#especially because like…if I’m shit talking a club or player it’s usually never SO serious or personal

[thiagodasilva]

sorry but I don’t get people that are like “I could NEVER be mutuals with or follow someone that doesn’t support my favorite club”…like what do you mean…I love all my babygirls from all walks of clubs from all over, sorry you hate a good time

[watevermelon]

Patience is a Virtue | Shinsuke Kita x Reader

✧ Summary: You lost track of the days that you were in love with Kita. He was so much more than just the team mom that many outsiders dubbed him as. He was the wielder of cold-logic and held the bluntest of words at times, but he showed his own special brand of care for each member of the team. What you hadn’t expected was for him to especially care about you.  ➳ Warnings: Language because twins lmao ➳ Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; mostly fluff and humor; Atsumu being a little shit; friends trying to be match-makers; mild jealousy on Kita’s part; introspection and some character development

✧  Masterlist

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As the manager of the Inarizaki volleyball club, you were no stranger to the antics of your generally loud team. And while this was usually elicited by the twins, with most of the team ahem especially Suna being no help (since many would rather film then break-up the fight), you were almost a pro at keeping them calm to the public eye.

You grew up alongside most of the members of the team, a strange connection between all of the players. From advanced classes in junior high to being literal neighbors to some of them, you were long-term classmates with many of the members - including the captain himself.

Kita was much more than the doting team mom than people gave him credit for. Yes, he was often the face of the team, the voice of reason that handled the interviews and other press coverage, but this all came from a place of stone-cold reason. He had strict routines and never cared about doing things without practical rationale. Kita had a mature way of thinking, often compartmentalizing both people and emotions, to the point that it made people his own age not relate to him.

Even the quiet Suna, the analytical little shit who loved to poke fun at said captain, had honestly admitted that he thought Kita to be on the robot-side of the emotional spectrum. 

And, despite all this, Kita was the long-term object of your affections.

It was all the little things that made your crush on him grow. From his proper speech, the blunt words no matter to whom he was speaking to, or his unusual brand of care he extended toward his teammates, Kita was the foundation of Inarizaki that you fell for. And when he was named captain of the volleyball team? You almost cried alongside him, reveling in the rare fit of pure happiness that he was gracing your eyes with.

You remembered the last time you walked home together, for once not being called away on separate duties as captain and leading manager. He treated you to ice-cream and walked along you side-by-side.

“Mint chocolate-chip with two cherries.” He told the street-cart vendor confidently, knowing your favorite flavors by heart at this point.

You ordered for him in kind, receiving the treat from the vendor as Kita paid for both of your orders. Anyone else would be contesting it, but you knew that Kita would not take no for an answer. He did stuff like this all the time with you, you were better off not fighting it. This was not the hill you wanted to die on.

But you were surprised when Kita licked at your ice cream, smiling as he tasted it and maintaining your gaze head-on. The shock on your face must have been evident since the smirk on his widened. You reached for the cone in his hand, only for him to lightly slap it away.

“Should I be asking with a pretty please or something?” You asked with a playful pout.

“No.” Kita replied, before lowering it to your eye-level.

Did he want you to lick it? While he was holding it????

Wordlessly, you followed his silent command and felt the minty taste of your afternoon snack on your tongue. Kita watched the action, eyes following your tongue as he shot you a friendly smile. He pulled away before you could get that much more, before licking your ice cream again.

Was that an indirect kiss???

“My, you two make quite the couple.” The vendor commented, clasping her hands together as she watched your interaction.

“We’re not dating.” Kita answered, squashing any hope you had from that interaction.

He was just?? So confusing??

You had so many little moments like this over the years. So many that had you often questioning deep into the night what truly was your relationship with the blunt captain of Inarizaki. You fell for him so many years ago, it made you wonder when was the last time you really thought of him as just a friend. Did he truly not know about your feelings?

