton. Before today, Jimin never approached you when you were by yourself — most certainly never twice in a day.   You’ve never had this much attention from him before.   “I was worried you weren’t going to drop by like you usually do!”   “Like...I usually do?”   “Yeah.” He steadies his breath with a cheeky smile. “I’ve always noticed that you came to practice. Honestly, you’re kind of like my good luck charm. It feels weird if you’re not there.”   Your brain goes blank. You process a single word at a time. And you manage one nod.   “Hey…” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with a subtle hue. “Do you want to wait till practice is over? I want to walk you home. If you’d like.”   “S-Sure…”   “Park!” his coach shouts and Jimin whirls around with a grin. “Break’s over!”   “Yeah, I’m coming!”   Park Jimin’s smiling to himself as he runs back onto the field — leaping in the air, wind whisking through his dark strands. In the meanwhile, you’re left rooted to the ground, staring at his backside. Your face is on fire and the butterflies erupt all the way to your throat. It’s magic.   “—hot dogs down at East road….”   “You comin’, Park?” Kyungsoo looks at his team member, noticing the quietness of the soccer star.   Jimin smiles before pulling the clean shirt through his head. “Nah. I have plans.”   “With who?” another interjects. “Seulgi?”   “No, someone else.”   Instantly, obnoxious ‘ooh’s fill the locker room and he rolls his eyes with a growing grin before throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and shutting his locker. Jimin exits and finds you waiting meters away.   Jimin runs to you. “Sorry for you leaving you waiting!”   “It’s okay.”   The walk home is a bit awkward. You’ve never had anyone accompany you other than Jihyo before — most certainly not a boy, and not the person you’ve been crushing on for practically four years now.   You clear your throat and steal a glance. “Is there a reason you wanted to walk me home?”   “Why?” Jimin is immediately alarmed. “Did you not want me to?”   “No!” Your eyes look into his, equally as rounded. “That’s not it. I’m...just not used to it, that’s all.”   “Honestly.” Your steps are synced together and colour blooms on his cheeks. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you more and get to know you better.”   “Oh.”   “I guess you can say I realized the other day that we went to the same elementary, but I don’t even know you that well. You can tell me if you don’t want to—”   “I want to,” you blurt before you can realize what’s coming out of your mouth. Jimin’s eyes are as big as saucers and he nods. At the same time, you frantically turn away out of embarrassment, not noticing the way Jimin was smiling to himself.   The comfortable silence simmers between the pair of you as the sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky in a pastel tangerine hue. You can hear children on the playground nearby, see the other sidewalk occupied by a couple pulling along a stroller and the grandma in her front yard pinning up her laundry to dry.   And as you savour the moment, the back of your hand accidentally brushes against Jimin’s.   It’s soft and you flinch subtly before glancing down.   Jimin must feel it too because he follows your line of sight and clears his throat.   “Hey.” His timbre is husky and nervous. “Is it...okay if I hold your hand?”   You answer with a bob of your head.   And Jimin timidly reaches out, fingertips first, and then his palms clutch yours. Your hands are slotted together perfectly and you muse how soft his skin is.   Heat rises to your face. Heart stuttering in your chest. Butterflies a whirlwind in your stomach. But unfortunately, the moment is all too short.   “This is it.” You stop in front of your house and Jimin lets go of you.   He looks at your home and smiles. “It’s cute.”   “Thanks.” You pull open the gate, eyes diverted elsewhere lest he can see how flustered you are. “Well, I’ll see you later, Jimin. Thanks for walking me home…”   “Wait!” he shouts when you’ve taken three steps and you spin around to see him scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, um, Y/N. Would….would you like to...like to go out sometime to catch a movie or get some food this weekend. I mean you don’t have to, no pressure.”   Your mouth is twitching as you try your best not to scream on spot. “I’d like that, Jimin.”   “Okay.” A cheeky grin spreads gradually into his cheeks, eyes crinkled into crescent moons. “I should probably get your number then…?”   “Sure.”   The exchange is quick and then you’re running into your house, stomping all the way up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s shout. You launch yourself into bed face first, mattress bouncing at the impact. While your limbs are sprawled out, you scream into your pillow with your furnace hot face.   You roll around in your covers, kicking your blankets.   Jimin just asked you out on a date.    He asked you out on a date and he walked you home. Park Jimin walked you home and talked to you this morning.   You’re certain your heart’s about to give out with how fast it’s beating, that the butterflies bursting in your tummy’s about to explode up your throat and out of your mouth.   You can’t believe it.    You rise up in your bed with your hair in a disarray and your bed ruined, and you look over to your desk where the pastel pink notebook is. You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing.   //   “You’re going on a date?!”   Your best friend is taken off guard, but when you vehemently nod, her confusion is overcome with excitement. Jihyo engulfs you in a hug. “This is so fucking exciting! I’m so excited for you! Oh my god!” She squeals and you laugh, jumping together. “Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?”   “I have no idea.”   “I’ll help you.” She grins. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to sweep him off his feet.”   “Easy for you to say,” you counter, “Your crush already likes you back.”   “Namjoon’s just a friend,” Jihyo sighs and then her peripheral vision catches the tall brunette passing by as if calling his name was enough to summon him. “Shush! He’s coming!”   Except you look him straight in the eye and smile. “Hey, Namjoon.”   “Hey.” Namjoon snorts as if he overheard the conversation, a smile placed on his features as his eyes linger on Jihyo before he passes by.    She remains nonchalant as if he’s invisible. Or at least until the moment he’s gone and she steps on your foot. “You were being way too obvious!”   You pout at Jihyo, grabbing her arm. “No, I wasn’t.”   “Go be cute to Jimin instead,” she scoffs while you giggle, hoping he’ll find you half as endearing as you know your best friend does.   //   The weekend comes slower than you wish it would, but arrives nonetheless.   You’re waiting at the station — intercom noisy overhead, the sound of the train breaking echoing from afar. It’s the bustle of the afternoon, of overtime office workers and other couples shuffling amongst themselves with parents following their children.   You tug on the hem of your dress that Jihyo insisted you wear. You’re not sure if it’s too much or if you caked on too much makeup, but there’s no time to overthink.   “Y/N!” Jimin meets you, dressed in casual attire of jeans and a white tee underneath a black hoodie. “I’m sorry I’m late!”   “You weren’t late, Jimin. I just came early.”   “But how long were you waiting for?”   “Not that long,” you assure and he glances at you before smiling.   “You look really nice. Like really nice.”   “T-Thanks,” the word stutters out of you and you look around, feeling conscious under his sole attention. “Where are we heading first?”   “I was thinking of catching a movie, if you’d like.”   “Sure.” The both of you start moving towards the exit. At the same time, the intercom announces the arrival of the Northbound train. It pulls up on the other side and the doors whir open a beat later, flooding the platform with passengers exiting and pushing to enter.   In the chaos, your shoulder is roughly shoved and you’re pushed aside by the rushing mass. You wince and open your eyes to discover you’re losing sight of the boy with dark strands.   But the second hopelessness begins to settle—   “Are you okay?”   Jimin’s hand has clasped yours and he’s pulled you out from the crowd. You stumble in a place where you can breathe again. Jimin smiles sweetly and you’re not sure if he’s an angel or not.   “I thought I lost you,” you admit in an exhale.   “Don’t worry, I would never let you out of my sight.” His grip is firm and secure. Jimin squeezes tenderly and leads you out the exit again — this time with you in hand.   You feel your palm getting warm. “Sorry, my hand’s a bit sweaty.”   “I don’t mind.”   Your heart catches in your throat.    You hope this lasts forever.   The pair of you end up catching a romance movie in a cute, local theater called When Spring Meets Autumn. But towards the end, you’re not sure what it’s about. Not when all you can think about is the fact that Jimin’s beside you, how he’s leaning your way, your elbows are brushing. The way his arm ends up draping over the back of your seat.   All you can do is steal glances at him.   Your eye eventually catches his and your attempt of pretending you weren’t staring is futile.    You feel Jimin lean even closer, noticing a soft smile playing on his lips. “Is there something wrong?” he whispers.   You shake your head. It’s the opposite. This is a dream come true.   “I’m usually more into action than romance,” he says as the both of you walk alongside one another over the bridge. “I can’t believe that actress died ten minutes into the movie though.”   “Oh yeah.” You laugh awkwardly, not able to recall. Your eyes travel towards the cityscape and then the lake that you were crossing. Your ears perk at the giggles of couples in pedal boats, blue boats they’re using to cross the waters together. Envy stems in your mind. They sure were taking advantage of the warm weather.   Jimin notices your fixation. “Have you ever been?”   You shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to go in it with my family, but I never got the chance.”   “We could do it now.”   Your eyes meet his. “Right now?”   “Why not?” He grins boyishly, already taking your hand again.   It’s ten dollars for ten minutes and you split the cost in half, in spite of how much he insists on paying for the ride. The boat wobbles as you get in, but Jimin holds your hand and guides you, laughing while the instructor asks if you want a life jacket for the second time and shows the rules nailed onto the wooden board.   The two of you get settled in and start pedaling with your feet.    But you don’t get anywhere and bump into the dock instead.   “The left person paddles!” The instructor yells and Jimin’s wide-eyed before he nods and follows.   “This is actually my first time too,” he admits shyly as you finally get into the lake. “I wanted to look cool.”   Laughter unabashedly bubbles out of your throat. “It’s okay, Jimin. You’re very cool to me.”   “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”   “No!” You retort in the midst of giggles. “I’m being honest!”   You both paddle to the middle of the lake and it’s a lot more work than you expected. You’re sure you don’t look flattering in your dress pedaling a boat but there’s no time to dwell when you’re having this much fun.   At least not until you feel your toes getting wet.   “Oh my god!” You flinch. “There’s a hole in the boat!”   Water leaks up to your ankles and it’s only getting faster. “Paddle to shore!” Jimin shouts in the midst of laughing. You giggle and as if to make matters worse, the rolling clouds over the horizon begin pouring rain. It spits and then starts showering on top of your heads.   You’re becoming soaked from both ways, but rather than being upset, you’re laughing and giggling hysterically with one another.    Jimin helps you up onto the harbour and holds your hand as you run away to get some cover. You find some under a closed store canopy on a nearby quiet street. The pair of you face the road, unable to see far with the thick, heavy rain morphing the city to monochrome.   Warm giggles fill the spaces beside you. “I’m going to be honest, I imagined the first date with you would be a lot better than this.”   You meet Jimin’s eye and take the chance to tease him. “You imagined it?”   But he doesn’t make a snarky comeback. Jimin is genuine as he is shy. “Yeah. I have. I like you a lot, Y/N. I think...I have for a long time. I just didn’t realize it.”   It’s silent — the peaceful kind of quiet that lingers. As cold as the rain is, your face warms. But you wonder if this is how Jimin really feels or if it’s the Love Pages’ doing.   Your trance is shattered by an embarrassed laugh.   “You shouldn’t leave a guy waiting after they confessed, you know.” Jimin tilts his head, eyes tender and smile kind. “It makes it feel like you’re about to reject me.”   Reject him?!   “I’ve liked you since eighth grade,” you blurt loudly, the honesties pouring out of your mouth. They’re words you never thought you would have the chance to say. A confession you’ve always held in your throat. Secrets you held so close to you and were too cowardice to speak.   But the compassionate Jimin you’re facing makes you brave.   He grins, a growing smile that spreads into his cheeks and makes his eyes gleam. “Really?”   “I have ever since you helped me in that group project.”   “I did?” His brows furrow. “I can’t really recall.”   It’s disheartening to hear considering that the memory is significant to you, but you elaborate as if you could jog his mind. “Science class with Mr. Chen. No one was listening and I was really stressed, but you helped me.”   The recognition never seems to set in his eyes, but instead, they flicker down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”   You nod furiously and Jimin smiles before he leans in with heavy lidded eyes. His fingers lift to hold your chin and your eyes flutter shut. Soft lips meet yours.   It’s a sweet kiss, a brief and chaste one. Your very first. And your heart feels like it’s about to burst. You can practically hear Jimin’s thundering heartbeat underneath the thumping rain.   //   The giddiness lasts an hour later. You can’t resist the enormous grin on your face even when you slap your own cheeks and tell yourself to calm down. It’s still cloudy outside when you get home, the rain subsided into scattering droplets, yet you feel warm inside.   “I’m hom—”    The announcement is cut short when you stumble on a pair of shoes. You catch yourself and look down to find odd brown loafers that don’t belong to your mom, dad or you.   There’s only one other person.   “Hobi?!”   As if the day couldn’t get any better.   You sprint into the living room to find your older brother sitting on the couch and he turns around with a small smile. “If it isn’t my baby sister.”   “What are you doing here?” It’s not like him to visit unannounced, but as you step forward into the evening light, you discover his reddened eyes and the swollen area underneath is as if he’s been crying. Colour instantly drains from your face and your expression falls. “Is...there something wrong?”   Your pupils stray to the suitcase beside him.    Hoseok musters another smile. “Surprise. I’m moving back.”   “W-Where’s Irene?”   “She’s not coming.” His voice is hoarse. “It’s…..over. We’re getting a divorce.”   What?   //   Life — he told you is what happened. Careers got busy. Staying together turned out to be more of a chore than expected. And it seemed like there were more arguments than there were proper conversations.   Hoseok followed it up with a hard swallow and nonchalantly told you that sometimes things just don’t work out. But by the look on his face, you know he was holding back tears.    You’ve never seen your brother cry before.   “What do you mean?!”   “What happened? Did she kick you out? For how long?! Where are you planning to go now?!”   Your parents are in hysterics, exasperated and stunned by the situation. Your dad is tense in the armchair while your mother is pacing the floor. You watch the three of them through the gap of your bedroom door, not sure if you should intrude or what you would even say.   “This doesn’t make any sense! The two of you were fine last week!”   “We weren’t, mom,” Hoseok assures in a weak voice with his downcast head.   “Have you spoken to her yet?! Did the pair of you sit down and talk properly?”   Your older brother releases a staggering exhale from his lungs. “We have,” his voice cracks, “enough times. And...it’s...it’s over between us.”   This isn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening.   Your mother cries, “Hoseok, are you giving up?! You can’t just give up! This is your marriage that we’re talking about. This is serious!”   “This isn’t just up for me to decide!” Hoseok retorts in a shout, finally lifting his face. “I can’t do anything about it when she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore!”   You shut the door quietly, pressing your back against the surface. You’re as shocked as your parents are — maybe even more so. You were the one who saw it first hand. You’re the one who tagged along when they went to play, when Irene knocked on the door every morning to go to school together, you’re the one who sat in the backseat as they took a road trip down to the beach six summers ago.   The two of them grew up together in this neighbourhood. They’re soulmates.   And you know that best.   Your dad’s voice is muffled through the walls. “—happened exactly?”    “—doesn’t love me anymore……..wanted a break weeks ago.”   Hoseok’s eagerness, Irene’s calmness. Their sense of humour, their ambitions in life — it all aligns like puzzle pieces meant to fit. And you’re not the only one who thinks so. Everyone who has eyes and ears would’ve thought that their relationship would be inevitable.    They’re soulmates — better together than apart — and you could bet your entire existence on that fact.   You march across the stretch of your room and sit yourself down in the chair. Swiftly and silently, you pull open the last drawer of your desk and grab the pastel pink notebook.   Pushing your chemistry textbook, candle and lighter aside, you flip open the pages.   Kang Irene            L/N Hoseok L/N Hoseok          Kang Irene   The names are written without needing to blink twice, straight lines and big print. Twice to make sure that both sides are the same, that affections will be reciprocated. But you know it’s childish.   You can only hope it works.   //   Dinner is stiff. Little bites are taken, each person nibbling on the food. No words are exchanged across the table when the tension is so thick. Neither your mom or your dad speaks another word about the issue with the way Hoseok’s brooding. There’s no point in making futile commentary, in adding gasoline to the fire after all, so you don’t press on the matter either.   But ten minutes into dinner, the silence is interrupted by the doorbell.   It echoes throughout the home and heads lift, eyes looking at one another.   Hoseok is the first who moves. As if he has a sixth sense or a foolish wish of who it could be.   Who he hopes it is.   And as you and your parents follow after him while he opens the door, that wish is granted.   Irene stands at the doorstep in a cream coat and leggings, bag thrown over her shoulder. She’s out of breath as if she rushed over, yet the pair of them don’t speak. They gaze at one another quietly. Hoseok grips the doorknob, eyes pinned on his wife as she looks back into his brown irises warmed by the dim light of the foyer. Their eyes are tender, expressions pained.   “C-Can I come in?” she asks in an exhale.   Hoseok nods fervently.   As much as your parents would like to listen in to the conversation, they both give Hoseok and Irene a private moment. One you observe through the crack of your door.   There’s an exchange of sighs and muffled apologies.   And when your brother finally asks what she’s doing here, Irene responds in a beat. “I still love you.”   “W-What? But just a few hours ago...you….you said….we were done. This is so sudden.”   “I know.” With her downcast head, tears trickle down her cheeks. “I know that. But I regretted it the second you were gone, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everythin—”   Hoseok pulls her in close, cradling her face against his shoulder as he embraces her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you too.”   The corner of your mouth tugs and you look away when they kiss. They’re surmounting the bittersweet moment together, leaving behind the point where they were so close to abandoning their relationship.   Your parents emerge with you lingering behind and you’re relieved as they are.   “I’m sorry.” Irene dips her head.   Your father glances at your mother and then smiles. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Couples fight all the time. It’s only natural when you’re living together.”   “Does this mean you’re not staying over?” You intrude, quirking your head at your brother who smirks. “I thought we were gonna have a massive sleepover.”   Your mom nudges you. “Let him leave with Irene. They should spend time together.”   Hoseok laughs. “Maybe next time, squirt. I’ll make sure to come home next week and visit. This time, properly.” He gazes at his wife who nods.   The two of them leave hand in hand, closer than they were before.   It's the perfect outcome. All you could have hoped for. What you know is meant to be.   But it isn’t a mere coincidence that Irene came here, that they made up with one another.   You know it in your bones — the Love Pages works and it’s your saviour.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Jihyo notes with a brow raised and you snap back to attention, realizing that you’ve been humming and smiling to yourself.    “I guess I just have a lot to be happy about,” you sing-song and your best friend scoffs lighty with a tiny smile of her own.   “Yeah, cause you’re dating Park Jimin and even wearing his sweater. Life’s good, isn’t it?”   You look down to the navy material that’s soft to the touch, sleeves draped past your fingers. He gave it to you after noticing that you were cold one evening and said you could keep it. You’re happy to wear it too since it carries his comforting scent and makes it clear what your relationship with him is.   You smile, unable to retort Jihyo’s snarky yet playful tone.   And she notices your love-struck state, rolling her eyes before she’s interrupted by a gawky brunette whose height towers over her sitting form. “Jihyo, you said you had the homework answers?”   She looks up and deadpans, “I never said I would give them to you, Namjoon.”   You’re stunned at how your best friend can be so cold to her crush, but you know it’s just a front to keep herself from being flustered and out of control.    Namjoon seems to know as well since he grins. “I thought we could compare.”   “Fine.” She exhales, acting like it’s all a chore when you’re certain she’s ecstatic. Jihyo brushes a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and smooths out her skirt as she stands. “Let’s see what you have, Joon.”   You watch them stride across the classroom to his desk, eyes tracing their backsides. And then you’re reaching down to your backpack for the pastel pink notebook. You’re not sure when you started bringing it around with you, but the Love Pages have become your good luck charm. You feel naked without it in your possession.   No one notices when you push aside your biology textbook. When you flip it open. When you take your pencil and begin scribbling names inside.   Kim Namjoon       Park Jihyo   There’s a reason this notebook fell into your lap and you’re not going to let it go to waste. Out of everyone you know, Jihyo deserves her feelings to be reciprocated. And you’ll play cupid if that’s what it takes.   Swiftly, the notebook is closed and you slide it back into your backpack.    A beat later, your best friend is returning and colour is drained from her face. She plops down in her desk chair, the seat in front of yours.   “Jihyo?” She looks like she’s seen a ghost and you’re alarmed, wondering if something went wrong. “What happened?”   “Namjoon...he….he….” She blinks hard. “He just asked me out…?”   “What?” Your head whips across the classroom where said boy is smiling at your friend. You didn’t know the effects of the Pages are so instantaneous. “When? Right now?”   She nods after a delayed second and a smile spreads into your face. You try to keep your squeals down before it collects the attention of the rest of the class. “Oh my god, Jihyo! I’m so happy for you!”   Her brows furrow. “I don’t get it….it came out of nowhere….”   “Does it matter?” You grab your best friend’s hands. “You’re going on a date with Kim Namjoon!”   “I am. I...am!” Your best friend finally looks you in the eye, giddy at the idea. “I need to go shopping!”   //   “—and then she came back and told me that he asked her out!” You’re smiling from ear to ear, twirling around to face Jimin as he watches you with a smile. You don’t think it’s possible that you could be any happier than this. Not only do you have Jimin by your side, but you’ve granted both your brother and your best friend their wishes. “They’re going to catch a movie this weekend, I think.”   “You’re so excited,” he laughs. “Sounds like you’re the one going on the date.”   “Jihyo’s liked Namjoon for so long. I’m just happy for her.”   “You spend a lot of time with Jihyo, huh?” Jimin comments as you come to a stop at the light, waiting for the pedestrian signal to come on.   “She’s my only friend,” you admit with a small smile, reminiscing over the years. Your steps sync with Jimin’s again. “My best friend. We’ve been through thick and thin.”   “I’m jealous,” your boyfriend squeezes your hand, eyes glimmering. “I want you all to myself.”   You lightly scoff at his flirtation and his smile only widens until you let go of your interlaced hands to open the mailbox in front of your house. But unfortunately, there’s nothing inside. No acceptance or even rejection letters from any colleges or universities like you were anticipating.   There’re no bills or advertisement pamphlets either which probably means your dad’s home from work and beaten you to the punch.   “Well, I’ll call you later then, Jimi—”   “Can I come in?” he asks, eyes twinkling with hope. You’re taken aback and glance over your shoulder, not sure if introducing your boyfriend to your parents so soon is a good idea. While you know they try their hardest, your parents can be extremely overbearing. They tend to bombard anyone you talk to with a million questions, yet somehow, they’re still out of touch with your life.    Your relationship with your parents isn’t spectacular to say the least. But when Jimin takes a step forward with confidence, you have a feeling that they’ll like him as much as you do.    After all, who doesn’t like Jimin?   And you’re not wrong.   “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He dips his head in greeting, tone respectful as he stands in the foyer of your home. Your mom’s brows are raised to her hairline while your dad is seemingly sizing him up. “My name is Park Jimin. I’m Y/N’s classmate.”   “Actually, he’s my boyfriend,” you clarify, deciding to be straightforward with it and your parents exchange expressions.   But within minutes, you know they’ve fallen for him too.   “Oh dear, you’re on the soccer team as well?”   Jimin nods. “I’ve been playing since elementary, but I’m not that great at it.”   “That’s a blatant lie,” you object while sticking your head from the kitchen into the living room where they’re seated. “Jimin’s the star of the soccer team.”   “That’s very remarkable,” your father notes with stars practically in his eyes. You have to hold back laughter just watching them. “How do you manage to be so studious, keep up such great grades, maintain a social life and play sports at the same time?”   “I’m not as impressive as it sounds,” Jimin laughs shyly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just do a little every day. I think having supportive parents help a lot and having Y/N around does too. She’s always supported me, even before we got together, so I owe her a lot.”   Their smiles are bright, bodies relieved and you match Jimin’s soft smile. Any nervousness of having Jimin meet your family vanishes like it never even existed. And for a moment, you imprint the scene in front of you in the forefront of your brain. You wonder if your future will someday look like this — Jimin sitting across from your parents in your family home.   “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jimin?” your mother asks and he enthusiastically nods.   //   Life is perfect.   “You’ll come to my game, right?”   “Of course, I will!”   The days and weeks are flying by fast, and you’re getting closer and closer to graduation. It’s hectic but a busyness that isn’t tiring — not when you’re enjoying every moment of it.   “And the winner of the final soccer match of this season goes to Daykey High!”   Cheers erupt from the stands and as you shoot up with your own hollers, Jimin whips his body around after being dogpiled on by his teammates and grins. He races up the stands when he gets a chance, engulfs you in his embrace and gives you a sweaty kiss full of vigour that has you smiling.   Months ago, you would’ve never known your last months of high school would be spent so perfectly. It feels like a dream come true, like your biggest desires have been granted.   “Jimin!”   “What?”   “Are you going to come, dude? We’ve missed you at like five hangouts so far. C’mon, this one’s gonna be the last one, you have to come.”   “Nah.” He grabs his duffle bag. “Sorry, guys. I'll probably have to back out of this one too. Can’t leave my girlfriend waiting.”   “What’s going on, Chim?” The soccer captain steps forward with his brows furrowed. “This isn’t like you.”   “What do you mean?” Jimin laughs. “Nothing’s going on.”   Another snorts and slings an arm over his shoulder. “You got it bad for your girl, don’t you?”   Jimin’s sheepish when he admits it. “She’s the only one for me.”   Sometimes you’re frightened that you’ll wake up one morning and find that everything you’ve been living through was really just a dream. But time and time again, you open your eyes to see the pastel pink notebook on your desk. And it’s a reminder that it’s what brought you all this joy.    The Love Pages made this possible.   “H-Hey, Jimin.” Seulgi lingers outside the locker room, struggling to meet his eye as she teeters from side to side. “Congratulations on winning.”   “Thanks! It was a tough game, but I’m glad we pulled through.”   “Yeah...well..um…I—.”   “I’ll see you around?” Jimin smiles and Seulgi nods after a delayed second. They exchange small smiles full of distant politeness, but as Jimin turns to catch up to you, his expression grows genuine.   You hope this lasts forever.   //   “Hey, Jihyo….”   “What.”   “How are your eyes so beautiful?” Namjoon mutters and the girl busy with her paper turns her head to glare at him. The corner of his mouth curls and he hums, “I wonder how I’ll go on without you. I might miss you to death.”   She scoffs, unwavered by the greasy lines. “Get your ass to class before you’re late.”   Namjoon grins and as he gets up, grabbing his bag with him, he makes sure to plant a surprise kiss to the top of her head. The gawky boy laughs at his partner’s scandalized expression and takes his leave.    In the meanwhile, the smile itching up your features finally reveals itself and you march across the library floor to plop down into the seat that Namjoon had occupied. “You two lovebirds really need a room.”   Jihyo makes a noise of acknowledgment at the back of her throat.   “How did the fourth date go?”   “What? Oh yeah. It was fine.” Her response is short and you chalk it up to her merely concentrating on finishing her assignment, but after a minute, Jihyo lifts her chin and looks at you. “Hey, Y/N.”    “What?”   “Do you think Namjoon’s off somehow?”   “What do you mean?”   “I know him.” Jihyo pauses. “Namjoon would rather die than say something as cheesy as he just did.”   You loll your head to one side and shrug. “I don’t know. Love changes people, Jihyo. You should stop overthinking it and just let yourself be loved.”   She blinks and hums, returning back to her work.   //   The library is becoming quieter and quieter as summer arrives. Jihyo doesn’t blame everyone for preferring to spend their remaining days outside with their friends than hanging out in a place surrounded by bookshelves and studying for exams. But if anything, it makes her job easier.   There are fewer books to shelve, fewer people to attend to and less to clean up.   With only a student here or there, she’s able to savour the last shifts of library duty left.   “Joon.”   “Hmmm?”   Not to mention, no one really bats a lash with her boyfriend hanging around beside her.    Ever since they started dating officially, Namjoon’s been glued to her side. But Jihyo doesn’t mind. The company and conversations are welcome. Even the librarian finds him endearing.   “When did you become interested in me?”   Namjoon is seemingly perplexed by the question and their eyes meet as they stand between the thin aisle between two looming bookcases. “I don’t know. One moment, everything was fine and then the next, I started feeling this way.”   Jihyo’s frowns. “Suddenly?”   “It was a bit weird for me too, but then I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It...hit me and it was intense, so I asked you out.” His smile softens, dimples creased into each side of his cheek. “Why?”   Jihyo sighs and shakes her head. “No reason. It just seemed like you never liked me like that before or at least you never hinted at it.”   “That’s true. I saw you as just a friend for the longest time.” Namjoon leans in, his smile sweet towards his girlfriend. “Is that such a bad thing?”   Jihyo scoffs lightly but then shakes her head with a tiny smile.    Maybe you’re right. Maybe she is overthinking it.   “I just have to get used to it.”   It’s that same afternoon that Jihyo walks home by herself — Namjoon busy with his other clubs and unable to accompany her. She doesn’t mind much, actually finding solace in her alone time.    But Jihyo’s mind wanders and she realizes it’s been a long time since she’s hung out with you outside of class or library duty. Jimin’s monopolized you these days and as happy as she is to watch you giddy, she misses her best friend.   4:38 pm. Jihyo: wanna go out for ice cream or something   4:39 pm. Y/N: hell yeah!!! :D 4:39 pm. Y/N: omw home 4:39 pm. Y/N: wanna meet up there?   Jihyo smiles to herself and turns down the familiar street to your house.    The school’s boundary lines are narrow, so most of the students live in the same small neighbourhood. And considering that Jihyo’s been your friend since grade six, she’s no stranger to your house, the white mailbox, the gate, and the small yard that the pair of you used to play on.   They’re all nostalgic memories to her.   “About time!” she calls out when she sees you.   You laugh, quickening your strides. “It only took me five minutes!”   “On another date with Jimin?”   Jihyo follows after you, through the door and up the stairs to your room. It’s quiet which only means your mom’s running errands and your dad’s not home from work yet.   “We just went to a bookstore and grabbed food.”   She laughs and drops her backpack by your bed. “Can you eat ice-cream then?”   “Don’t you know there’s always room for dessert?” You grin while patting your stomach. “Speaking of which, I need to take a leak before we leave. Be right back.”   She snorts and pulls out her phone to check her usual apps. But there’s nothing much to see aside from the string of heart emojis that Namjoon sends for no reason. She rolls her eyes, but smiles to herself.   Namjoon’s an idiot. But he should be lucky he’s a cute one.   Jihyo boredly wanders to your desk, eyes falling upon the shell pink container. She holds the candle up, glad that you actually liked the birthday present enough to burn half of it. Then she sets it down and picks up the lighter, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks.   She puts it down, looks over the polaroids you have strung on the wall, and then her eyes stray to a crime novel you have pushed on the side of your desk.   Jihyo smiles to herself in amusement. She didn’t know you picked up reading recently.   Curious, she flips it over to read the synopsis of the book, but then something underneath catches her eye.   A baby pink notebook.   The Love Pages.   Her brows furrow and she discards the crime novel to the side in favour of the magnetizing pull coming from the notebook. She’s curious. Her intuition forces her to look.    Jihyo turns the notebook over, and she becomes more and more bewildered as she reads the rules. As she reads the warning. Then, she flips it open. At the same time you return.   “J-Jihyo?”   You’re frozen at the door.   “Y/N. What is this?”   “Nothing.”    You damn yourself for not putting the notebook in the drawer, for not bringing it with you like you so often do. You forgot about taking it with you this morning when you were in a rush to get ready and now you’re paying the price for your mistake.   You take two wide strides across the floor to snatch—   But Jihyo’s grip remains firm.   She doesn’t let you rip the notebook from her hands. Her tight hold crinkles the corners of the pages.   “Y/N.” Jihyo’s eyes meet yours. Cold. Firm. “What is this?”   You release your sigh and your arm comes to your side. “Remember when we were cleaning out the storage room of the library two months ago? I found it there and it works. I know it’s hard to believe, but it works, Jihyo.”   It takes a second for the words to sink in.   But then it hits Jihyo like a freight train, slamming into her form, smashing into her brain. She doesn’t want to believe it — not when it’s so outrageous and outlandish — but it all clicks.   Everything finally makes sense.   “Is this….how you got Namjoon to go out with me?” Her pupils trace his name on the lined paper and then the straight lines of her own name. Jihyo looks up at you, colour drained from her face. She whispers as if someone could overhear, “Is this how you got Jimin to go out with you?”   “I wrote it as a joke first.” Your voice is pitched as you frantically explain, “but then Jimin started to pay attention to me and the next day, he even asked me out! I...I didn’t think it worked but then Hoseok came home and he was about to get divorced, Jihyo. It was really bad. But I wrote their names in and they’re fine now. See? It works and it’s a good thing!”   She shakes her head slowly, connecting the dots.   “You wrote my name in it...and you didn’t even ask me.”   “I know and I’m sorry.” Your palms are clammy. You’re not sure why she’s so upset with you, why she’s giving you such a horrified look as if you did something so wrong. “But I didn’t know if you would believe me and since it worked, I thought...why not.”   “Why not?! You didn’t ask for my consent! I didn’t want this! I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!”   “What do you mean you didn’t want this?” It’s your turn to be upset — if anything, you did Jihyo a favour. You were looking out for her as her friend. “You liked Namjoon for the longest time! I did this for you!”   “This isn’t what I wanted!” Jihyo’s voice is shrill and you flinch. “This is so wrong, Y/N. This is so fucked.”   “How? We got what we wanted, didn’t we?!”   “But have you ever thought about the other side?! Have you ever thought about them?” she asks, coming face to face with you. “You’ve made everything artificial! Why would you go against their will and control them like this?”   “It’s not against their will!”   “It is!” Jihyo screams, voice straining in her throat. “Namjoon only saw me as a friend and nothing more, and Jimin didn’t even know you!”   Her words reverberate in your ears.    Jimin didn’t even know you.   Your fist curls as you tremble. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as tears threaten at your lash line. You can’t believe she just said that, that she can be so ungrateful. She doesn’t get it. And you thought out of anyone, Jihyo would be the one who would understand you most.   “How do you get rid of it?” she demands, thrusting the notebook to your face. “How?!”   “You….have to erase the names.”   “Then fucking do it!”   “Fine! Move!” You push her aside and press the book to your desk, grabbing the pencil that nearly rolls off.    You take the eraser end and rub her name and Namjoon’s from the paper. Fine. If she wants you to erase it, you’ll erase it. But you know she’ll come running back to you to write it in again.   You scrub the names hard enough that the shiny surface of the paper dulls. Hard enough that the pink eraser bits fill the page. That your hand physically hurts.   You show her when you’re done.   “There. Happy?”   “Erase Jimin’s name.”   “What?” By sheer instincts, you pull back and press the notebook to you. “No.”   “Y/N. This is crazy. This is so wrong. You’re violating your morals for—”   “I have no morals,” you cut her off. She can yell at you, shame you, make you erase what you did for her. But you draw the line here. “Don’t you realize, Jihyo? You said it yourself. Jimin never looked twice at me. And I know he would’ve never asked me out. He would’ve never gone on that date, he would’ve never made me his girlfriend. He would’ve never told me he loves me.”   “Y/N—”   “I’ve never been loved or looked at like this before.” You swallow hard, eyes stinging, the lump in your throat makes it hard to talk. Most of all, your heart aches. “For the first time in my life, I’ve actually had someone like me back. For the first time in my life, I’ve had someone love me like that. Without this notebook, it would’ve been impossible.”   “But you can’t force him—”   “I’m not forcing him to do anything!” Blood curdles at the back of your throat. You wish someone else was in the house, then they could rush upstairs and take Jihyo away from you. Away from threatening your happiness. “That’s not how the Love Pages works!”   She steps forward, arm extending. “Then if that’s true, erase his name.”   You flinch away from her. “I will never erase Jimin’s name!”   “Y/N!” — “Leave me alone!”   You try to push past her, but Jihyo grabs the notebook.   Your attempt to rip it from her grip and shove her away is ultimately futile. Jihyo’s grabbed hold of the edge and she’s not letting go. In your desperation, you catch a fistful of her hair and she stomps on your foot, shouting ‘bitch!’ at you. You cry aloud, wonder why it’s so hard for you to be happy.   You love him.   Your hands are slipping, but you untangle your fingers from Jihyo’s head and manage to seize the cover with your right hand. The notebook flips open, papers dangling downwards between your struggle.    Jihyo screams for you to let go, that this is crazy, but you ignore her. She knows nothing.   You love Jimin. And all you want is for him to love you back.   The pair of you yank back and forth. When it looks like you’re about to win, Jihyo snags a page near the back. And it rips as you snatch it towards you.   The paper tears.   You both stumble to the ground from the force of your grasps.   Your own hand slams into your mouth, bruising your lip. Jihyo across from you has her hair in a disarray and you’re horrified to find her holding her eye. She cusses again, tone venomous.   The notebook falls beside you, the empty white page fluttering in between.   It’s silent as you two hyperventilate. Then Jihyo stands. She brushes past you, roughly grabbing her bag.   “Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.”   The girl stomps out and you don’t look behind you. You don’t race after her, tell her to wait, explain that there’s a misunderstanding. Because there isn’t. You already said your piece.   You allow the slamming of the front door to echo. But you do get up to watch her from the window. She acts like this is your fault, that you did something so horrible to her when what you did for her was a miracle.   She’s the ungrateful bitch. Self-righteous in the dumbest ways. And you hope she never comes back.   //   Even when your anger has subsided, you know there are certain things that can’t be forgiven.   Jihyo ignores you when you glance in her direction, when you move past her, when you stand in front of her. At school and lunch, she hangs out with the other girls, never once sparing you a look or the friendly smile she gives to her new friends. And it’s a change that others notice.   “Is everything okay?” your classmate asks curiously. “Did you and Jihyo have a fight or something?”   Your bruised lip and the skin around her eye blossomed blue speaks for itself.   “Something like that.” You muster a smile. “But I’m fine.”   “Oh. Well, make up soon then.”   But you highly doubt that’ll happen.    If she wants to be a bitch, then you can be one too. You can ignore her. You can pretend she doesn’t exist…..   But unlike Jihyo, it’s always been harder for you to be cold. Not when you’ve spent so many years and made countless memories together. So you’re unable to resist when Namjoon comes by during the last shift of your library duty — one that you know she’s arranged to be absent at.   “Do you know where she is?”   Yet, the tall brunette merely shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t. Jihyo...actually broke up with me yesterday, so….yeah….”   “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry to hear that, Namjoon.”   He smiles. “It’s okay. It was pretty mutual.”   You watch him leave, not batting a single lash, without a single trace of heartbreak on his features and then you divert your vision. You know things will never be the same for them again.   Jihyo and Namjoon might never become as friendly as they were prior to their relationship. But you also know she’s wrong. You never forced Jimin to do anything. You didn’t force him to have feelings for you. That’s not how the Love Pages works—   “BOO!”   A hand comes down on your shoulder and a scream tears out of your throat as you spin around. You nearly fall on the ground from startlement, but Jimin latches onto your wrist, stabilizing you.   “Y-You almost scared me to death!”   “Sorry, sorry.” Your boyfriend laughs. “I didn’t know you would be so scared.”   “Don’t do that again,” you scold, heart rate steadying. “How long were you even following me for?”   “Not that long. You seemed a bit off. I had to make sure you got home safe and didn’t talk to anyone else.” Jimin syncs his steps into yours, familiar with the route you take home after accompanying you so many times. But as silence simmers between the pair of you, he takes notice. Jimin slips his hand into yours, slowing down. “Y/N. What’s wrong?”   You shake your head, words caught in your throat. You don’t know what to say, where to start, what you can tell him. How he’d even react. And it’s all too overwhelming for you to bear.   Against your will, you burst into tears.    The tsunami of emotions — anger, sorrow, regret — they clog your chest and shed in the form of teardrops. It hangs on your lashes, drips down your cheeks, clouds your vision. And the only comfort you receive is when Jimin reaches out, guiding your head to his shoulder.   “J-Jihyo….she….she hates me…”   You hang onto him, tight fists clutching onto Jimin’s jacket.    You were scared — scared when your only friend turned their back against you and found others to replace you so quickly, frightened when you realized just how isolated you are, petrified when you had a taste of what it’s like to walk the halls alone, to eat alone, to sit alone. To be alone. To be abandoned.    If Jimin leaves too, you’ll truly have no one.   “It’s okay,” he hums, locking you in a secure embrace. “You don’t need anyone but me.”   Jimin consoles you without needing to be asked. He soothes you and says the things you’ve yearned to hear since yesterday. You return his hug, quieting your sobs and strengthening your resolve.   You can’t give him up.   //   You’re not sure why it took you so long to realize what is and isn’t important. In a blink of an eye, the entire world seems to have shifted. The things — people — you treasured can so easily throw you away and all this time, you didn’t know. You’ve been played. Time wasted.   “Y/N, are you home?” your mom calls from the kitchen as the front door shuts and she stumbles out with a frown. “You’re later than usual today. Were you with someone? Jihyo?”   “I was with Jimin,” you sigh, kicking off your shoes.   “Where did you go?”   “Nowhere. We just talked.”   “About what?”   “Nothing! God, can you stop asking me questions?!” You stomp up the stairs.   Your mother exhales in frustration and calls after you, “Well get yourself looking nice! Your brother and Irene are coming over for dinner tonight! Are you listening to me?! Don’t ignore me, Y/N!”   But you do ignore her as you zip to your room and shut the door.    Finally, you’re able to get a moment of peace and quiet, and once it settles, you take two large strides across your room. You swiftly slip the Love Pages out of your backpack and into the bottom drawer of your desk. Without blinking, you grab the half-burnt pink candle and dump it into the bin.   I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!   Your bottom lip trembles but your determination hardens as you begin tearing off the strung polaroids on your wall. You’re suffocated just looking at them.   Bitch!   Your sixteenth birthday spent with Jihyo — sleepovers in seventh grade — summers spent at summer camp. You rip the photographs all off and they follow the candle in the trash.   Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.   An unpleasant feeling sits at the pit of your stomach and you flop down onto your bed. You shut your eyes before being plagued by the moment she turns her back, how she passes by the hall, giggling with other classmates. They’re moments played over and over until you feel nauseous.   “It’s fine,” you mutter to yourself and repeat, “It’s fine.”   You’re graduating soon. You can finally get away from here. You can move far away, to a university out of the city.   You open your eyes to stare at the ceiling, tears stinging. And you inhale a staggering breath.   Soon. You can go with Jimin and the two of you can vanish together. You’ll never have to think about your lost best friend or what you did. You can leave the Love Pages behind.