But Kita was smart and on just as many occasions, you wondered if he knew the truth but simply did nothing about them. If he could read the twins with little effort, there was no doubt he understood your feelings long-ago, but decided not to act.

At least, that was your reason behind not openly admitting it to him:

That Kita knew you had a crush on him. And since he did not feel the same, it was better off if he did not address them.

And so you never brought it up, stewing in silence for years. 

Eight years was a long time to be in love alone.

“You should just give up on him.” Jisoo, your fellow Inarizaki manager commented one day. She was in the same class as the twins, a year your junior.

The both of you were lounging outside in the courtyard for lunch, a humidly hot day that made the two of you especially lazy this particular school-day. Only a few more hours more and you would be free of classes, liberated of any schoolwork and finally enjoying the weekend.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking at the different posts on social media from your various friends. Atsumu had posted of his serve practice the day before, his comment section flooded with various hearts by his fan-club of all things. Osamu’s private Instabook was of food while Aran’s had posted one of the day’s blue skies.

“Why would I do that?” You asked with a sigh, already used to her trying to guide you away from him. You understood why, it was hardly a smart decision to hold onto your feelings, not that you really cared.

“Aren��t you tired of it by now?”

But was that a good enough reason at this point? You were a third-year and about to graduate. If there was one thing that was constant throughout your entire life in the farming prefecture you called a home, it was that you had feelings for the captain.

The sky was blue. Summer was hot. You liked Kita.

It was that simple sometimes. And while there were moments that hurt your heart, it was not like you had any head-space to even try to stop.

“Maybe.” You answered candidly, “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know how to. But I don’t want to either.”

“I worry about you, senpai.”

“What can I say?” You tried to joke, even with your sad smile. “Kita has my heart on lock-down.”

“We’re all going to the twins’ party this weekend, why don’t you try talking to some of the guys there?”

“Not this again.” You complained as you put your phone down on the table.

“Come on!” Jisoo pushed, “I’m sure there’ll be someone there that peaks your interest.”

You raised a brow in response, doubt evident on your face.

She teased, “It could also be on a purely physical level.”

Laughing at her statement, you said. “Like that’s any better.”

“A little smooches here and there never hurt anyone.”

“Now I’m worrying about you.”

She giggled, before continuing. “Just think about it. First guy tonight who hits on you, give him a chance.”

While you would have dismissed the thought immediately, there was something rather playful happening in the pit of your stomach. As if, for once in a long-time, you wanted to feel the puppy love of just casually flirting. Of grinning and laughing along with someone's advances and actually enjoying one these parties; rather than just sitting on the couch playing Mario Kart waiting for Kita to hopefully show.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

She sighed loudly, happy to have cracked you a little. Jisoo continued with a teasing grin on her face. “Oh right, I forgot. You’re a masochist.”

“I could’ve told ya that.” Another voice broke out, the familiar setter of two-tone hair taking the seat next to you. He picked at one of your french-fries, eating it with no preamble as Suna took the seat diagonal from you, next to Jisoo at the picnic table outside. 

For someone who spoke a lot of game about not being caught up with the twins, Suna tended to hang around Atsumu quite a bit.

“I am not a masochist.” You defended from Atsumu’s words, earning an eye-roll from the other female manager.

“Why else would you agree to manage a team with the twins?” Suna quipped before taking out his phone, probably scrolling through social media as well. Atsumu shrugged in agreement, a smirk on his face.

“Also, tell that to your love life.” Jisoo countered, playfully moving her lunch out of Atsumu’s reach before the setter could commandeer some of hers.

You quietly pushed the rest of your fries in his direction, appetite long gone on this overly humid day. Doing this sort of thing was actually quite natural with the twin, sharing food and hugs were a normal thing with your friend.

“It’s not that bad.” You argued.

“Wait, have ya ever dated before?” Atsumu asked.