It’s a permanent turning point.   Your friendship with Jihyo never mends or is even a topic of conversation. Sometimes, you can feel her looking at you from the corner of her eye as if she’s judging you for the secret she knows. One she’s aware no one would believe her for, but that you both know what you did.   You don’t speak to each other, merely passing by in the same spaces and no one asks. After all, friends drift apart all the time. Everyone merely finds a new normal and so do you.   Jimin becomes your new best friend.    Sometimes, you eat lunch with his friends. Sometimes, it’s solely with him. The two of you continue going on dates and when you’re not, it’s conversations through text or shy talks on the phone.   And sometimes—   “C’mon, no one’s home.”   “Yeah, but what if your mom returns and finds me in her son’s bedroom? That would be a bad look.”   He laughs. “I promise she won’t. And even if she did, she’d still love you.”   “I don’t know about that, Jimin.”   “I’ll still love you and that’s what’s important, right?”    Jimin pulls you into his cozy house and before you know it, your back is pressed against his soft sheets as he hovers over you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. No teasing words are spoken when the boy leans down to capture his lips with yours.    It’s an eager kiss where you’re able to relish in the softness and the warmth of Jimin’s skin. Your arms automatically loop around his torso and you feel his smile against you. Jimin steals all the breath from your lungs and you’re left gasping as his mouth trails from your jaw to your neck.   “J-Jimin,” you pant his name with swollen lips, leaning into his touch.   “I missed you.”   “What’d yo..u mean? I saw you today.”   “Seeing isn't enough.” His mouth sucks into the juncture of your neck, marking it red to his liking and knowing it’ll bloom blue. Jimin lifts himself and smiles tenderly. “Tell me you’re mine, Y/N.”   His gaze is soft, full of affection and endearment, and it swells your heart.   “I’m yours.”   “That’s right. You’re mine,” he whispers and kisses you again. He fiddles with the hem of your plush sweater and not long after, he’s tugging your camisole down.   Sometimes you stay in Jimin’s bed, limbs tangled with one another’s. Other times, he’s busy with soccer practice and you come home by yourself—   “Huh, did someone….move my cardigan?”    You frown, wondering why it’s draped over the back of your chair and not the bed. Maybe your mom was trying to clean up for you again.   “Hello?” you call, poking your head out your door. There isn’t an answer.    You scoff to yourself, wondering what you were expecting.   Anyway, life for the most part is normal again. With Jimin by your side, he’s become a pillar of your strength and a reason for your resiliency. He is the many of your firsts. And he makes you look forward to even better days.   “Hey. Jimin?”   “Hmm?”   The pair of you are laying in his small bed and you shift your head to find him gazing at you with tender eyes and a softened smile. It tickles your own lips and you stare at him — his brown kaleidoscopic irises, his dark strands of hair nearly pricking into them.   It’s quiet in his house with his parents gone and the fuzzy afternoon sunlight casting through the window makes you sleepy. If you don’t blink, you can spot the specs of dust floating in the air.   “What are you thinking about?”   “Nothing much.” Your voice is a murmur and you inhale gently, senses filled with Jimin’s comforting scent. “Do you think...you would’ve loved me before this school year?”   “Of course, I would.” Jimin smiles as if you’re silly. “We’re meant to be.”   He twines his hand with yours, fingers interlaced, and your sleepy smile stretches into cheeks.   But Jihyo’s cursed you. She’s done the worst possible thing.   She’s planted a seed in your mind. A seed of doubt. And it’s sprouted, taken root, embedded and coiled deep enough that you can’t tug it out. Even beautiful moments like these, you’re plagued by her words. You can't help wondering if this is really Jimin or the Love Pages’ doing.    It’s chilly one night as you’re walking by yourself, going home from the convenient store down several blocks. The street lights are bright, illuminating both your figure and casting your shadow on the brick.    But then you halt. Feet against the asphalt. Turning around.   You swear, you felt eyes—   Ring. Your phone rings suddenly and you jolt in startlement. You fumble before pulling it out and pressing it to your ear.    “Hello?” You continue walking, except this time, your steps quicken. “Jimin?”    “What’re you doing?”   “Nothing,” you exhale, feeling comforted with him on the other line. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”   He laughs boyishly and you smile to yourself, practically able to hear his grin.    Jimin sighs quietly, “Why does that make me feel happy?”   “Did you finish running errands with your dad? Where are you?”   “I’m always with you,” he quips playfully and you roll your eyes.    It’s a joke, but as you peek over your shoulder, unsettlement sticks in your stomach. It feels like you’re always being watched.   //   “Jimin.” You stare up at the popcorn ceiling of his room, eyes running over the pointed ridges and dips, and drawing constellations from your imagination. “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?”   He turns his head, having been folding his laundry on the floor. “What do you mean?”   “The other night, I was grabbing something for my dad at the convenient store and while I was walking home, it felt like….someone was watching me.”   “Was there?” he asks.   “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone.”   “Maybe you’re just being paranoid,” Jimin comforts with a small smile and finishes folding his last shirt. He comes up on the bed and you make room for him to lay next to you. “Or maybe it’s your guardian angel protecting you.”   You scoff. “What guardian angel?”   “Me,” he giggles softly and reads your expression. “Would that be so bad?”   Your brows furrow and you go silent. Blood drains from your face and confusion makes your head dizzy. It’s outrageous to ask, but you do so— “Were you the one following me, Jimin?”   He hums, “Maybe.”   Instantly, you push your boyfriend’s hand away that was playing with your hair and you sit up. “I’m being serious.”   Jimin follows after you, getting up. “I don’t get why you’re so upset.”   “It’s weird! You’re stalking me!”   “I’m protecting you,” he corrects and his voice softens. “I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N. I see people on the news getting kidnapped all the time. I just…I don’t want you to be taken away or put in danger. I don’t think I could live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t around to help.”   You press your palms against your forehead, not knowing where to even begin.   After a beat, your voice croaks, “How long have you been doing this for?”   Jimin shrugs. “A while.”   His intentions might come from a good place, but it makes you nauseous to think about how Jimin’s been following you. How he’s been tracing your steps, watching you from behind. And you didn’t even know.   You don’t want to ask what else he’s done.   “I’m not going to get hurt, Jimin. You don’t need to follow me like that.”   “But you don’t know when something might happen. No one knows. I just want to be there for you.”   Your thoughts are in a disarray, not sure how you should even reason with him. Shouldn’t it be common sense?   At your ongoing silence, Jimin reaches out to hug you. But you stand, slipping away from his arms.   “I think I need to go home.”   “Wait. Y/N.” Jimin’s agile and swift, capturing your wrist in his hand before you’ve grabbed your bag. He stops you in your tracks. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry!”   “I just need a moment by myself, okay?” You try to shake him off. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”   “Please. Don’t leave me,” his voice drops into a trembling whisper and your head whips around. Your eyes meet his, teary and shaking. Jimin suddenly gets onto his knees, cradling your hand in both of his hands and pressing it to his nose as if he’s praying. He begs, “Don’t leave me.”   But his affectionate behaviour only serves to freak you out more. It’s more than bizarre and you quickly tear your hand back, pulling it to your chest and out of his grip. “You’re not being yourself, Jimin.”   You grab your bag, turning around and making it to the door—   “I love you!” he declares loudly, startling you. His sheer desperation radiates waves and you turn around with wide eyes. Jimin looks like he’s in the midst of a break down. “You’re mine! Is it so wrong to look after you like this? I did it because I love you. I love you, Y/N.”    You clutch your bag against your body and divert your vision away from the boy.   “Then...promise me you won’t do that again,” you murmur after a handful of uncomfortable seconds have passed, “I’m safe and fine. Secretly following me is excessive and it makes me…..uncomfortable.”   Jimin begrudgingly nods.   You slowly close the distance and hug him, allowing him to sniffle into your shoulder. He’s fine with letting you leave after the pair of you have made up. Yet, when you arrive home the next day, you swear you feel eyes on your backside.   It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong when you haven’t noticed before.   But once you lock the front door and make it to your room, you nimbly peek out the window.   You catch Jimin standing across the street, expressionless.   //   The situation isn’t mentioned again in fear of another dramatic confrontation, but it dwells. A disturbing discomfort weighs on your shoulders and every sweet call of your name on his lips is startling. You’re not sure why you’re like this, how you can go back to how it used to be, when a mere glance from Jimin had your heart soaring and the butterflies in your tummy tickling.   It feels like the rose filter of your eyes have rubbed off. And that you’ve found out the world is darker than the pink shades you previously saw it as.   You leave the bathroom, hands still a bit damp in spite of drying them—   And you flinch when you see dark strands, brown irises and rounded cheeks standing in the hallway, leaning against the lockers.    Jimin smiles. “You’re about to have lunch, right?”   You nod.   “I was thinking we could eat together today.”   “With your friends?”   “No. Just us.” As the two of you walk, Jimin slings an arm around your shoulders. It feels heavy instead of warm and comforting. It’s quiet too, until he breaks it. “Have you been avoiding me, Y/N?”   You shake your head.   “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be distant.” He lovingly presses his head to yours, nuzzling into your hair. “That’s not what a good girlfriend does.”   You swallow hard. The food ends up tasting like nothing.   This isn’t right. This isn’t the boy next door you fell in love with years ago. Obsessive, controlling, a crazed look in his eye, desperate enough to beg on his knees — this isn’t Jimin.   And you know the cause.    You know why and how this happened. But you can’t bear to acknowledge the truth. Even when you’ve been plunged so deep, you still want to savour this a little longer.    This impossibility. This dream that you’ve been granted.   Tears fill your eyes and you gaze at him. Your boyfriend notices your softened expression that searches his face and he smiles, lifting his hand to pat your head.    He prepares to walk off to class, but you take the leap while diverting your eyes.   “Jimin. A-After graduation…...we need to talk.”   His hand comes to curl around your wrist, firm enough that you can’t escape from. His voice drops an octave. “Are you breaking up with me?”   You shake your head. “I’m going to tell you the truth.”   Jimin’s brows furrow hard and he leans in close. “What’s the truth?”   “I’ll tell you afterwards. Just wait a little longer,” you plead, “be patient with me. Please. I love you.”   He stares and then nods.   Jimin embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to console the turmoil bubbling underneath your skin. No one’s around to witness the intimate moment, so you allow yourself to savour it. “I love you too. I won’t ever let you go.”   You nod against him. And you really hope what he says is true.   You hope he loves you for you and not because it’s the effect of the Love Pages.   //   “I’m home!” you call out and shut the door. But instead of hearing your dad’s greeting or your mother’s nagging, there’s a smooth timbre coming from the living room that’s all too familiar. It raises the goosebumps around your arms and you stalk the noise, feet sliding against the floor.   “—thinking of maybe renting an apartment—”   “Jimin?” You stop in your tracks, bewildered at the sight of him sitting on the couch with your parents across from him, mugs and half-empty glasses of water on the coffee table in between. “W-What are you doing here?”   “Oh, sit down! Jimin’s just discussing your plans with us,” your mom says with an endeared smile. “I didn’t know the two of you had so many arrangements for after you graduate, Y/N!”   “You should’ve kept us in the loop,” your dad states with a satisfied smile.   You swallow hard, approaching on weak knees and collapsing beside your boyfriend.   “I’m going to the same university as you are,” Jimin informs with a proud smile, hands knitted together and posture straight. He’s the picture perfect son-in-law, an image crafted to perfection.   “What? I mean….h-how do you even know what school I’m going to?”   “I saw the acceptance letter, silly.” Jimin smiles. “I can’t believe you hid it from me.”   “It was supposed to be a surprise!” you lie frantically, in a rush and spilling out the sentence before your brain can catch up. And once it does, you add in a laugh and quirk your head to the side. “I was waiting for you to get your round of acceptance letters.”   Jimin believes you and apologizes for ruining the surprise to which you brush off and tell him it’s okay, that it isn’t a big deal. The crisis is averted until he presents another idea—   “We should probably move in together. I’ll have to move out anyway and you will too.”   Your mouth opens but your mother exclaims, “That’s a great idea! Jimin’s a good boy who will protect you, Y/N. It’ll make me feel a lot better about you moving so far away.”   Jimin smiles.   He stays for dinner and your mom fusses about to make sure his stomach is stuffed with her home cooking while your dad reminisces and tells old stories. But you don’t hear anything or taste the food you’ve grown sick of. It’s bland and white noise buzzes against your eardrums—   “Y/N.” Jimin slips a hand on top of yours and you flinch before catching yourself. “Y/N. What’s wrong?”   “Nothing.” You realize your parents have left the table. “I’m fine.”   But you fail to notice how Jimin stops smiling when you turn away.   //   The long awaited day arrives on a brisk morning.   You’ve imagined it countless times before — when your head was laid on your desk, when your face was buried in your textbook, when your hand hurt from gripping your pencil. Graduation is the liberation day, another step to moving forward. After years of schooling, it marks another end and another beginning.    You always envisioned getting ready with Jihyo, looking at Jimin from faraway, being swept by the crowds and walking away without too many regrets.   In many ways, your fantasy is better and worse in reality.   It’s worse in the ways that Jihyo doesn’t look at you.    When you call her name, catch up to her, she doesn’t so much as acknowledge who you are. She doesn’t even say her last goodbyes. She doesn’t promise to keep in touch. It’s uncomfortable, for you and those around who witness. Your parents aren’t one of them, but they bombard you with questions when you tell them not to call out to her. Questions you beg them not to ask.   Jihyo doesn’t even give you the chance to admit your mistakes. So you let her be.   You’re not sure what you expected when she’s the master of holding grudges. All you know is that until the end, you did your part on trying to make amends. The rest is on her.   You hope she doesn’t regret it.   Nevertheless, there are silver linings.    Instead of having to peek at Jimin through the masses, of having him accidentally in the background of pictures, he’s by your side. Your crush is yours to call, yours to hold.   But a weight still dwells on the back of your mind. As time passes, you know it’s getting worse and worse. He’s becoming less like Jimin and more like a person you no longer recognize. He’s grown distant with his friends as he solely focuses on you — calling you, texting you, asking where you are, telling you how excited he is to move in with you and how you’ll finally be together.   And the more Jimin surrounds himself with you, the more sure you become.   You have to erase his name from the Love Pages. Even if you don’t want to.   There are consequences of the Pages. You’ve stared at the papers, the names, the rules enough to know. The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Love Pages will be. The less compatible a couple is, the more undesired consequences will arise.   And this is a consequence.   If Jimin’s worsening obsession is because of the Love Pages, then you need to stop it. You have to vanquish your doubts about him being with you before this future together begins.   You want him to love you for you.   “Y/N! What are you doing standing there? Move in!”   Hoseok is holding his phone to his face, camera open and ready to capture a picture of you and Jimin together. Irene stands beside him with an enormous grin, temporarily holding the bouquet of flowers they gifted to you. In the meanwhile, your parents and Jimin’s are chatting away.   “Okay! Perfect! Ready? One, two three!”   Your smile is stiff.    No matter how hard you try to maintain it, it twitches and never reaches your eyes.   When it’s done, Jimin holds your hand and pulls you to his family.    Jimin’s dad is friendly and open while his mom is more soft-spoken, but her features are reminiscent of Jimin's. You’re moved when she gives you a bouquet of peonies on top of the flowers Hoseok and Irene, saying how she just bought some from the stand.    “Congratulations, sweetheart.”   “Thank you.”    Jimin playfully pouts. “You didn’t get me any?”    His mom lightly scoffs and bats at him. “You don’t even like flowers.”   “I swear Y/N’s gonna be drowning in them by the end of this,” he sighs and everyone laughs.   Jimin seems so normal on the surface — no one knows what you do.   //   Your heart is thumping against your rib cage hard enough to bruise. It’s violent in your ear drums and you could clap to the rhythm of your pulse if you chose. But unfortunately, it isn’t from excitement. Not the feeling of rushing down a roller coaster or falling infatuated within seconds.   It’s different from the flutter of a first love or the anxiousness of a class presentation.   It’s dread. Hope. Remorse.   The day has come — time is up. You’ve finally managed to pull Jimin aside in the chaos of graduation celebrations, alone in the house with your parents over at your brother’s. There’s no room for disturbances, for interruptions, no way you can back down from the promise you made.   The two of you enter your room and you inhale a deep breath as you turn to face him.   Jimin’s brows are furrowed and he searches your expression. “What is it? What have you been wanting to tell me? You know I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.”   Wordlessly, you stride to your desk, pull the bottom drawer and reach below the file folders. Jimin is solemn as he watches you and you pull out what started this all—   A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’.    You brace yourself, grip tight enough to crinkle the cover. But then you hand it to Jimin.   He deserves to see it for himself.   Jimin takes it, curious and confused. “What is this?”   “You have a right to know what I did, Jimin,” you murmur quietly as he studies the notebook, flips it over, reads the rules, the warning. “I found this notebook by accident and I know I’m going to sound crazy, but it works. Whoever’s name that’s written in it will fall in love with the second written name. And….I-...I wrote your name back in February.”   Jimin’s frown deepens. He flips open the pages.   You’re too ashamed to look at him. Your downcast head avoids his glance.   “I’m sorry,” you snivel and repeat, “I’m sorry.”   You’re not sure how many times will be enough — you don’t think it’ll ever be enough.   “I….I’m the one who made you this way, Jimin. I liked you and I thought this was a joke and that it would be harmless, so I wrote your name in it and it ended up working...and I was so happy for the longest time,” your voice breaks and you realize your cheeks are wet. “But this isn’t you.”   He’s gone completely silent and you swallow hard, the need to explain compulsive.   “The way you’re acting, the person you are when you’re with me, it’s—...it’s a consequence of the Love Pages because we’re not compatible.” You’re sobbing and your heart aches as the words choke out of your closing throat. “And I tried to force something that isn’t compatible. So I’m so...so sorry. I made you lose yourself. I...I shouldn’t have ever done this. So I’m going to erase your name. I’m going to undo all of this, I promise.”   Jimin stares at you, lips in a straight line, eyes dimmed.   “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Y/N,” he starts and you muster the courage to look at him, “If what you say is true and if this notebook made me love you, then it’s the greatest thing to ever exist.”   “What?”   “I got the chance to love you, to be with you when I otherwise wouldn’t have, Y/N.” Jimin’s eyes catch the evening sun through the window and his irises glimmer as the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. “Why would I want to erase my name?”   You shake your head. “This isn’t right, Jimin.”   You’re not sure how he drew this conclusion on his own and you quickly approach, but then Jimin holds the notebook up. He extends his arm high above his head and out of your reach.   “Jimin,” you beg him, “snap out of it.”   “I love you, Y/N. Do you not love me?”   You try to reach up, get closer to the pink notebook held mockingly above you. But Jimin swiftly dodges your attempt and rounds towards the desk. “I love you, Jimin. Trust me. I really do love you. But it shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t have made our relationship artificial.”   “But I love you, Y/N,” he argues, becoming angry. “That’s not artificial!”   “If you love me then p-prove it. Let me erase the names!” You lurch forward, fingertips finally gripping onto the edges, but victory is short an inch.   Jimin grabs it hard enough to wrinkle the entire book and all its pages. He screams, “No! I won’t let you erase it! I love you and I won’t risk falling out of love with you!”   “Stop this, Jimin, please, I’m begging you, let go,” you desperately spew through gritted teeth and it’s all too familiar—   Pushing one another, trying to rip it from his grip, grabbing hold of edges, not letting go.   You’ve once stood in the same spot, having the same fight with Jihyo. And it’s an irony that makes your mouth bitter. She was right — and you wonder if she would laugh if she knew.   But the difference between then and now is that winning twice is harder than once.   Jimin’s backed up against your desk, nearly falling on it but his right hand comes to cushion himself. Though as it does, he feels the objects on your desk. In desperation, he grabs whatever he can to succeed, to perhaps distract you with. And he finds the lighter.    It takes one second.    One for Jimin’s strength to easily overpower yours. For him to yank it hard. For the smooth, pink cover and its white pages filled with endless names to slip from your fingertips.   For Jimin to scrape his thumb across the wheel of the lighter. And for you to hear the flickering flare, the rasping sparks, the quiet hum of the orange flame igniting.   Jimin brings the fire to the notebook.    He burns it, sealing the Love Pages together.   “No!”    Your last attempt to grab it is futile. You’re left to drop to your knees.    The blood-curdling shriek in your ears is unrecognizable until you realize it's yours.    Your pupils reflect the tangerine hue of the fire, the ash of the pages curling together, the soft pink that turns to black cinders fluttering down like Spring cherry blossoms in front of you.    Jimin’s smile is sweet. “The only way to remove my name is to erase it, right? Look, Y/N. This way, we can always be together.”   A tear drips from your lash down your cheeks. Your mouth opens but the sob doesn’t come from your throat already sore from yelling, screaming, apologizing. Instead, you cry like a marble statue shocked in time.   Jimin drops the burning corner of the Love Pages and the last of the binding melts into your carpet. He lowers himself and wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.   “You made me better,” he coos, “the Love pages made me better.”   Jimin sighs and caresses your head gently. “If this is what the issue was then I’m actually relieved. I thought you were going to try to break up with me. This obstacle means nothing to me, Y/N. It means nothing to us.”   He laughs and quickly reassures, “Soon enough, we’ll move away. No one will be able to find us. We can finally get away from….this. All these distractions. I can finally have you all for myself.”   He embraces you, arms wrapped around your body, propping his chin on top of your shoulder and breathing in the scent of your hair.    It’s suffocating.   Your eyes dim.   Jimin’s trapped you. He’s caught you in his web.

You think about running.   Even when he follows you half across the country under the guise of continuing education, you think about running in the middle of the night while he’s asleep. You fantasize about slowly slinking the arm slung around your body off, moving his dead weight from you, or moving during the day when he’s forced to be away.   Before it’s too late. Before it worsens. You can still escape.   But somehow, Jimin always knows where you are.   He texts at night when you’re gone for too long. He calls when you’re at the grocery store to buy certain things he forgot. And you know for a fact, he would track you down and look for you until his last breath if you tried to flee.    But your hesitance is not only because of him. It’s your fault too.   A part of you always stops, with one foot out the door of the apartment and your bag slung over your shoulder in the middle of the night. You’re unable to abandon the faded image of the boy you used to long for. Unable to stop the guilt from overwhelming you that you began this. That you’re the one who reduced him to this crazed state from your own selfishness. And the only way to undo what’s happened to him is gone.   For just a moment, you wanted to be loved.    But what was an innocent wish morphed into a sin you blinded yourself too. All those months ago, had you done nothing, had you sat still, it would’ve never been like this.   And that haunts you.   You can’t bear to abandon Jimin, to try to get away, to call the police and attempt an escape. You can’t make him surrender his entire life, disappoint his family, lose his scholarship, mark his history with red. You can’t make him lose more of himself than what he’s already lost.   Jimin is both the benefit and the consequence you have to shoulder for the choices you made.    “Y/N! Come here!” Your mother rushes you in for a hug and pastes a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it back for your winter break! I missed you so much.”   Jimin shadows you, dragging in the suitcases and your mother smiles at him.    “Jimin! You too! Get in here!” She hugs him as he giggles and pats her back. The festive music plays in the background, your dad, brother and sister-in-law in the living room chatting away.   But you don’t enter the warm room. Rather, you ascend the darkened staircase.   The pitch black envelops your form until you reach for the knob of your old room. The door creaks as it swings open.   Your room is undisturbed, just like you left it except for the thin layer of dust sitting on the furniture. You remember when you sat at the desk, when you knew absolutely nothing.   Stiffly, you take two strides and sit back down on the creaking chair.   You flick the table lamp on and off, watching how it illuminates the space before darkening it again, listening to the click of the button. Then, your eyes travel to the discarded lighter.   You pick it up, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks.   A moment later, you put it down and instinctively from the habits you’ve built, you reach down to tug open the bottom drawer. As if you’ll see the Love Pages reappear. As if the notebook will sit right there as it did for so long. But instead, you notice a folded piece of lined paper tucked at the side.   You take it out, studying the page in a transfixed state.   The lines are a light blue, the white crisp and clean, but it’s completely torn on the side.   You remember.             “Erase Jimin’s name.”   Jihyo all that time ago, tried to convince you to erase his name. You should’ve listened to her then, salvaged your friendship while you still could. But what was left of her and that fight was this page torn out of the Love Pages.    You stare at it. The final evidence of such a notebook ever existing.    And then you’re grabbing the pen on your desk.   The ink bleeds on the page, letters feathering away, but you scratch it hard enough to hear, looping the names onto the paper, knowing it’s permanent—   L/N Y/N       Park Jimin   Jimin shuffles into the room and notices your backside cowering over the desk.   “Sweetheart, is there something wrong? Are you hiding something?”   You turn from the chair and he’s startled from your enormous grin and your brightened eyes. You shake your head and run to him, lurching forward.    “Jimin!”   You throw your arms around his neck and he stumbles back from the impact of your embrace.   “I love you so, so much.” It’s hard to express the feelings that have suddenly devastated you, so you tear yourself from him to kiss him. It’s an eager kiss, one where your mouths smack together, where you’re gripping his sweater, tasting him and trying to get as close as you can but to no avail.    All you’re aware of is the need to have Jimin by your side. You might die without him here.   When you pull away, he’s grinning, happy that you aren’t so distant anymore.   “You love me, right?”   “Of course, I do!” Jimin’s almost upset at the question. “Why would you even ask that?!”    You laugh joyfully, the sound chortling from your throat. Your chest is rising and falling, pupils blown wide as your massive grin makes your cheeks ache. “Then you’re mine.”   “That’s right. I’m yours.”   You embrace Jimin again, arms wrapped tightly around his warm torso as your nose digs into his shoulder and his own arms cage your body. It feels like you’ve been sewn to each other by your skin and the thought makes you even more giddy.   You love him so much, more than the whole world itself.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts yandere #bts yandere AU #I know what you're thinking #two dark Jimin fics in a row??? #yes lol #the schedule ended up working out that way so I hope y'all don't mind #the fluff will soon be returning to my blog

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (8)

Hello, hello, hello! Here’s chapter 8 after a long break since chapter 7! If you haven’t all ready, make sure you go check out the prologue to Sweet Home Alabama once you’re done here, as I may post the first chap very soon!

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 2178

Warnings: Some language? I can’t think of anything else

% approximately the 3rd week of October %

You hadn’t really told anyone what you’d been doing Sunday, and especially left out the part where you were with Tom.

Once getting home the previous night, you’d quickly taken off your makeup and brushed your teeth before essentially passing out on your bed. You’d also snoozed your alarm enough times that you’d had to rush to school that morning, getting to class with only a minute to spare.

In the afternoon, your friends sat around a lunch table discussing how your weekends had gone.

“Mine was pretty boring. How about yours, y/n?” Caroline asked.

“It was fine. Mostly did homework. Oh, and I took some senior pictures yesterday, but that’s it.”

“Oh that’s why your hair is straight?” someone else asked.

“Yeah, I got home late and woke up late so I just tossed on some jeans this morning.”

“Where even were you? Your snap maps said you were at the lake,” Alexis stated. 

To say that question made you nervous was an understatement. You didn’t want to give anything away so you tried to keep it vague.

“Oh, yeah. The photographer knew of a place out there we could go so I said yes.”

“Who was your photographer? I’ve been looking to get pictures done,” Caroline said.

Well, there goes ambiguity.

“Hah, well, Nikki Holland.”

“Isn’t that Tom’s mom?” Alexis asked, squinting at you. You sighed.

“Yes. I’ve been at their house a lot for the project and her whole career is photography so she asked me if I wanted her to do my pictures for free. I couldn’t turn that down.

“So that’s why you and Tom were at the same location yesterday!” Alexis exclaimed.

“What! Keep your voice down!”

“So it’s true? You and Tom took your senior pictures together? I was waiting until you’d admit why you were together.”

“Okay there are so many things I need to address but firstly, we did not take them together, we just did them at the same time. And secondly, since when do you have Tom on snap?”

Alexis rubbed the back of her neck and looked away. Everyone else looked surprised and kept quiet.

“Remember sophomore year when I went to that party while you were out of town? And I told you I made out with someone? Well….”

“ALEXIS!”

“I was drunk, okay? By the next day I realized how gross it was, but I kept him on snap so I could keep tabs for when we talked trash about him.”

You folded your arms across your chest and stared blankly across the table at your best friend.

“And you just didn’t think to tell me that you, I don’t know, made out with my mortal enemy and have had him on snap for the past 2 years?”

“I thought you’d be mad at me! Obviously it was the one time, and we’ve never sent each other a single snap. This was about you anyways and how you and Tom spent yesterday together. Where were you, actually?” Alexis asked, looking at you expectantly. You rolled your eyes.

“His grandparents have a lake house, okay? His mom planned the whole thing and the leaves were pretty colors, so it was whatever.”

“Hm, I guess so…” Alexis trailed, giving you one final look of “this conversation isn’t over” before someone brought up a different topic.

%

With volleyball regionals that upcoming weekend and Tom having an away game, you and he decided to work together that Thursday at his place.

You quickly rinsed off after practice and headed over to his house where he was waiting at the door. 

“Took you awhile,” he commented as you came up the sidewalk.

“Yeah, sorry. I got caught talking to coach about this weekend. It also takes forever to get these leggings on right out of the shower,” you joked, gesturing down at your athletic pants.

You got to work pretty quickly as there was a lot to do as compared to normal. By the time you finished, it was almost dinnertime.

“Oh, I think my mom finished all those pictures if you want them. Let’s go find her,” Tom suggested, leading you downstairs.

Her and Dom were in the kitchen cooking together. It was sweet watching them interact.

“Hey, mom? Did you say you had that flash drive done?” Tom interrupted, causing both parents to turn.

“Yes! I’m glad you reminded me. Dom, hold down the fort while I go get that.”

She led you to her office, then dug around her desk until she found it, handing it to you.

“You know, dinner will be ready in probably 10 minutes. You’re free to eat with us tonight,” she offered.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You never impose on us! And absolutely, we always make more than enough food so the boys can take leftovers to school.”

Well if you’re sure… I’ll text my mom and make sure she doesn’t mind.”

She didn’t, so as you waited for dinner, you sat down on a living room couch, Tom taking a recliner nearby. From the corner of your eye you saw Paddy walk in the room and freeze when he saw you.

“Y/n! Lovely to see you on this fine evening,” he greeted, sitting tentatively on the other end of the couch. You held back a chuckle at his word choice.

“And you as well, sir. How was your day?” you asked, trying to get him out of his shell. 

His eyes widened as he told you all about his school day. You prepared to reply when Dom came and announced the food was done.

You followed everyone to the dining room and stood watching, not wanting to accidentally take someone’s seat.

“Oh, you can sit here, y/n,” Paddy said, pulling out a seat for you in the middle of the table. You glanced to Tom, who was rolling his eyes.

“Thanks, Paddy. What a gentleman you are,” you complimented as he helped tuck in your chair. He took the seat on the left of you as Tom sat on your right. Directly across from you were Sam, then Harry and Dom on either side. Nikki took the head.

“Y/n, why don’t you get what you want first,” Nikki suggested, gesturing over the food. There was spaghetti, salad, and bread. You got only a little bit of each thing, trying to be polite.

“That’s all you want? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you eat more on the bus to soccer games than that,” Tom commented. You raised your eyebrows at him and nudged his knee with yours.

“Thomas! Don’t be rude! Y/n, you’re free to however much or little you’d like. You can always go back for more later, too.”

Dinner went relatively smoothly aside from that, most of the conversation being centered on you as different family members wanted to know different things (Paddy especially as he’d trained his eyes on you almost the entire evening). For the most part, Tom was quiet except to crack a few jokes or answer something you asked him.

As everyone was finishing their meals, you offered to help clean up.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s Tom’s job to do the dishes tonight,” Dom told you.

“I don’t mind helping him. I can dry if nothing else.”

After being reminded a few times that you shouldn't feel the need to, you went with Tom to the kitchen anyways, holding a towel. 

“You really don’t have to help me, you know. You’re technically our guest,” he said as the sink filled with water.

“Seriously, I don’t mind. I have nothing better to do anyways since I finished my homework.”

You worked together pretty much silently, falling into a comfortable rhythm. As you set down the last plate, Tom spoke up.

“Hey y/n, think fast.”

“Wha- TOM!” you exclaimed, as he had shot water at you, making the front of your shirt wet. “Oh you are so dead for that!” 

You jumped on his back, pressing your wet shirt against him, causing his own shirt to dampen. He thrashed around, the both of you laughing.

“What the hell is going on in- oh,” said Sam, who entered the room. 

You both froze in place, you quickly sliding off Tom as Sam looked at you skeptically.

“Your brother just sprayed me with the faucet, so I was getting back at him,” you tried to convince him. It is what happened after all.

“Right... I was just coming to grab something from the drawer, so I’ll leave you all to it,” he said awkwardly as he dug around the drawer and quickly made his leave. 

You and Tom both looked at each other awkwardly before bursting into laughter.

“You know you’re lucky this is a dark shirt,” you said after a moment.

“Am I though?”

“TOM!”

%

When you got home a little bit later, you decided to plug in your flash drive and look at all the pictures Nikki had taken. You were marveling at her work when your phone started buzzing. It was Alexis.

“Hey, what’s up?” you picked up, confused as to why she’d call on a Thursday night.

“Hey. I saw that you were home so I figured I was good to call. Are you alone?”

“Yes, and why do you need me alone?”

She paused.

“Look, y/n, I’m sorry for bringing that stuff up about Tom in front of the girls Monday, but, since I don’t know when I’ll be able to get you alone again, I need to ask you something.”

“Okay what is going on?” You’re scaring me a little.”

“I hate to be the one to ask this, because I know you and we came up with that whole revenge thing at the beginning of the semester but… do you… have feelings for Tom?”

You were taken aback at her question.

“What! Me have feelings for Tom? Are you crazy?”

She sighed.

“Well it’s just that, you two are always together now, your usual bickering has turned into normal banter, and you literally traveled to take pictures with him last weekend. It just seems like something else is there, and the whole school is starting to pick up on it.”

Ironically, you had frozen on a picture of you and Tom from Sunday, one of you standing in your sports uniforms back to back.

“Okay so maybe we’re kind of friends now, but that doesn’t mean I like him! And how many times do I have to say that the pictures were just at the same time?”

“Then explain to me why his mom’s website has multiple pictures of you two together?”

Your blood ran cold and stomach dropped.

“Wait, what?” you breathed, immediately going to pull up her page. Like Alexis said, a picture of the two of you posing was at the top of the home page. It was the same one you’d been looking at before. “Oh, no,” you whispered.

“Are you seeing it?” she asked.

You gulped.

“Yep. But, it’s not that bad, right? I mean she takes tons of sports pictures and we look super serious. It’s not like we’re standing with our arms wrapped around each other or anything.” you rationalized, half joking at the end of your sentence.

“You might want to scroll down, then…”

You went past a photo of just you on the dock railing in your jumpsuit to find one of Tom lifting you over his shoulder, but of you laughing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered.

“Are you sure you’ve got nothing to tell me? I’ve had lots of guy friends and most of them don't do that to me.”

“Yes, Alexis, I’m sure. He was getting back at me for something and acted like he was gonna throw me in the lake. I didn’t realize Nikki took any pictures of it. I’ll ask Tom about it.”

“If you say so… I’ll believe you. But you do know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Of course I do, and I’m telling you right now that nothing has happened or will ever happen. We’re just friends, okay? Now I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow?” you finished.

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” she signed off, ending the call.

You felt another pit in your stomach thinking about how you’d lied to her. You definitely didn’t have feelings, but why didn’t you tell Alexis about that moment you’d had in his room a couple weeks back, or how you'd fallen asleep on his shoulder Sunday night, or even how you’d accidentally seen him naked?

Because she’d think there’s something there.

But there isn’t.

But..?

You shook the thoughts away as you texted Tom, asking him to take a glance at his mom’s website.

“Omg I have no idea why she used the third picture. I’ll see if she’ll change it” he answered. 

You were glad he would save your asses like that, but felt a twinge of sadness for it to be replaced. You almost didn’t mind it being there.

%

A/N: another long awaited marriage project! I have been working so hard to get this out while going through rewrites and working on sweet home alabama, but hopefully this will hold y’all over for now. As always, thank you so much and feel free to hit up my asks any time!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, 

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland story #tom holland series #tom holland au #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

[justkending]

The Slip Up. Chapter 7.

Series Summary: After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things finally seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. She’s not looking for anything right now. She is just where she wants to be in life. It seems the universe has a different idea though. One called James Barnes. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Single mom) Reader

Word Count: 2900+

Warnings: Language, adulting, mentions of sexual past.

A/N: Guy’s writers block has been an actual bitch lately. For some reason this series has been so hard for me to figure out where I want to go at this stage of it. I have a few ideas and end parts made up, but this middle part is like a blank space in my mind... Anyway! I hope you enjoy what little I was able to throw together, and I’m sorry it took so long to get out!!

Chapter 7:

Rori had a soccer game that weekend, and though Y/N planned on just going with Hope and Scott since Doris was in the age group up, she saw it as a great safe place for Bucky to meet her. 

They had agreed to not quite tell Rori that he was her father considering they wanted it to be the right time. Y/N more apprehensive of things working out and scared that she would give Rori false hope of a father figure. Bucky just wanted to ease into it and not scare the little girl away. Though in the back of his head he for sure was ready to step up to the plate. But he respected Y/N’s wishes and told her that he would wait until she was ready. 

That was the thing about Bucky that Y/N couldn’t quite wrap her head around. He was so relaxed and understanding of it all. Almost too understanding. She wanted to sabotage the whole situation in her head, but every time she thought of a test for Bucky, he would pass it with flying colors. 

Asking him to wait to tell Rori the truth, she expected frustration and impatience of the idea. Instead she was surprised with agreeance and a sweet response of, “Whatever you think is best.”

When she told him about how she thought way back when possibly terminating the pregnancy when all this happened, she expected rage and disgust. And once again she was approached with understanding and empathy. 

Even still, she was always going to stay on her toes. It was the instinct of being a mother. 

“Ok sunshine. First real game today. You excited?” Y/N asked as she pulled Rori’s little jersey over her head. 

“Yes! Coach Maximoff said to kick some petunias when I get out there!” she said excitedly jumping up and down once the shirt was on. 

“Of course Pietro would say that,” Y/N laughed with a sigh. “Ok, go grab your cleats and bag, and I’ll go get the cooler of snacks for the team.”

“Yes ma’am!” Rori fake saluted, and ran to the living room where all her things were. 

“Dork,” Y/N chuckled, standing up and going to the kitchen for the last few things. 

______________________

“So what time will he be here?” Hope asked as they walked to the field. 

“Said he would be here right when Rori’s game starts. He had an important meeting or something beforehand, but was going to cut it short for her.”

“Wow, cutting off important meetings for a child you just figured out was yours 2 days ago. Color me impressed,” Hope smiled nudging her friend. 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she began setting up a seat and pulling up the cooler next to her, Rori already in the field and kicking a ball around with a friend. 

“Heads up. Coach is coming your direction,” Hope patted Y/N’s back as she began setting up a seat herself.

“Oh God. I forgot about his flirting-”

“Hello Miss. Y/L/N. You look as radiant as ever, but what’s new?” Pietro Maximoff, the coach of Rori’s team, smirked and sauntered up to the girls. 

“Piet, how are you doing?” Y/N smiled politely. She never actually hated the little comments he would make. She usually just laughed them off, and Pietro was kind about it. It was more playful banter than anything to her. 

“Always deflecting the compliments. I’m good though. How are you ladies doing this evening?” he smiled crossing his arms across his wide chest. 

“As good as ever. Doris is sad she isn’t on your team though,” Hope said plopping down and smiling up at him. 

“I know. They always grow up and leave me. Breaks my heart seeing them graduate from the Blue Jay’s to the Hawks. Next thing you know she’ll be in the Eagles,” he pouted. 

“Ugh, I’m not ready for that moment. Rori’s got one more year with the Blue Jay’s before she moves on,” Y/N said looking out to the little girl with braided pigtails. 

“I’m not ready for that either because that means I won’t be seeing much of you either,” Pietro said with an exaggerated pout. 

“That does suck for you, doesn’t it?” Y/N bantered back, getting a laugh out of him. 

“Love your spirit Y/N/N,” Piet winked, shooting a finger gun at her. 

“Don’t you have kids to coach or something. We have our first game today sir, and if I remember correctly, you told my daughter she was going to kick some petunias,” Y/N said with a smirk and raised eyebrow. 

Pietro’s genuine laugh turned to a nervous one as he started stepping backwards. “You’re right. I have to go get the girls in a huddle.”

Watching the man quickly run back to the girls, he blew the whistle bringing them in. 

“You know, if you let him. He would a hundred percent ask you on a date,” Hope chuckled, grabbing a water bottle and an apple out of the cooler. 

“Exactly why I won’t let him. I don’t need that right now.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just letting you know he definitely has a crush on you.”

“Who has a crush on who?” a voice said from behind.

The two girls turned to see the brunette and blue eyed man. He was earlier than Y/N expected. As he walked up to the two he had a boyish grin littering his face. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude. Just sounded like some juicy gossip,” he chuckled, hands in his pockets. He had on a pair of jeans and an old band shirt on. He looked extremely casual for having an important meeting beforehand.

“You’re fine!” Y/N laughed with a blush at the conversation he had walked in on. “We were just goofing around.” He smiled in return and nodded his head before looking over at Hope. “Oh, this is Hope. My friend from high school and college that I told you about. Her daughter was-”

“The one you were picking up that day. You said her name was Doris, right?” he reached out his hand to Hope and smiled. 

“That would be my munchkin,” Hope smiled back standing and shaking his hand. “You must be Bucky.”

“That’s me.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m glad you could come watch Rori play today.”

“I am too. I’m glad Y/N let me in on the fun activities,” he smiled a little wider turning to look at Y/N. 

“Uh, Hope’s husband will be here later. His name’s Scott. Fair warning he’s kinda a dork,” Y/N chuckled, crossing her arms. All of a sudden nerves overcoming her, like a high school girl on a first date. 

“Kinda is an understatement,” Hope laughed sitting back in her seat. 

“Well, I’m excited to meet him,” Bucky said, beginning to rock on his heels. Awkward silence filling the air. “So, uh, where’s she at? I’m assuming already on the field?” he said, peering forward and scanning the grass. 

“She’s number 11,” Y/N turned trying to find her herself. “Um, there!” she pointed. “Little brown pigtails whipping in the wind.”

They were still warming up some, but for 6 year olds it was mostly just running in circles and kicking a ball. No actual warm up happening. 

“Wow,” Bucky said softly to himself. He was squinting some trying to get a better look at her. “She, uh, she looks-”

“A lot like you?” Y/N chuckled. 

“I was going to say you,” Bucky said looking back at Y/N with his own grin. “But yeah, she definitely has me in her.”

“She definitely does,” Y/N mumbled to herself when she thought of those bright blue orbs.

A few moments of silence go by as they watch the group of 5-6 year olds running around with no structure on the field for “warm-ups”. 

“So, uh, someone has a crush on you?” Bucky said, clearing his throat while looking straight forward. Trying his best to come off nonchalant.

“Crush?” Y/N questioned, before realizing what he meant. “Oh! Ha, Hope thinks Rori’s coach has a crush on me, but he’s just a flirt,” she chuckled.

“Oh, I see,” Bucky smiled softly nodding his head as he put his hand in his pockets again.

Another moment of silence, but this one a little more awkward. 

“Uh, so I brought an extra chair for you if you want,” Y/N spoke up. 

“Thanks,” he smiled turning to her. “I didn’t even think about grabbing a chair.”

“Sure thing,” she smiled heading back to the set up her and Hope had started. “I always try and keep an extra in the back of the car cause you never know what parent is going to forget.”

They got situated while they waited for the game to start, and to say it was kinda awkward was putting it lightly. Y/N didn’t really know what to talk about, and Bucky was watching Rori intently on the field wanting to soak up every moment as if he couldn’t miss anymore like this. 

“So, Bucky? Y/N tells me you're an architect,” Hope spoke up.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, breaking his concentration and smiling kindly at her. “It’s been something I’ve loved doing since I was a teenager. Figured I’d make a career out of it.”

“Makes sense,” Hope smiled. 

The two getting to know each other for the next few minutes before a whistle blew and the game started. 

Like Y/N had warned him, it wasn’t much of a soccer game as it was kids just running and trying to get a foot on the ball. Rori though was competitive and actually tried making it to the goal unlike the other kids. Bucky was impressed with her coordination for such a young girl, and found himself smiling through the whole experience. 

That was his daughter. His blood. 

Y/N looked over when she saw Bucky fully immersed in the sport, and a smile of her own grew. She could see the pride and excitement on his face. Clearly he was happy about this new part of his life. Clearly he was excited about hopefully becoming Rori’s father figure. It almost made her wish that all those years ago Bucky had been there… She wished she hadn’t gave up so fast on bringing him into their lives. 

“Y/N,” Hope nudged her. “Y/N?”

“Hmm, what?” Y/N said snapping out of her daydream.

“Games over. We’re about to start packing up,” Hope said.

“Dang, today’s game seemed faster than the rest,” Y/N shook out her head and stood. “Scott, didn’t make it,” she said looking around just now realizing.

“Yeah, he called saying he would be here for Doris, but couldn't make Rori’s. Sorry,” she pouted. 

“It’s all good,” Y/N waved off. 

“Hey,” she looked past Y/N seeing Bucky was still watching the field. “You guys should go celebrate her win. Just you three. Don’t worry about staying for Dori’s game. She’ll have more.”

“No, we never miss Doris’s games. You guys-”

“Go, Y/N. Introduce Bucky to Rori and vise versa. That was the whole point of the today,” Hope egged on, seeing her friend begin to get nervous. Y/N opened her mouth to argue and stall. “Nope,” she shook her head before looking over at Bucky. “Hey Bucky! Rori, Y/N, and you should go celebrate with ice cream. Y/N and her usually do that after a win!”

Bucky turned to the girls and his eyes widened as if coming back to reality. “Oh, I don’t want to impose-”

“Nonsense, that was the reason for today. Right Y/N?” she elbowed her friend.

On the outside Y/N looked completely normal, but on the inside she had more nerves than anything. 

“Right,” she nodded with a kind smile. “That way you and Rori can get to know each other. She would be confused if we didn’t get her celebratory ice cream.”

“I would love that then,” Bucky smiled excitedly. 

“Well, you guys have fun!” Hope grinned. “I’m going to make sure Doris is ready to go. It was nice meeting you Bucky!” Hope began walking to the field waving a quick goodbye to Buck. 

The two walked to the field where Rori was jumping up and down with her teammates as she congratulated the little girl who made the winning goal for the team. 

“Hey sunshine!” Y/N said bending down and opening her arms for Rori. 

“Mommy!” Rori shouted, running over. “Did you see that assist I did?”

“I saw them all baby! You were so good out there!” Y/N congratulated as she ruffled her hair. 

“Hi,” Rori said next looking up at the man standing behind her mom with an awestruck face on him. 

“Oh, sweetheart. This is my…” A pause as she figured out a word.

“I’m a friend of your mom,” Bucky said snapping out of his staring and smiling at the little girl. “My name’s Bucky,” he waved. 

“Hi Bucky. That’s a cool name! My name’s Rori!” she smiled walking out of her mom’s arms and reaching a hand out for him to shake. 

Bucky’s eyebrows raised at the gesture, and he slowly took her little hand and shook it as gently as he could. Almost like he was shaking a porcelain doll’s glass fingers. He looked over to Y/N who was still squatted and turned to them. She had a quirked smile and laughed lightly at his response. 

“Nice to meet you Rori. You have a pretty cool name too,” he said with a smile that he just couldn’t hold back looking at the little girl's face. 

Up close he really did see him in her. Her eyes looked like he was staring straight into a mirror. She had little freckles flecked like gold specks across her nose. Maybe that was her mom in her. Her hair was also like his. A dark brown hair almost black, but under the sun, the highlights of lighter brown and almost reddish tints peaking through. 

“Uh, Rori? Would it be ok if Bucky joined us for our little ice cream date?” Y/N asked, standing and coming over.

“Yeah!” she jumped. “Have you ever been to Moo Moo’s?” she asked Bucky.

“Uh, I can’t say I have,” he laughed at her excitement.

“Don’t worry! I’ve tried basically all the flavors now, so I can help you pick one out,” she said grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

“That sounds perfect,” Bucky grinned looking at the giant bag that was basically her size. “Since you’re going to help me out, do you want me to carry that for you?”

“Um, actually, yeah. It’s a little heavy today cause my friend gave me an early birthday gift. But she says I can’t open it until then,” she said, handing off the bag to Bucky’s outstretched hand.

Y/N came up to the side of them grabbing Rori’s hand, leaving the little girl in the middle of her and Bucky as they walked to the car.

“Which friend?” Y/N asked.

“Jenny. She said she wasn’t going to be in town for the birthday party, and her mom told her to give it to me now so they wouldn’t forget,” Rori went on to explain as they walked. Perfectly casual with the new man next to them.

Y/N looked over at Bucky seeing him smile at the little girl as he looked back and forth at her and the sidewalk. Y/N was always going to be a little apprehensive about a man she hardly knew coming in and taking the role of her daughter’s father. I mean you never know who people truly are, so defenses are usually high. But something about his grin was genuine and made her feel at ease about the situation. She started to realize anytime she was with him he didn’t give her bad feelings or make her uncomfortable. How that was possible with a practical stranger, she wasn’t sure.

Rori had moved on to talking about the game by the time they got to the car, and Bucky was nodding as she looked straight to him to explain her position, which Y/N was sure he already knew. They paused realizing they took two different cars. 

“Hey Bucky. If you want we can all drive in my car to the ice cream shop since it’s down the block, and I can bring you back here when we’re done,” Y/N offered.

Bucky looked up and the grin he had while looking or talking with Rori was stuck on his face. “Uh, yeah, that would actually be great,” he chuckled looking back to Rori. “That ok with you?”

“Oh! If you do, I can show you my DVD collection!” Rori jumped running to get in the back seat.

“DVD collection?” Bucky chuckled. 

“She has almost every Disney movie you can think of,” Y/N laughed back, taking the bag from him and throwing it in the trunk of the SUV. “She’s very proud of it.”

“I can see that,” Bucky laughed. 

“Wait ‘till you see how excited she gets when she shows you all the kinds of ice cream she’s tried. She calls herself the expert.”

“And I’m sure she is.”

The Slip Up Tags:

@bornfortherainydays @poppunkdork @mylifeiscrazy0423 @buckybarnesthehotshot @mallyallyandra @fallenoutofrose @storrmynights @maddope @tinymalscoffee @kmuir1

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @zeilenkrieg @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravic @traceyaudette @kakakatey @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @snffbeebee @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted​

#bucky barnes x reader #BUCKY AU #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel modern au #marvel #mar #Marvel Family #marvel series #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #justkending #reader insert #bucky barnes modern au

[athenaquinn]

Enough for You || Orion & Athena (flashback)

TIMING: January 2012 LOCATION: A forest in White Crest PARTIES: @3starsquinn​ and @athenaquinn​ SUMMARY: The twins give each other a lot of annoyed glances. CONTENT: Physical abuse, emotional abuse, domestic abuse, sibling abuse (if you want a summary, please let one of us know!)

It was quiet tonight. Or maybe Orion’s hearing wasn’t working. He never really knew, especially considering it had just started. His mom had been so excited by the news, but Rio couldn’t only remember the pain. He had been in class trying to listen to his teacher talking about biology when an ear splitting scream suddenly disrupted any coherent mental notes that Rio had been taking on the subject. It had been so loud, so guttural, that Rio was half convinced it had come from the kid sitting right next to him. His head shot from side to side, a terrible realization coming over him as he realized that nobody else was reacting to the sound. Why wasn’t anybody reacting to the sound? As quickly as it was there, it was gone. And it was another moment or two before it suddenly came back. But this time he could hear the sounds of car horns as well. And then sirens. Rio barely had time to ask for permission before rushing out of the classroom and to the nearest bathroom to lock himself in a stall. He huddled on the seat, covering his ears with the palms of his hands in a desperate and futile attempt to block out the noise. It didn’t take long for him to connect the dots. His parents had been telling him and his sister about this for years now. These abilities. ‘Gifts’ as they called them. Rio wasn’t convinced they were gifts, even as young as he was, he didn’t like them. He knew what this meant. He hated it.

His family however, wanted to celebrate. It had only been a couple of days since he told his parents and they were ecstatic by the news. His senses had been on a seesaw since then. Sometimes he could hear his neighbors from three doors down and other times he couldn’t hear his own sister calling for him from her bedroom. One morning he could read a bulletin board from the opposite end of the hallway or he could smell food that someone had eaten for breakfast. It was overwhelming. All he wanted was for it to stop. Instead, his parents decided to take them on a field trip.

“These woods are incredibly dangerous at night. I know neither of you are stupid enough to think otherwise.” His mother’s lukewarm warning spoke to her children, following behind the Quinn parents as they walked through the forest in the middle of the night. In response, Rio felt his chest tighten. He clawed at the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling his fingers inside of them and further hiding them by stuffing his arms in the middle pocket. He wanted to shrink away from his parents, from his sister who seemed far too eager to be out in the middle of the night in winter. He wished that he could have played sick. He didn’t want to be here and he definitely didn’t want to find anything.

“I’m cold,” Rio mumbled, but he knew his parents would hear him. That was the last thing he actually wanted to whine about tonight, but this seemed like the safest option. Complaining about anything else risked annoying his parents. They were already deadly serious when out on a hunt. He didn’t want to give them any other reason to be upset.

___

Her brother was maybe actually possibly agreeing to his powers. Athena couldn’t believe it. In fact, she was practically over the moon about it, vibrating in a good way for once (so much so that all the stupid fae that were in the school didn’t even bother her) when he’d mentioned it to her. He used to complain about the noise of the bright neon signs at the mall in Bangor but for the most part he usually tended to totally ignore his super-awesome-brilliant abilities. Maybe she wouldn’t be totally left on her own, if he was really ready to actually admit that their powers were good. He liked superhero movies and comics and even though Athena didn’t understand any of those very well at all, if he liked those sort of things, shouldn’t he like his own powers?

Their parents wanted to take them out, and so Athena had been certain to finish all of her homework early. There was only a paper for geography and some write-up for science class, both of which were way too easy, but it got her straight A’s in school, so she knew that she really shouldn’t complain. Besides, even though she’d helped out her dad in the basement sometimes, it took a lot to get both of their parents to invite them out and even though it was in the middle of winter and really super cold, she didn’t mind. She’d even decided to wear her brand new Abercrombie jeans and her new favorite sweater and one of the best coats she had.

This was all special and she didn’t understand why her brother had to be such a grump about it. “You can play whatever video game you like later, you know.” She knocked against him with her hips as they began to walk into the woods. They didn’t get to stay up this late, basically ever, except when they did so on their own on their birthday, but this was different. Even if she was shivering, she did her best to not show it. That was weak, and she knew how much her parents loathed weakness. At least she’d won the pacer test every year in gym class and was her soccer coach’s favorite player and got all A’s. She just wished that her brother would try a little harder.

“Of course!” She chirped in response to their mother’s words. Of course she knew. She’d read about so much, though at least there were no fae right here and right now. That would have ruined this wonderful-amazing-perfect family outing. She looked over to her brother, pursuing her lips for a moment. “Come on Ri, it’ll be just fine. Also wear more of a coat next time! Do you wanna borrow my scarf?” She took it off and threw it at him. “It’s extra cozy. Maybe it’ll bring you some luck, too!” She didn’t know how much of that she believed, but she did know that when it came to hunting, her brother could use all the help he could get. Especially because he so often liked to miss their trainings, leaving her to do double the work. Not that she minded.

___

“Don’t argue with your mother. Or your sister.” His father’s words were tired and sounded distant. Clearly his mind was on other things, as usual. Orion gritted his teeth and averted his eyes to the ground. There was no point in arguing that he wasn’t arguing. That would only make his parents angry. He jerked when a scarf smacked him in his face. His hands shot up to catch it so that it wouldn’t fall on the ground. He could only imagine how his sister would react to dirt on her scarf. Though he didn’t want to accept his sister’s pathetic attempt at appeasing him, Rio begrudgingly wrapped it around his neck.

The pair couldn’t be more different. His sister was practically glowing, dressed head to toe in an all new outfit and walking with a level of confidence that most adults didn’t have. She was absolutely beaming at the idea of coming along with their parents. She worshipped the ground that they walked on and was already dead set on becoming exactly like them when she was older. She had already made a top ten list for medical schools. Rio on the other hand had kept on the same worn sweatpants and hoodie that he had been wearing when he woke up that morning. He was shrinking in on himself, trying to force his body into its smallest and least noticeable form possible. If he was lucky, he might disappear entirely. Unlike his sister, nothing seemed so absolute. He had no interest in being here. He wasn’t convinced that anything his parents said or did was as noble as they claimed it was and he could barely think about what he wanted to do for the rest of the week let alone the future.

He didn’t want to admit that the scarf had actually helped fight the cold a bit, but he tightened it around his neck a bit and crossed his arms to hold the ends in place. “What are we even out here looking for?” Rio asked, immediately met with shushes from both of his parents. He cringed at the sudden sound and made a mental note to only speak in whispers for the remainder of the night. Maybe time. “I don’t think there’s anything here. Maybe we should just leave.”

___

She couldn’t help the smug smile that covered her lips. Daddy’s always right, she wanted to whisper to her brother, but that might displease their parents, and so she kept her mouth shut - at least on that topic, at least for now. Maybe the scarf would shut her brother up. Not that he was being very talkative, but Athena didn’t like when he got into one of his moods, which seemed to be happening more and more in the past couple of years. At least he’d taken her scarf. At least she could count that on her win. My brother listened to me about something for once. She watched her breath form small cloud-puffs in the cold night air. She liked it, liked that her nose was cold - though it wasn’t as satisfying as how she felt when she went for a long run in the cold, the way that it made her throat ache just enough. That felt powerful.

Her brother always seemed small. Even though he’d started to grow taller than she was, he always seemed to shrink away. She’d noticed it at school - which was part of why she’d taken it upon herself to make - no, ask him persuasively - to sit with her and her friends at lunch. Which he agreed to, when he wasn’t off at the library. She had to admit that she also really liked the library, but hanging out with her friends a lot didn’t always leave time to wander around the stacks. It didn’t matter much anyways, she still got perfect (or near-perfect, when her brother beat her on a history test) grades. She’d still get into all of her med schools. She just hoped her brother would figure out what he was doing with his life sometime. Prayed that he’d come to accept his gift.

“I don’t know, but that’s part of the thrill of it, isn’t it?” She giggled, just quiet enough that only her brother would hear. “We don’t know what we’re walking into, and so we’re going to have to think on our feet.” She grinned at her brother. That got some affirmative murmurs from their parents. “There’s gotta be something, come on! Just give it a little more time. I’ll make you extra-good breakfast in the morning.” The last sentence whispered just between the two of them. Anything to make him see that all this could lead to good things. That was part of her duty, as sister and hunter. He’d see someday, that much she knew.

___

“Yeah. Thrilling.” Orion whispered, so quiet he wasn’t convinced he had said any words at all. Of course Athena would be excited at the idea of this. She had no regard for self preservation. Did she not care at all how dangerous it could be out here? That didn’t even take into consideration what they were out here to do. Rio knew there was more to what they were being taught. His parents had been very forthcoming with their descriptions of fae and werewolves. But Rio knew something was wrong. Something that he wasn’t being told. He couldn’t question them on it though, that much he knew for sure. He would have rolled his eyes at his parents praising Athena if he wasn’t afraid that they’d somehow hear it. As per usual, Athena was completely oblivious to just how terrified Rio was. Either that, or she just didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that her legitimately thinking that breakfast was going to motivate him, she was even more dense than he had previously thought. He narrowed his eyes towards her and tightened his arms against his chest before picking up his speed so that he was no longer walking beside her.

That didn’t last as long as he would have liked it to. There was a sound. Farther out in the woods and in a direction that Rio’s erratic senses couldn’t pinpoint. But it had definitely been there, and confirmed that the four were not alone. Rio froze completely, too afraid to say anything. If he was lucky, he had been the only one that heard it. But he knew his mom better than that. Plus, he was never that lucky. When he finally built up the courage to look over at his family, he could tell immediately that his mom was on high alert. And it looked like she even knew which direction the sound had come from. Heart plummeting out of his chest, Rio didn’t know what to do.  He didn’t want whatever was out there to find them. Or rather, he wasn’t sure he wanted the Quinn family to find them. It wasn’t safe, for anyone involved. Rio hated that terrified feeling. He hated being in danger.

We’re going to have to think on our feet. Athena’s words stuck in Rio’s brain. Maybe she had a better point than Rio was giving her credit for. He did need to think on his feet. He finally forced himself to move, sliding his foot over and finding a twig to step down on. He started off slow, pressing down on it ever so gently and listening to the send of the twig bend and twist against its will before finally snapping. He winced at the sudden sound, instantly regretting the choice. But his parents did nothing besides shoot a look over towards him and Athena. Bingo. If he could get the attention of whatever was out in the woods, maybe it would go away. Then there wouldn’t be any danger at all. If only he could make sure that it heard the noise. He glanced at the ground, finding another piece of wood and readjusting his step to repeat the same process again. The branch snapped with a crunch, and before Rio could even react his mother had spun around just as quickly. She smacked him across the face quickly and efficiently, the force of it pushing Rio over and causing him to fall into the leaves. He brought his hand to his cheek immediately to survey the damage. It stung to the touch and felt like it had already begun swelling. “Shut up!” She hissed at him, pointing at him and forcing him to cower further. His cheek hurt so badly that all Rio wanted to do was cry, but he knew that would only make it worse. Instead, a silent stream of tears ran down his face as he clamped his mouth shut to avoid any further noise. His mother recovered quickly, turning away from him and speaking to their father, “That might have gotten it’s attention. We will need to move quickly to catch it. Do you sense anything?”

___

“Well, get a thesaurus and pick another term if you don’t like the one I chose.” Athena hissed back. She didn’t like how her brother just wanted to ruin everything. It was one thing when he beat her in chess but this was something entirely different and something she hated even more, especially because it was supposed to be a connection between the two of them. This was a learning opportunity for the both of them, and as much as Athena loved reading everything she could in their parents’ books and journals, but there was certainly something to be said for actually learning in person. It was why she didn’t mind so much when her father asked her to come to observe his operations. It was oddly fascinating, she had to admit. Her brother started walking faster and her face contorted into a grimace, because he wasn’t supposed to do that. It was unfair and stupid and maybe he should have just stayed at home if he was going to ruin this for her. She bit her lip, then. It wasn’t fair of her to think that way. It was her job to help him accept his abilities. To gently push him along.

She didn’t hear the sound until a little after her brother must have noticed. After their mother noticed. Because their mother was one of the best and most expert hunters there ever was.  She was standing still, perfect posture, though Athena imagined that her eyes were darting around, zeroing in on wherever the thing was. She only hoped that they’d get to the creature or whatever it was before it got to them, because she very much didn’t want to die tonight, thank you very much. Years ago, if they were in this situation, she knew that she’d grab her brother’s hand and hold it tight. She had, when they were little, and she also knew that even just after they’d been born, back in the hospital, she’d sometimes cried until they put the two of them together in a bassinet.

Now wasn’t the time to focus on the past. That was useless, and made her far too soft and sentimental. Soft and sentimental didn’t get you anywhere. That was what her parents said, and so it had to be true.

Then a twig snapped and their parents looked over at the two of them. You’re gonna get the both of us in trouble, she wanted to tell him. Except she didn’t. Because that would only bring more noise, which was absolutely and entirely not needed right now. Then another branch was snapping and their mother was over near them, hitting her brother across the face. It was over before she could even say much of anything, and Athena watched their parents intently. I don’t feel anything, she wanted to say, just as she saw their father shake his head. Thank goodness. I’m not a screw up. Except that she should have been keeping a better eye on her brother. That was her job, and she was a screw up when it came to that, apparently. It wasn’t a fae or a werewolf and she tapped her fingers against her thigh - hoping that maybe it would be something even more exciting. That would make all of this more of a celebration, after all. There was another sound, closer this time - that much she could tell. If she squinted enough, it looked like there was a figure not too far away from them.

Athena took a couple steps forward, away from her brother. “I think - I saw some leaves rustling over there.” She pointed, noticing the way that her father’s lips almost curved into a smile. “What do you think, Linda?” He inquired. “That’s the right direction, isn’t it?”

___

While the rest of his family ignored him completely and stared off into the woods, Rio silently pulled himself back onto his feet. He kept his hand pressed against his cheek, careful to avoid crying. Instead, he tried to find the source of the noise that his family seemed to intent on discovering for themselves. His head drifted back and forth, staring across the treeline before finally settling on Athena as she pointed and gave away the direction. Rio scowled at her from behind as his parents made that annoyingly stoic proud face. “Good job, Athena. I heard it too. Follow me.” His mom’s voice had calmed from her previous threat hurled his way. No surprise there.

The rest of his family set off immediately, a quiet power walk across the grass as they headed towards their target. His parents didn’t even spare a glance back at him. It was the opportunity he had wanted to get away from this, but he knew he would only be in more trouble if they found out he wasn’t with them.

He kept his distance from the rest of his family, just how it was meant to be. With them miles ahead while he lagged behind. As if he needed any other reminder that he would never measure up. “I found it!” his mother shouted he broke off into a sprint, his father and sister just behind her. Begrudgingly, Rio forced himself to follow along.

The Quinns caught up with it quickly. Someone that looked like a human was running through the forest to try to get away, but his mom had cut them off, swiping out at the person’s leg. They flipped backwards and smacked against the ground. Rio gasped at the violence, but covered his mouth to muffle the sound. In one fell swoop, she reached down to grab the person and left them up by the collar of their shirt and slammed them against a tree. “You can’t run from us” his mother was smiling now, the first he had seen from her since they had left the house. Rio had no idea how she could enjoy something like this. But his eyes wouldn’t leave the horrified face of the person being held against a tree. There was a shift. Something so minimal it would have been easy to miss. Something shifted in the perception of the person. Like a green screen effect failing. Rio stared more intently as he realized what it was. An illusion. They had an illusion. And for a split second it had dropped. And Rio was almost positive of what he saw. He had never seen one in person, but he remembered reading about them. He hated how quickly this knowledge came to him. “It’s a kitsune.”

___

She couldn’t help but stand even a little straighter at her mother’s praise. It always worked that way - and Athena was acutely aware that at least part of her nearly-always-present confidence came from what her parents said. What they had said ever since she was a little girl. She probably should have paid more attention to the fact that her brother seemed hurt, but that didn’t really matter (no matter how much she loved him, there were reasons to be punished, and he’d acted out), and if she did stop to check in on him in clear sight of their parents, it wouldn’t end well for either of them. Besides, he never seemed to want her help anyhow.

She didn’t want to appear too over-eager, because she was twelve now, and that was childish. Even when she was a child, she knew that there was a fine line regarding what was acceptable and what was deemed to be too much. Even if it was about hunting, even if it was about remembering something she’d read or researched.

All of a sudden her mother began running and she took off too, though she was careful not to outpace her mother. No matter how well she was performing, she knew that that would not serve her well, nor win her any favors. She was obedient, she did as she was told and she didn’t speak out of turn - at least not to her parents. School may have been a different story, but even there she kept her mouth shut around adults. It was part of why she could get away with other things, if need be. Not that she always wanted to, but it didn’t hurt to have as an option, just in case.

They arrived at the person - no, the thing - and Athena narrowed her eyebrows, because she knew that no matter how human something looked, when it wasn’t human, it was always a trap. She would have winced at her mother slamming them up against a tree, but she didn’t do that. She didn’t cry and she didn’t throw a fit when something like this happened. It’s a kitsune. She heard her brother say, and she grinned. “Figures. You know there’s all sorts of different ones. Given the location, this one could be a forest one? Though I know it makes sense to not assume, because you never know for sure.” She looked over at her brother. “Look at you, being so helpful!” She pulled out one of her knives and held it out to him. “Do you want to borrow this?”

___

“Please don’t do this!” The kitsune screamed in protest, shut up quickly by Linda Quinn pressing her palm against the woman’s mouth and pressing against it far too tightly. Orion could see the pressure even from here. How the skin on the woman’s face started to redden around his mom’s fingers. Rio broke out in a cold sweat, his mouth going completely dry. This was wrong. This was wrong. This was wrong. His fingers curled into fists before unfurling again. He didn’t want his parents to see that. They would only take it as an act of defiance.

Yet in the middle of this, his sister had the audacity to offer a knife to him. We’re twelve years old! Don’t you see something wrong with this?! He wanted to scream those words so badly. He was almost shaking now, but still he did nothing. He didn’t move towards his parents. He didn’t take the knife. He just stood there, eyes flicking between all four people around him and begging something, anything to change.

“Excellent guess, Athena.” Linda’s voice was too casual for the situation they were in. “Orion.” His mother’s voice again, directed at him purely to egg him on. A shiver ran down Rio’s spine as his back straightened on instinct. His mother didn’t wait to see if he was listening. She knew. “What do we know about forest kitsune?” Rio didn’t say anything. His dad’s eyes locked with Rio’s and finally he shook his head. He hoped that would work as a response. It didn’t. “Answer your mom, Orion,” his dad’s voice this time. Distant as it always was.

“I don’t know.” Rio finally said out loud, his voice shaking from fear and so very quiet. It was a lie, they all must now. The only time Rio ever impressed his parents were during their little pop quizzes. He knew more about shapeshifters than even some adult hunters, they would boast. Usually at the Silver Bullet just loud enough for others to hear. Forest kitsune were in tune with nature. Able to heal plantlife and cast illusions, though this woman seemed too distressed to try to use that to get free. She had almost completely lost the illusion casting her as human.

“You’re lying.” his mother sighed, clearly disappointed in her son but seemingly unsurprised. He shook his head more ferociously this time, but the narrowed glance from his father kept him from saying anything. His mother had already moved on anyways it seemed. “Your illusion is faltering. What would it take to make you drop it completely.” her tone seemed so… playful. As if she was on the playground with friends. Cries and mumbling came from the woman’s clamped mouth, but Rio wasn’t sure anybody but him and his mom could hear them. “Let’s test it, shall we?” Linda motioned towards James who took the queue immediately to pull a knife from the bag and hand it off to his wife. Rio’s eyes grew wide, watching her spin the blade into her hand before pressing it against the woman’s gut. No. No. No! Rio took a step forward, but it was just in time for his mom to plunge the knife into the woman’s stomach.

___

She didn’t let her expression change, even as the woman - no, the kitsune - the creature - screamed. Athena just watched carefully, taking careful mental notes about the way that her mother took control of the situation, almost seamlessly. Her brother was refusing her offer of a knife and were they both alone, she might have stomped her foot, but now wasn’t the time for that. She was twelve, after all, which was practically a grown up. Though she liked to think that she’d always been advanced for her age. You couldn’t read Anna Karenina when you were only just ten and not be advanced for your age. Besides, she was always meant for something more. She and her brother both were, even if he had a harder time on the whole realizing it part of the deal.

She let the smallest of smiles cross her face as her mother affirmed her guess. It wasn’t quite praise (that was hard to come by, no matter how brilliant Athena knew she was, her parents still reserved that for select and special occasions), but it was something, and she’d take anything even close to praise - she knew it wasn’t good to be as hungry for it as she was, but she couldn’t help herself. She atoned for her excessive need for praise before, and nothing bad had ever happened as a result of it, so all was well.

Except that her brother was refusing to answer. She could hear their father’s voice pipe in, and even when it was over-even and distant, she found herself listening intently. She didn’t know quite as much about kitsune as her brother did, but she knew some things and so she pressed her hand over her mouth, because the last thing she wanted was to call out something and have her parents get mad at her. I don’t know. “As if.” Athena replied, her voice still muffled by her own hand. She didn’t know if her brother could hear her. Didn’t really care, at this point, because this was supposed to be a celebration and if he wasn’t going to take her knife then he could at least use his smarts and answer their parents.

She retrained her eyes on the creature, the illusion flickering. It would be gone, soon enough, probably. Probably because her parents always got what they wanted. Probably because this was a thing and it looked so unnatural, so inhuman and Athena finally dropped her hand from her mouth, wrinkling up her nose in disgust, though a certain element of morbid fascination always took over. It did, when she got to sometimes go and watch her father at work in the basement. It did, when she listened to her parents and to other hunters at the Silver Bullet talk about how they’d gotten rid of a creature.

Her mother’s voice was so playful and Athena made a careful note of the tone, of the fact that somehow that way of talking seemed far more effective and intimidating than yelling at the kitsune would be. She watched the exchange of the knife from her father to her mother, the way she deftly spun it around before digging it into the woman’s - no, the creature’s - stomach. There were a few other muffled gasps, garbled words that didn’t mean anything, anymore. Her mother cleaned the blade of the knife before handing it back over to her father. Both of them made their way over to where the twins were standing. “Quick and efficient can be the best way in certain circumstances.” The playfulness from earlier was all gone, and now she was all business. “We couldn’t just let her get away, as I am sure you both understand.” Athena nodded quickly, not daring to look over at her brother.

___

Those few moments after were quiet. A sharp intake of breath followed by held breath completely from both of the twins as the knife cut through the woman’s stomach. Orion kept his mouth covered and refused to let move. The woman’s muffled cries of pain and protest against his mother’s clamped hand slowly faded as her consciousness did. The only sounds left were the woman’s heartbeat, the beats becoming slowed and off beat. Soon, there wasn’t a rhythm at all. And then there was nothing. Just the dripping of blood against the root of the tree.

Another death. He knew this wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be normal to have seen this so young. He didn’t talk to many people in school, but he listened. None of them talked about death. That meant that it couldn’t be normal, right? Then why was so much of his own life surrounded by it?

His legs shook violently against his weight. Suddenly, the four were grouped together again, looking at each other. But he couldn’t hear what his mother was saying. He was looking directly at her, but couldn’t seem to make out the expression on her face. It all looked blurry, sounded blurry. The only thing that seemed in focus was the woman. She was on the ground now, slumped against the tree with a pool of blood circling the spot his mother had stabbed. Everything else sounded fuzzy, but her silence was apparent. No breaths. No heartbeat. No more muffled cries. Just silence.

He had no hope of self control at the moment. Not when his senses were going haywire. They blocked out everything except the woman, and soon Rio was completely losing it. The hyperventilating came first, something only exaggerated by the time he started panicking that he couldn’t catch his breath. Tears were shortly after that, his eyes stinging in protest as the sobbing began. He felt like he was choking. His legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees. Around him, he could hear his parents saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He wasn’t sure he could ever breathe again. It all felt hopeless. So hopeless.