“Have you?” You countered back, the setter was infamous for his many… romantic encounters. But the young man had yet to ever put a serious label on any of those instances, at least not to your knowledge.

He rolled his eyes in response, turning to Jisoo instead to continue.

“Come on senpai, not even a smooch?” She pushed.

You felt your face flush at having been called out, “Well....”

Atsumu turned his body toward you in his seat, his insufferably confident smirk back on, “I could help ya with that.”

You pushed away at his shoulder, “You say it like it’s a problem.”

“Ya savin’ it till ya get married or somethin’?” He asked, genuinely curious. Even Suna turned to you, looking up from his phone in interest.

You turned to Jisoo, the conversation taking a dangerous turn. If you said yes, their curiosity would definitely be spiked. And it was not like you could lie to them and say it was some random person in your class - you knew these boys for years, but they also knew you in kind. 

Yes or no?

The other manager did not even try to bail you out and your silence was already tantamount to an answer.

“Aww. How cute of ya, (L/N).” Atsumu chuckled, reaching to pat your head. You slapped it away before he got too close. For someone younger than you, he was quite the brat. Years of being friends long stripped away any formalities apparently.

“Looks like our heart-breaker manager is actually very sentimental.” Suna commented, a brow raised in your direction.

“Heart-breaker?” You questioned in genuine confusion.

“Come on, (L/N)-san.” Jisoo answered this time, “She’s had her heart set for so long, she hasn’t even seen the other boys she’s curved.”

“How is that possible when no one’s confessed to me?”

Jisoo laughed while Atsumu absently tapped his finger on the table, “Even I know that ain’t true, (L/N).”

“Whatever.” There was no reasoning with your underclassmen when they were this dead-set. No one had confessed to you before, right? At least none to your memory, they were just being instigators as usual?

“That doesn’t answer the question why ya sittin’ here single.” Atsumu stated.

“He obviously has feelings for you, but she’s too much of a wuss to confess.” Jisoo stated it plainly for you, then turned to look at Atsumu with an expectant face. “So it’s either because he hasn’t noticed, which I doubt, or he’s not looking for commitment.”

“Ah. And it’s someone we’ve known for years, huh?” Suna deduced, words come out slowly.

You straightened your back in surprise and shot warning looks toward both boys. This was getting too close, they were starting to put together pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t even willingly handed to them. And knowing these little shits, they were not going to let this go until they found out.

Atsumu inclined his head for you to continue while Suna’s eyes never left your own. Suna was smart all the time, but with being associated with the twins constantly, it was easy to forget that fact. And since the trio acted like idiots so often, you tended to forgo how truly analytical even the Atsumu was. 

This was not good - so not good. It probably would not take them long to deduce the person at this rate.

“I swear to the highest volleyball gods out there,” You spit out as your turned to the other manager, “I will fucking smite you off this planet if you say another word.”

Jisoo burst out laughing immediately, almost choking on her lunch as Atsumu grinned at your warning, the exact opposite response you wanted.

“Strong words ya got there.” He commented, body still angled toward yours in interest. “Looks like we hittin’ a lil too close to home?”

“Don’t even try it.” You responded back, turning away from his inquisitive eyes and back to your phone.

Needless to say, they didn’t listen.

Suna backed up in his seat, eyes glancing between you and the setter. “No commitment, huh?”

Meanwhile, Atsumu was rapid-firing questions. “Is it a second-year? Third-year? Is he on the volleyball team? Do we know ‘em personally?”

You smiled at his now peaked curiosity, the setter almost looking like a small puppy waiting for a treat. But you refused to answer, no doubt sure that they would tell the captain the moment they found out the truth. You turned to Jisoo, who was smiling away at Atsumu, but otherwise sat thankfully quiet.

Atsumu was firing off specific names now, hoping to get any response from you.

“The bastard’s gotta be on the team.”

“Bastard?” Jisoo laughed at the nickname.