___

She wanted to touch the tree. She always wanted to feel what it was like, after. After the creatures died. What was left of them, what their mark on the world was. She’d watched creatures in her dad’s operating room long after they’d died, the scent of the sterilizing materials burning her nose but in the best way possible. Athena didn’t move right now though, instead just watching, eyes wide. Eyes wide, lightly curled hair spilling around her shoulders. She liked how her family matched - all golden and bright against the dark, dark world. Nothing was ever going to change that, that much she was certain.

Except that then her brother had to go ahead and practically have a stupid panic attack. She had those, sometimes. She wasn’t supposed to, she didn’t like it, but sometimes when she thought too hard about one particular thing her heart started racing and suddenly she was tiny and in their shared childhood bedroom again, gasping for air in the middle of the night, not able to fall asleep until her brother came over. She was back, the day they’d been made to have their own rooms, whimpering because they were twins and she was supposed to be with him forever and she was a big girl but being with her brother was how it worked.

“Deal with him.” Her mother’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. She blinked. She knew what it meant. Deal with him. “Quickly, before he causes more trouble.” Without thinking, Athena whipped around and bent down, kneeling next to her brother. Slapped him across the face, twice. One on each side. Glared at him, as if to say listen to mom and dad. Don’t make this harder for us both.

___

At that moment, Orion didn’t care what attention he attracted. Whether it be his parents, the police, more supernatural creatures. Let them all come at this point. A woman was dead, a person. It didn’t matter what his parents told him. That was a human being, an innocent woman that had just been captured and gutted, ruthlessly. This wasn’t right. No matter what his parents or his grandparents or the family friends that came over for dinner parties told him. Nothing about this was right. So he would scream. He would scream and cry until somebody came to stop them. Or until they stopped hurting innocent people. Or until-

The smack took him by surprise and silenced him instantly. His panic attack had completely blocked out his senses. He had been fully unaware that his sister had knelt beside him until she had already hit him. The crying and gasping for air ceased immediately. Somehow, her attack had managed to both knock the wind out of him and help him find his breath simultaneously. Suddenly, he wasn’t concerned about the world spinning or his vision blurring because he could only focus on his cheek, stinging in agony against the already fresh bruise his mother had dealt earlier. “Ow.” was all Rio said, a mumbled phrase under his breath. He wasn’t speaking to anybody in particular, he was just too numb to think or say anything else. After, he pushed back up onto his feet. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. His parents didn’t seem to care much, they were just thankful that he had finally shut up.

“Thank you, Athena.” His father mumbled, the notion passively doubled by their mother. Though neither seemed particularly interested in praise. They both studied the no longer breathing body on the ground. “I assume she is of no use to you?” his mother peered over at her husband, answered only by the brief shaking of his head. He was only interested in live test subjects. Twelve years old, and Rio was certain in this moment that they were monsters. “Athena, keep your brother under control. We are going to get rid of the body.”

___

She didn’t like the sound her hand made against her brother’s cheek, but it did what her parents had wanted it to do. He’d shut up and even though the response was neutral, and (as always) she found herself craving more praise from her parents, pressing her tongue firmly against the roof of her mouth, to remind herself to not not not talk, to not speak out of turn. She didn’t pay attention to the quiet ow that escaped his lips. This was a natural consequence, he knew that. She knew that. Athena gave a small tug at his scarf, as if to say ‘come on, straighten up, we’ll be done soon’. She’d been more encouraging when they were younger, but now they were twelve - and double-digits in general meant they were practically adults, and it really was time to start acting like one.

So she didn’t offer caring words to her brother because if she did that then how would he ever learn? She would have, years ago. A certain part of her still wanted to. Wanted to check in on him and make sure everything was okay. But saying sorry made you weak, and if there was one thing that Athena was not, it was weak.

She listened intently at her parents’ words. Not of use. This made sense, given how she looked, Athena didn’t figure that her father could make much use of the woman. Except that part of her wanted them to take her back, because books told her a great deal, but she’d never seen the inside of a kitsune before. Instead, at their comments, she just nodded. Firm, neutral, probably more serious than most twelve-year-olds would. As their parents retreated, she turned to face her brother again. He was getting taller than her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do her best to look him in the eye. “Come on. Just - like, I dunno, behave.” Her voice was almost whiny, a hint of actual pre-teenage-hood laced in her words. “Things work out better for you - us - if you do.”

___

How could they all think this was normal? Was Orion the crazy one? The way that his mother had so casually stabbed that woman. The way that his father and sister went along with it, walked around the body as if she wasn’t even there. How was he the only one losing his mind? It was almost enough to convince Rio that he was in the wrong somehow. His family had nothing to offer in the way of kind words or affirmation. His parents didn’t even speak directly to him, choosing to bark the order to his sister to shut him up instead. He wasn’t even worth their time.

Athena was no better, Rio decided. He had been on the fence for a long time. She had always been the golden child. Strong, smart and fearless. She never questioned them. She followed them to a fault. The two of them had been treated differently for as long as Rio could remember, but he had never settled on why. The two used to be close. They used to look out for each other. Rio always wanted to believe that she had seen that this was wrong too. Had just gone along with it because she wanted to make their parents proud. But tonight was a rude awakening. If his parents were monsters, she was no better. Give it a few years and she may actually be worse. Rio wanted nothing to do with that. Athena tugged at the scarf she had given him, and he pushed back onto his feet and tore the thing off and pushed it back into her. He’d rather freeze to death than wear anything of hers. “Whatever. I just won’t talk.” Rio stated as cold as he could manage, but his voice was still cracking.

“Pick up the pace.” His father spoke. The woman’s body was slung over his mother’s shoulders and the two were already making their way through the trees again. There was no other choice but to follow them, so he did. Though it was pitch black out, Rio could see just fine. Through a narrow path in between tree trunks, his mother and father walked side by side. Inches behind them was Athena, no doubt forcing herself to keep up right behind them. And then, trailing in the back with the distance between them only growing as the seconds passed by, was Rio. He never could quite keep up.

#wickedswriting #c orion #chatzy #enough for you #// this quinn twin chatzy brought to you by olivia rodrigo's recent album #though we wrote most of this before #also i love love love cody so much and same for rio #physical abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #domestic abuse tw #sibling abuse tw #also the twins hardly talk but the replies are long :// #and cody emotionally wrecked me with this

[blushing-starker]

Having a boyfriend that's a natural rule breaker becomes even more tedious because now it's two people conspiring together, itching to shatter social norms. Sure, they won't pull the fire alarm stunt to get out of a quiz (that's more Rocket and Groot's style), place mirrors on front steps to confuse Fury and nearly give the principal a heart attack (Loki with an exasperated Thor and cackling Hela) or hire a mariachi band to follow hall monitor Alexander Pierce (Steve had joined Bucky and Sam in that one); they'd never sneak into the air vents, fill them with glitter so the haughty board of directors would be covered in pink sparkles when they cranked the ac (Clint and Nat).

Ok, they did help with that last one, buying the shimmering stuff from T'Challa's sister and slipping five jars into Clint's backpack, but they didn't actually go into the vents.

But that's not the point. The point is there are limits to their rule breaking; Tony's spot on the football team and Peter's participation in the art club too important to risk on something as silly as skipping a quiz. No, they thanked their best friends, unhooked the window lock and slithered out only after finishing and handing in the quiz. They weren't amateurs.

Still, Peter knows Tony literally couldn't have chosen a worse time for their impromptu lunch date. (Luckily, he'd expected this exact situation.)

"Tony, they don't even have bad food today. We could just wait until the bell rang to meet up and eat at the bleachers. Like we always do a day before a big game."

His boyfriend swivels around, hooks nimble fingers into his belt loops to pull Peter closer, never once stumbling even while walking backwards. The grin he shows is manic, just this side of wild to let Peter know this isn't about haunting nightmares and bouts of anxiety. This is normal, too high on a feeling Tony Stark. Which means he won't head back to school unless Peter pulls out all the stops...

He's too exhausted from last night's art project to use up energy on the puppy eyes. So he sighs, tugs on the blue varsity jacket Tony loves to show off, kisses a dimple before turning this untamed creature around.

"Come on, I found a new route to that shawarma place with MJ and Ned last week." It sounds exasperated, but Tony knows Peter will do anything to keep him happy. Well. Not anything. There's only so many times they can discuss Star Wars before simply agreeing to disagree on whether Han and Luke are pan or bi.

"What, and you tell me this now?", Tony squawks indignantly from Peter's left side, freezing nose nuzzling into Peter's neck as revenge.

Like a robber caught sneaking into a vault, he raises his hands instantly before shoving Tony away.

"Hey, you were focusing on practice! If I told you, you'd bring Rhodey, he'd bring T'Challa and then Shuri would pop up and who goes where she goes? Bucky, which means Steve and Sam, who'd already be there thanks to Rhodey and of course Clint would somehow appear with Nat. We'd be together so Ned and MJ are gonna be teasing with Betty and half the guys in our grade have a crush on Nat, or MJ or Shuri or Betty or you. So what's the end result? The entire football, soccer, basketball and swim team eating shawarma a week before the games. I am not hearing Coach Coulson scold me for you guys breaking diet again. I'm already on his list, another situation like that and I'll have to run fifteen laps around the field."

"Oh come on, you can do those in your sleep." He could, but again, not the point.

"With a weighted backpack, Tony."

"Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want that."

"Before cycling fifteen laps and then swimming fifteen laps."

"Jesus, why would he even do that?" Tony looks at him then, disgruntled at the thought of his boyfriend doing all that.

He shrugs, doesn't want to explain Peter had done it once when it all got too much and he'd needed to release the pent up energy. He hadn't noticed Coach watching him, ready to come help if he hurt himself. They'd talk afterwards, Coulson making him promise to never do that alone. Now it became a reward and a punishment. Peter won the art contest? Fifteen everything to focus his mind and not go jumping off walls in his excitement.

His students wolfing down a thousand calories before a game? Fifteen everything so Peter would at least "time it so it's not during the season, Jesus". To be fair to Peter, Tony participated in almost all the sports teams so scheduling was hard.

"Listen, just don't eat a whole animal, ok? We can split it, eat enough," he glares at Tony, pushing through even as the puppy eyes come out, "and then head to the movies. They're showing Aliens for a few days cuz of Halloween and I already texted the guys to come during lunch."

His boyfriend, smart and sharp and witty, just blinks at him. "But we have class after lunch."

"Technically, but I convinced Mr Pym to let the class out of lab so we could all hang out. It's the one class we share so now the whole group can see it together."

Tony stops, eyes wide and mouth open.

"You, what, planned this?"

"Yeah, something fun before tomorrow to take it off your mind for a while. Or, you know, not make it stand out as much. I know how focused you get, and it's really great, having that as a goal, strategizing and taking it seriously. But I also know it can be a lot, so I thought we should all hang out since each of us has something coming up and we aren't spending much time together. Which I get, responsibilities and family and school; I just missed it and I can't be the only one, right? So yeah, this was planned. Like, two weeks ago. When MJ found the new route, it was like a sign. And I really want you to relax and enjoy the whole, I have friends that care for me and a boyfriend that loves-"

He slaps a hand on his mouth, eyes impossibly wide and cheeks flaming. Tony and Peter stand immobile, the world reduced to beat up sneakers breaking the simplicity of yellow lines on black, a flickering neon sign telling them the shawarma place is open and two hearts slowly starting to beat again after that confession.

Ned would say it's romantic. MJ would bluntly remind them it's a bad idea to stand in the middle of the road even if they're saying I love you. And with good reason, since there's the telltale roar of a car bursting with teenagers, voices howling out the lyrics to an AC/DC song. And of course Peter notices the noise of rubber swerving against gravel, the screeching of old brakes and a few terrified shrieks harmonizing with a sharp wind blasting into him out of nowhere. Before he can react, Tony is there, wrapping his arms around Peter and shoving them both into the little patch of grass that grows from a crack in dirty pavement.

There's a moment where his whole world flips, tumbles until he screws his eyes shut and prepare himself for whatever the fuck caused that noise. But nothing comes. Only a sigh blowing a stray curl away from his forehead. But a sigh? Why would?

Tony.

He gasps, jolts upright and apologizes when that just serves to jostle his boyfriend further into the ground. His boyfriend who'd flip them so Peter wouldn't be hurt. Tony is peering at him through half shut eyes, discomfort clear on the grimace he tried to transform into a sheepish grin.

"So, you love me, huh?"

It's the stupidest thing Tony Stark has ever said.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt, you could have shattered a wrist, dislocated a shoulder, torn an ACL, bent a leg-"

"This is not what I expected. Also it was a three foot leap forward on grass, I'm fine, Peter."

"Or bashed your head, or busted an arm and then what would you do for the game tomorrow? Who the hell does that?"

"The guy you love, apparently."

"That's not the point, Tony, that's unimportant because you nearly got hurt. Christ, Coulson will slaughter me if there's a scratch on you, and then your mom would be sad and I'd be sad because, what would I do without you? And don't you ever do that again, I can't take it. I am not losing you, Tony. God, why would you do that, risk so much on-"

"On you? Babe, I'd do it again. Ok, not the right thing to say based on the whole face thing you got going on right now. But just hear me out. Don't, stop hitting me, ow, why are you hitting, how are you this strong, Jesus. Ow, stop it. Peter, for fuck's sakes, I love you, you animal. Now please let go of the jacket, it'll get wrinkles."

His hands unclasp the soft cotton, Tony falling back with a groan and Peter's unhinged jaw snapping shut after fifteen seconds of letting the flies in.

It's a wonderful thing, hearing the guy he's loved for so long say it back, say he loves Peter.

It's also fucking stupid since there's even more reason to not do stunts like that.

"You're an idiot. I'm in love with a guy that has one shared brain cell with Steve. You could have been hurt, Tony. And what would that have done, huh?"

His boyfriend sighs yet again, wraps an arm around Peter to push them from the ground and heads to the car where their friends are gawking. He waves them off, offers a "Yeah, I know I'm amazing, no, I didn't break anything, T'challa, yes, I can play, Jesus, Rogers, I can read you like a book. I appreciate the worry, Bruce; Nat, thanks for calming him down. Rhodes, excellent driving. No need to hog the seats, Sam, we need to settle in. Peter, you can keep cursing me out if you, yeah, see how it's nice being fun size when you fit in my lap in a car full of people. What, I'm not walking after that, I don't care if it's til we reach the parking. Let's go, Rhodes. Pepper, I'm fine. "

Clint offers a high five. Tony responds and that's that. Out of sight, Ned gives him a fist bump and MJ keeps on reading her book. It could just be his imagination, but Tony's sure she's smiling, approval clear on her face. He preens, glad to have her blessing, and settles his head on Peter's fluffy hair.

-----

When they're all laughing in a booth, smashed together and picking food off of everyone's plate, Peter nuzzles the crook of his neck, holds his hand and squeezes it. Tony smiles, lights up and shoves at Sam's face when the trio of best friends tease him for puffing his chest out when his boyfriend ever so softly says, "I love you."

"I love you, too." The table whoops and calls for another round of food and Coca-Cola, their family grinning at them and fondly teasing the new couple. Tony grins back, high on this feeling of warmth and happiness and safety and love.

And then Peter presses ice cold lips onto his neck and he lets out a shout, pain coursing through him when a knee slams into the table. His eyes water and through the haze of agony he sees their friends exchanging cash, some grumbling and others smirking. Rhodey and MJ, he notes, are the ones that win the most. They high five before pocketing the cash and ordering dessert.

Peter kisses his cheek, smile innocent and eyes wicked. It's his own fault Tony snatches an ice cube and slips it below his Nirvana shirt. He only has five seconds to lord his victory over Peter before there's ice cream being smeared on his cheek. They battle then, accidentally sending food into Wanda's lap, Clint's hair and Bucky's face.

In less than a minute they are all covered in shawarma and participating in the fight. Peter shrieks when Tony pulls him into his lap, gets chicken on the varsity jacket and tries to wriggle away. But Tony kisses him, tastes ice cream and joy, thanks whoever decided to give him a break and find this incredible person dozing on the roof of the school with Ned and MJ one spring afternoon. Peter kisses back and, at the same time, they say, confidently, honestly,

"I love you."

This is dedicated to @drarryismyshit07

#my moodboards #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker #starker #tony stark #peter x tony #ironspider #young!tony #high school au #Highschool starker! #Soft!starker #Punk!Peter #Jock!Tony #Artsy!Peter #Excited!Tony #Exasperated!Rhodey #Rhodey #Steve Rogers #Bruce Banner #Natasha Romanoff #Clint Barton #T'Challa #Shuri #Wanda Maximoff #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson #Pepper Potts #Nick Fury

[enjennie]

Chapter 1 - The Long Haul

Exodus

Chapter 2 - Here

Word count: 2k

Moon Yuri loves train rides and sitting for long durations of time, which is why the trip to Oakwood College was a blessing in disguise to the girl who hadn’t had a wink of sleep for the past few weeks because her acceptance letter happened to have lost its way in the mail and only got to her a week before admissions ended. She had approximately two weeks to submit her application, pack up and leave everything behind her. The easiest part was actually the last thing, which she did with no hesitations.

Oakwood College has been her dream school since freshmen year when she came across an ad posted on their billboard for the seniors. They offer the best courses in the country, and that wasn’t even the best thing yet: it was being away from home. Yuri’s legs felt like jelly when she read the acceptance letter. She thought for sure she hadn’t gotten in. But, miracles proved to be true and now as she sat on the train to her new school, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“Sorry, is this seat taken? Everywhere else is taken,” a voice disrupts her train of thoughts.

Yuri looks up to see a girl with long dark hair, her locks are clipped to the side and she wore a soft smile on her face.

“Of course,” Yuri gestured to the seat next to hers and the girl beamed before setting her things down and taking a seat. “I’m Jeong Seoyun. Are you attending Oakwood too?” the girl pointed at the school sticker Yuri had smacked onto her suitcase. She smiled, “Yeah! Nice to meet you, Seoyun. I’m Moon Yuri,”

“Sophomore?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Ditto. No one really moves during sophomore year. Well, except some. But, what’s your reason… if you don’t mind?” Seoyun had a vibe to her that Yuri couldn’t explain. She was warm, but cool at the same time. She felt like autumn. “I didn’t receive my letter last year. Oakwood contacted me two weeks ago asking why I didn’t enroll,” Yuri explained.

Seoyun looked perplexed. “You must have outstanding grades, then. Oakwoods doesn’t even respond to emails, let alone make them to personally contact people,” The two laugh and Yuri denied the compliment. In her old school, there was nothing else to focus on but studies. Which is how she managed to become the top in all her subjects, and graduated as valedictorian.

“What do you major in?” the girl relaxed her back against the seat. “Film,” Yuri answered. Seoyun nodded.

“That’s really cool. I know someone from that department. I take up nursing. Sounds boring, I know,”

“No way, that sounds awesome. I wouldn’t survive one semester in that course, though. Can’t handle blood and needles at all,” Yuri sniggered and Seoyun cracked into a smile. “Thanks. And that’s too bad, I hope you’ll be okay during vaccination day,”

“What now?”

“Vaccination day. Oakwood requires them once a year,”

Yuri looked at Seoyun with eminent fear written on her face and the girl burst into laughter. “I’m kidding! You should’ve seen your face, Moon Yuri. Hilarious,” Seoyun points at Yuri who’d taken a relieved breath.

The two spend the next two hours of the train ride talking and joking about and Yuri has never been happier to have found a new friend already.

“Which building are you in? If you’re in Beverly then we could go together since that’s where I room,” Yuri and Seoyun had gotten off the train and were now walking to the front gates of what would be called their home away from home for the next three years. “I got assigned to Athena, actually… is that far from Beverly?” Yuri pouted. She already didn’t want to be separated from her friend.

“That’s right next to Beverly!”

Yuri follows Seoyun into the large campus and they walk the path along the field and several school buildings until they finally reach their respective dorm houses. “Here’s Beverly and… over there, is your home sweet home,” Seoyun points to the similar looking building beside the one they stood in front of. The two exchange numbers and Yuri thanks Seoyun for accompanying her. She takes her bags and walks up to the now terrifying looking building. It was only scary because now, she had to face it alone.

But according to the dean, when she’d spoken to her on the phone, Yuri’s roommate wouldn’t be arriving until second semester due to some personal business. Which is why Yuri was grateful and relieved to have met Seoyun.

She carries her suitcase up the flight of stairs and looked around to look for her room. To her delight, she finds it right away, right by the stairs. Yuri took the key in her pocket and unlocked the room, revealing a fairly spacious room complete with two beds, two dressers and a closet for each person. In the middle of the room, was a door to the terrace.

She takes the bed on the right, and puts her stuff down to unpack.

Yuri was just about done unpacking when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She takes it out and reads the message she received from her dad.

Hi, pumpkin. How is college life so far?

Barely started, just moved in.

Knew you’d fit right in! Goodluck, kiddo.

Yuri rolled her eyes and scoffed at her dad’s half-assed text, throwing her phone to her bed and putting her last set of clothes into the closet and sliding the suitcase underneath her bed. Three knocks sounded from the door and Seoyun’s head pops in before Yuri could say come in.

“Hey, newbie. All settled in, I see,” Seoyun makes her way inside and Yuri spots a girl behind her. “This is Lee Minjae, my roommate,” Seoyun gestures to the stranger who had her eyes glued to her phone, typing rapidly. “Hi! Yuri, right? It’s nice to meet you,” Minjae was busy with her phone, but she shot a Yuri a small smile, which the girl returned. “Likewise, Minjae,”

“I see you took Yeeun’s old room,” Seoyun played with the curtains of the windows with her fingers before taking a seat on the edge of Yuri’s bed.

“Oh you know my roommate? The dean said she’d be here next sem,” Yuri shut her closet door and the two girls behind her exchanged looks. “The dean said that?” Minjae asked, suddenly not interested in her phone. “Yeah,” Yuri assured. “Do you know her?”

“She’s a close friend,” was all Minjae says. Yuri nods, placing her hands on either side of her hips.

“Hungry?” Seoyun deliberately changes the subject. Both Minjae and Yuri nod and the three girls pile out of the room and down the stairs, on their way to the dining hall.

 The sun was just setting and you can see it from where the three girls walked. But Yuri couldn’t enjoy the view of it, when a rogue soccer ball came hurling straight at her head from out of nowhere followed by the indistinct yelling of boys, presumably the ones responsible for it.

“Omg, Yuri! Are you okay?” Seoyun and Minjae’s concerned faces is all Yuri can see from where she lie on the ground. “Don’t worry,” Yuri managed to say through the pain. “I’ll live,”

Amidst the chaos, Yuri could hear the voice of a man. “I am so sorry. Renjun’s a complete jackass and can’t play soccer for shit-“

“Don’t blame this on Renjun now,”

“Jesus, Seoyun. Sorry your boyfriend couldn’t play for shit,” the voice spoke again.

Yuri closes her eyes, trying to get her world to stop spinning, before she’s pulled up from the ground by an impressively great strength. “Wow, Seoyun you’re strong,” she commented on it, truly believing Seoyun could pull her up so easily, but she was wrong. When she opens her eyes once more, it wasn’t in fact Seoyun, but a boy with dark hair and an encaptivating smile.

“I’m not Seoyun, but thank you,” he chuckled. Yuri rubbed her temples, groaning at herself. “Sorry. I really thought-“ she can’t continue her sentence as she couldn’t help but laugh at herself.

“I’m Jeno, what’s your name?” the boy introduces himself.

“Yuri,” she  responds. “My name is Yuri,”

“The name’s just as pretty as the person,” Jeno comments and Yuri feels heat rushing to her cheeks. The boy laughs, finding Yuri getting flustered an amusing sight. Behind him, another boy had come rushing in, apologizing profusely. “Are you alright? I’m really sorry, Jeno told me to just kick and I did,” the boy who Yuri guessed was named Renjun came into her view as he pushed Jeno out of the way.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry,” Yuri laughs it off, despite feeling the beating of her heart through her head, which to her knowledge, isn’t supposed to happen, but she didn’t want to be dramatic in front of these new people. Renjun gives her a smile, before turning to Seoyun behind him and placing his arms around her shoulder. “And how are you, my princess?” he cooed.

“Ugh, get a room. Come on, Yuri. You’re fine, yeah? Jeno go take your ball and leave!” Minjae scowls at the boy who raises his hand in defeat. “Yes, coach,” he joked. Jeno shoots Yuri a wink before jogging off, making sure to drag Renjun with him which left the girls to continue their disrupted plan to eat.

“Listen, Yuri. Don’t get yourself tangled up with Lee Jeno now. He’s big trouble,” Seoyun says, linking arms with Yuri who was just finishing up a juicebox. “Why not?” Yuri gulped, too shy to admit she found him a bit cute. “Trust me. He’ll make you feel like you’re on top of the world, then leave you to fall face flat to the ground once it becomes too much for him,” explained Seoyun. “That sounds awfully detailed, Seoyun,” Yuri inspected Seoyun’s face in the moonlight. She looked stunning, her long dark hair framed her features well and her lips were always curled into a smile. Yuri’s eyes flew to Minjae, who was once again glued to her phone. Her hair fell over her face, which was illuminated by the light from her phone.

“Oh shut up, Yuri. Me and Jeno? No way! I’ve just seen it happen to countless of girls,”

Yuri made sure to make a mental note of Seoyun’s advice.

The next day, Yuri was surprised to find out that she could no longer go on her social media and that the college apparently modified the Wi-Fi settings in which the students needed a certain password only given to teachers, to access any site they wanted. She discovers this when her Instagram stops loading as she had her cereal with Minjae and Seoyun.

“How about on weekends? Do they… remodify it then?” Yuri asked, desperation in her voice. Seoyun shook her head no, “Don’t worry, we got that covered,” she had a sly grin on her face. Yuri couldn’t ask any further questions as Seoyun got up to put her tray away. Minjae yawned, she barely touched her food.

“What she means is… every weekend, we go to Hyebin’s house and get our mental check there. Y’know, use the Wi-Fi and shit,” Minjae explained to the dumbfounded girl. “We’ll introduce you to Hyebin, she’s cool,”

Yuri nodded, the information still not sinking in. Probably because she didn’t have the best sleep last night. A new place and knowing the next day would be her actual first day in the college of her dreams, it made Yuri restless and toss and turn. Which is why she faced the living hell torture of trying to keep her eyes open during a 2 hour lecture on what is supposed to be her favorite subject; cinematography.

Coffee. Why didn’t I drink damn coffee? She thought to herself, and as if someone had been reading her mind, Yuri felt something warm brush up against her fingers. She opens her eyes and lift her head to see a cup of coffee. She looked beside her, and take notice of the boy she was too sleepy to acknowledge when she got in. After a few moments of Yuri just looking at him, he gets closer and whispers.

“Drink up, you look like you need it more than me,” he smiles, and his smile alone was enough to wake every fiber in Yuri’s body. She raises the cup to her lips and took a sip. And who could you be?

#nct dream #nct #nct u #jaemin na #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin scenarios #jaemin au #jeno lee #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno scenarios #jeno au #renjun fluff #renjun angst #renjun scenarios #renjun au #park jisung #zhong chenle #mark lee #nct dream aesthetic #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #nct au #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct aesthetic #lee haechan #donghyuck

[eclecticwordblender]

Part 3 of the Mahabharata High school AU:

(I’ll attach the link to the first two oarts below. Check them out if you haven’t uwu <3.)

Junior students in the limelight:

Abhimanyu:

Is everybody’s favourite- seniors, teachers, principal, classmates, juniors- EVERYONE LOVES HIM.

Is literally perfection.

Very popular.

All the dirty politics which makes the people in school hate each other is put aside when it comes to going to the junior section and pampering Abhi.

Ma’am Kunti once saw Abhimanyu hanging out with Arjuna and Subhadra, she clicked a picture because she couldn’t stop uwu-ing.

Has all the good qualities he looks up to in his seniors.

Is a precious baby who must be protected at all costs.

“I’ll be better than the best someday.”- boy isn’t wrong!

Ghatotkach:

Super tall.

Chubby.

Is sick of being taller than all his classmates.

A senior, Hidimbi tends to use him as a comforting source. It is very wholesome.

Often goes to Bheema because he wants to be just as good at basketball.

“Hidimbi didi, thanks for the amazing food. I’ll now go practice basketball with Bheema bhaiya.”

Iravan:

The nice rich kid.

Always puts others before himself even at this tender age.

Stays mostly to himself.

But one knows he’s going to do wonders when he grows up.

Once Shiva cane to school for a guest lecture and say Iravan offering someone else his lunch and staying hungry himself. Shiva gave him a chocolate and told Iravan that whenever he needs help Shiva is just a call away. Fr though Shiva always checks up on this kid.

“Umm it’s okay. You can have my life too if you want.”

Uttara:

Has a twin brother.

Cute kid.

too mature for her age.

Heart eyes for cutie Abhi. Abhi heart eyes back.

Teachers don’t let her and Abhimanyu sit together because they don’t stop talking and smiling.

Is a pro dancer. Already has a diploma in Kathak.

Kind of emotional. Cries a lot.

But is still strong, regardless.

“No Abhimanyu. We cannot have a play date today. I have my dance performance.”

Uttar:

Uttara’s twin brother.

Overexcited but in a good way.

Brave.

Gets into accidents A LOT.

Uttar’s most visited spot is the infirmary. The person who knows him best is the school nurse.

Uttar always finds ways to miss dance and music and English class.

“Ah! A fracture again! At least I get to skip the annoying girly dance stuff though.”

Vrishaketu:

Abhimanyu’s bestf because they’re so similar.

Tends to be a little attention deprived.

Can make anyone a friend, LITERALLY.

Krishna group and Dury group come together when it comes to meeting this kid.

Arjuna and Karna put aside their differences to train him for soccer together. One can say Arjuna and Karna could’ve been very good friends had it not been for coach Drona.

“I wish Arjun bhaiya and Karna bhaiya didn’t dislike each other so much.”

(I didn’t include any more kids because there isn’t much to write and I don’t want to make this boring. I’ll leave footnotes if I use any other kids in the fic stories later.)

Present day staff:

(that I forgot to mention)

Virata:

Being helpful makes up for 90% of his personality.

Very approachable.

Never turns his students down.

Volunteers to take up a substitute class whenever possible.

“Let me handle this!”

Keechaka:

The only person who finds him tolerable is Sudeshna.

Extremely controlling.

Filled with toxic masculinity.

Pervert 2.0 (1.0 being Dushasana and 3.0 being Jayadaratha).

Keechaka was passing lewd comments to Draupadi. She was on her way to make him face the consequences but before she reached Bheema had already taken care of him ;).

Shalya:

Indecisive and flaky.

Messes up his schedule and ends up in the wrong classes.

Speaks a lot.

Stubborn.

Always confused.

“I don’t know what I’m doing dude!Let alone why!”

Sudeshna:

Toxic Gossip monger.

Can be very selfish.

Turns blind to her bestf, Keechaka’s glaring and problematic flaws.

Created a scene when Bheem gave Keechaka the beating he deserved.

Also defended him when Yuyutsu publicly called out and humiliated Keechaka for disrespecting women.

Hates Draupadi.

Intolerant.

Can be narrow minded.

“Keechaka isn’t wrong. You have a misunderstanding! These are the ways of the world”

Indra:

Coordinator but everyone ignores him.

Probelmatic in all caps.

Has to interfere everywhere.

Shows up at the worst possible times.

Creates unnecessary problems and then plays the victim card.

Sexist.

“This isn’t a woman’s work.”

Vichitravirya:

Grossly incompetent.

Old.

Is in school only because Satyavati insisted.

Irresponsible.

Doesn’t show up to classes and even when he does the students decide to bunk. He doesn’t even find out.

Has a history of showing up to classes drunk.

“No I’m not drunk. You are.”- passes out in the middle of a lecture.

Senior students in the limelight:

(that I couldn’t fit in the previous post)

Devika:

Quiet.

Happy go lucky.

Literally an angel.

Only one in class who finds Yudhishthir somewhat tolerable.

Is dating the head boy. Nobody understands why she thinks he has potential.

Vrushali:

Sorted and organised.

Probably has more kinds of stick notes than books in her school bag.

Highlighted text books.

Courageous.

Calm but will fight you.

Karna’s girlfriend. Only one who can scold him and show him the right thing to do, ngl.

Vrushali tries very hard to get Karna out of the Dury gang, however, doesn’t try to manipulate/control him.

Once Vrushali dragged Karna while he was mid conversation with Duryodhana, planning to pull a mischief that would land him into trouble. Everyone just stared. It was very iconic.

Valandhara:

Mountain girl uwu.

Industrious to the fullest.

The friend who can calm down Bheem.

Independent.

Vijaya:

Straight A student.

Gives Sahadev full on competition in topping the class.

Nerd.

Reads a lot.

Vijaya looks so cute with her oversized glasses barely able to rest on the bridge of her adorable button nose.

Sahadev fell for her over a conversation about the meaning of life. They kind of have a thing going.

“*random classic literature reference*”

Karenumati:

Is well aware about how pretty she is.

Nakul talks to her without hesitation.

A word around the campus says that Nakul might even ask her out soon.

Shishupal spread the word though, can’t say about the credibility.

Although for some reason Shishupal is very protective of her.

Plays bass and drums.

Link to part 1 of Mahabharata high school AU: https://eclecticwordblender.tumblr.com/post/625462681921568768/foundation

Link to part 2 of Mahabharata high school AU: https://eclecticwordblender.tumblr.com/post/625553068102139904/senior-students-in-the-limelight

This is the last post dealing witch characterisation. I’ll be publishing fictional stories after this. Will leave footnotes if I use a character I haven’t mentioned yet. Let me know if you want me to write about a specific character (via asks, comments or direct messages).

Tagging fandom mutuals because I need attention to matter in life: @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams @supermeh-krishnafan @soniaoutloud @1nsaankahanhai-bkr @lemponkoira @incorrectmahabharatquotes @chaanv @hoeticulture @hindumythologyevent

The support on this series has been overwhelming so shoutout to these people for all the validation: @the-rambling-maiden @muralofmyths @starsailororastronaut @blueguardian1306

Also, y’all check out @askhindumyths if you like such content uwu.

#its so long i apologise again #incorrect mahabharat quotes #very incorrect mahabharat quotes #unpopular mahabharata opinions #mahabharat theories #mahabharata aus #mahabharata fanfiction #mahabharata #the mahabharata #text posts #desi tumblr #hindu mythology #mahabharat #hindu mythology fanfic #hindumythologyevent #fanfictions #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #tumblr writers #au writers #source: tumblr #mahabharata fandom #mahabharata memes #hindu mythology fandom #hindu mythologys aus #hindu mythology memes #original content #eclecticwordblender #source: me #source: eclecticwordblender

[haikyuu-philia]

Can we have a Tsukki scenario where the reader is just as sarcastic as him? I mostly see the reader being overly sensitive and stuff. Also, I'm new here and look forward to reading your works

This ended up being longer than it was supposed to, but now it’s too late anyways XD

As in introverted and overly polite person, I had my struggles writing two sarcastic people at the same time. Yet, here we are, with this piece filled with not-so classical romance!

Also a very late welcome to the blog - I’m happy to have you here :3

Another Love Language | A Tsukishima x fem! Reader Scenario

Words: 1336

-----

People were gathered all over the place. Even though this hall had been reserved for participating teams only, there was nearly no empty spot to be found. Boys and girls wearing jerseys in all colours of the rainbow had taken over, creating a noise by simply talking to each other that could be compared to an earthquake. 

As most of his own teammates had been awake way too early this morning, Tsukishima was now able to call himself one of the few lucky ones with an actual corner to sit at. He taped his fingers in advance while Yamaguchi tried not to stare at the crowd, which would sent his heart rate up to unknown heights.

Nishinoya and Tanaka had left several minutes ago to meet some friend from a girls’ team. With every announcement Asahi seemed more pale, Kageyama fiddled with his fingers to properly stretch them. The trio of Daichi, Sugawara and Ennoshita was casually chatting with each other. And Hinata was absolutely nowhere to be seen, probably causing a ruckus at the toilettes as usual. 

What a time to be a member of Karasuno.

A glance at his phone told Tsukishima that the first match would start in an hour. So the warm-up would be due in about thirty minutes. Actually he had been checking his messages, but nothing new popped up in his inbox. 

Positively speaking this meant that Akiteru had found his way to Tokyo without any issues and was most likely sitting at his assigned seat by now. Tsukishima rested his back against the wall as he starred at his feet. 

The room might be crowded and loud, but he still managed to understand many parts of different conversations. Some people were standing pretty close to the area of his team anyways, closer than he appreciated. He rolled his eyes at their behaviour. 

„Aren’t these boys from Karasuno? The team that was known as the fallen crows?“ He heard a boy whisper from a few meters away.

Not only had this guy attracted Tsukishima’s attention, seemingly the rest of his teammates was listening as well. No one made eye contact as the stranger continued to speak without noticing that the victims of his theories were already planning their comeback. 

„Do you really think that they are strong enough to beat someone here?“

In absolute sync all member of Karasuno present were looking up to stare at the culprit with a blank expression on their faces. Once he had understood that their eyes were directed towards him, he froze immediately. He broke out of his paralysis by jumping when another person approached him from behind.

„Yeah, because I would totally think of the team that kicked Shiratorizawa, the current champion, out off the competition as weak," a female voice commented on his question from earlier. 

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima changed their mimics by the time the sarcastic remarks had reached their ears. The latter couldn’t decide whether to sigh or to hold his breath, though a smirk appeared on his face nevertheless. Of course he would recognise the voice of his own girlfriend from miles away or in the middle of a thousand people. 

Supporting his upper body with his hand he rose from his place, becoming the target of his team members’ curiosity.

In the meantime the boy, who had been called out by you, had retreated into the ocean of unknown faces. Obviously yours stood out even more to him. On the contrary spotting a tall blond guy in a black-orange jersey hadn’t been the hardest task for you to fulfil either.

When Tsukishima and you walked towards each other, the eyes of the other Karasuno players were practically pinned to your boyfriend’s back. Only Yamaguchi happened to know what exactly they were witnessing. For the rest it looked like the first-year approached a random girl who had just roasted someone for them.

„I thought I told you that you didn’t have to come,“ he said with one of his eyebrows raised. „What are you doing here?“

„Playing soccer, of course,“ you shot back with a grin wrinkling your cheeks.

So far you had only seen him in his volleyball attire on pictures, not in reality. On the ride to the stadium his older brother Akiteru had shown you plenty of them and had been blabbering endlessly about Kei’s career as a middle blocker. 

But nothing could have prepared you for the moment when you actually got to see him in his jersey. Number 11 of Karasuno, a regular. 

„Hellooooooo Tsukishima! Would you mind to introduce us to this lovely girl you are talking to?“

Suddenly Sugawara had popped up next to the two of you, starling your boyfriend for the minority of a second. Not much to Tsukishima’s surprise Daichi stood right behind the setter, eyeing you with an innocent smile. 

„Ah, you must be Kei's teammates. Nice to meet you! I won’t occupy him for long, just making sure that he is in usually high spirits.“ You proceeded with telling them your name, school and grade. 

After that you looked at your boyfriend to finish your introduction as you certainly didn’t know how much his team was involved in his love life. 

„She is my stalker in disguise of a fan," he responded to your nonverbal plea.

A chuckle left your mouth while you crossed your arms in front of your chest and leaned onto your lamppost of a significant other. Even with your body putting weight on him, he didn’t move in inch. So you stood securely.

„Nah, I am more of his personal reminder that his heart of stone is able to feel love.“

Sugawara and Daichi introduced themselves, exchanging glances with one another in between sending approving looks your way. Together with you Tsukishima returned to his former resting spot where Yamaguchi greeted you as well. Out of the Karasuno bunch he had been the only person to officially have been told about the change of his best friend’s relationship status.

Though, Sugawara had to admit that he had indeed had a suspicions until today. 

Sitting next to each other with your backs facing the wall, you more or less leaning onto him again, the missing boys of the team returned one by one.

At first Nishinoya and Tanaka did not believe their eyes that a third girl had found their way to them before Tsukishima clicked his tongue at them. They went on with jumping up and down, probably attracting Hinata in the end. 

Not less excited, the orange-haired boy had sparkles in his eyes as he cooed, „I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Tsukishima! Please teach me your methods, please, PLEASE!“ 

Time went by in the speed of a spiked volleyball, so the announcement to prepare for the first match came faster than expected. Several parts of the crowd inside the room started moving, gathering or walking out to the gym already. 

Tsukishima put on his sports glasses, you did your best to distract Yamaguchi from the upcoming adrenaline. Not that it really worked, but internally he was glad to have someone that was talking to him about something else than facing strong teams. In this case how your boyfriend would look stunning in glasses with a pink frame.

„You should go back to your seat. Akiteru is probably waiting for you,“ he advised you once Coach Ukai had told the team to get together. 

Now was your moment to leave - In the battles he was about to fight on court you couldn’t do anything but watch from afar. For sure you were intending to clap and scream until your hands and throat would be sore, maybe annoying a specific middle blocker of Karasuno in the process.

One last time Tsukishima turned around to send you off.

„Break a finger, Kei!“

He gave you a thumbs up, the corners of his lips slightly poking towards the ceiling. Then he switched back to his serious mode in order to crush their opponents. 

-----

Posted: April 9th 2020 | Requests: Open | Match-ups: Closed

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu writing #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 2 - The Mountains of Hakone are the Steepest in the World (Part 3)

I actually need an editor this time so...if you have a lot of free time, dm me

Translation Notes

1. Ekiden Tenma refers to the ancient system of exchanging information by going back and forth between post stations by horse, like the Pony Express in the US. An ekiden also means a long-distance relay race.

2. An inro is a traditional Japanese case used for holding small objects like identity seals and medicine. While looking up what raising your inro means I found a lot of references to the period drama Mito Komon, where the hero raises their inro to show his identity, so I think raising your inro is sort of like showing your ID to someone. 

3. Tsuburaya Koukichi was a Japanese marathon runner. He won the bronze medal in the 1964 Tokyo Olympics after being overtaken by another runner at the last minute, which he was mortified by. He also suffered a chronic back problem after the Olympics. He committed suicide in 1968 and left a note thanking his family for the food they gave him. You can read the letter on Wikipedia

4. A university-preparatory school or 進学校 (Shingaku-kou) is a school centered on preparing students into getting into university. They usually have higher rates of university acceptance. 

5. Putting this here because it took me a long time to look this up, but a 返す刀 (literally “returning (or retaliating) katana”) means attacking one thing and then immediately attacking something else after with a different kind of attack.

Previous | Next

Angry cries and confusion swirled inside the twins’ room.

Impossible. Was he insane? Why we gotta wear shorts and throw on a sash to climb mountains right after New Year’s? What is a Ha-ko-ne E-ki-den? You see, the word “Ekiden” was taken from the “Ekiden Tenma” system (1)… We don’t have any track team members here in the first place. And so on.

In the middle of all of that, Kakeru was the only one who stayed silent.

For those who did track, the “Hakone” was a tournament that had a special place in their hearts. For that reason, they knew how difficult it was to aim for Hakone. Kiyose’s proposal was nothing but a pipe dream. It wasn’t something that the residents of Chikusei-sou, who were all complete amateurs, could aim for just because they wanted to.

Kiyose stood up straight and left the room, then went down the stairs unusually loudly.

“Is he angry?” Jouji muttered uneasily.

“I’m pissed off, too.” Yuki irritably drained his cup of beer. “That asshole Haiji said a bad joke.”

Wondering what was going to happen, Kakeru watched the situation, and then the door was opened again roughly. Kiyose had returned. In his hand was the large doorplate hanging at Chikusei-sou’s entrance. Wondering if he was going to hit them with the plate, everyone reflexively ducked their heads. Kiyose stood in the center of the circle and wiped the sooty doorplate with the hem of his shirt.

“Look at this.”

Kiyose held up the cleaned doorplate like an inro (2) and did a full turn on the spot so that everyone sitting around him could see it.

“Wha, what the hell is that!”

Voices of astonishment spilled from everyone’s mouths. Kakeru also bent forward to take in the words written on the doorplate, and dumbfoundedly realized that this was what it meant to be too amazed to say anything.

“Chikusei-sou” was written in ink on the plain wood board. However, those weren’t the only words. They couldn’t be read until now because of the dirt, but there were two small rows of writing above them.

“Kansei University

Track and Field Team Training Camp”

That was certainly what was written there.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

Nico-chan, the number one old-timer, moaned. The newcomers Jouta and Jouji were looking at each other with ashen faces. By this point, it was clear that Kiyose was seriously trying to take on the Hakone Ekiden.

“In the first place, does our school even have a track and field team?”

Shindou confronted Kiyose with the pitifulness of a peasant begging the governor for a reduction in the annual tribute.

“It’s tiny, but we do. I have said we went to a meet in my first year.”

I thought you participated by yourself. Prince, who was unaware of the workings of the track and field world, muttered. Kiyose didn’t move an inch and made another bombshell announcement as he held the doorplate up.

“And all of you guys are track members too.”

“How?!”

The uproar this time was incomparable to when they were told they were aiming for Hakone. Yuki stood up and drew closer to Kiyose.

“When did that happen!”

“When you moved in.” Kiyose declared nonchalantly. “Didn’t you think it was weird? It’s obvious in this day and age that there would be a catch with a thirty-thousand yen rent and served meals.”

Ignoring the commotion made by the others, Kakeru fixed a glare on Kiyose.

“In other words, the moment we move into Aotake, the team registration form for the track team is turned in?”

“That’s right.”

“And, of course, we’re automatically registered with the Inter-University Athletic Union of Kanto?”

“That’s right.”

“’That’s right’? You really are…” Kakeru sighed. “Isn’t it dirty without the consent of the person? How many people are on the track team in total?”

“For short-distance, we have a dozen or so people, I guess. We’re very weak, though. For long-distance, there’s the ten of us here.”

“So when did we become track athletes!?”

King tried to snatch away doorplate away from Kiyose. Musa hurriedly stopped him.

“I do not understand why. Let’s talk a little about this.”

“Right we will. Let’s just all settle down. Everyone, sit.”

Kiyose calmly instructed. It’s your fault it’s so chaotic, was what everyone was thinking. However, in Chikusei-sou, Kiyose’s words routinely possessed an immense power. They all forcibly suppressed their indignation and reluctantly sat down, once again forming a circle. No one opened their mouths. There was too much, and they didn’t know what to say.

Yuki nudged Kakeru’s side with his elbow. His eyes were saying “Go.” Kakeru was bewildered and looked around at the residents who formed the circle. The twins were signalling Kakeru with their eyes, asking for help. It was already well-known throughout Chikusei-sou that Kakeru went jogging by himself in mornings and evenings. Prince, who shut himself in his room and read nothing but manga, was about the only one who didn’t know.

For Kakeru, who had lived in a hierarchical society, to push aside the more veteran residents who were all sitting in a row and fire the first shot was something to hesitate about. However, the only person who could convincingly oppose Kiyose’s sudden proposition was Kakeru, the only one who was familiar with the world of track. Apparently, he had no choice but to question Kiyose on everyone’s behalf.

Kakeru corrected his posture.

“I’m asking this just to make sure, but who’s the coach? What do they think of these ghost members who don’t even know they’re on the team?”

“Don’t worry about that. The coach is our landlord Tazaki Genichirou-shi.”

“You’re crazy!”

Cries of grief once again rose from all around the circle.

“It’s impossible for us the moment that staggering old man is our coach!”

It seemed that Jouji was so shocked that he got alcohol down his windpipe. He complained while choking loudly.

“That’s rude. Our landlord is someone who was said to be the pride of Japan’s athletics world.” Kiyose chided him.

“When was that?” Jouta asked nervously while rubbing Jouji’s back.

“Well, when Tsuburaya Koukichi (3) died after writing his food-based suicide note, our landlord was already known as a famous coach at Kansei.”

“I do not understand at all.”

Musa tilted his head miserably. Only for this time, neither Shindou nor King the trivia master had the time to answer his question. Tsuburaya Koukichi was an outstanding runner who won the bronze medal for marathon at the Tokyo Olympics, but since explaining that wouldn’t move the conversation forward, Kakeru also decided to ignore Musa’s lamentation.

“Haiji-san, you said we were aiming for Hakone, but to put it bluntly, that’s impossible.”

At Kakeru’s flat and decisive words, everyone except for Kiyose looked relieved.

“You can’t know that without even trying.”

“I do know. Schools that are powerhouses at athletics do tough practices every single day for years, but even so, only a handful of universities are able to participate in Hakone, you know?”

“I don’t want to brag, but I’ve hardly ever ran before.” Prince, who was reading the manga he brought as though none of this had anything to do with him, lifted his head for the first time in a while. “I think it will take longer for someone like me to be able to participate in the Hakone Ekiden than a paramecium evolving into a human.”

“I’m sure even Prince should be faster than a paramecium.” King consoled him poorly.

“A paramecium is a paramecium. Even if it evolved, it won’t become a human.” Yuki cut the conversation off coldly and abandoned it.

Without lending an ear to the voices on the outfield, Kiyose looked directly at Kakeru.

“I’m surprised that you’d tuck your tail between your legs without even trying. Practice is important, but it’s not just a matter of doing hard training recklessly.”

Kakeru also took on the challenge head on.

“Haiji-san, you must know since you also run. Everyone here are amateurs. What is the point of dragging them into such a dream-like story and putting them through pain on purpose?”

“It certainly will remain a dream-like story if you don’t try,” Kiyose unusually exposed his feelings and vehemently argued in an irritated tone. “However, these guys have plenty of potential. Nico-chan-senpai has track experience. In high school, the twins and King were on the soccer team, and Yuki was in the kendo club. Shindou walked the mountain paths for ten-kilometer round-trips to get to school, and the potential hidden in Musa’s physical strength is immeasurable.”

“It’s a prejudice that black people are fast,” Musa said weakly. “Just like how there are black people who hate hip-hop or are bad at dancing, I’m not particularly fast either.”

“It’s been seven years since I’ve done track,” Nico-chan smiled bitterly as he lit a new cigarette.

“It doesn’t seem that I’m being counted, but it’s true that I’m terrible at sports.” King said timidly as he flipped through his manga idly. Kiyose still only looked at Kakeru and spoke passionately.

“And then, Kakeru came to Aotake. We now have ten people all together. Hakone isn’t a mountain in a mirage. This isn’t a pipe dream. It’s a reality where we can tie on our sashes and ascend!”

There was a scattered round of indifferent applause, and it stopped after Kiyose snapped, “Stop fooling around.” Cutting Kakeru off when he still tried to argue back, Kiyose recited from memory the “Hakone Ekiden Entry Qualifications” as though to double down on it.

“‘A registered athlete of the Inter-University Athletic Union of Kanto who belongs to the participating school and applied to participate in this competition no more than four times. If one only participated in the qualifying round, that is included in the number of times.’ The residents of Aotake are members of the Kansei University track and field team, and the team members are automatically registered with the union. Including the qualifiers, there is no one here who has participated in the Hakone Ekiden even once. See, we fulfilled all of the qualifications for participation.”

“The problem is those qualifiers.” Kakeru was finally able to interject. “You can’t just suddenly appear in the Hakone Ekiden.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that,” Shindou muttered.

“Most people only watch the finals on New Year’s,” Kakeru nodded.

“Twenty schools can participate the Hakone Ekiden, but only the top ten schools can get seeded. Every year, about thirty schools take part in the qualifiers that open in October.”

“If it’s thirty schools from all the universities in Kanto, then it’s not that many, isn’t it?”

To Jouji’s words, Kakeru declared, “Naïve!”

“For Hakone, ten people run ten sections, but each section is more than twenty kilometers. Naturally, the qualifiers are also decided by the total times of the athletes from each university for running twenty kilometers all at once. But…first of all, that twenty kilometers is a big problem.”

Pressed by Kakeru’s gaze, Kiyose reluctantly supplemented his words.

“It’s difficult to obtain ten people who can run twenty kilos at a reasonable speed. What’s more, the speeds are getting faster and faster in recent years. There are also prerequisites for taking part in the qualifiers: You must have an official record of running five-thousand meters within seventeen minutes, or ten-thousand meters within thirty-five.”

Perhaps feeling overawed from hearing specific times, silence descended on the room for a while. This time, it was Kakeru who continued.

“The top-level universities that participate in the Hakone Ekiden have most of their athletes run five-thousand meters in the first half of the fourteen-minute range on average. And, that’s a result collected from the best all over the country. Hakone isn’t a competition that you’ll be able to reach just with lip service. A weak track team from a university that doesn’t even do sports referrals doesn’t have a chance to be able to participate.”

Prince timidly raised his hand and spoke up.

“Um, I don’t really get the greatness of that record.”

“Haven’t you done endurance running in high school?” Jouta asked him in a hoarse voice, but Prince only shook his head and said “Not at all.”

“My high school was a university-preparatory school (4), so endurance running was just three kilometers.”

“If it’s five-thousand meters within seventeen minutes, then that means that’s a faster pace than three-and-a-half minutes per kilometer,” Yuki calmly calculated in his head.

“Three-and-a-half minutes! It took me about fifteen minutes to run three kilometers, I think.”

“That’s…hopelessly slow,” Nico-chan muttered without stopping from smoking his cigarette.

“Running five-thousand meters in seventeen minutes is only the condition to participate in the qualifiers. It’s hard to go to Hakone unless everyone has the ability to run in the fourteen-minute range,” Kiyose pointed out more and more calmly.

“It’s obviously impossible for us, isn’t it,” Jouji said brightly as though dismissed from a terrible job. However, Kiyose didn’t give up.

“For long-distance, you need to have endurance and concentration. You can’t just practice lazily. If we narrow down the target to just Hakone and make adjustments, then we can do the impossible.”

“What are you basing all of this confidence on?” Kakeru was amazed.

“If you’re talking about the basis, then it’s what I said before. The residents of Aotake have hidden potential.”

Kiyose was imposing. Probably even the people who had lived with him at Chikusei-sou for several years hadn’t noticed how much passion he had within him until now.

“To put it in concrete numbers, Kakeru can run five-thousand meters in thirteen minutes. Even among the athletes who take part in Hakone, it’s an incredible record that only a small number of people hold. By the way, at the track meet I was at right before I got injured, my record was fourteen minutes and ten seconds. I’ve fully recovered it from it recently, so I’m fully prepared for my legs to break after finishing the Hakone and strengthen that record.”

“Uh, no, you don’t have to go that far.” Yuki, who did not seem to like hot-bloodedness, murmured. “While we’re at it, I want you to stop dragging me into this.”

Kiyose ignored his objection.

“Furthermore, Musa can probably run it in just under fourteen minutes too. All the foreign athletes who take part in Hakone are in the thirteen-minute range.”

“I think it is because those people are overseas students who are expected to be fast.” Musa desperately explained while looking to Shindou for help. “It’s impossible for me. I’m a government-sponsored foreign student in the faculty of science and engineering, after all. More specifically, a car picks me up and drops me off at school in my country.”

“If you had that much money, why did you come to a place like Aotake?” Jouji raised a reasonable question.

“It is so that I can gain life experience. I did not see this happening…” Musa said, looking like a wilted morning glory. Without minding any of that, Kiyose summed everything up.

“Anyways, for the rest of it, if you could just turn a bit of your passion for mahjong or clubbing to running, we will definitely get good results. After all, you guys have more than enough physical strength, at the very least.”

Fueled by Kiyose’s ardor, some of them were gradually becoming more and more enthusiasm. Kakeru sensed that in the mood. As if it was something that easy. He roughly filled up his cup with sake.

A group of only amateurs aiming for the Hakone Ekiden. And what’s more, there was only half a year until the qualifiers in October. If someone who did track seriously heard that, they would think it was recklessness to the point of laughing it off as sleep-talking. What on earth did Kiyose thought running was?

Was inviting me to Chikusei-sou also because he had this kind of ulterior motive? In the end, Haiji-san is the same as those guys from high school who would make a huge deal over only my speed.

However, he couldn’t storm out of the room. Don’t go along with this absurd conversation, just go back to your room. Even as he thought that, for some reason he couldn’t move his body. From somewhere in his heart, a voice whispered, Doesn’t this seem interesting? Are you going to continue to run by himself in a place away from the track and field world forever? If you are, it’s better to launch an attack on the Hakone Ekiden with the residents of Chikusei-sou. It’s not a bad idea to try.

The whisper became a spark that ignited Kakeru.

Kiyose had said it. Kakeru’s running was free and looked fun. That was why he called out to him. Until now, there was no one around Kakeru who had said something like that to him.

There was no need for fun or anything like that in running. You should only aim to improve your speed, and put off leisure, romance, and hanging out with friends. He had heard those words so many times from managers, coaches, and upperclassmen that he was tired of it. Kakeru had only ever been asked to run like a machine. Kakeru’s value was only the numbers engraved on the stopwatch. He should have had enough of those days.

The other residents also seemed to be deep in thought about something in silence. While not knowing what to do with the uncertain and pent-up feelings within him, Kakeru gazed at the room where no one moved an inch,

Eventually, Shindou raised his head.

“I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Surprise-filled gazes concentrated on Shindou. Nobody thought that he, who was quiet and reliable, would be the first to decide.

“In the sticks, I walked many kilometers of mountain paths everyday, so I’m confident in my endurance. Plus, if we make it to the Hakone Ekiden, we’ll be on TV, right? I think my parents would be thrilled about that.”

“If Shindou is doing it, I shall take it on as well,” Musa said. “But I am telling you this in advance, I truly am not fast. Are you fine with that regardless?”

“Everything will turn out fine as soon as our practice starts,” Kiyose said warmly, as though everything hinged on that.

Oi oi, Nico-chan frowned, and Yuki gazed out the window, pretending to be indifferent. Prince was inching towards the door little by little.

The rest of the residents on the second floor, who easily got into the mood and were up for anything, became lively with Shindou’s and Musa’s declarations of participation.

“Hey, hey, Haiji-san. We’ll be popular with girls, right?”

“We definitely will, right?”

“Will this really guarantee me a job?”

The twins and King energetically asked for confirmation in rapid succession. “Of course,” Kiyose assured them.

Kakeru wanted to shout, He’s playing you! However, he knew that it was no use no matter what he said. The twins and King only wanted to escape from the harsh reality facing them briefly. That was why they jumped at the bait called “Hakone Ekiden” that was dangling in front of them. They were like horses that had sweet candy made from crystallized dreams hanging in front of their noses.

King was in high spirits and said, “Alright. Let’s help with Haiji’s ambitions!”

“Now,” Kiyose said, and alternately mowed down Nico-chan, Yuki, Prince, and Kakeru, who still hadn’t confirmed their participation yet, with his gaze.

“By majority decision, it is already decided that we will be aiming for the Hakone Ekiden. But, I don’t think that’s going to convince you guys either.”

Wondering what was going to be said, Kakeru refrained from even breathing and prepared himself for Kiyose’s attack. Kiyose continued to calmly intimidate them.

“Therefore, I am going to use force. You guys have no veto power.”

“This is tyranny!”

“Is this kind of thing allowed in a country where the rule of law prevails?”

Kiyose laughed off Nico-chan’s and Yuki’s desperate protests right in front of them.

“Nico-chan-senpai. Who was the one who, when you were crying ‘I absolutely cannot fail this exam,’ dragged you out of bed on time with the kindness and strictness of a mother? Who was the one who helped you repaper your walls that get sticky with nicotine every year? Who was the one who repaired the floorboards you stepped through in the hallway without telling the landlord on you?”

Like a convict who reformed right before his execution, Nico-chan suddenly became quiet and docile. Kiyose changed the aim of his attack to Yuki.

“You haven’t forgotten about it either, Yuki, the taste of my osechi cooking, right? Last year, you couldn’t get a job because of your bar exam, so you bummed off of me for lunch for the whole year because you said you didn’t have any money. To think that you’ve forgotten about that…”

Yuki could only nod his head like a broken doll. Kiyose turned his blade immediately yet again and slashed at Prince’s back as he was opened the door and was about to escape from the room. (5)

“Prince. Because of your book hoard, Chikusei-sou is at the brink of collapse. Which will you choose: Throwing away your manga, or aiming for the Hakone Ekiden?”

Prince sank down to the floor, but showed a resolute attitude to fight back.

“I hate both of them! Both choices are like telling me to die.”

Prince’s grief-filled lamentations reverberated in the room. Kiyose crossed his arms with a “Hmm” and turned towards Kakeru again. Kakeru lightly raised his arms.

“I get it. ‘Who introduced you to Chikusei-sou? If you don’t like it, you can leave.’ Is that what you’re going to say?”

“I’m not going to say that to someone’s who broke,” Kiyose uncrossed his arms. “All right, then. Kakeru and Prince, I’ll give you a few more days. If you change your mind, tell me.”

Prince stopped lamenting, and approached Kiyose, standing in the middle of the room, a little bit.

“And if it doesn’t change?”

“Are you going to declare a state of emergency next time?” Yuki interrupted sarcastically.

“No,” Kiyose smiled gently. “I will persistently continue to call for your surrender.”

Kakeru’s and Prince’s shoulders slumped in unison.

Previous | Next

#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind #kazetsuyo

[alitaimagines]

“stars shining right above you. night breezes seem to whisper I love you. birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me.” 

iwaizumi hajime - HAIKYUU!!

note: yall getting a Kenma imagine v soon. also, the reader isn’t specified to have a certain nationality! they’re just implied not to be from Japan :)

-please see my note above this imagine-

“and this is the boys volleyball practice gym,” one of the orientation leaders said, “they’re the best team in the entire school, maybe in all of Japan! and as a little known secret, keep your eye on Oikawa. he’s the popular one here,” she whispered. 

you watched as she swooned to the team and her eye trajectory landing on light brown haired boy. you could sense that your orientation leader might not be the only one who felt away about the boy named Oikawa. 

just as the two of you were about to leave, their coach blew the whistle. not bothering to put another thought into it, you were gazing at their enormous amount of trophies when you felt a few people come up to you. 

“you’re new here, right?” Oikawa asked as you nodded, “I’m Oikawa, what’s your name?” he asked as he leaned up against the wall and wiped the sweat off his forehead. 

you remained silent for a moment, “( your name ),” you replied as he gave you a smile, “would you mind if I showed you around?” he asked with a smirk playing on his face. 

you knew exactly what game he was playing, “no,” you said in a monotone voice as you sarcastically checked your watch, “classes start soon and I wouldn’t want either of us to be late, okay?” 

the other boys that had walked with Oikawa started laughing as you grabbed your backpack and the required uniform jacket before finally heading out. you took the small bit of advice that your orientation leader had given you and made sure to stick to it. 

“watch out for the boys on the team, they’re not what they seem.” 

you walked up towards the main entrance of the school and quickly made your way to the office to get a few papers you needed to turn in to the teacher before class started. 

after struggling a bit to find your homeroom, you walked in to see everyone’s eyes on you. your face went warm with embarrassment as you immediately went to talk to the teacher. she gave you a run down of a few things before introducing you to the students that were in the class. 

unfortunately for you, you came to the sudden realization that Oikawa and one of the other boys that was with him before class were in your homeroom. you just hoped that if this was like your other schools, you wouldn’t be with them all day. 

“new girl!” Oikawa exclaimed as you sighed as your head fell to the desk behind you in annoyance, “leave her alone Shittykawa, can’t you tell that she doesn’t want to talk to you?”

you gave replied with a thank you before going back to the bell work the teacher assigned and not bothering a second glance Oikawa or his very attractive friend. 

Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t you cracking like the other girls did for him. Iwaizumi on the other hand was able to put two and two together. 

he watched as you looked at the time and back to your school work every so often. Iwaizumi just figured that the reason why he kept looking at you was because you were the new girl. totally not because he thought you were cute. 

once you realized that the half day mark came and lunch time finally started, you took your lunch from your backpack and munched on it while you looked over the options for after school clubs. 

girls tennis? boring. choir? even more boring. volleyball manager? the thought of dealing with Oikawa all day and now after school made you gag. 

you sighed realizing none of the school clubs sounded not even mildly appealing. you revised the list once more before realizing that the other manager position Aobajohsai was offering was for boy’s soccer. you scribbled your name down before handing it back to your teacher. 

Iwaizumi watched as you struggled with your decision and a part of him hoped that you would pick Volleyball but your hand wrote your name down for soccer and his small bit of hope faltered. 

you plugged your headphones into your phone before blaring your music as you ate your lunch and started your homework. you received a letter a few minutes later stating that the soccer team would need you after school to help them with setting up the field and getting to know your teammates. 

once the end of the day came and you were informed on where to go for your after school club, you saw as the boys for the volleyball team heading towards their gym. 

you could tell that Oikawa wanted to confront you but the same boy from your class and the team stopped him once again and kicked him in the back before shoving him inside of the gym. 

you knew that you would eventually have to thank him for helping you get away from the pretty boy. 

a few months passed as you got familiar with your surrounding and got adjusted to helping the boys with their club activities. even thought their season was active, you had to be there every day to help with trainings, practices, or scrimmage games. 

some of the boys on the team were also in your class so it was easy to just stick by them when breaks came up. 

to Iwaizumi, his infatuation for you became more and more prevalent to himself. there would be days where he would watch you from afar. he tried to remain as uncreepy as possible but he could sense that if you knew he was watching you, you would probably freak out. 

Iwai would watch as you would sing songs to yourself and although he didn’t understand most of what you said, seeing you sing and dance to yourself and along with your friends made his heart race. 

“hey, we have that weird school festival thingy coming up, right?” you asked one of the boys as he nodded, “are we doing anything to promote the club? we haven’t exactly spoken about it and as your team manager, I need to know what we’re planning on doing.” 

some of the boys sighed knowing the team struggled to come up with a theme every for this school festival. you thought for a moment before snapping your fingers, “what if we do a combined theme? we get another team and we play a scrimmage of their sport and ours!” you offered as you noticed all of their eyes light up. 

“you’re a genius!” your captain, Daisuke exclaimed, “but which team?” he asked before you noticed a few of them turn their heads to see the volleyball team walking out of their gym. 

“not the volleyball team, I’m begging!” you exclaimed as they started laughing, “we’re the top two teams in all of Seijoh, it’s going to be the volleyball team!” Daisuke muttered as he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to where the team was. 

by the time you reached them, your face was red but you were still holding Daisuke’s hand. Iwaizumi took notice and sighed figuring that of course you fell for your teams captain. it was inevitable that someone as cute as you would fall for someone so popular. 

“hey, we wanted to ask, do you guys have any plans for the fall festival?” Daisuke asked as Oikawa shook his head no, “she came up with the brilliant idea! what if we were to combine both of our teams and play a game of our sports against each other! one 20 minute game of soccer and one round of volleyball! it would promote both of Seijoh’s biggest teams!” 

Oikawa’s smirk fell to you, “ah, I knew the lovely lady would fall to our trap eventually,” Oikawa boasted as you growled, “didn’t I tell you, Daisuke? we should’ve teamed up with the boys basketball team instead,” you muttered as half the boys volleyball team gave you a surprising look. 

“we accept! we can meet up after our practices end and come up with ideas,” Oikawa replied as you rolled your eyes harder than you had ever felt, “fine, just drop your cocky attitude at the door,” you threatened before releasing yourself Daisuke’s hand and leaving to meet the rest of team. 

Iwaizumi could tell that maybe it wasn’t the team that you didn’t like, it for sure had to be Oikawa that you really didn’t like. 

-

after meeting up a few times with the boys on the volleyball team and creating a small stand, the day of the festival finally came. 

being that the other boys didn’t have a manager, Iwaizumi, admittedly took up the position to help you at the stand to reel in as many people to attend each others game. 

you were wearing the managers uniform which was more comfortable than you liked to admit. your uniform was the Seijoh blue athletic skirt with a white shirt that read ‘Seijoh Soccer’ on the side.

“hey, can you hand me that water bottle? I don’t want it to get cold,” you told Iwaizumi as he nodded, “thanks Iwai!” you murmured, not thinking of the nickname you just called him. 

Iwaizumi on the other hand did notice and felt himself blush. since both of you were working the stand, the two of you had to miss out on both games. you weren’t too upset at missing the games since Iwaizumi was keeping you company. 

“how long have you been playing volleyball?” you asked Iwaizumi, “since I was in middle school,” he replied as he dragged two barstools for the two of you to sit on, “that’s cool, have you always played with Oikawa?” he nodded again. 

“what made you move to Japan?” Iwaizumi asked as he tried to continue the conversation, “oh, just my parents. their job made them move and I really didn’t have choice, ya know?” you said a bit vaguely. 

as the two of you continued on with talking, you noticed how the sun was starting to set and how much time had passed. you had your arm resting on top of the ledge, as did Iwaizumi. 

you took a chance and softly felt up his hand with your fingers. Iwaizumi was surprised at the sudden affection and for a second, he wanted to intertwine his fingers with yours when he suddenly remembered, 

Daisuke. 

“aren’t you dating the captain of your team?” you immediately let out a laugh making Iwaizumi confused, “Daisuke? he wishes!” you managed to say, “oh god, that was the laugh of the day!” 

Iwaizumi was confused by your response as you tried to calm your laugh down. it took a while but eventually, you stopped laughing and gave Iwaizumi a small smile. 

“I am not dating Daisuke. I can assure you that!” you said as he gave you one final question, “so what was up with the hand holding a few weeks ago?” you thought as you realized what he was talking about. 

you grabbed his hand, this time a lot more gently than last time and gave it a squeeze, “he was just dragging me to the team because I didn’t want to go with him. I can assure you that there’s no feelings, at least on my part their isn’t,” you confessed as he smiled. 

Iwaizumi nodded as he gave your hand a squeeze before lifting it and kissing the back of it, “than is it okay if I ask you for ramen on Saturday?” he asked as you nodded yes, rather aggressively than you intended. 

not too far away was Oikawa groaning in annoyance. the girl he had tried so hard to befriend was stolen from right underneath him. stolen by his best friend. 

Oikawa didn’t mind it but he just wondered why you became putty in Iwaizumi’s hands so quickly yet you didn’t even give him a time of day. regardless, he was happy for his best friend nonetheless. 

just as he was about to head home, he watched Iwaizumi wrap his volleyball sweater around you and offered to walk you back home. there was a part of Oikawa’s heart that swelled. 

his best friend probably found his first love and hopefully, it remained at his only love. Oikawa knew you weren’t too fond of him but he knew that you were genuinely attracted to Iwaizumi and not using Iwai as a way to get closer to Oikawa.  

ALITA

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! imagine #anime imagine #anime x reader #anime x you #anime #Iwaizumi Haijime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime imagine

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Goodnight, Aaron (Aaron Hotchner x OC) Chapter 5

Summary: After being grilled about his ex-girlfriend on what is meant to be a fun birthday outing, Sebastian gets some new information dropped on him by a worn-out Jack.

AN: Sorry I haven't posted in a while! Been a bit busy with job and family stuff. Hope you enjoy this chapter. This chapter is mostly unedited sorry!

Tagging: @sunlight-moonrise, @clean-bands-dirty-stories, @genevievedarcygranger, and @davidrossi-ismydad

Chapter 4 // Masterlist // AO3 Link

“They asked you to coach?”

Sebastian watched Jack run off to warm up with his team, then he turned back to Hotch who clicked the car keys to lock, “Do they know what you do for a living? And they’ve asked you to coach before? Mental.”

Hotch let out a chuckle at how utterly ridiculous Sebastian made it sound. And, truth be told, it was “mental” that Hotch was still coaching his son and their team when he still had to wrangle together his own team back at the BAU.

Sebastian adjusted his bag strap, “You need to learn to say ‘no’ to some people, Aaron.”

Hotch shook his head, playing into that teasing tone that had worked its way ito the conversation, “Well I don’t suppose you would be up for it?”

“I know nothing about football.”

“Soccer.”

“Soccer,” and Hotch laughed at the way Sebastian’s nose wrinkled as he mimicked the accent – albeit with heavy exaggeration on the vowels.

“Dave!”

Hotch’s hand raised into the air, catching the attention of his co-worker. Sebastian felt the pressure crank up to eleven as David Rossi sauntered over. He did not look like he was about to coach little league. He looked like he was about to go to one of his many villas in Europe and lounge around there for two weeks drinking wine.

 “David Rossi, this is Sebastian Porter.”

“Jack’s nanny, of course,” Rossi shook his hand heartily. Sebastian immediately wanted Rossi to be the cool uncle he never had.

He couldn’t think of anything wittier to say than this: “And you work with Aaron. On and off the pitch.”

“Couldn’t let him do it alone,”

“My ride’s here, so I’ll see you this evening. Nice meeting you, David.”

Though Sebastian was already behind schedule, he spared himself the embarrassment of his boss watching him lightly jogging over to his companions - and said companions clowning him for said light jogging.

“Aww, a lil peewee match?” Bellamy teased loudly, though not loud enough for the team to hear her.

Sebastian wanted to give her a playful shove, but he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t slide off her rollerblades deliberately, so instead he retorted, “Bullying kids, Bellamy? I thought you couldn’t stoop any lower.”

Klaus stopped rolling back and forth on his BMX, “Which one’s the boss then?”

“Wearing the white polo and shorts, not holding the clipboard.”

Klaus squinted behind his par of wholly unnecessary sunglasses, “Hmm, both are fit.”

“Come on, you’re staring,” and Sebastian twisted Klaus’ baseball cap around backwards before climbing onto the back of the bike.

As Klaus gave an indignant retort, he pushed off and began to cycle away. Sebastian’s hands gripped his shoulders tight and he opted to send a smile in his boss’ direction as opposed to a wave. Bellamy, the embarrassing mom type that she was, waved with both hands and skated backwards as she went.

Their afternoon sesh was off to a rocking start when Sebastian refused even one drink – sticking instead to a diet soda – while Bellamy and Klaus went for bottomless Bellini’s.

Bellamy discussed what children the new term had brought her. A short summary was that they were all little shits whom she adored and would protect with her life. That had been her track record for the part three years she had taught at this high school. The trio clinked glasses in celebration to her track record.

“Honestly, they’re so ready to get to using the Bunsen burners. It’s gonna be bonkers,” She beamed as a server brought her a refilled glass, “Can’t wait to bust out the copper.”

“As much as I love you talking science to me,” Klaus paused to put on a solemn mask that was cracked from the triumph he was wearing beneath, “We have to talk about Pippa while I’m still partially sober.”

When both his friends zeroed in on him whilst sipping their Bellini’s through straws, Sebastian all but exploded with excuses, “Oh my god, I get it! You told me so! It’s been a month! Can we drop it?”

“You went back to her!” Klaus ignored Sebastian’s “I know’s” with his head craning to reach over his friend’s voice, “After everything she did to you! You that desperate for attention?”

“Yeah!”

Both Bellamy and Klaus ceased their teasing, Klaus dropping back into his chair as he said, “Woah, ok, sorry dude.”

“It’s ok.”

Bellamy took Sebastian’s glass away, “Babe, that’s really depressing, you sure you haven’t been drinking?” She took a long sniff, her nose twirling around the rim before sliding it back to Sebastian, “No, he really is that deep.”

“Ha ha.”

Both Bellamy and Klaus sobered up considerably, the tone of their voices shifting into quiet support as Bellamy draped her arm around Sebastian’s shoulders, “I’m glad you got out of it, Bash.”

“Me too. And Rachael.”

“Ooo, how is Rachael?” Klaus pushed his sunglasses up his nose. How he looked like such a douchebag, shades on indoors, yet so happy with that status, Sebastian didn’t care to think about right now.

“She’s got a job in a firm now, big proper one.”

“Oooh! Can she get me out of my parking tickets?”

Suddenly the lights dimmed and Bellamy whipped out her phone, grinning behind it as Klaus looked up and around with a baby’s curiosity.

A troop of servers marched over with the birthday cake Bellamy had dropped off earlier that day. Its bright red buttercream icing Klaus went very quiet, a bashful smile glowing in the candlelight as the restaurant turned its attention to sing “Happy Birthday” to him.

“Happy Birthday, Klaus.” Bellamy and Sebastian kissed both his cheeks at the same time, a perfect photo op that one of the servers took for them.

The birthday boy was gracious enough to share his cake and give Sebastian a ride home after a few more drinks. Of water, Sebastian insisted that Klaus sober up a little so they weren’t going to crash the bike before his night out.

At the crossroads, Bellamy turned left when they went right, her arm stretching out to them like she was watching her loved one get shipped off to war. Sebastian was dropped off shortly after, just outside the block of flats, and Klaus was already off before Sebastian could tackle him with a hug. So he shouted after him. Nothing expletive, but it was enough for Klaus to look over his shoulder and smirk, swerving not a second later to avoid an incoming pedestrian.

When Sebastian entered the flat, Hotch and Rossi were in the sitting room, lounging in the settee over a bottle of whiskey artistically placed on the coffee table.

“Hey, how was the training?”

“Tough, but those kids are tougher.” Rossi raised his drink to his statement, and Sebastian thought about how he could subtly slide some adoption papers across the coffee table.

“Do you want a drink?” Hotch asked.

Already going to the kitchen, Sebastian checked in the stew he’d prepped that morning in the slow cooker, “I’m good, thanks.” He was a little peeved that he’d spent the afternoon sober, especially during the bashing of the ex-girlfriend, but he could always grab a nightcap later on. “Where’s Jack?”

“I SCORED A GOAL!”

Sebastian smile strained as he saw the state of Jack’s shorts once he rounded the corner to the kitchen. His shirt was off; clearly he was in the middle of getting changed.

“That’s brilliant, but if you come at me with them muddy keks, I’ll score a goal with you! Come back in your jammies and we’ll celebrate properly.” And he shooed Jack away to the bathroom. The star striker to be disappeared, his muddy rear skidding into his bedroom with the door closing quick behind him.

“‘Keks’?” Rossi repeated with an eyebrow raised.

So Sebastian clarified, “Trousers.”

“You mean pants.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at Hotch’s so-called correction before saying again, “No, keks.”

Thankfully they saw the funny side of it, allowing a hint of strain to drop from Sebastian’s shoulders just in time for Jack to come running back in. This time, he was wearing pyjamas.