“Shut up, Atsumu.” You countered, attempting to poke harshly at his forehead to stop. But he just grabbed the hand in one of his own, holding it in his lap as he continued to spit out names.

“Is it Aran?”

“Will you stop?”

“‘Samu?”

“I will murder you in cold blood.”

“... Is it me?”

You tried your best to pull your hand away, now realizing his tightening hold on against the skin of your hand. How long had you been sitting there holding hands? You felt a natural rosiness rise to your cheeks, not really because of the recipient, but because you were doing so in public with some guy.

Instead, you poked the setter’s side roughly, earning a deep groan, but freeing your hand in the process. Packing up your belongings, you stepped out of the picnic table and stated, “Lunch is almost over, we should get to class.”

You walked away with a small wave, the boys turning to the now only female occupant of the lunch-table.

“So…”

“Nu-uh.” Jisoo cut off Atsumu, moving to leave the table before she accidentally said anything.

“Throw a man a bone here! Or at least help him bone.” Atsumu murmured that last part under his breath, “Ya don’t even have to verbally confirm it - is it me?”

Jisoo paused as she stood, books in hand already. The look she threw him was mischievous, but otherwise she left in silence.

Unfortunately for you, all you were thinking about during class was that conversation you just had. Kita sat on your right in your next few classes, the mild Ōmimi behind the both of you. The last thing you needed was to linger on their teasing words of smooches and marriage. You couldn’t confess your feelings, imagining anything else?? You could only imagine the bright blush at the simple thought of it.

And apparently, you hadn’t hidden it well.

“Something wrong?”

There were still a couple more minutes until the teacher would return. And so you were sitting in the classroom with Kita alongside you, other students milling around the room. He was so damn good at reading people and you cursed that he was using it against you now.

“Just thinking about some stuff Jisoo said at lunch.” You tried to wave off.

“You’re blushing.” Kita stated bluntly, putting his book down as he spoke to you. 

He was never one to sugar-coat his words.

“Am I?” You put your palms to your cheeks, as if to feel the heat. There was no point in trying to lie to him. “She was teasing me about boys.”

“Oh. Are you dating anyone?” Kita asked.

God, this was awful. 

There was nothing worse than your crush asking about your crush.

“No, not yet.” You shook your head negatively, turning towards the window on your left, at least trying to hide your expression.

“Yet? Are you looking to date soon?”

You wanted to scream.

“Um, not in the near future.” You tried to deflect, “But it could happen!”

“Of course.” He smiled, “I packed extra onigiri for lunch, but I couldn’t find you. I’m not sure if you still want it.”

“Ah, I would love to! If I’m not imposing, then yes.”

Kita shook his head, “I packed it for you.”

“You’re so sweet sometimes.” You said honestly, taking it and munching down.

“You usually either forget your lunch or eat junk.” He stated plainly, making you suddenly blanch at his cold-words. I mean, he wasn’t exactly wrong either. You thought back to the lunch you had today, literally just water and french fries that you ended up giving to Atsumu.

“Ha, well.” You trailed off before settling on, “Thanks for always taking care of me.”

Kita’s small grin widened as he looked you in the eyes, “It’s my pleasure.”

When he said things like that, it easily set your heart aflame. It was so simple, such small interactions that you would have to squint hard to find anything underlying in his words. But you wanted to. You wanted to feel needed and also give to the captain as well.

The blush you had earlier was probably nothing in comparison to how you looked now, you were sure. And, with Kita being the ever smart cookie he was, there was no doubt that he spied your inflamed reaction.

Was that conversation over? Was he expecting a response?

Maybe the volleyball god’s did have mercy on your poor soul, since your teacher walked in then and thankfully brought your conversation to a halt. You tried not to outwardly seem relieved, turning to the front and taking out your notebooks.

Your mind wandered in and out of the lecture. There were moments that your gaze just happened to meander over to the captain to your right. It was one thing to suddenly notice you were staring at him, but another thing entirely to be caught in the action. Kita would usually just smile at you kindly, before nudging his chin toward the front of the room toward the teacher.