Sebastian caught him neatly and plonked him on the countertop, “Tell me all about practice!”

As Sebastian prepared the rest of dinner, Jack babbled away about the training and his teammates. His energy by comparison to the other conversation between Hotch and Rossi caused theirs to stagnate in favour of joining in. Sebastian carried Jack across to the other counters without impeding his speech, keeping an eye on him and the food, while Hotch and Rossi joined in the storytelling.

At Jack’s description of Hotch and Rossi’s demonstration of a paired-up passing game, Sebastian’s abandoned phone began to buzz.

“Sorry Jack, I gotta get this. But why don’t you set the table?” Sebastian took him back down to Earth and shuffled him in the direction of the cutlery drawer before he picked up his mobile, “Hey, what are you doing up? Go to bed, young lady.”

Rachael replied with a heftier helping of snarkasm, “I’m in bed at the moment actually. Have you rung Mum and Dad yet?”

“I have, don’t worry,”

“Ok. Just checking.”

“Texting exists, you know? Not that I don’t delight at the sound of your grumpiness.”

“Yeah, well, you’re starting to sound more American.”

Casting an eye over to see Jack was nattering away to Hotch and Rossi, Sebastian whispered, “Shut your goddamn mouth.”

“I’ll call you after work. Love you, bye.”

“Bye.”

Sebastian hung up then slapped his free palm against his face.

Hotch caught his attention, leaning ever so slightly into his range of vision with concern, “Are you alright?”

“Forgot to say I love you, she’s gonna hold that against me for five years at least.”

As the person dishing up and the last to get to the table, Sebastian sat beside Rossi with Jack opposite him and Hotch diagonally across. There was a tautness in Sebastian’s back as he tried desperately not to gauge Rossi’s reaction to his food.

Instead Rossi reminded him of their meeting earlier, “Interesting choice in mode of transport today.”

Like a deer in the headlights, Sebastian tripped his way through his explanation, “Thanks, we’re desperately trying to reclaim our youth.” Then he popped a forkful of meat into his mouth to excuse him from further conversation.

Except Jack didn’t get the memo. “Who were you talking to on the phone?”

“My sister, Rachael, she’s got a big case on tomorrow.”

“She’s a lawyer,” Rossi pointed across the table with his fork, “Hotch was a defence attorney.”

The information was so shiny and new to Sebastian, that he forgot to implement his “you’re my boss” filter and he said, “You look for ‘intimidating’ in your job descriptions?”

No time for regret, Jack once against filled the space. “Intimidating?”

“Yeah, intimidating, big into justice, likes his suit,” and instead of back down, Sebastian leant over his plate as if to tell a secret, and Jack opposite him leant close too as Sebastian said, “Your dad’s basically Batman.”

Jack’s face lit up at the comparison, one he had made in the past, and he continued to grin as he ate his stew.

“Anyway, our kid’s following up on some advice about getting my deposit back from my bedsit. Landlord’s being an absolute bad word.”

“If you want, I can take a look at it,” Hotch offered.

Sebastian looked back at Jack with fond bemusement, “Told you, your dad’s Batman, just no billions minus the brutality.”

Hotch’s cutlery slipped and collided loudly with his plate as Sebastian said, “It’s all good, thank you. I just sent him some photos of what the mattress looked like when I first moved in, should get him to give up.”

The conversation stagnated from Sebastian, still worn out word-wise from his afternoon drinking non-drinking outing, so he was grateful for the fact he finished first and Jack finished second.

“We can leave the grown-ups now,” he said in a loud whisper, already walking off with Jack to his bedroom.

Over his shoulder, he heard Rossi say not so quietly an I-told-you-so about how “men can be nannies” and that Sebastian was a good choice. While Sebastian was relieved at he had made a good impression on Rossi, he was not so much feeling the inferred sexism his boss held. Still, he was hired now. Microaggressions could be tackled when he got to them.

Cross-legged on the carpet, Jack set about demolishing the rocket. Bricks flew across his little zone of construction. One stray red brick hit Sebastian right between his sock and his cuffed jeans.

“What are we on today, bud? Pirate ship?”

But Jack was quiet. His energy levels were definitely crashing after such a big day. Sebastian gave him space to answer if he wanted, taking charge of organising the bricks into sizes for Jack to pick from.

When there was no reply for a solid minute, Sebastian asked, “You ok?”

For a while, Jack continued his silence. He was busy looking for a very specific shape of brick. His fingers searched over the top of the pile then dove into it, fishing out the perfect piece. Then he spoke.

“Batman beats up the bad guys,” Jack said, his voice hushed, “But so does Daddy.”

Sebastian blinked then recovered just as quick, “Oh I’m not sure about that.”

But Jack shook his head with his eyes still on assembling his boat, “He beat up the man who killed Mommy. Don’t tell him, it’s a secret.”

“A secret from him?” Sebastian didn’t know he was whispering too until he had already spoken.

“He doesn’t know we know. Can you make the mast please?”

And Jack held out a square block. Sebastian blinked again and accepted the piece. Clearly Jack thought this was a very casual conversation, something that Sebastian should keep from Hotch very easily. And he was making a ship.

“Jack, have you told that to anyone else?”

“No.”

“How tall do you want the mast?”

Jack measured with the space between his hands. Taking note, Sebastian continued to stack bricks until the desired height was reached, and Jack took it off his hands, placing it in the middle of the boat.

“I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?”

The little guy shook his head, now completely absorbed in his construction projects. With a pat on his head, Sebastian twisted his legs around to stand and went to stand in the hallway. The door closed behind him and he pressed his forehead against the wall. He took a deep breath, rolling his head to the left, and pushed back his shoulders. A crack from his neck introduced him to the kitchen, where he tossed a half smile at Hotch and Rossi. Then he busied himself with getting that drink. A few drops of water splashed against his wrist.

“Hey Sebastian?”

Said person looked around to see Rossi rocking on the back legs of his chair, “I don’t suppose Hotch ever told you that, when you were taking your trial day, he nearly called you every hour to see how you were doing?”

“Dave,” Hotch said with something that was clearly intended to be a warning tone. The smile he was fighting to keep off his face betrayed him.

“No, he didn’t.” He hid his smirk in his glass. It dropped fast though. The Batman comments were still heavy in his mind, and now with Jack’s context on the brutality aspect, he wasn’t really jazzed to crack another joke lest he stumble across some more unfortunate information.

Rossi didn’t seem to care about that so much, “I had to micromanage his micromanaging.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t’ve minded that.” Sebastian’s foot idly dragged across the tile in front of him, “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t’ve either. And speaking of-” He pulled out his phone and pulled up the website he and Jack had browsed during breakfast, “I have a very important question for you: can we get this bouncy castle for Jack’s birthday?”

He showed the photo of the dream castle to the two men.

“You mean a ‘bounce house’?”

“No, I mean bouncy castle. He was telling me all about wanting a slide one, he’d be over the moon if he got to bring his classmates around to go on one!”

“I suppose if we removed all my furniture and knocked down the walls, we could fit it in here,” Hotch said smartly. His eyebrows were raised as he looked away from the screen at Sebastian, who snorted. God, it wasn’t even that funny.

Once again, Rossi chimed in with his brilliant contributions, saving Sebastian from utter shame, “You know, we could have the party at my home.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x oc #my writing #r: male #wc: 2k+ #series #goodnight aaron

[grell-writes-stuff]

A Self Indulgent First Chapter

Enjoy...something

Words: 2,549

Genre: Young Adult / Paranormal

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

Slam!

Gasp!

And then the apathetic yell of “Walk it off, Willow!” from Coach Martin. No stopping the game or running over to make sure I’m not deprived of air or dying or something. Just “Walk it off, Willow!”

I suffer for a second with the wind knocked out of my body. My inhaler finds its way from my pocket to my hand, and while I hold the one breath I force myself into and wait for my crap lungs to jump-start again, I contemplate the most-likely-illegal play that landed me flat on my back in the middle of the field. Quarterback Tom Styles’ outstretched elbow connecting with my neck at full speed in his chase for the checkered ball and high school sports glory, clearly confusing his claim-to-fame varsity moves with a pickup game of soccer since I doubt he has the brain cells to remember the rules to two sports at once. And probably a little bit on purpose. Because he’s a dick.

My chest wheezes a little, but at least it’s something, and the weak inhales finally start to catch as a sun-freckled face appears above me and blocks out the light. Ivy offers me her hand.

“Did th-that look a-as bad as it f-felt?” I sputter.

Ivy tilts her head from side-to-side like it’s the scale measuring how uncool I am. “Worse. Very pathetic. You will die alone.” She yanks me to my feet and acts like a support in spite of the height difference.

“P-Please stop making m-me take gym with y-you.”

“Nah. It’s too funny.” She ignores my scowl. “Come on. Let’s get you some water and wait for those shitty lungs to work again.”

She escorts me – hobbling like some eighty-year-old man with spine problems and not just what will soon be a terrible, ugly bruise – toward the bleachers, empty except for the water bottles of our classmates. I’m happy enough to sit on the sidelines, not just while recovering from having all of the air robbed from my chest, but for the rest of gym class, and also forever. Ivy is equally as happy, but only because it prompts the girls’ teacher, Coach Caruthers, to scream in her booming voice:

“Hammond! Back on the field!”

Without missing a beat, Ivy responds, “In the event of moderate injury, students are allowed to have a friend or fellow student for mental, emotional, or physical support. It’s in the code of conduct.”

I don’t know if that’s actually something in our school’s rule book, but Ivy has read the whole thing cover-to-cover for the sole purpose of seeing how many provisions she can disregard without getting into trouble through malicious acts of over-compliance or sheer dumb luck. So, she’s either following the rules to the letter or lying about them. As I sit, I see that Caruthers does not look impressed when Ivy plops onto the bench next to me. The whole reason our gender-segregated phys. ed classes collaborate so often is because they’re full of athletes – and me, the outlier – so more often than not, it’s just an extra practice for the varsity players. Even though Ivy was born with the “good at physical stuff” gene, and talented enough to be a forward on our girls’ soccer team, she prefers to rely on the natural part of her ability and not the practice part to the vexation of literally everyone.

“Hammond!” Caruthers screams. “On the field, or off the team!”

Ivy squirts a stream of water into her mouth and quickly swallows before passing the bottle on to me. “Cool. Who’s replacing me?” she retorts.

I focus on downing some water and breathing evenly again and not on the vein beginning to pop out of Caruthers’ angry-red neck. She can’t say anything back because, well, Kinross High School isn’t huge. Pretty much everyone who can play sports is already playing sports, and as far as Ivy’s tendency to disrespect anyone of authority can go, she’s also crucial to securing victory over visiting teams. Caruthers just grits her teeth and returns to refereeing the game where Tom Styles has once again stolen the ball that got away from him, this time without incapacitating anybody since the one guy with asthma has left the field. (Asshole.) I watch as Abby Jefferson starts to gain on him, and Tom makes the choice to skillfully send the ball flying across the grass to the next open player, Drew Young, the only person in our gym class who does even less than I do.

That’s not for lack of talent either. I’ve seen Drew actually try on the rare occasion, and he could absolutely score a spot on a boys’ sports team. But most games, like today, he receives the pass and kicks the ball along to the next open player – it’s intercepted by one of the girls – and continues pacing the field leisurely. Coach Martin yells at him to get his head in the game, but Drew doesn’t bother. If the activity doesn’t involve selling the pens that he stole from the cheerleaders to the football team, the little weasel has no interest.

The game continues on.

Ivy reclines until her shoulders are touching the bench behind us, tilting her head back and staring at the sky. I have to wonder how comfortable it is.

“My dear Sid,” she theatrically addresses me. She likes to be dramatic sometimes. She thinks it’s funny. “I have a proposal for you.”

“I told you I’m not training a messenger pigeon with you. We only live three houses apart.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually, but no, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” She looks over at me without breaking her questionable position. “I know what we’re doing tonight. I’ve concocted a perfect plan, you see, for this most All-Hallowed of Eves.”

“You can say ‘Halloween’ like a normal person. It’s okay.”

“Let me bring you back in time,” she continues, ignoring me, “to the Kinross of yore. Just decades after its founding, the Salem Witch Trials came about and our town was no exception to the noose–”

“Salem is two hours away, Ivy,” I interrupt with the fact.

“Shut up. The Salem Witch Trials swept across the state of Massachusetts, migrated into Kinross, and thus the most famous trial of Kinross history was set in motion when one Ann Kelly was accused of being a creature of the occult!”

“Can I get the abridged version of this plan please?” I ask her. “Like, the part that takes place in this century?”

Finally fed up with my interjections, Ivy sighs exaggeratedly and rolls her eyes at me. “Blah, blah, blah, she was hanged, she’s buried in the historical section of Riverview, and we’re going there tonight during the witching hour to see” – she switches to her best spooky voice with elongated, trembling vowels – “her haunted grave.”

“Hard pass.”

That makes her sit upright again with a slouch to her posture. She’s wearing a fabricated pout. “Sid,” she whines.

“Ivy, I’m not sneaking out with you at three in the morning on Halloween to go see a ‘haunted grave.’” She opens her mouth, but I follow up with, “Our parents would kill us. Besides, what’s-her-name probably just angered a bunch of Puritans and got executed because of religious prejudice. That doesn’t mean she was a witch.”

“Well, of course. I think angering Puritans was a mandatory activity back then. But come on, Sid! The legend says she’s a witch, and it’s the perfect Halloween thing! I think we are obligated – if not encouraged by the spirit of Halloween herself – to go see a ghost witch.”

“Does the spirit of Halloween have a gender?”

Ivy pushes past that and waits to catch my eye dead-on. “Bet you a hundred bucks we actually see Ann Kelly’s phantom.”

My lips part to say no just a split second before I register the number. “Wait – a hundred?”

Something cocky has taken up her face, and she recites with inflated confidence, “Ten A-Hams. A Franklin. A thousand Roosevelts.”

“You know what? Fine. I’ll take your money,” I tell her. “You’re on.”

Her grin is smug as we fist-bump on it and close the deal, but I decide that I don’t care so much with the promise of an easy hundred dollars coming my way. Ivy ingests another stream of water, and swallows while her eyes quickly scan the grass to catch up with the game again. Suddenly, a yell flies from her mouth:

“Box him out, Julia! Come on!”

Then she’s up off the bleachers and jogging back out onto the field. As unwilling as Ivy is to make an effort and practice, she’s also equally as competitive, even if this is just a gym class where victory doesn’t really matter. I, on the other hand, take my time on the bench. Struggling to breathe isn’t my idea of fun. I need to stop letting Ivy manipulate me into taking phys. ed. If she keeps it up, she might kill me.

 ***

I can nearly be qualified as a mess by the time Ivy and I reach our lockers after final period, and she’s humming like she’s got live wires for veins despite just spending an hour burning off energy. Meanwhile, I’m still recovering from my last bout of airlessness after I returned to the field and ran for maybe ten minutes. And I feel gross. The benefit of having P.E. last period is that I don’t have to shower here and can wait until I get home or to Ivy’s. The con is the window of time in between. I usually try to keep the gap as short as possible, and therefore, my time at my locker brief. I think Ivy and I took enough time getting changed after gym to avoid most people – at least the non-athletes.

“Hi, Sidney! Hi, Ivy!”

A mixture of feelings suddenly rockets through me and don’t add up in the end. While my chest is beginning to slowly overclock, and the hallway seems a few degrees warmer and rising steadily, I’m ready to play dead as Naomi Park opens the locker right next to mine on the opposite side of Ivy’s. Her shoulder is a fraction of an inch from touching my arm which is probably too close when I’m still drenched in gym sweat. Ivy greets her politely with ease while my brain is trying to catch up with the mundane situation and not think about how she smells like some kind of flowery perfume and I smell like crap.

“Hey, Naomi,” leaves my mouth and sounds too drawn-out and weirdly cheesy, so I just try to smile to make up for it. That feels awkward too, but she thankfully doesn’t seem to react to that, and her glossy pink lips tilt up without much effort into a perfect grin.

She puts some books on the shelf in her locker. “Any exciting Halloween plans?”

“Nope,” Ivy says immediately, likely because our actual idea involves a wager and might not be entirely legal – it’s a misdemeanor at the least. I just take the hint and don’t add anything to refute her answer.

“You? Any plans? For tonight – Halloween?” I wish that had come out differently. It could have at least sounded coherent.

“Nothing tonight,” Naomi responds. “But Heather’s having a ‘Belated Halloween Bash’ on Saturday while her parents are out of town so I’m ‘required’ to be there.”

“Oh, cool. That’s…cool.”

“I guess so. Heather’s parties get a little boring after a while though. I bet your plans for Saturday are much more fun.”

“Yep. Pints of ice cream, horror movies, and making bets on how long it takes Sid to hurl when the blood starts gushing,” Ivy interjects.

“Ivy.” I mutter the snap of her name so it doesn’t sound as harsh as I want it to. The temperature in the hallway rises astronomically.

Naomi giggles, which hurts. Well, it would if her laugh wasn’t so musical and twinkly. It’s like a damn harp quartet. “Sounds like a good time,” she comments. Her locker door shuts. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yeah, totally – tomorrow. See ya’, Naomi!” She’s nearly out of earshot down the hall, and I wait until I know she definitely can’t hear anything before I say to Ivy without daring a look at her, with the heat of embarrassment and shame boiling me alive from the inside, “Please say nothing.”

I can hear the grin on her face when she speaks. “You realize she’s just another human being, right?”

“Are you kidding? She’s at the right hand of Heather Loch. She’s popular. I’m shocked she still knows my name.”

Ivy shuts her own locker with a characteristic slam. “Dude, you’re ridiculous. She likes you back. If you just talked to her, and told her that you like her, you would have a girlfriend.”

“Ivy, she thinks I’m a loser.”

“I think you’re a loser and I still like you sometimes.”

I roll my eyes and can’t say anything to that. I don’t care if Ivy thinks I’m lame. It’s not the same. We’ve been together for as long as I can remember, so at this point, she’s locked into this friendship, no matter how easy it would be for her to hang out with the people at Kinross High who are actually popular and liked.

I close my locker and we start walking to the main exit of the building and eventually across the school’s student parking lot. Some groups linger, but most people seem to be dispersing and heading home for the day. Ivy and I walk straight through the lot as always, avoiding the cars pulling out.

I want to avoid the Styles’ Ford Everest – which is so bright red that it’s an assault on the eyes – but we have to walk past it and the clump of popular kids loitering next to it: blonde, perfect, popular Heather Loch, Asshole Quarterback Tom and his not-as-terrible twin, Ed, and my locker neighbour and secret crush, Naomi. The girls are under the guys’ arms like they belong there, popular with popular. There’s usually not much interaction between our pair and their group because I’m pretty sure most of the popular kids either don’t know who I am or just hate me for no reason, but today Tom decides to rub in his full-contact plays on the soccer field.

“Nice moves out there, Pussy Willow!” he shouts clear across the lot. It makes me feel the bruise on my back, still fresh, but I’m past the point of being mad about it. Really, Tom’s just an annoying jerk, and that’s all he’ll ever be.

I try to tap into Ivy-like sarcasm and passiveness. “I get it. Because my last name is Willow, and you’re insulting me. That’s really funny. It’s original.”

He yells something back that includes one of Ivy’s favourite swear words, but we disregard it and turn out of the parking lot in the direction of our houses. Ivy states that we’re going to my place because, in her mind, it’s easier to sneak out of a single-parent household. I don’t try to refute it because arguing with Ivy when she has her mind made up is like talking to a brick wall.

#writing #wip #untitled #my writing #my ocs #ya #young adult #writeblr

[myownsuperintendent]

New Fic: “A Freshman Class to Watch”

Dana Scully, Monica Reyes, Samantha Mulder, and Diana Fowley complete their freshman year as college gymnasts. This is a wildly self-indulgent AU combining my two favorite fandoms, The X-Files and gymnastics. I hope I've made it comprehensible for the non gymnerds. Thanks to @scullys-right-eyebrow-txf for some help with the technical details (of course, any mistakes are my own). Also tagging @thefutureisporcelain as the only other person I know at the center of the XF/gymnastics venn diagram. The fic is rated T and is also here on Ao3.

.....

May

It’s Dana’s last JO nationals, which is still hard to believe. She knows it won’t be the last time she puts on a leotard, fastens her grips, salutes before the judges, and it’s not as though she’s not looking forward to college, to what comes next. Still, it feels like the end of something; everything feels like that, around this time. Last time running to her locker, last high school party, last time competing alongside the other girls from her gym.

She’s happy she can end it on a good note, though. She’s never totally satisfied with her own performances—there’s always something that could be better—but even she has to admit that everything goes well today, even bars, especially vault. She places fifth in her division, which is more than she’d hoped for, and she feels a flash of pride as she collects her flowers.

She sees Monica Reyes after the competition; they don’t live in the same city or train at the same gym, but they know each other pretty well by now, from running into each other here every year. She’s glad they’ll be going to college together, that she’ll go in knowing someone else on the team already. After training in the same place for much of her life, it’ll be nice to have someone familiar there when it comes time to make the switch.

“Hey, great job!” Monica says, giving her a hug. “You kicked ass out there today.”

“You did great too,” Dana says. “I love your floor.”

“Thanks!” Monica says. “Yeah, I was pretty happy. If only beam wasn’t a thing.”

Dana smiles sympathetically. “We’ve all thought that at some point.”

“Oh well,” Monica says. “Onwards and upwards. Did you see that college gym site? They said that we’re a freshman class to watch.”

“No, I can’t read that kind of thing,” Dana says. “It makes me too nervous.” She knows that’s weird—why should reading about gymnastics make her more nervous than actually competing? — but it’s true. She doesn’t like to think about people judging her, even if, as in this case, the judgment seems to be positive.

“Well, I think it’s going to be great,” Monica says. Someone calls her name then, and she turns to look. “That’s my coach. I’ve got to run. Text me, okay? And I’ll see you in a couple of months.”

“Definitely,” Dana says, and they hug again, quickly, before they go their separate ways.

She rides back home with her family, and they all go out for dinner that night, to celebrate. She keeps thinking about what Monica told her; she can’t help it. She wonders what the article actually said, if it was talking about her. It might not have been: there are plenty of other reasons they could be called a freshman class to watch. They have an Olympic champion, a world medalist. It might not have anything to do with her.

But she thinks about her vault today. She’d opened out at just the right time. Straight down the middle. Stuck it cold.

 .....

June

Monica’s texting with Dana, because she always seems to have her shit together, which Monica could really use. When are you going to start getting stuff for your dorm?

Probably not until August, Dana texts back. Not enough storage space in the house. But my mom’s already freaking out.

How come?

Not sure, Dana says. I’m the third. You’d think she’d be used to it by now.

LOL, Monica texts. Are you excited?

Yeah. I don’t believe it’s real yet, though.

Monica knows what she means. It’s strange to think she’ll be off to college at the end of the summer, after thinking about it for so long. She’s excited for a lot of different things—classes and dorm life and even dining hall food—but she thinks she’s excited for gymnastics most of all.

That’s funny in a way, because gymnastics won’t be something new: she’s been doing it since she was six. But everyone says it’s different in college, being part of a team, competing more for the group than for your individual scores. She thinks she’ll like that. She wouldn’t change anything about her time in JO—it’s always been the sport in which she’s felt at home—but sometimes she has been jealous of the girls in other sports, on the soccer team or the basketball team, who have a lot of friends competing along with them, who aren’t doing it alone. She likes the thought of being a part of something. She likes the thought that they’ve chosen her to be a part of it. She could be intimidated, when she thinks about the competition history of some of the girls who will be her teammates—in just two and a half months! — but, somehow, she’s not. They wouldn’t have recruited her if they didn’t think she had something to add. And she’s going to work her hardest to contribute to the team.

She wonders about it all a lot. Who her friends will be. When she’ll start making lineups. If they’ll ever want her to compete beam (she kind of hopes not, but then on the other hand you are supposed to stretch yourself in college). What she’ll use for her floor music—she wants to do something more fun now.

She texts Dana again. Do you think I could do a floor routine to whale music?

Um…what?

You know, whale music. Like whale sounds.

I know what it is. I just don’t know if you could do a floor routine to it. There’s no rhythm.

You’re no fun, Monica texts back, but she guesses Dana has a point. And she doesn’t know if she’ll get to pick her own music right away, anyway. Still, no harm in thinking about it. She spends a while scrolling through her phone, looking at her music selections, until it’s time to go to practice.

.....

July

Samantha didn’t think it would be a big deal, watching Classics. All that’s behind her now. But she had to leave halfway through, and now she’s in her bedroom, staring at the wall. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but she does know that she’s mad at herself. Mad and worried. If she can’t even watch other people doing gymnastics, in a competition that has absolutely nothing to do with her, what is she going to do when she gets to college?

There’s a knock on her door, and she considers not answering; she doesn’t want to talk about gymnastics with her parents any more than she absolutely has to. But then she hears Fox’s voice calling, “Sam?”, and she relaxes. It’s just him. She gets up, shuffling over to open the door.

“You okay?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I don’t really know.”

“You want to talk about it?” he asks. She shrugs again, but she backs out of the doorway, and they sit down side by side on her bed.

“What if I suck?” she asks, eventually. She’s not sure it’s the main question, but it’s one of them. “What if I get to college and I just suck, and everyone’s like, ‘Wow, what happened to her?’”

“That won’t happen,” Fox says. “Since when have you sucked at anything?”

“Last year,” she says quietly. “Last year I sucked.”

“No, you didn’t,” he says. “You…you were having a rough patch.”

“Don’t,” Samantha says. She knows he means well, but she doesn’t want to hear it. Everyone had said things like that: that her performance last year didn’t mean anything, that she could get past it, that she could come back even better than she’d been at the Olympics. But they’d all said it like it was somehow her fault that it hadn’t happened yet. That she just needed to try harder, eat better, practice more, change her attitude. Stop being such a baby. Want it enough. She knows that’s not what Fox thinks, but it reminds her of everyone else, just the same.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, I still don’t think you sucked. Me trying to do balance beam, that’s what sucking would look like.”

She can’t help giggling at that. “It just made me think about last year,” she says. “Watching, I mean.” Classics last year was the first time she’d really competed since the Olympics, and it had been…well, awful. Three falls across her first three events. She had really wanted to scratch vault, the last one, but she hadn’t wanted to end on that note. She’d landed it, admittedly with a few steps back, but that still made it her best event of the night. No one had said, that night, that it was the punctuation to her elite career. But looking back on it, she felt like she shouldn’t have expected anything different—that she should have known, going in, that she wasn’t going to be at the top anymore and didn’t even want to be.

“I get it,” he says. “But college will be different, Sam. And I’ll still be around if you need me.” They hadn’t planned on going to the same college—they probably would have laughed at the idea if anyone had asked—but now here they are, if only for one year. She’s gladder about it than she’s willing to admit.

“I know,” Samantha says. “And I know college is supposed to be when you have fun. And remember why you fell in love with the sport and all that.” She can’t help sounding sarcastic. It was so long ago, when she fell in love with the sport. “But I just feel like everyone will be watching me. Come see if they broke the Olympian.”

“Maybe at first,” he says. “But not once people get to know you. Then they’ll forget you ever went to the Olympics. You’re not that special.” He elbows her.

He’s teasing, she knows—he really is proud of her, proud of what she’s done, sometimes more than she is herself. Still, she likes the idea of everyone forgetting she went to the Olympics. It’s hard to forget it herself, with the medals hanging up in the living room. She wishes that she could just remember the feeling—that beam routine, knowing she was on from the first second, the spins perfectly connected, the barani landed without a wobble—and forget where it happened and what it all meant.

.....

August

Diana’s packed. It’s something she’s good at—two world championships, three times at Jesolo, and three world cups (and that’s besides all the domestic competitions and training camps) will do that to you. The only hesitation was about whether to bring her medals, which she’s got arranged in a display on her bedroom wall, but after a minute she decided to go for it. She doesn’t care if it looks snotty; it’s not. She earned them. She didn’t practice five times a week, didn’t train that dismount day after day, didn’t tear her fucking labrum so that she could leave her medals at home and pretend she’s not anyone. She’s got two world medals on bars and two with the team and she earned every bit of them.

Her mom pokes her head in. “You’re packed already, Diana?”

“Yes,” Diana says. “Just finished.”

“And you have everything?” her mom asks. “Everything you need?”

“Yes,” she says. She’s always been very independent; she’s packed her own bag every morning since she was five, and she came back from her first day at gymnastics class announcing in a loud voice what kinds of leotards she would need and how often she was going to practice. Her mom tells that story a lot, but Diana sometimes thinks she’s kind of sorry about it, that she’d like to do more for her. Not that she’s one of those gym moms, thank God. Diana’s been really lucky there; her parents have always been the good kind of supportive. They’ve come to all her competitions, even the ones that were on the other side of the world, and waved banners with her name on them, and they’ve also made it completely clear that she could quit tomorrow if she wanted to. She’s never, never wanted to.

Her mom looks at the wall. “You took down your medals?”

Diana nods. “I’m going to put them up in my dorm room.”

Her mom nods too. “Dad and I are going to miss you so much,” she says, after a minute. “Well, you know that. But you’re going to do amazing things in college.”

“You’ll come and visit,” Diana says. “You can come to my meets. It’s not like I’ve never been away from home before.”

“Still,” her mom says, “it won’t be the same. But I am looking forward to watching you.”

She’s looking forward to it too, to this new field of competition. Everyone says NCAA is all about the team, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its stars. And Diana’s pretty sure she’s going to be one of them. She knows other people think so too: she read an article online, a couple of months ago, about how her cohort was a freshman class to watch. That has to have been because of her. The other girls in the class are two JO girls and Samantha Mulder, who—well, she was great when it counted. In the year it counted most, the Olympic year, Samantha was still all tiny and crisp form and 6.3 beam d-score, while Diana was all recurring injuries and low stamina and downgraded bars. Not that Diana has anything against Samantha, personally. The shoe could easily have been on the other foot. The shoe easily is on the other foot, now, because the last time she saw Samantha compete, she’d clearly entered the burnout phase, and she hasn’t been training seriously for a while, as far as Diana knows. And Diana’s ready. She’s healed and she’s been practicing and she’s ready to be a star in college, to make sure her gymnastics career ends on a high note. Because she’s in control of that.

She checks over her packing, carefully, and she zips up her suitcases. They’ll be driving down tomorrow, for a team training camp before classes start. She can’t wait.

.....

September

Dana’s parents dropped her off this morning (her mom cried a little, and her dad hugged her tight), and now she’s getting ready to head over to the gym. She’s redone her bun about five times. It’s silly, she knows. They’re just training; it doesn’t matter what her bun looks like. But this is her first day really on the team, and she wants to make a good impression, and she figures having a neat bun can’t hurt.

She checks her bag, too, where she’s packed her things, her water bottle and her muscle roller and some extra hair elastics. She can’t delay it any longer, she guesses, and most of her doesn’t really want to. So she heads out of her dorm, towards the gym building.

She’s left extra time, in case she gets lost, but it doesn’t take that long to get there. She pauses outside the door when she sees Monica coming toward her, also carrying a gym bag, also with her hair pulled back (ponytail for her). “Hi!” Monica says, when she gets close enough. “You get here this morning?”

Dana nods. “Yes. You?”

“Yeah,” Monica says. “I’ve just been unpacking a little. But I couldn’t really concentrate.”

“I know what you mean,” Dana says. She’s been trying to put her things away all morning, but there’s just too much adrenaline. “Are you…are you as nervous as I am?”

“Well, I don’t know how nervous you are,” Monica says, “but probably. But we’ve got to go in there, right? It’s not going to make a very good start if we just lurk outside the gym like weirdos. Plus, you’ve got nothing to be nervous about. I’ve seen you do gymnastics. You’re good!”

Dana has to smile at that. “Thanks. You’re good, too.”

“See, that’s the spirit,” Monica says. “We’re two good gymnasts, and we’re going to go in there and show them what we’ve got.”

“That’s right,” Dana says, firmly, and they walk into the gym side by side. She’s glad she has Monica with her. A team already.

Some of the upperclassmen are there already—Dana’s met a few of them, when she came here for recruiting, and she’s watched some of their meets, so they’re not entirely unfamiliar. There’s the girl who did the disco floor routine. There’s the girl who vaults an Omelianchik. And there’s their coach. Walter Skinner is one of the big reasons Dana wanted to go here, why she picked it over other schools. A lot of people say he’s strict, but that’s not something Dana minds, so long as he’s fair. She wants someone who can push her to be better, who takes the sport as seriously as she does.

He sees them as they come in. “Dana, Monica,” he says. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Dana says. “I’m really excited to be here.”

“Me too,” Monica says, nodding.

“You can join your teammates if you like,” he says. “We’ll be getting started in a few minutes.” They nod again, wandering over to where the other girls are chatting in the middle of the room. They stick together, still.

The door opens, and another girl comes into the gym. She’s shorter than Dana, which isn’t that unusual in the realm of gymnastics, but it’s something she notices anyway. Monica nudges her a little, but Dana knows who it is, of course. Samantha Mulder: she was on the last Olympic team. She won the gold on beam; Dana remembers her routine, its perfection, its precision. She knew Samantha was in their class, but seeing her in person is still a little bit exciting. She says hello to Coach Skinner and then makes her way towards the rest of them, slowly, looking a little shy.

Dana smiles at her. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Dana.”

“And I’m Monica,” Monica says. It’s all a little weird—are they supposed to pretend they’ve never seen her before?

“I’m Samantha,” she says. “Hi.”

“How are you so good on beam?” Monica blurts out. So they’re not pretending, apparently. “I mean, have you ever fallen? I’d be in a cast if I tried to do half the things you do.”

Samantha shrugs. “I just like beam, I guess,” she says, and then she’s quiet, fiddling with the end of her ponytail.

Other girls are filtering in, and Dana sees the last member of their class, Diana Fowley. She’s not as famous a face as Samantha, but you’d still recognize her if you’d been following gymnastics during the last quad: she went to worlds twice and medaled on bars. She clearly spent some time this morning redoing her bun too; it’s pristine, sitting secure at the back of her head. Her tank top and shorts match. Dana doesn’t know if she was trying to make an impression, but she’s certainly succeeding. “Hello, Samantha,” she says when she joins them. They must know each other already, from the national team.

“Hi, Diana,” Samantha says. Her voice is quiet; she’s fiddling with the ponytail again.

The last girls come in, and Coach Skinner, along with the assistant coaches, groups them in the center of the room standing in a circle. “Returning athletes, welcome back,” he says, “and new athletes, welcome. As always, I’m looking forward to working with you this year. I’m here to help each one of you achieve her best as an individual, but, more importantly, to help all of you work together to achieve our best as a team. We made the final round at nationals last year, and I’m confident that we can do it again this year. It will take a lot of hard work, but you’ll get out of it what you put in. What I ask is that you bring a willingness to work hard, to try your best, to be open to feedback, and to always help the team. In return, I’ll be here to support you in what’s best for your gymnastics. Let’s go get ‘em this year!” Some of the older girls whoop.

They do some introductions—Hi, my name’s Dana Scully, I’m from California, I’ve been doing gymnastics since I was five, and my favorite apparatus is vault—but they get into actual training pretty quickly. Dana likes that; she’s never been a fan of icebreaker games. She wants to get to know her teammates and make friends, of course, but she thinks she can do that better by working with them towards a goal. By knowing they’re all in this together, as they spread out around the mats, doing leg lifts and handstands and back tucks off blocks. She can tell she’s going to be a little sore tomorrow—she hasn’t really been practicing in the last couple of weeks, there’s been too much to do to get ready for school—but she doesn’t mind. She’s back in the gym, as part of a team she can contribute to, and she’s so glad about that.

She watches the other girls too; they’re doing a circuit as the last exercise of the day, and everyone has to complete it before they can go. Monica’s front tuck is high and powerful. Diana points her toes in the air and seems determined to stick every landing. Samantha looks at the blocks like they might be snakes, but her air awareness is like nothing Dana’s ever seen. She remembers what Monica told her at JO Nationals: them, a freshman class to watch. In this moment, as she cheers her teammates on, she fully believes it.

Dana looks around for the other freshmen after practice—it would be good to have people to stick with, she thinks, while they start trying to navigate campus. Diana’s gone before she can see where, and she doesn’t see Samantha at first either. But when she and Monica make their way out the door, talking about exploring a little, she sees Samantha trailing after them. “Hey,” Dana says, “you want to come with us? We were going to look around.”

“Yeah, I want to find food,” Monica says. “And maybe if there’s a store or something? There’s already stuff I need for my room.”

“I said I’d meet my brother,” Samantha says. “But he could probably tell us.”

“Your brother?” Dana asks. “Does he go here?”

“Yeah, he’s a senior,” Samantha says. They’re outside the gym now, and she points to a tall guy leaning against a tree. She’s really smiling for the first time since Dana’s met her. “That’s him.”

Samantha’s brother waves as they head towards him. He looks a little bit like Samantha—same eyes, same smile—but the height difference is almost comical. He’s got to be over six feet, and Dana doubts Samantha quite reaches five. Not that she wants to make fun; she’s used to being a lot shorter than the people around her. “Hi, Fox!” Samantha says. She turns to the two of them. “This is my brother, Fox.”

“Samantha, don’t tell him that,” he says.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “He hates his name so much,” she says. “So just call him Mulder. I’m allowed to call him Fox because it would be too weird otherwise. Anyway, these are Dana and Monica. They’re on my team.”

“Hi,” he says, smiling. “How was the first practice?”

“It was fine,” Samantha says. “We want to find out where stuff is. Will you show us?”

“Of course I’ll show you,” Mulder says. “What kind of stuff do you want to find? Library stacks? Anatomy lab?”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind,” Dana says. “I have a class there next week.” They seem a little surprised from the way they look at her. “I’m pre-med.”

“Hey, that’s cool,” Mulder says. “We can swing by the science buildings. And then there’s a dining hall near them, if you want food.”

“We do want food,” Monica says. “Sounds good to me.”

So they set off across campus, the four of them. It’s turning into evening already, so Dana decides she’s made it: her first day at college. She hasn’t gotten lost, she hasn’t embarrassed herself, and she’s met people who are going to be a big part of her life here: her coaches, her teammates. Maybe her friends.

.....

October

Monica invited the other three freshmen over to watch world championships tonight; she’s always watched it with the girls from her gym, and she thinks it’s more fun in a group. Diana said she was busy—she’s made it clear she’s here to do gymnastics, not to make friends—but Dana’s there right at 7:30, popcorn in hand, and Samantha shows up a few minutes later. They settle around Monica’s laptop to watch. “I want to be her when I grow up,” Monica says, as they watch Oksana Chusovitina vaulting; she’s in her forties and still making finals when most gymnasts are long retired. “Just keep doing gymnastics until I die. That sounds awesome.”

“You don’t think you’d get tired of it?” Samantha asks.

“No,” Monica says. “Why would I? I love it. I mean, my body might give out on me before I get that far.” She can’t really imagine being in her forties, let alone what doing gymnastics would feel like then. “But even if I can just do some cartwheels, I’ll be happy.”

Dana laughs. “Maybe if you have kids, you can be on a team together.”

“Yeah!” Monica says. “Definitely.” She watches as Chuso’s score comes up. “Did you ever meet her, Samantha?” she asks. She knows they were at the Olympics together.

“Just for a couple of minutes,” Samantha says. “We weren’t in the same group or anything. She’s nice, though.”

“That’s so cool,” Monica says. “Seriously.” Samantha sort of shrugs, but she’s smiling a little bit.

On a break between subdivisions, she looks at her phone, wanting to see how scores are stacking up. “Hey, here’s an article,” she says. “‘NCAA Gymnastics Stars of the Season: Our Predictions.’ And it says—”

“Stop!” the other two say, almost at the same time. They don’t like following college gym sites, but Monica doesn’t see the harm in it, so long as you don’t take anything too seriously.

“Why do you always read those?” Samantha asks.

“I know,” Dana says. “I don’t want to know what a bunch of people online think about me!”

“None of us are in it, anyway,” Monica says. “It’s Diana.” She scans the blurb. “Four-time world medalist…flawless lines…do you think Diana wrote this herself?” She laughs.

“I think it’s kind of hard for her,” Samantha says, quietly. “Doing so well and then getting hurt before the Olympics and having to start all over. I think that’s hard.”

Samantha has a point, she knows. That can’t have been easy, and if Diana’s kind of standoffish, kind of full of herself, maybe it comes out of that. Besides, they’re teammates; they should be on the same side. “You’re right,” she says. “I shouldn’t make fun.” She clicks out of the article.

“Besides,” Dana says, “she is really good. I wish I could do bars like that.” She shakes her head. “I hate bars.”

“Why?” Monica asks. “You’re pretty good at them.”

“I guess,” Dana says. “It’s been a process, though. I actually…I had to redo level five because I couldn’t get the routine.” She lowers her voice when she says it, as if someone might be eavesdropping, looking for scandalous gossip about the level five bar routine.

“Well, you obviously came back strong,” Monica says. “No shame in that.”

“Still,” Samantha says. “I get it. That’s hard too.”

“It’s just never natural for me,” Dana says. “I wish it was. And it obviously is for Diana.”

“We can only do what we can do,” Monica says. “We all have our strengths and weaknesses, right?” She turns back to the screen, where the next subdivision has started; a gymnast is vaulting a Cheng. “Like I could never do that. But I’ve still got some things going for me.”

Dana smiles then, and they keep watching.

.....

November

It’s two months into the semester, and Samantha decides that, all in all, things aren’t going so badly.

Her classes are pretty good. She was worried about them being hard, but she’s found she can keep up. She was worried about people recognizing her and asking questions, but so far that hasn’t happened much either; maybe it’s been long enough since the Olympics, or maybe people just don’t watch gymnastics as much as she thought. It probably helps that she never had her face on a cereal box or anything like that, thank God, thank God, thank God.

But even gymnastics…she’s liking it a lot more than she’s liked it in years. She’s only really training bars and beam for now, although she’s played around with a couple of floor passes. (She doesn’t think she could get anything more than a full twist around now on vault, and they’re already got plenty of those.) Her sets are a lot simpler than what she did in elite, and sometimes she misses some of the moves that used to be a part of her, but mostly she likes it. And Coach Skinner…he’s serious but he’s never mean. He doesn’t yell at her if she misses a dismount. He doesn’t ask her if that means she doesn’t care about it. He doesn’t say that maybe she doesn’t belong in the gym.

And she likes having a team, a real one, where they’re all working together and they all know they’re part of it. She likes having the other girls cheering for her, and she likes cheering for them too, likes dancing on the sidelines when they practice floor routines. She’s got friends here, she thinks.

She spends the most time with the other freshmen, and she likes them, especially Dana. She thinks they have the most in common, especially in the gym: they’re both serious about it, but it’s not the only thing in their life. She doesn’t think she’d ever want to be as competitive as Diana is, all the time, and she doesn’t know if she could ever have as much fun as Monica seems to, even here. But she can take pride in a skill well done, can love the feeling of flying. She thinks Dana’s like that too.

The two of them hang out outside of practice a lot. Sometimes they work on their homework together; Dana’s really smart, and she’s good at explaining things that are confusing. Sometimes they go off-campus to explore. “You know what sounds really good?” Dana says one Saturday afternoon. “Actual pizza. Not from a dining hall.”

“You want to get pizza?” Samantha asks. She’s not used to being invited to that kind of thing, not when she’s training, which is basically all the time.

“Yeah,” Dana says. “If you do.”

Why not? She’s in college now. Her parents and her old coaches can’t tell her what to do. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll ask Fox. Maybe he knows a good place.”

He does, and they go, the three of them, to a place that’s a complete hole in the wall but has some of the best pizza she’s ever eaten. The whole time they’re there, they talk and laugh. She’s with two people who she likes spending time with. She’s doing something she wanted to, because it sounded fun. She’s not dreading having to be back in the gym on Monday. It almost doesn’t feel real, but she tries her best to trust it.

.....

December

There’s about a month until the season starts, and tonight they’re having an intrasquad competition, blue versus red. Diana’s on the blue team, and she’s doing the all-around; she knows that doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll make all four lineups in actual competition, so she’s using this as an opportunity to show that she should, that all of her skills are clean and consistent. She deserves to be out there, come January.

It’s not as crowded as she assumes it will be during the season, but there are some students there to watch. Coach Skinner is very big on trying to replicate the conditions of competition, even in an event like this that doesn’t count towards anything. That works with Diana’s mindset. There’s no point in doing things you aren’t going to take seriously.

They start on vault. She’s gone down to the full for college, at least for now; she’s grown since she last did the double, and it’s hard to get around. And the blind landing on the one-and-a-half is trickier than it looks. She’s hoping she can work up to it eventually, but even now, she thinks they could still use her, even without a ten start. Her full is very clean, and when she lands it solidly, there’s basically nothing to take. She lands it solidly tonight, and the other girls on the blue team cheer. She keeps her eye on the other fulls. They all have something to take away.

But she’s been looking forward to bars the most. She knows it’s where she can shine, and so it’s where she feels the happiest, the most solid. Her routine’s a lot simpler now, but she’s trained a couple of her favorite moves; she’s got her half-twisting shaposh in the routine now (she’s not about to jump to the high bar like an eight-year-old, come on). She goes over it in her head while she waits. Samantha’s the last one to go before her, on the blue team, and her routine goes pretty well, until she stumbles out of the dismount. She looks upset, afterwards, and Diana pats her on the shoulder, but she’s not really thinking about it. And she’s not paying any attention at all to the senior who’s going for the red team, because it’s about to be her turn.

Diana’s heard other girls say that she thinks she’s perfect. Girls at her gym back home, and girls on the national team, and even girls here already. Here’s the thing, though: she doesn’t. She knows what her weaknesses are, and she knows when she’s fucked up. She’d never say it to anyone, but she wouldn’t have picked herself for the Olympic team either. She would have been right for it once, only the year before, but by then other girls were better.

But all that means she knows when she’s doing well, too. And she knows, tonight, that she’s on: that her toes are pointed, that each transition is smooth, that her release is high and that there’s no way she’ll miss the catch. And when she comes in for the dismount, her feet are not about to move. She doesn’t need to hear them screaming for her. She doesn’t need a score. It feels for a minute like she’s back at worlds again and they’re about to put that bars medal around her neck. She thinks she might cry, if that weren’t totally ridiculous.

You’ve got to put each event behind you to go on to the next, Diana knows, so she thinks about beam and then about floor. They go well too. She thinks she’s made her case. Coach Skinner says, “Good job, Diana,” as they head out of the gym, and he’s not what you’d call an effusive guy.

She’s forgotten about the other girls, who are chatting around her as they change. As far as she’s concerned, this was her night. Again. Finally.

.....

January: Week One

She’ll be competing as a college gymnast for the first time in less than half an hour, and Dana is both extremely excited and extremely nervous. It’s a home meet, and she can’t decide if that makes it better or worse; they’ll have more support, but there will also be more people to see if she messes up.

Coach Skinner put her in the all-around, which surprises her. She’s confident about vault and floor, and beam is beam but she feels all right about it, but she’s very nervous for bars. As she fixes her hair one last time, she gives herself a pep talk, reminds herself that she’s being silly, that she’s put extra work into bars for years just so that it won’t go wrong. That this is not like that time in level five, that she’s gotten a lot better since then, that her issue with bars is one of confidence, not skill. She still wishes Coach Skinner hadn’t picked her, but she knows they need her, that it’s not their strongest event as a team and there aren’t that many routines to choose from. You just need to hit, Dana, she tells herself. No one’s asking you to get a ten. It’s your first college meet and you’ve got to enjoy it and stop psyching yourself out.

She wonders if she put on too much face glitter. Or not enough face glitter.

She turns to look at the other girls in the locker room. Most of the upperclassmen seem to have their getting ready rituals; they’re excited for the season to be starting, of course, but they already know what they’re doing in a way that she doesn’t. Monica has her headphones on and is bouncing on the balls of her feet, but she’s smiling. Diana’s sitting down with her eyes closed; she looks calm, like she always does. Samantha is clinging to her bag like it’s the only thing between her and death, and she looks like she’s about to throw up.

“Are you okay?” Dana asks her.

“I’m…I get really nervous,” Samantha says, her voice so quiet Dana can barely hear it.

“We all get nervous, I think,” she says gently. “But it’s going to be fine. You’re great at this. Your beam is so beautiful.”

But Samantha shakes her head. “I haven’t even competed since last year,” she says. “I’m not going to be any good. I’m going to let all of you down…”

“You’re not going to let anyone down,” Dana says. “We’re a team. We’re here to lift each other up.” She knows a lot of people think that kind of thing is cheesy—Melissa always used to roll her eyes, when she’d hear Dana say that. But she really does believe it, and she wants Samantha to believe it too.

She doesn’t seem to. “I shouldn’t even be here,” she says.

“That’s not true at all,” Dana says. “And it’s only the first week. We don’t have to be perfect.” She’s worried about Samantha, though; she looks terrified. “Do you want to talk to Coach Skinner?”

Samantha shakes her head. “No,” she says, her voice still small.

“Maybe we could do some breathing exercises?” Dana says. She doesn’t know if it’ll help, but she figures it’s worth a shot. “We used to do them before competitions at my gym back home. They can really calm you down. Does that sound okay?” Samantha nods, after a moment, and they sit down across from each other on one of the benches. “All right,” Dana says. “Copy me.”

She breathes in, holds it, breathes out, counting all the while; she sees Samantha doing the same, after a moment. It’s time to march out after a couple of minutes, but Samantha doesn’t look quite so scared, and she murmurs, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Dana says. “Here, we can walk out together.” She keeps an eye on Samantha while they’re waiting to start. She’s not thinking about her own nerves anymore, not much anyway.

She’s fourth in the vault lineup, after Diana, who lands her full with just a small hop. “Great job!” Dana says to her, as she goes up, and Diana nods. And then it’s her turn.

She’s done this a million times, and she loves vault best. And everything feels right today, starting from the run. Her block is good, and she can tell she’s on in the air, opening out for the landing after one and a half twists. She has to take a step at the end, but only a little one.

The other girls are cheering for her, running to give her hugs and high fives. Monica’s first, shouting, “That was amazing!” Dana’s a little nervous waiting for her score, but mostly she’s happy. And when they show the 9.95, Monica screams and hugs her again. She doesn’t scream herself. She almost can’t believe it.

She’s not as worried as she was before the meet when they go to bars. She takes a few more deep breaths before she goes up, reminds herself how many times she’s hit her routine in practice. It goes fine, not as well as her vault, but for her it’s a good bars routine. And everyone cheers for her again, and it’s hard not to feel happy about that, even before she sees the score. 9.85. She thinks she must be hallucinating for a second, but there it is up on the screen. She knows NCAA scoring is looser than J.O., but still!

She cheers for the other girls too. Samantha looks scared again, when she’s about to go up, and Dana squeezes her shoulders. “You’re going to be amazing,” she tells her, and Samantha manages a smile at that. And she hits too, coming off the mats looking stunned and relieved. Diana’s the last to go, and she’s almost perfect. Dana wishes she could fly like that on bars, everything looking effortless.

At the halfway point of the meet they’re in the lead, and Dana’s happy as they move over to the beam. Coach Skinner talks to them as they warm up, giving them last-minute reminders. “Don’t rush your turn, Dana,” he tells her, and she nods. Now that she’s gotten through bars, she’s feeling a lot more confident. Beam can be unpredictable, but it doesn’t scare her. She knows she can hit for the team, if she just concentrates and does everything like she did in practice.

She takes her time setting up for the turn, like Coach Skinner told her. She snaps her arms down so that she doesn’t wobble when she lands the acro series. When she lands the dismount, her feet don’t move.

It’s a 9.9 for her beam, and she’s thrilled with that, but she’s more worried about Samantha than she is about herself at this point. She’s looking pale again, and a lot of girls from the other team have turned around to watch. Dana can’t blame them—she wouldn’t want to miss one of Samantha’s beam routines either—but she doesn’t think it’s helping. “We’re a team,” she says. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m not worried about you, Samantha,” Coach Skinner says. “Don’t worry about anyone else.” That seems to do something, because Samantha nods and draws herself up a little straighter. She walks up to the beam and salutes.

The thing about Samantha is this: she has a quality of movement on beam that none of the rest of them have. They probably won’t ever have it, no matter how much they practice. Dana can’t explain what it is, exactly. But it reminds her of something Melissa said to her once, after one of her meets. “I don’t get how you do all this stuff,” she said, “and you don’t feel like it’s freaky. It’s just like walking for you.” Dana hadn’t known how to answer her then, but now she thinks she knows how Melissa must have felt, because what Samantha does is different, somehow, even when they’re doing the same skills. She looks like beam is what she was meant to be doing. It’s not a question of being perfect, even: she has a big wobble after her side aerial, and even when she’s saving it, she still looks like that.

They mob her when she comes off the beam, with hugs and cheers. “You were so good,” Dana says. “So, so good.”

“I wobbled—”

“Fuck wobbling,” Monica says, and even Samantha grins at that. “That was amazing.”

“Pretty great,” Diana says; she’s been in her own world most of the meet, her face concentrated, but now she’s smiling too.

Floor is last. Dana’s already realized how different competing in college is—a lot more screaming—but floor is something else again. The crowd claps along to all their music, and they all do each other’s moves. Monica’s routine is going to be a big hit, she can already tell; the music is insanely catchy, and she knows how to perform, how to get everyone on her side.

Dana’s own routine isn’t as flashy, but she loves the music they’ve chosen: it’s a big band piece, “Beyond the Sea.” She hits the tumbling passes cleanly, remembers to smile, ends with a little shimmy. And then it’s over. She’s hit four for four in her first college meet, and her score comes up, 9.9, and that’s it, she’s done for today.

But she’s not, quite. Monica’s tugging on her arm. “Dana, you won the all-around!”

“What?” She looks around for some confirmation. She wasn’t adding up her scores over the course of the meet; there was too much going on.

“Yeah, look!” Monica points to the scoreboard. “Not bad for week one, huh?”

“I…is that real?”

“Of course it’s real,” Monica says. “You think they put fake stuff on the scoreboard?” She’s smiling as she hugs Dana. “You deserve it. You did awesome today.” The other girls are hugging her too, congratulating her, but she still can’t quite take it in. It’s not that she’s not happy or proud. It’s just that she didn’t expect it at all.

And she guesses she’s not the only one who didn’t expect it. Diana says, “Congratulations, Dana,” in the flattest voice she’s ever heard, and the expression on her face can only be described as scary.

But Dana wants to be nice. “Congratulations to you too,” she says. “Your bars, they were amazing.” Diana’s 9.95 was the highest score on bars for the meet, and that’s something Dana wishes she could do.

“Thanks,” Diana says, her voice still flat. “It helps to have difficult moves, I guess.” Dana tries to figure out if that was meant as an insult—she’s pretty sure it was—but Diana’s already moving away, so she decides to leave it, not to respond.

It’s not worth it. She’s too thrilled anyway, too filled with adrenaline, too eager to see what the rest of her college career holds. It’s started on a high note. She thinks she can keep it there.

.....

January: Week Two

They have their first away meet this week, and Monica is excited. It’s at Utah, which has a huge stadium, and a lot of people come out to all of their meets. Monica already knows that she can thrive off a crowd; sure, it’s not a home crowd this time, but she doesn’t think that’s going to stop her.

The only downside is that she’s rooming with Diana, and it doesn’t look like that’s going to be a super fun time. They’re only here for one night, and Diana’s already arranged all of her hair products in height order on the edge of the sink. What is the point?

Still, it doesn’t really affect her, she guesses. She’s lying on her bed, reading on her phone, when Diana looks over at her. “What are you doing?”

“Reading,” Monica says. “College gym site. Got to find out what they’re saying about us, you know.” She smiles, so that Diana can take that as a joke if she wants to. She knows that Dana and Samantha hate it when she does this, that they won’t let her read anything out loud.

But it seems like Diana will. “So what are they saying?”

“Well, they put this as one of the top meets for this weekend,” Monica says. “Both teams had really strong opening weeks…oh, and they say that Dana’s one to keep an eye on.” She watches Diana as she says it. She knows Diana’s mad about the attention Dana got last week; she hasn’t said anything during practice, but she’s not exactly subtle.

“Sure,” Diana says. “Of course.”

Maybe it’s not a good idea to piss Diana off the night before their meet, but Monica’s never been a particularly cautious person. “Why are you mad?” she asks.

“I’m not mad,” Diana says.

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m not,” Diana says. “That’s so juvenile. I just think…they’re really ready to throw out the high scores for the 10.0 vaults, aren’t they? Even if they’re not perfect.”

“First of all, you’re bullshitting me,” Monica says. “And second of all, even if that’s true, why is it a problem? Dana’s on our team, the last time I checked. So it’s good for all of us if she does well.”

“I never said it wasn’t.” Diana’s not looking at her.

“And besides, she deserves it,” Monica says, because Dana’s her friend, and because it’s the truth. “She’s really, really good.”

“She’s fine,” Diana says.

“Okay, be bitter,” Monica says. “Again, reminder that this is a team sport.”

“It’s not really,” Diana says. “It’s a fake team sport.”

“Maybe when you were in elite,” Monica says. “Not here.”

Diana sighs. “Look, I just see it differently, all right? And there is an individual part, even here. If we want to make lineups—”

“You’re still going to make lineups,” Monica says. “I really don’t think you have to worry about that.”

Diana’s looking at her now. “Do you even care?” she asks. “About how you do, I mean. Not just this rah rah we’re a team shit.”

“Of course I care,” Monica says. “But I wouldn’t, like, break any of your legs. And I don’t care that I’m not in the bars or beam lineups, because I know other people are better there.” Diana’s looking at her like she’s insane now, so she goes back to reading. “They did shout out your bar routine,” she says. “That ought to perk you up.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Diana says. “Earlier this week.” Of course she did.

But at least Diana’s willing to discuss online coverage with her. “Did you see the American Cup announcement?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Diana says. “It wasn’t really surprising. She did get the silver at Worlds.”

Monica nods. “Yeah. I just wish she’d get a more interesting floor routine.”

“I wish ninety percent of people would get a more interesting floor routine,” Diana says, and then Monica’s laughing, she can’t help it. And Diana smiles at her, just for a minute.

.....

January: Week Three

Samantha’s still getting used to competing again. She was sure something awful was going to happen, the first week, but it didn’t. It didn’t happen the second week either. But this week, the third, she’s off on her beam series and there’s no chance to save it. She barely gets half of one foot on the beam before she’s falling.

She takes a deep breath and gets back up to finish, but the damage is done. She’s let the team down. She doesn’t know what Coach Skinner is going to say. He’s never yelled at her before when she made mistakes, but that was in practice: there’s more at stake when you fall in a competition, where everyone can see.

“Do you know why that happened, Samantha?” he asks her after the meet.

Maybe she’s supposed to say that she wasn’t trying hard enough. But she thinks she was. “I was trying,” she says. “I swear.”

“I know you were,” he says. “I meant, do you know what was off technically?”

“Oh,” she says. “I think…I wasn’t straight when I took off for the back handspring.”

“That’s what I think too,” he says. “It happens. I just wanted to make sure you understood, so you can try to check for that next time.”

She nods. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “That’s why we have a whole season. So you can keep getting better.” She nods again. She doesn’t know what to say. She tries to imagine her coaches back home saying that to her. She might as well imagine that she’s suddenly seven feet tall.

Dana’s waiting for her outside. “Hey,” she says. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Samantha says. “I’m sorry I fell. But Coach Skinner was really nice.”

Dana hugs her. “The rest of the routine was beautiful,” she says. “And your bars.”

Dana’s always so sweet, so kind. She was worried that people might only want to be her friend here because she went to the Olympics, even though that might be kind of a conceited way to think. But she thinks Dana just…likes her. And that might be the thing she likes most about being here so far.

.....

January: Week Four

Competing every week has been different, but Diana feels like she’s into the rhythm now. In some ways, she likes it more. She’s always been at her best in competition; she’s not one of those girls who trains well and then chokes. She likes attention, which she knows some people would say is a bad thing, but she doesn’t agree or care.

Actually, she thinks she should be getting more attention, although that’s not something you can really say. Aside from her bars, she hasn’t been as much of a standout as she expected here. Beam’s probably her second best, but it’s hard to stand out on beam when you’re on the same team as Samantha. She gets that, because Olympic champion and all, but she couldn’t have predicted Dana. Dana’s been outscoring her on everything but bars, week after week, and it’s maddening. And the worst part is that she always acts so damned surprised about her scores. At first Diana thought it was an act, but now she’s beginning to think it’s real. She can’t decide which possibility pisses her off more.

But in college they’re supposed to be all about the team. So she’s supposed to jump up and down and scream every time Dana gets another 9.975 on vault. Ugh.

She keeps working her own routines, of course, but there’s a closed ceiling here; it’s not like in elite where she could keep adding difficulty. As long as the routine starts from a 10, they’re all evaluated on the same scale. So there might be a limit to where she can go, and she doesn’t like that idea. It makes her think of Olympic trials all over again, of coming in knowing she wasn’t going to get there.

So maybe she’s not smiling and screaming after this meet as much as everyone else is, even though they won. She doesn’t think anyone would notice, or care, but Coach Skinner beckons her over as they’re leaving the arena. “Diana. Is everything okay?”

She can’t put it exactly as she’d like to, of course; she could pretend she’s tired, but she wants to be straight with him. “I just want to be better,” she says.

He looks at her for a moment. “You did very well today.”

“Not as well as I’d like,” Diana says. “Is there anything you think I should do to train differently?” He is her coach, after all; that’s what he’s here for.

“I’ve been happy with how you’re doing,” he says. “Is there something in particular that you feel isn’t working for you?”

“It’s not exactly that,” Diana says. “But I’d like to focus on correcting my problems, so that I can score higher.” For the team, she thinks about saying, but she doesn’t think she can pull it off without sounding fake.

“Everyone has room for improvement,” he says, and his voice sounds careful, “and I’m happy to work more with you this week, if you like. But you need to remember that it’s your first year here, Diana. And it’s only our fourth meet. You shouldn’t necessarily expect to be getting top scores right away.”

She doesn’t know what to say to him. She knows she’ll sound like a jerk if she says she wants to be the best on the team. “I think I’m just very competitive,” she says, finally.

“And that can be a good thing,” Coach Skinner says, “if it helps motivate you. But you don’t want it to take over your headspace, either. You should be proud of your work, Diana. You’ve been very consistent this season. You’re going to be someone we can count on.”

She knows he means it, and she is pleased, even if it’s not everything she wanted. “So we can work some more this week?” she says. “I think there are things I could refine on beam, especially.”

“I’m happy to work with you,” he says. “But think about what I just told you, all right?”

“All right,” Diana says. “Thanks.” And she picks up her gym bag and turns and goes.

.....

February: Week Five

“Wow,” Diana says to her after the meet, when they’re back in the locker room. “Way to go out there.”

Dana doesn’t say anything, but Monica does. “What the hell, Diana?” she says. “We’re a team.”

Diana shrugs. “Well, then, it would be great for the team if people could hit when they needed to.”

“The point of being a team is that we lift each other up,” Monica says. “So it doesn’t matter if one person falls. Like it’s completely possible for someone to never fall.”

“There’s falling,” Diana says, “and then there’s losing your shit all over the place.”

“Look, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Monica says; her voice is getting louder now, and this is becoming way more of a thing than Dana wants it to be. She already feels bad enough. “Do you think you’re helping? How would you have felt if someone said that to you after Olympic trials?”

There’s a silence, and Dana feels like she has to say something. “Guys, please just stop it,” she says. “Monica, it’s fine. I did mess up.”

Everyone ignores her. Diana’s gone pale. “You little bitch,” she says to Monica. “You little bitch!” Dana’s never heard her sound so upset.

“Okay, okay.” It’s Karen; she’s one of the seniors. “You both need to cool down. It’s not okay for you to be talking to each other like this.” As she turns to Monica and Diana, Dana finishes changing as quickly as she can. She wants to get out of here.

She doesn’t want to keep thinking about the meet, but of course she can’t help it. She had a good vault, but everything went wrong with bars. She missed a hand on her transition to the high bar and fell, and then…well, she just couldn’t get out of her head about it. It made her think about all her old bars nightmares, and the rest of the routine, after she got back on, wasn’t much good either. And the more she tried to shake it, the more it lingered. She fell on her turn on beam, and then she sat the dismount. After that, Coach Skinner pulled her from the floor lineup. He did it nicely, saying that he just wanted to make sure she was okay, and after the meet was over he pulled her aside and talked to her about focusing on the mental game and putting this behind her. He told her he knew she could do a great job again for the team next week. He was saying all the right things, but she couldn’t take in any of it. At least she didn’t cry.

She might cry now, though, she thinks as she leaves the locker room. Just go back to her room and cry for about an hour.

She didn’t see Samantha leave, but she’s sitting on the wall at the end of the path. “Hi,” she says, as Dana comes up to her. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Dana says. “I feel so bad about today.”

“I know how you feel,” Samantha says. “It’s so hard, when you don’t have a good day.”

Dana nods, sitting down next to her. “Bars is just so hard for me,” she says. “Even when I hit, I don’t feel good about it. And when I mess up…I just can’t bounce back. But I should be able to. I know it’s all a mental thing. But I…” She trails off. “It’s hard. And I let you all down.”

“No, you didn’t!” Samantha says. “No one’s mad at you.”

“You heard Diana,” Dana says.

“Well, I’m not mad at you, anyway,” Samantha says. She puts an arm around Dana’s shoulders. “I still think you’re great.”

“Thanks, Samantha,” Dana says. It does help a little, hearing that. “I’m just…I’m mad at myself, I guess.”

Samantha nods. “I know what that’s like,” she says. “The mental part really is the hardest.”

“Yeah,” Dana says.

“Gymnastics really makes you hate yourself, sometimes.”

That’s not exactly what she was saying. She hopes Samantha doesn’t think she’s making this into more of a thing than it is. “I don’t…hate myself,” Dana says. “I’m upset with myself, yeah. But I’ll be okay.”

Samantha’s hugging her knees. “When everyone’s expecting you to be good,” she says, “and you just don’t have anything that day, and you know you’re disappointing them…that’s the hardest.”

Dana doesn’t think Samantha’s talking about her falls today, anymore. “It’ll be okay,” she says, for both of them. “I’ll practice a lot this week. Work on the mental stuff. And it helps, knowing you’ve got my back.” Samantha smiles at that. “I don’t think I’ve really disappointed anyone.” She’s not sure she totally believes that, but she thinks it would be good for both of them to hear. They sit together for a little bit longer, not talking.

.....

February: Week Six

Monica knows she should apologize to Diana. She wouldn’t want anyone bringing up things she’d messed up, especially things that were important to her. And gymnastics is one of those things, for both of them, even though she knows Diana thinks she doesn’t take it seriously. She likes to have fun, sure, but that doesn’t mean she won’t give everything she has to perfecting a skill. They’re not so different, in that way. And she knows she was mean, even if Diana was mean to Dana first.

So she’s glad when she gets to practice early on Monday and sees that Diana is early too. “Hey, Diana,” she says. “I just wanted to say…I’m sorry for what I said to you on Saturday. I was being a jerk.”

“Yeah,” Diana says. “Okay.”

That’s not much of an answer. “I really shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

“I said okay,” Diana says. “So you can feel better about yourself now, all right?”

“I’m not trying to feel better about myself,” Monica says, even though maybe she is, a little.

“Then just drop it, okay?” Diana says. “It’s not something I love discussing. If that wasn’t obvious.”

Maybe she should just drop it. Instead, she finds herself saying, “You shouldn’t be ashamed.”

“Oh my god,” Diana says. “Are you my therapist now? I’m not ashamed.”

“All right,” Monica says. She’s had about enough of this. At least she apologized. Diana hasn’t apologized to Dana, as far as she knows. “I’m sorry I started this, okay? I just wanted you to know I was sorry. We’re a team, and we shouldn’t be tearing each other down.” Diana rolls her eyes and goes back to stretching, and fortunately Monica doesn’t have to push things any further, because Dana and Samantha show up then.

“Hey!” Dana says. “How’s everything going?” She’s not really looking at Diana.

And Diana’s not looking at her either—she’s looking at her own feet—when she says, “Hey. Sorry if I was too much on Saturday. I get really competitive.”

It’s not what Monica would consider much of an apology, from anyone else, but she’s surprised Diana’s giving Dana even that. Dana’s surprised too, if the look on her face is anything to go by. “Okay,” she finally says. “Yeah, it wasn’t very cool of you. I didn’t need you to tell me I’d messed up.”

“Well, okay then,” Diana says, still not looking. “I won’t.”

“Well, good,” Dana says. And they stand around a little awkwardly until Coach Skinner appears and practice starts.

.....

February: Week Seven

Samantha was happy yesterday.

She was happy because she was on beam, and sometimes she can forget about everything else when she’s there. This was one of those times. Her double turn was steady. She flew through the side aerial and both of the layout step-outs. When it came to the part of the choreography where she smiled and winked, it felt like a natural expression of how she was feeling. She stuck the dismount.

The other girls screamed and hugged her after she saluted. And then they did it again when her score came up. A ten.

It might sound silly to a lot of people, but she couldn’t remember being happier in gymnastics. Not even when she won her gold. Because there weren’t people screaming and hugging her then. Dana even tried to pick her up, which was pretty silly, because Dana’s barely taller than she is and they almost fell over. But they just started laughing then. And Coach Skinner patted her back and said, “Well done, Samantha.” And she could see Fox waving to her from the stands.

But that was all yesterday. This morning there was an article about the meet on the school website. She wishes the article didn’t have a picture of her at the top, and she really wishes it didn’t call her “Olympic gold medalist Samantha Mulder.” She’s not sure why she wishes it, because it’s true, after all, and they do cover all the meets, and it makes sense for them to talk about her getting a ten, because that’s important in gymnastics. But she doesn’t like people looking at her, thinking about her, expecting things of her. She wants this to be for her and her team, not for everyone else.

So she was already feeling weird about things, and that was before she opened her email. Before she saw the message from her parents. They saw the article and they’re glad she’s working to her potential here, because it really would be a shame to keep throwing everything she’s worked for away, after all the time and money they spent on her training. There’s no reason you can’t still be the best, Samantha. Being tired or upset or so sick of it all isn’t an excuse not to practice, Samantha. Bring home only the gold for us, Samantha.

This is the first time they’ve emailed her since January. She hates reading their emails, so she doesn’t know why she’s upset about that now.

She sits on her bed and hugs her knees. She doesn’t even feel like crying. She doesn’t even feel like anything.

She’s not sure how long she’s been sitting when she hears a knock on the door. “Who is it?” she calls.

“It’s me.” Dana’s voice. “Can I come in?”

“Okay,” she says, her own voice tight. “The door’s not locked.”

Dana pushes the door open. “Do you want to get dinner with me and Monica?” she asks. “We thought we could—hey, are you okay?” She crosses the few steps of the dorm room, looking concerned. “You look really upset.” Samantha tries to answer, but she can’t. “What’s wrong?” Dana asks, and her voice is gentle, and Samantha starts to cry.

Dana doesn’t ask anything more right then; she just puts her arms around Samantha and lets her cry. “I’ve got you,” she says. “Let it out. It’s okay.” Samantha wishes she’d had a friend to say that to her before. “Do you want to talk about it?” Dana asks, when she’s mostly stopped crying.

Samantha tells her about the email. And about how it’s not just the email, how it’s years of things like that. Of her parents only caring about her winning. Of her coach forcing her to keep going when she didn’t have anything left. “I really…I hated it so much at the end,” she almost whispers. She doesn’t look at Dana when she says it. She hasn’t even told Fox this. “I just couldn’t…I couldn’t be good anymore and I knew people were going to be so mad at me.”

“Is that why you said that to me when I fell?” Dana asks. “About hating yourself?”

“Yeah,” Samantha says. “I didn’t mean you should hate yourself. It’s just that’s how I always felt.”

“You know,” Dana says slowly, a little cautiously, “you know you shouldn’t have to feel like that, right? That it’s not right how they treated you?”

“I guess I know it,” Samantha says. “Like when you say it, it makes sense. But it’s hard to stop feeling it.”

“I’m sorry,” Dana says. She’s still hugging Samantha; she hasn’t let go.

“And I know it’s better here,” Samantha says. “Coach Skinner’s so much better. I guess that’s why I got upset. I thought I could like gymnastics again here, you know? And then their email…I’m worried everything is going to be the same.”

“It won’t,” Dana says. “We won’t let it.”

“How?” Samantha asks.

“Well, first,” Dana says, “we’re going to set up your email so that everything from your parents goes into a different folder. And you don’t ever have to look at it, if you don’t want to.”

“You can do that?” Apparently, she can. Samantha sits and watches her.

“And now,” Dana says, closing the screen triumphantly, “we’re going to meet Monica for dinner. And we’re going to get pizza and laugh.”

So they do that too. And Dana hugs her again at the end of the night, and she says, “You can always talk to me, okay? Text me any time.” And Samantha thinks about that for a while, before she falls asleep.

.....

February: Week Eight

They have an away meet this weekend, and it’s near Diana’s hometown, so her parents are coming. They haven’t seen her compete live in college yet, although she knows they watch every meet on TV. Usually, they call her up afterwards to tell her how proud they are. It’s a little embarrassing, but mostly she’s happy about it.

“My parents are coming to the meet tomorrow,” she mentions in the hotel the night before. She’s rooming with Monica again, and Samantha and Dana are in their room too right now; she did not ask them to come over, but Monica apparently did, sometime when her guard was down.

“Oh,” Samantha says. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Diana says. What a dumb question. “Why would I be? They’ve seen me at worlds, so a meet like this isn’t suddenly going to intimidate me.”

“It was just a question,” Dana says; she’s painting Samantha’s nails and not looking at Diana. “You don’t have to be snotty.”

“Who says I’m being snotty?”

And Dana turns around and looks at her now. “A meet like this,” she says, putting on a voice that is, in fact, snotty but that isn’t what Diana sounds like. “We get it. You’ve been to worlds. You think elite is better than NCAA. Well, no one’s forcing you to be here if you’re too good for it.”

She didn’t expect that from Miss Good Girl Dana. “Wow,” Diana says. “Jealous much?”

It’s a dumb comeback, and she knows that as soon as she says it. “No, actually,” Dana says. “I was completely happy in JO. I’m just tired of you having an attitude with the rest of us.” Samantha’s looking away, as she always does at the faintest sign of conflict. Monica’s watching them as if she’s waiting for the scores to come up.

“I’m just a very self-motivated person,” Diana says. “I don’t need to be in a screaming lovefest to succeed.”

“Oh, of course,” Dana says. “And that explains why you take it out on us when you’re not happy with how the meet went.” Her face is turning red. “So if I fall, that’s something to lord over me, and if I do better than you, that’s a reason to freeze me out. For someone who doesn’t care about these meets, you sure seem to care when you don’t have the top score.”

She can’t let Dana rattle her. “Yeah, it’s a sport,” she says. “So, you know, I care about my scores. I’d rather do that than your fake ‘Who? Little old me sticking a vault?’ routine.”

“I’m not fake,” Dana says. “I’m just happy to be here. I’m sorry if you think that’s awful.”

Diana rolls her eyes. “That’s cute. Really.”

“But I don’t know why I thought I’d get through to you,” Dana says. “If all you care about is yourself, I guess that’s just the way it is.” She turns to Samantha. “Want to go back to our room? It’s kind of late.”

“Sure,” Samantha says, and they go.

“Wow,” Monica says, when they’ve left. “That was…something.”

“Whatever,” Diana says. “I know you’re on Dana’s side.”

“You have this whole thing about sides,” Monica says. “I’d like it if we could all be friends, actually. Believe it or not, I think things would be more fun that way. For you, too.”

“I don’t know how long it’s going to take for all of you to get it,” Diana says, “but fun is not my number one priority here.”

“Okay,” Monica says. “It��s not worth us arguing.”

“You’re right about that,” Diana says, and they don’t talk much more before they get ready for bed.

She sees her parents in the stands when they march out the next day—they’re kind of hard to miss, because they’re waving a giant banner that says GO DIANA! on it. It’s goofy, but she stands up a little straighter at the sight.

It’s a good meet for her, it really is. Her best bar routine of the season yet: a 9.975. The ten so close she can almost reach out and touch it.

And then the ten is there, in the next rotation. You don’t even have to wait for the scores to come up to know. Everything is perfect from the first step of Dana’s vault run: her block is straight on, she’s laid out all the way in the air, she gets so much height, and her feet don’t move on the landing. Diana loves her sport because when it’s done right, it’s beautiful. This is one of those beautiful moments.

But she stands frozen, with her hands at her sides, when the ten does come up and everyone else is screaming and cheering and hugging Dana. She can’t even make herself clap or smile or do something, anything, that makes it look like she’s a team player.

She sees her parents in the stands again, their banner still flying high. She knows this won’t make them any less proud. They’ve seen her be second best before, and they’ve celebrated her silver medals as if they were platinum. No, it’s Diana who’s less proud. No matter what the other girls say about NCAA and elite, there is a difference. There’s a difference between coming second behind Aliya Mustafina, who was the most decorated gymnast at the 2012 Olympics, and second behind Dana Scully, who’s spent her whole life in some rec gym. And there’s a difference in what it’s doing to her mental game. When she concentrated on herself, it used to be a good way, one that made her work on perfecting her skills. Now it’s just in a way that makes her stew.

She can see Coach Skinner watching her; he’s probably going to pull her aside later, going to talk to her about her attitude. She can’t even blame him for that. But she turns aside, and stretches for beam, and doesn’t look back at him.

.....

Week Nine: March

Dana doesn’t go to church every week now—she knows her parents wouldn’t be thrilled, but college is just so busy, and sometimes she’s exhausted and can’t get up on a Sunday, especially if they’ve just gotten back from a meet. But she goes this morning, and when she’s praying she thinks about gratitude. Her season’s gone so well so far, and even though she knows that’s probably not God’s number one priority, in the grand scheme of things, it means a lot to her. She still finds it hard to believe, though. When she came here, she wanted to do her best, but she wasn’t expecting to be a star. And now she’s freshman of the week for the fourth time. She knows Diana thinks she’s fake for being surprised by it, but she honestly is. She wants to let it sink in, though, so she can really feel all the gratitude it merits.