Even later during volleyball practice, your eyes would casually dawdle over to where the captain was standing. Whether he was watching the team with careful eyes or participating himself in practicing spikes, your eyes usually just found him.

But today was not the day to let down your guard.

Atsumu and Suna were paying careful attention to you. And now it was no secret where your gaze was pointed to. Suna smirked when he realized, but Atsumu clicked his tongue and mentally filed it away for later. Jisoo once snapped playful fingers in front of your face, grabbing your attention to flip the scoreboard.

When it was finally time to clean, Kita helped you collect the left-over volleyballs and roll the hammock into the proper storage room. You did so carefully, making sure not to accidentally touch his skin lest he back off from the motion. But the kind, neutral expression he shot you went straight to your heart.

“Let’s get the scoreboard next.” He instructed, the both of you moving to opposite sides of the wheeled board.

And you would have, if Atsumu had not thrown a casual arm across the captain’s shoulders.

“Hey, do ya mind helpin’ ‘Samu over there?” He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to his twin who was not looking at all.

Slightly suspicious, Kita did as asked anyway and went with the grey-headed twin to mop the floors.

“What was that about?” You asked as Atsumu pushed the scoreboard along with you.

It was only when you entered the storage room alone that he replied, “So Mister No Gaps Kita Shinsuke, huh?”

“What?!” You fought the inward need to slap yourself, high voice and exclamation enough to show that he was right on the money. “You asshole, how do you know that?”

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me that.” He emphasized, gesturing at your eyes with two fingers. “Ya kept starin’ at ‘em the entire practice.”

You huffed frowning, “That obvious, huh?”

“Yea, he probably knows too - especially if Suna and I figured this shit out.”

That didn’t help at all.

“Great.” You leaned against the nearby wall and put a palm to your forehead.

Atsumu crossed his arms, “So why haven’t ya confessed to ‘em yet?”

You scoffed and shot him a flat-expression, “Because he doesn’t like me back?”

“What? He said that to ya?”

“Well, no.” You hesitated, but explained. “I mean, he definitely knows I have feelings. And Shinsuke has never been one to beat around the bush. If he hasn’t addressed it, it’s probably because he doesn’t want to make it awkward…  since he doesn't feel the same.”

“I think you’re a dumbass.” Atsumu stated back, sighing heavily. “Kita don’t think like that and we both know it.”

“Why else would he be waiting it out?” You asked, “This is the same Kita that told us he doesn’t understand how people feel nervous.”

“Jesus, (F/N). He was talkin’ about volleyball.” Atsumu groaned, raking one of his hands through his piss-blonde hair. “Kita’s human too. Maybe he’s not sure how ya would respond for the same reasons.”

“I don’t know if love advice from the school’s resident fuck-boy is a good idea.” You jabbed instead, a playful smile on your face.

Atsumu put a mock-offended hand on his chest, a smirk finding a way on his face before he squashed it down seriously. He took a step toward you until you were less than an arms’ length-apart, “Fine, have it your way. Stew in silence until he finds someone else.”

That struck a silent chord in you.

“Honestly, that was kind of the plan these past few years.” You admitted, turning your head toward the ground. “If he could find his true happiness with someone else, then I would be happy for him.”

Atsumu must have detected your seriousness, since he hesitated to say his next few words. “Don’ be like that. Stop bein’ an idiot - he likes you.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, (L/N).” Atsumu levelled with you, “Ya standin’ here like ya ain’t the only girl he’s ever withstood.”

“Wow, what a feat.” You muttered as you sighed.

“Fine, if ya don’t believe that. Aren’t ya’ll best friends anyway?” Atsumu asked, “I’m sure he’d do anythin’ to keep you close.”