When she’s back in her dorm room, her parents call her. They congratulate her on being freshman of the week: she can tell they believe it, that they’re proud. She’s glad, because they’ve always supported her in gymnastics, even though they’ve never really gotten past referring to the individual skills as jumps and flips. (Mulder knows the name of every skill Samantha does. Dana’s very impressed by that.) She’s just finishing up the call when Monica and Samantha arrive; they’re all going to get lunch together.

“My friends are here,” she says into the phone. “Thanks so much for calling, though.” After they say goodbye, she turns to the other girls. “I was just talking to my parents,” she says. She feels a little guilty saying it to Samantha, even though she knows it’s not her fault that Samantha’s parents are awful about things.

“Mine called me this morning too,” Monica says. “They want to know what I’m eating and if I have a boyfriend.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know where I’d find the time.”

Dana laughs. “Yeah,” she says. “Anyone we’d date would have to be right there in the gym.” She’s thought about it herself, having someone special, but for now she likes being with her friends in the gym. She likes getting to know all the people she’s met.

“I guess some people manage it,” Monica says. “There are those gymnast couples. And I heard there are a ton of hook-ups in the Olympic village. Is that true, Samantha?”

Samantha looks thrown. “Um,” she says, “I was fifteen.”

“Good point,” Dana says.

“And I don’t really…” She’s fiddling with her ponytail, which she used to do almost constantly at the start of the year, so she must be nervous about something. “I don’t actually like boys.”

Dana hugs Samantha right away, because she wants her to know that she has nothing to be nervous about. “Thanks for telling us,” she says.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Monica says. “Now if I ever do find the time to get a boyfriend, at least I know you won’t try to steal him.” She grins at Samantha.

Samantha smiles too, for a minute. “I hadn’t told anyone except Fox before,” she says. “It’s actually…it’s part of the reason I didn’t want to go pro after the Olympics. I didn’t want to be public and have to hide myself like that. And I wouldn’t like all the attention you get, anyway.” It’s completely obvious, if you’ve known Samantha for more than five minutes, that she’s not the kind of person who likes attention, but Dana doesn’t laugh.

Instead, she says, “I get that. You can always talk to us, though. Right, Monica?” Monica nods. “Let’s get lunch.” And she winds her arm through Samantha’s, as they walk downstairs together. She’s grateful for this, too.

.....

Week Ten: March

Monica can’t believe the season is this close to being over. She feels like she just got here. She’s happy with how she’s been doing—she’s in the floor lineup every week, and usually in the vault lineup—but there’s still stuff to keep working on. In terms of her skills, of course, and she likes how Coach Skinner helps them with that, how he works with each of them as an individual. He doesn’t expect her to stick every vault like Dana or swing bars like Diana or have Samantha’s spooky sense of where the beam is every time—he just expects her to keep getting better at what she can do.

Which brings her to another thing she wants to work on: getting Diana to see that so that things can be less uncomfortable at practices. She thinks Coach Skinner must have talked to Diana after their away meet two weeks ago, because she’s been pretty subdued since then; she’s not what you’d call friendly, but she hasn’t lobbed any additional insults at Dana, and she did clap for everyone’s routines last week. Maybe Monica should leave it there. She doesn’t know herself why she wants to get Diana to be friends with the rest of them. Except that she feels like you can do both—try to be the best you can be and still see your teammates as friends instead of direct competition—and that college is the place to do it in. She doesn’t like to think about anyone having a bad time here, and she thinks that Diana is, even if her way of dealing with it is making it a bad time for everyone else too.

So she runs to catch up with Diana after practice. “Hey,” she says. “What are you up to tonight?”

Diana raises an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”

Monica tries for charming. “Because I need some company to save me from having to study.”

“Why don’t you ask Dana and Samantha?” Diana says. “Don’t you always eat dinner together?”

Is Diana jealous of that too? “You could come,” Monica says. “If you wanted to.”

“I don’t,” Diana says. “And anyway, I doubt that invitation comes from all three of you.”

She probably has a point. “Well,” Monica says, trying another tack, “I was going to watch the Stuttgart world cup, since we missed it yesterday. You want to watch?”

“I already saw the results.”

“Well, it’s still fun to see the routines,” Monica says. “Don’t you think? Come on.”

Diana’s clearly unsure; maybe this isn’t worth it. But then she says, “All right. If you want,” and that’s something.

They settle down to watch it on Monica’s laptop. “Do you know any of them?” Monica asks.

“Yeah, I’ve met a bunch of them,” Diana says. “I don’t know them that well, though.”

“That’s still really cool,” Monica says. She doesn’t share Diana’s belief that elite is the only worthwhile form of gymnastics, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fangirl.

Diana seems to pick up on this logical inconsistency, though. “So you think I’m too snotty about having gone to worlds,” she says, “but that’s still the reason you want to hang out with me?”

“I didn’t say you were snotty,” Monica says.

“You didn’t exactly defend me either,” Diana says.

“Well,” Monica says, “I do think it’s kind of a big deal to you. Maybe bigger than it needs to be, here. But that’s not the reason I want to hang out with you. I just…I like to be friends with the people I’m in the gym with.”

“Okay,” Diana says.

“And I don’t mean you shouldn’t care about what you’ve done,” Monica says. “I think it’s awesome you can do all this kind of thing.” She gestures towards the screen, where one of the gymnasts is doing an impossibly packed bar routine, transitions and releases all back to back. “I know I never could in a million years.”

Diana’s fiddling with the zipper on her bag. “But that doesn’t matter here,” she says quietly. “Knowing how to do bigger skills…that doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t not matter,” Monica says. “I mean, it’s not as important, sure. But that doesn’t mean it’s not still cool that you can do it. It doesn’t mean…” She pauses, trying to figure out what she actually wants to say. “I don’t know why you get so upset when Dana does well. It doesn’t take anything away from you.”

Diana’s so quiet for such a long time that Monica’s sure she’s really put her foot in it. But she tries to give Diana space. She watches a French gymnast stick her dismount. She listens to the commentators opine.

“I thought I’d do better here,” Diana finally says.

“You do great,” Monica says. “You’re our best on bars by a lot.” She might have thought, earlier in the year, that she was stroking Diana’s ego unnecessarily by saying that, but now she’s beginning to think her ego isn’t as big as all that.

Diana shrugs. They watch the meet.

.....

Week Eleven: March

It’s almost the end of the regular season—next week is conference championships, and then regionals, and then nationals, if they make it, which Samantha thinks they will. Of course nothing’s sure, but they’ve been ranked in the top six pretty consistently.

She’s reading in her room, the night before their last regular meet, when there’s a knock at the door and she gets up to open it. It’s Fox. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi, Sam,” Fox says, and she can tell something’s wrong. He’s worried about her. “Did you know Mom and Dad were coming tomorrow?”

She stares at him. “No.”

“They called me just now,” he says. “They want to come see your meet. They said they’d emailed you, but you hadn’t answered.”

The filter Dana set up. Her throat is dry. “Why?” she asks. “They don’t really want to see me. Not really.”

“Look, I can try and head them off,” Fox says. “Meet them tomorrow and take them somewhere else. They won’t be there if you don’t want them to be.”

He’s always done everything he can to protect her. That’s why she feels safe and happy with him. That’s why she wants him at the meet tomorrow, cheering for her, not off somewhere doing diversionary action with their parents. “No,” she says. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But Sam—”

“I don’t want them to think they can control how I feel,” Samantha says. “They’ve already done enough of that. They’ll come and I’ll compete like it’s any other meet.” She doesn’t know if she can really do that. It sounds nice, but she doesn’t know.

He’s quiet for a minute, and then he bumps his fists against hers. “I know you will,” he says. “You’re the toughest person I know, Sam.” He means it, and that means something.

She and Dana sit together in the changing room before the meet, the next afternoon; she’s told Dana her parents are coming. “You okay?” Dana asks, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah,” she says. “Let’s just…let’s pretend it’s a regular meet.”

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about,” Dana says, widening her eyes. “What are we pretending? There’s nothing special about this meet.” And Samantha has to laugh, and she feels a little bit better. They do the same breathing exercises they do every time, and she concentrates on her breath, in and out, in and out. She remembers how nervous she used to get every time she competed, how fast her breath and her heart would get, how she always felt like she was about to throw up. Even at the Olympics. Sometime this year, that stopped. And she won’t let it start up again today.

She waves when they announce her name—she still doesn’t love that part, and probably never will, but she can get through it. She sees Fox in the crowd; he waves back. She doesn’t look for her parents.

The waiting through vault can be tough, so today she concentrates as hard as she can on watching the other girls and cheering for them. They have a good rotation; Diana and Dana both stick.

She tightens her grips before bars, making sure everything’s all set. And then she salutes and she goes, before she has a chance to think about anything. She has a close catch on the tkatchev and a couple of steps on the dismount, but she makes it through. That’s what matters. Doing her best and making it through. She knows why she had those mistakes, and she can work on them before next week. The other girls hug her anyway. It doesn’t mean she’s a failure or she wasn’t trying or she doesn’t belong on this team.

Dana hugs her before beam, but she’s not nervous about that, really. Beam’s always been for her, no matter what. Even when she hated everything else, she felt all right during the ninety seconds she spent up there.

She flies through her routine. Her feet are hitting the mat before she knows it, solid, unmoving. She doesn’t look at the crowd afterwards, just the other girls; she barely looks at the scoreboard either, until the ten comes up and they all scream.

After that, it’s easy: watching the rest of the girls on floor and doing their choreography and shouting her lungs out. Because she’s one of a team. And that’s why she had a good meet today, not because of anyone who told her she wasn’t good enough.

“Great work today, Samantha,” Coach Skinner tells her afterwards. From the way he’s looking at her, she thinks he’s not just talking about her scores: he’s talking about her mental game. She doesn’t know how he knew something was bothering her today, except that he’s a good coach and he doesn’t miss much.

She leaves with Dana, arm in arm, and Fox is waiting outside. “Hey,” he says, smiling. “You did pretty good today, Sam.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I thought so.”

“I saw Mom and Dad by the parking lot,” he says, “if you want to sneak out in the opposite direction.”

She thinks about it. A part of her wants to say something to them, defy them; a part of her wants to let her gymnastics do the talking and not waste any more mental energy.

Dana’s looking at something on her phone. “Monica says we’re getting pizza.”

That settles that. “Yeah, let’s do that,” Samantha says, and they head back around the gym to meet Monica, away from the parking lot.

.....

Week Twelve: March

Conference championships are tomorrow, and tonight they’re settled into their hotel rooms. Diana’s rooming with Monica again, which she’s used to by now.

“Here’s an article,” Monica says. “Conference championship previews. And what they mean for the future.”

“They don’t really mean that much,” Diana says. “Just bragging rights.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I love bragging,” Monica says, grinning. “Besides, it helps build up our reputation.”

“True,” Diana says. “What else does the article say?”

“It talks about the different conferences,” Monica says. “Predictions for the teams and the individual events. That kind of thing. You want to hear?”

She’s already leaning over to look at Monica’s phone—she wants to know if they think she might win the bars title—when she stops to think. “No, actually,” she says. “It’ll happen however it happens.”

“Oh, man,” Monica says. “Don’t say you’re leaving me alone in the world of feverish internet gymnastics gossip. Dana and Samantha already won’t read it.”

“Maybe they have a point,” Diana says. “It just makes you get in your head.” She’ll start thinking about whether she could win bars. She’ll start thinking about other girls who are mentioned in the article, and if they could beat her on bars, and if they’re actually better than she is.

Monica watches her narrowly, but she doesn’t ask her again. She starts talking about an essay she has to finish, instead.

They start on beam, the next day, which means bars will be last. Diana’s glad about that, because the scores will build—everyone knows it happens, even if they claim not to—but then she tells herself not to think about it. The judges will do what they do, but she’s in control of whether she hits. Besides, there are three other events to go before that, and she needs to concentrate on those. On everyone, not just herself. Coach Skinner told her that, when he talked to her a few weeks ago. That she should try to be present when the other girls were competing, to think about all of their performances as making up one whole.

It doesn’t come naturally to her, and it probably never will, but she’s going to do her damnedest to master it. If that’s what she needs to do here. If it can help her.

She tries to concentrate on the details of their routines. What they do that she could learn from. What they do that’s different from her own style. She tries to think of cheering for them, of doing their floor choreography, as part of that whole.

She tries really hard, when Dana’s launching herself off the vault table, up and up and up, to keep thinking that way. To think of it as something beautiful. To mean it when she yells, “Yeah, Dana!”

When it comes to bars, she goes through her routine in her head one last time. And then she’s up, flying from bar to bar, hitting her handstands, keeping the rhythm, pointing her toes. Sticking the dismount before she knows it. Bars is so fast, so much a part of her muscle memory.

The other girls clap and cheer and hug her, like she’s been doing for them. Dana smiles at her and says, “Great job.” She probably wants to mend fences. That’s very like her. But Diana smiles back while she waits.

She’s spent the whole meet trying to think about the team, not just about herself. It’s hard to keep doing that, though, when her ten finally—finally—comes up on the scoreboard.

.....

Regionals

They’re a host site for regionals, which Dana’s really happy about. It means it’s close enough for her parents to drive up, and she’s looking forward to having them see her compete with the team. Besides, it means she doesn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to get to the airport or deal with jetlag and an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar gym.

She is kind of nervous, though. So far, the season’s gone better than she could have dreamed, but regionals means a lot more than any of the meets they’ve had so far. It’s sudden death: if they don’t finish in the top two here, they won’t be at nationals. She doesn’t want to have a repeat of her mid-season bars disaster. Nor does she want to start thinking about it, in case it throws off her mindset and becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

She’ll go over to the gym early, Dana decides, and sit there and do some deep breathing. It’ll help her to be in the space. To remind herself that this isn’t anything new, that she’s done it a hundred times.

She’s so early she isn’t even sure she’ll be able to get into the locker room, and when the door does yield to her touch, she’s sure she’ll be the only one there. But she’s not. Diana’s sitting in front of one of the benches, stretching.

“Oh,” Dana says. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Diana says. “Decided to get here early?”

“Yeah,” Dana says. “I thought it might help calm me down.” She doesn’t know why she’s giving Diana that. She hasn’t been as much of a pill the last couple of weeks, true, but Dana’s still not sure it’s a good idea to show her signs of weakness.

But Diana just nods. “Makes sense,” she says. “I like to get warmed up early too. Plus my roommate’s boyfriend came over and they were dropping hints they wanted me out of there.”

“Awkward,” Dana says.

“You got that right,” Diana says.

This is awkward too, Dana thinks, as she sits down. It’s not easy to think calming thoughts with Diana right there in front of her.

“How are you feeling about the meet?” Diana asks her.

“Pretty good, I think,” Dana says. Even though she just said she wanted to calm down. Maybe Diana won’t notice the inconsistency. But Dana doesn’t think she misses much.

She doesn’t expect the response she gets, though. “I get if I’m…if I’m not exactly making things easier for you,” Diana says. “I haven’t been at my nicest here. Especially to you. I get competitive, and you were doing so well, and…well, that’s not an excuse. Anyway…” She’s still stretching, and she holds it for so long that Dana wonders if she’s ever going to finish her sentence or if they’re just going to spend the rest of their lives in suspended motion. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Dana says. She could be cold now, but what would be the point? She wants to get along with the other people on the team. She doesn’t want to waste time thinking about rivalries and grudges. “Thanks for saying that.”

“You’re a really good gymnast,” Diana says. “Your vault especially.”

“Thanks,” Dana repeats. “So are you. I wish I had your bars.”

“Yeah,” Diana says. “Put us together and we’d be the next Simone Biles.” She starts laughing then, and so does Dana. She doesn’t know if she’s heard Diana make a joke before. “So are you nervous for today?” Diana asks.

“Yeah, kind of,” Dana says. “The whole all or nothing aspect. What about you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t get that nervous anymore,” Diana says. “We’ll show them what we can do. We’re not the top seed for nothing.”

She’s acting a little cocky again. But cocky about the team, not about herself, and somehow that makes all the difference.

.....

Nationals: Semifinals

Nationals is different, Monica can feel it. It means being up against the best of the best, with every step counting. No room for error, she finds herself saying in her head. She’s not usually a no room for error kind of person, but the atmosphere can really get to you.

At least she’s not worrying about the individual titles. The semifinals are where those are determined, and she knows some of the girls on the team could definitely contend, but she’ll just be going out there and doing her thing. Performing her heart out on floor. She likes being a star for those ninety seconds and being part of a unit for everything else.

They’re starting on bars, which means Monica has to wait through two rotations to do anything, but she thinks it’s a good thing on the whole; they’re getting what’s probably their weakest event out of the way. The first routine goes smoothly; Dana, up second, is working well too, until she loses her legs in a handstand and goes over. It’s not technically a fall, but she has to take an extra swing, and she doesn’t ever really get her rhythm back. She looks frustrated with herself as she comes off the podium.

“Shake it off, Dana,” Coach Skinner says. “You fought through. Concentrate on the next routine.”

“We’ve still got the rest of the meet,” Monica says. “Don’t beat yourself up.” She squeezes Dana’s arm.

Samantha, who’s already got her grips on, bumps her fist against Dana’s. “We’ve got your back,” she says. “Right, Diana?”

“Right,” Diana says. “We’ll go up and hit, and while we’re doing that, you be thinking about how you’re going to knock us out on beam.”

“Thanks, guys,” Dana says, softly. Monica holds her arm while they watch the other girls’ routines. Samantha’s is quick and tidy. And Diana’s is as gorgeous as ever, her transitions and releases and pirouettes all pristine.

On to the next rotation. Dana draws herself up before her beam routine. “I’m going to do this,” she says, and Monica knows she’s thinking about that meet in February, when she missed bars and then missed beam. “I’m going to hit for all of you.” And she does. It’s one of the best beam routines Monica’s seen her do, actually; everything looks incredibly secure. By the end, she’s really smiling.

Samantha’s the star of the show here, of course. Monica watches her compete every week, not to mention all their training sessions, and she never gets bored with it. You can see, watching her, why Samantha was a champion. Why Samantha still is a champion. There’s a little step on the landing, but Monica honestly doesn’t see anything else wrong. She guesses the judges don’t either, because Samantha comes up with one of the top scores of the meet.

Now floor. She huddles with the other girls as Coach Skinner gives them some last words of encouragement. She cheers and does the choreography for the first four routines. And then she’s up.

There’s nothing like doing gymnastics before a crowd this big and hyped up. And within the world of doing gymnastics, there’s nothing like doing a floor routine. Monica can feel the adrenaline threatening to overtake her; she concentrates on making it work for her, on keeping the tumbling passes big but not out of bounds, on selling her routine to the hilt. She feeds off the music, off her team, off the audience. She knows she’ll remember this.

The other girls hug her afterwards, and she’s happy with her score when it comes up too. It’s funny to think that she’ll only do this particular routine one more time, tomorrow, if they make the finals. But it’s exciting, too, to think that she’ll have a new routine next year. Maybe one she’ll love even more than this.

It’s time to concentrate on vault, though. Monica’s glad she’s gotten her adrenaline out, because vault’s over so quickly that it doesn’t give you any time to course correct. She’s third in the lineup, and she’s going before she knows it. She takes a step back on the landing, but all in all she’s pleased.

Dana’s their anchor, and her face is set, determined, as she stands at the end of the runway. From her beam and floor, it looks like she hasn’t let the mistake on bars get to her, like she’s in a good frame of mind. Monica’s glad about that, because Dana can stick the crap out of a vault when she’s on, and that would be good for them tonight. Mathematically, they’re already into the finals, but it never hurts to make a statement.

It’s a statement. High and huge and stuck right down the middle.

Four of the judges give her the ten; two of them go with 9.95, for some incomprehensible reason. “Oh, come on!” Monica shouts, but Dana’s so happy that she’s jumping up and down, and it is the top vault score of the whole meet, so she might as well let it go.

She cheers for them all during the medal ceremonies, even though she’s exhausted at this point; when the competition’s over, it really hits you. And they’ll be doing it all over again tomorrow. She may be exhausted, but she can’t wait.

.....

Nationals: Finals

When she’s getting ready for finals, Samantha remembers how she felt getting ready for team finals at the Olympics. How she was sure she was going to throw up. How she was terrified she’d make a mistake. How she felt all wrong in her red, white, and blue leotard, and how sweaty her hands were. How she felt so alone—the other girls on the team were nice, but they weren’t her close friends. She didn’t have any of those, in the gym.

Tonight she’s wearing a green and silver leotard, and she feels all right. Monica is insisting that they put a truly outrageous amount of glitter on their faces. “It’ll hype us up,” she says.

“It’ll get in our eyes,” Dana says. “You want to be the girl who missed a catch because she was trying to blink away glitter?”

“I’ll never be the girl who missed a catch,” Monica says, “because I don’t compete bars like you suckers. Can’t miss a catch if you never try.”

Diana is spraying her hair into place. “Give me a little bit,” she says, and she smears it on her cheeks. “Not bad. We could do something to match with eye shadow?”

“Now you’re talking,” Monica says. “See, Diana gets it.”

“Will you put some on me?” Samantha asks, and Diana does her eyeshadow carefully, in the same colors as their leotards. When they look into the mirror, once they’re ready, they all match.

Dana takes a picture. “You think we can win this thing?” she asks, softly.

“Well, I was reading,” Monica says, “and statistically, if we have our best floor of the season…”

“Oh my god,” Diana says. “Stop trying to make this a thing!”

“I think we can win it,” Samantha says. She can tell the others are maybe a little surprised, from the way they look at her. “No statistics. Just my feelings.”

“I think Samantha’s right,” Dana says, and she hugs her.

“But even if we don’t win,” Samantha says, “we’re…we’re going to kick so much ass!” Now they’re definitely surprised, no doubt about it. But Monica whoops, and so does Diana, and then they hurry out of the room, because it’s time for the last team gathering, for a final talk from Coach Skinner.

“I’m very proud of how you’ve all performed this year,” he says. “We had a lot of new contributors on our team, and you’ve all stepped up and taken on new roles. You’ve made yourselves an indispensable part of the team, and we’ve had some great achievements.” His face is serious. “That said, tonight those achievements are behind us. It’s time to build on them, yes, but it’s also time to set new goals. You can’t coast on the past—you’ve got to leave it all on the floor.” Samantha clutches Dana’s hand. The past is gone, she thinks. “Know your routines. Know yourselves. Know your team. I know what you can do—now show everyone else tonight. We can do this.” They all nod seriously. It doesn’t seem quite the time for whooping.

They whoop afterwards, though, when the seniors lead them in a cheer. Samantha looks at the other girls’ faces: they look nervous but excited, determined, ready to leave it all on the floor. She takes a deep breath before they march out.

She knows she has Fox in the audience, which makes a difference. He asked her if she wanted him to come, and she said she did. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed: he’s the only spectator that she really wants or cares about. But everything else is different.

They’re starting on floor tonight, which means Samantha’s beam will be the final routine for the team. She used to hate waiting more than anything, always feeling like she was about to jump out of her skin. It’s still not her favorite part of a meet, but it’s better now. She has the other girls’ routines to watch and cheer for.

Floor goes well. She does the choreography on the sidelines: Diana’s fluttering arms, Dana’s shimmy, Monica’s salute to the audience. She thought the semifinals were exciting, but tonight’s even better, each girl selling her routine with everything she’s got.

On vault, they don’t have as much difficulty as some of the other teams: they’re using two Yurchenko fulls, but they’re both solid tonight. After that, Monica does well with her tsuk, Karen sticks her Omelianchik, and both of the one and a halfs are good, especially Dana’s. She always seems to know where the ground is.

At the halfway mark, they’re in second, but things are close. That’s another thing she’s had to get used to here—every routine being graded on the same scale, without the big difficulty gaps that were there in elite. At first it made her nervous; it was so much easier for one mistake to be costly. But now she doesn’t mind so much.

“Keep it up, everyone,” Coach Skinner tells them. “Nice and easy. Like in practice.” He stops to talk to those of them who are putting on their grips, getting ready for bars. “You ready, Samantha?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “I am.”

He almost smiles at her, although he’s not really a smiley kind of guy. “I know we can count on you,” he says. She would hug him, if they weren’t in the middle of touch warmups.

She doesn’t love bars the same way she loves beam, but she likes having it come first, something to steady her. She squeezes Dana’s arm while they’re waiting. “You good?” she says.

“Yeah,” Dana says. “Thanks. I’m good.” She smiles at Samantha. And then it’s time to scramble off the podium—the rotation is starting.

The three routines before her are clean; she’s never seen anyone look as relieved in her life as Dana does, coming down from the podium. Samantha steps up then, pictures her routine one last time, salutes, and goes. It feels so quick, but then she’s done, and she’s hit, and the other girls are cheering. She hugs them quickly, before taking off her grips and walking to the side of the arena, where she can think about beam. She throws a back handspring. She wants to keep loose.

She still watches the last two routines, though. Diana’s is beautiful; two of the judges give her a ten. They’re still in a close second, going into beam.

“Do what we all know you can do,” Coach Skinner tells the six of them when they’re in the huddle. “Don’t think about the scoreboard. Think about the beam.” The one thing she’s never had trouble with.

Samantha couldn’t tell you much about the five routines before her. She thinks they go fine, because she doesn’t hear any gasping or groaning, but she’s busy concentrating. She doesn’t look at the scores—she doesn’t want to know what she would need, if it’s close enough at the end. Dana bumps fists with her before she goes up. “You’ve got this,” she says. “We all know you do.”

Her routine is almost over early; she can feel she’s off as she’s coming in for the landing at the end of her series, and one foot is almost off the beam. But she saves it, somehow, gripping with her toes, even though she has to wave her arms a few times. She takes a deep breath and slows down her choreography a little, to give herself the chance to refocus. Then the double turn. Then the side aerial. She’s moving smoothly now, and she’s able to smile, to look out at the judges and the crowd. She doesn’t see Fox—there are so many people—but she pretends she does, that he’s right at the spot where she’s looking. She sets up for the dismount then, and that’s on, high and stuck.

And then it’s over. She won’t be competing again as a freshman, but the other girls are hugging her, and she looks at the scores again, to see hers come in. They’re second. It’s so close. She has to wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t had that check on her series.

But Coach Skinner pats her shoulder. “Good job, Samantha,” he says.

So she stops wondering. She jumps up and down with the other girls, instead.

.....

Afterwards

Diana feels a little flat; she always does, after a big competition. They were up late last night, celebrating, and now they have to fly back to school. She finished early, and now she’s helping Monica stuff things into her bag.

“Want to see what Dana and Samantha are up to?” Monica says, when they’re done.

“Sure,” she says, and they go over to their room. They’re almost done packing too. Dana’s wrapping her first-place vault trophy up, with an almost tender look on her face.

“Enjoy it,” Diana says, teasingly. “Because I’m going to train a one-and-a-half this summer, and then it’s over for you.”

Dana looks startled for a second—maybe it’s too early to say mean things to her as a joke—but then she laughs. “Thanks for the warning,” she says. “I’d better start working inbars. Beat you at your own game.”

“It’s kind of funny,” Monica says. “You’d think you’d want a break, right? But I actually can’t wait to get back in the gym.”

“Yeah,” Samantha says. “I think I’ll actually like off-season training this year.” She’s not going home, she’s told them; she’s staying out here with her brother, at the apartment he’s getting, and she’s going to train in the university gym with Coach Skinner. “But I’ll miss you all, though.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Dana says, hugging her. “But we can chat.”

“Are you actually going to train a one-and-a-half, Diana?” Monica asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” Diana says. “I don’t really think I’m going to threaten Dana. But it’ll be good for the team.” She can’t believe she’s saying that and meaning it. “How about you, Dana? Actually going to work inbars?”

“No thanks,” Dana says. “But I do want to work on cleaning some stuff up on bars and beam. And thinking about what I might do for my floor routine next year.”

“Definitely,” says Monica. “I want to do something really different from this year. And I want to get my vault more consistent.”

They all look at Samantha. “I want to train floor,” she says. “I’d like to compete it next year. I’d like one of those routines like the Dutch have.”

That’s surprising. Samantha’s elite routine, the last time Diana saw her, was basically still a junior routine: dependent on being tiny and cute. Samantha’s still pretty tiny and cute now, even though she’s eighteen, and Dutch routines are known for being elegant and dramatic. It doesn’t seem like a natural fit, but she can tell it’s something Samantha really wants, so she says, “Go for it.”

“Hell yeah,” Monica says. “That’d be awesome.”

“It’s a great idea,” Dana says. “Something really different.”

They’re quiet for a minute, and then Monica says, “Look at us jumping ahead already. We literally just finished the season. And we’re the second best in the nation!”

“Yeah we are,” Diana says, and then they’re quiet for another minute, to take that in. Dana finishes wrapping the trophy and puts it in her bag.

“And we’re only losing three routines next year,” Monica says, “which is a lot fewer than most teams. I was reading online—”

“Stop,” Dana says.

“You literally never stop trying, do you?” Diana asks.

“Nope,” Monica says. She’s grinning.

“We’d better go,” says Samantha. “We don’t want to be left behind.”

So they head down to the lobby, to join Coach Skinner and the rest of the team.

#my fic #the x files #gymnastics #Dana Scully #monica reyes #samantha mulder #diana fowley #alternate universe

[mysteryofren]

welcome back

part 8 of so happy together

Part 7

  The days after new years felt like a dream. You and Ben texted non stop. You learned a lot about him in the past few days. The more you knew about him the more you liked him. You told him more about your relationship with his parents, and he tried giving you the best advice he could. You wanted badly to ask if he wanted to hang out, but you knew his parents were home. Even if he acts like it you feel like deep down he missed them, and that he’ll miss them when school starts up again so you never brought up hanging out. 

 Your grandfather went back to working again, so you only saw him at breakfast, and dinner. Some days he stopped working early so you two could go out, or watch a movie before he went to sleep. For a moment it felt normal. As normal as it could be. You felt like you were a regular teen with a regular parent. Well grandparent. He made time for you instead of constantly working and brushing you off. You were originally supposed to stay for christmas eve, christmas, and the next day. That first night was amazing, and you refused to leave. You would stay too if your school wasn't so far. It made you love your time here even more. 

 Gideon and you spent your days exploring the forest and playing games at the house. You learned a lot about the old dog in the days since you got him. One day there was a rare winter rain. You set up by a window and listened to music. Gideon saw you sit and sat next to you putting his head in your lap watching the rain fall down the window with you. He followed you everywhere. If you walked to the kitchen he went with you. You went to bed and he would follow you and sleep next to you. One day you decided to take a bath and he sat in the tub with you. The sentiment was nice, but bathing with a dog wasn't exactly sanitary. Your grandfather had chosen the perfect dog for you. You loved Gideon as if you had been his owner for his whole life. 

 Although they felt like a dream. The days went by fast then next thing you knew you were packing a bag to go back to school. Most kids just went back on the first day classes resume, but you wanted to get back early and enjoy the peace there before the chaos began. Your grandfather helped take your bag to your car. The worst part about going back was leaving him. You had so much fun being at his house the past 2 weeks it made you sad to think you had let yourself get so busy you were only seeing him every few months. He made you a copy of the house key so you could go by anytime you wanted to. You added it next to your dorm keys, and pulled him in for a hug. What were you going to do without him or Gideon. At least you would be with Elaine again, and you would get a chance to see Ben more. 

  The whole ride back you felt a strange emptiness. Like you were going away for good. You knew you werent. You and your grandfather had made plans for the following weekend to get lunch. Either way going back felt weird. Eventually you pulled into the parking lot for your dorm. You parked and got out looking around, and taking in the silence. You grabbed your bags out of the seat and walked to your room. You opened the door and set your stuff down on your bed. You grabbed your headsets and put them on. You started unpacking your bag and putting all the clothes you had used in a basket. You took all your unused clothes and put them away. You picked up the basket and headed to the campus laundry room. 

The next day came fast. You woke up early to get ready making sure your makeup was just right. The one thing you definitely didnt miss about the school was the stupid uniform you had to wear. It consisted of a dark green plaid skirt with a white button up tucked into it, along with a tie. You did have the option of wearing a blazer with the school's logo on it, but for the most part you went without that. The boys had to wear khaki pants, with a white button up, and a red and gold tie. Unlike the girls uniform it was required that they wear the blazer. After you got done getting ready you grabbed your backpack and books and headed to your home room class. 

 You walked in and saw all the familiar faces before sitting down next to Hux. Unfortunately he was the only friend you had in the homeroom. Elaine was always placed in another one. Once you sat next to Hux you said your hellos before your teacher had walked in.

“Welcome back, I trust you all had a nice vacation?” professor Windu asked. 

A hushed reply of yes’ went over the room 

“Good. we have a few things to go over before you go to your classes.” you listened as he went over basic stuff, updating everyone on fundraisers, upcoming events and future assemblies.

 You were close enough to Hux, that you could whisper to him without anyone noticing. 

“So how was the college?” you asked him

“It's amazing, everything is absolutely beautiful, I'm so excited to go at the end of the year.” 

“That's good, what are you going for?”

“I originally wanted to go for law so I could work with my father but they do have an amazing art program and I would love to be an art curator at the Met.” you never knew he was into art.

You two continued talking until the bell rang letting students know to head to their next class. The day went by fast and finally you arrived at your final class of the day. Computer science. You took your usual seat, and waited until your teacher gave you an assignment. A few seconds after arriving your desk mate walked in. You had completely forgotten Matt sat next to you. 

“So I heard you kissed brother, guess that means you’ll be with him now?” he asked as he sat down. 

“I mean maybe, I'm not really sure what's going on there.” 

“Well I consider you my friend so i know if anything does happen you’re cool, and you won't be mean to me like his last girlfriend.” 

“Hey! We are friends, and I would never be mean to you under any circumstance.”  then it finally hit you. How did he know you met his brother? Had he talked about you? Did Luke say something?

“So how did you hear about that happening? Did Luke say something?” 

“No he talked about when he got back. He seems to really like you.”

“I mean i kind of like him too so i guess that's good.” 

 You and Matt had been cut off by your teacher telling you of a new project. Automatically you and Matt looked at each other knowing you were going to partner up for it. She explained the project would be for artificial intelligence. She gave the rest of the period to make a plan and get started. You and Matt made an outline of your plans and started making the powerpoint. Near the end of class you two discussed a day to get together after class along with eating lunch together and working on it. When class was over you walked around campus for a while together you asked him about Hoth and what he did when he was there. He told you about how it was his first time seeing snow, and going skiing. After a while he told you he told you he was gonna go unpack his stuff from his trip. 

  You walked back to your room and saw that Elaine still hasn't gotten back yet. Your guess was that she was still coming back from classes. You set your bag down and laid out on your bed, when you realized you hadn't talked to Ben all day. You pulled your phone out of the pocket you had sewn into your skirt and sent him a quick text. You figured that the first day must have overwhelmed him, and it just slipped his mind. After about 10 minutes you stood up and grabbed your bag. Digging your books out you walked over to your desk and sat down to do homework. You checked your phone every 5 minutes hoping he would reply. After about 30 minutes passed and Elaine walked in and she was wearing her soccer outfit. 

“Dude you'll never guess what happened today!!” she said as she walked in. throwing her bag down. 

“Is everything okay?” you turned looking at her. 

“Yeah everythings fine, but there's a coach from NYU coming to the game next week!”

“Oh hell yeah! This is gonna be so good for you!” you stood up and hugged her.

“You're coming to the game, right?” she asked 

“Of course I come to every game!” 

“Well you were busy with a certain someone else.” she teased. That reminded you to check your phone again.

“Actually a certain someone has spoken to me all day.” 

“Maybe he's busy. It was his first day after all.” she said as she grabbed clothes and headed to the bathroom. She was right, maybe you were overreacting. Some reason it just felt wrong. 

  You decided to throw your phone on the bed so you didn't feel tempted to keep checking. About two hours later you finished your work for the week you even thought of some ideas for your computer science project. Once you were done you got up and grabbed your phone to message Matt about some of your ideas. Still no text from Ben. You sent Matt some of your ideas. Frustrated you asked Elaine if she wanted to go to Mazs place for dinner. She thankfully agreed and you two got dressed. As you walked out you got a message from Matt telling you he had some ideas too. On the walk back you talked back and forth about them before deciding on a few ideas. 

  When you got to the restaurant you saw Hux sitting alone again.

“Do you mind if we go sit with Hux?” you asked her.

“Sure, but can I ask why his name is Armitage and we all call him Hux?”

“He hates his name so we all kinda just started calling him by his last name.” you explained as you walked over to his table. She nodded her head and walked over with you. 

“Hey Hux, can we sit with you?” you asked him. He smiled and motioned for you guys to sit down.

“Of course you can, Phasma should also be joining me at any moment.”

“Cool, we can all hang out I Dont really hang out with Phasma outside of practice.” 

 You both sat down and started talking to Hux when Phasma arrived. You've known her since about middle school. Her parents and yours were friends. You would call her a friend, just not one you hang around a lot. You all stayed four a few hours talking, and laughing. Well most of you are laughing. Hux never really laughed. He kind of just smiled, or let out a breath. You figured that's why him and Phasma were best friends. They were serious as hell. Phasma had her moments of goofiness but for the most part. She was a bad bitch.

  When you decided to leave you all walked to the dorms together. After Hux walked off to his room. You, Elaine, and Phasma had walked to the girls dorm area. Once you and Elaine parted with Phasma you checked your phone again. Nothing. You sighed and put your phone up. You watched Elaine dig her keys out and unlock the door.

“Still no messages?” she said  walking in. 

“No, i'm sure everything will be alright.” you walked in and quickly changed into yours night clothes.throwing yourself on your bed you sighed. “Maybe if he doesn't like me i can just date Hux.” you said jokingly.

“Oh yeah that's something I'd pay to see happen. Can you imagine little red headed versions of you running around. It'd be like a nightmare I had once.” 

“Stars can you imagine. Y/N Hux. it kind of has a ring to it.” you both laughed. 

“I can see it now. You, an up and coming fashion designer, him, a big hot shot lawyer! Together you two strike fear into the heart of New Yorkers!” she dramatically fell onto her bed making it seem as if she had fainted. 

“Actually he wants to be an art curator.” you corrected her.

“Even better you both are art nerds.” she tucked herself in and turned off her lamp light. You did the same as she spoke out.

“I'm positive he’ll text back. He's got to, he’d be an idiot if he didnt.” she yawned out before falling silent. You stayed up a while longer. You searched through old texts looking to see if anything had been different the day before. Could you have said something that put him off? Did he indicate that something was wrong and you didn't notice? You searched desperately for an answer, until you eventually drifted off.

#ben solo fanfiction #ben solo #bensoloxreader #teen!ben solo #ben solo x reader #matt the radar technician #star wars tfa #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #star wars tros #star wars #star wars x reader #reader insert #teen!reader #armitage hux #captain phasma #mace windu #oc