You hesitated, but agreed. Your relationship, no matter if he reciprocated your feelings or not, you were best friends. But if he didn’t feel the same and you said something? Would there ever be recovering from something like that?

Atsumu drew you out of your thoughts before he lost you further to your over-thinking, “You’re a real catch. Anybody would be lucky to have ya.”

“Oh?” You shot a withered smile at him.

“And I’m not just sayin’ that to put the moves on ya.” Atsumu joked, earning a light punch to his shoulder as you walked past him to leave.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said before turning back towards him, remembering to say. “None of this leaves this room. You hear that?”

“Yes ma’am.” He mock-saluted, a second later a loud ahem ringing through the room.

You tensed up and turned toward the door, seeing a blank-faced Shinsuke standing in the open doorway. Atsumu was always surprised, albeit much less worried than you were. Was your secret finally out?

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked, before you pushed shouted a loud No! and brushed past him back into the gymnasium.

Atsumu tried to casually exit the room as well, before his captain’s voice rang-out again, “Care to explain what that was about?” 

The setter had two options here: either brush it off or fan the flames that he knew for a fact was there. You were the obvious party, openly staring at the captain like your eyes belonged on him. But Atsumu knew that those feelings were not as unrequited as you thought. 

He remembered some club-room talk not that long ago. It was normal for the guys to discuss their preferences, something that Atsumu was rather vocal about on multiple occasions. Aran was just looking for someone he could cook while Ōmimi stated he liked girls who were generally very kind. Osamu preferred someone who was a bit meeker while Atsumu loved ‘em vocal, even bratty to the point of talking back.

“Of course, you would.” Suna commented as he dressed.

“What the fuck do ya mean by that?” The setter bit out.

“As in the fuckboy thinks he’s a girl tamer.” Suna snarkily replied.

“Well, when a girl has a mouth on her. I want to put it to good use.” Atsumu said with a smirk, earning a loose towel to the head, one that Osamu had just launched from across the room. Aran sighed and grabbed it before Atsumu could whip it back. Kita nodded toward his counterpart in quiet thanks.

Many of the others were still dressing after practice this day, it would be annoying to have to break up another fight between the twins then.

“Can ya be less of an asshole?” The grey-headed twin asked.

“Wha? I’m speakin’ the truth!” Atsumu defended, “Not every girl is like that anyway.”

“And who would the infamous Ratsumu have his eyes on?” Suna asked, genuinely curious but not missing the chance to poke at the setter.

Atsumu frowned, but continued anyway. “No one, right now. But I still got eyes, ya know. Ya can’t tell me our manager ain’t a cutie.”

“She would rather hand you a new asshole than ever date you.” Suna said, to which Akagi laughed.

“Careful, ‘Tsamu.” Osamu playfully warned, “People might think ya like (L/N)-san.”

“What can I say, she’s single and hot as fuck.” Atsumu replied off-handedly. 

It was a plain statement, but you could almost physically feel the temperature change in the club-room. Aran was glancing between the captain while the rest wondered why it was suddenly dead silent.

Osamu wondered if his prayers had been heard and he would soon be an only child.

“I suggest not saying that again.” Kita stated over his shoulder as he buttoned up the rest of his shirt.

That was a clear enough warning to everyone in the room that you were off limits. Suna had remembered this instance as well, in the present day reminding Atsumu after lunch not to push any buttons. It was clear then that Kita had no tolerance to any shit he was going to pull and now the pining was mutual on both your ends. Suna reminded him again and again during class to just let you and Kita sort your feelings naturally.

Pfft.

Was Atsumu going to be a little shit and try to sew some discord?

Hell yes.

“What can I say?” Atsumu feigned being casual, even shrugging as he exited the quiet storage room. “A pretty girl and a young guy enter a closet alone together, you know the rest.”

The glare he felt on his neck could have been enough to snap it with this much pressure. But, Atsumu digressed. He was doing the both of you a favor anyway, pushing you together when you both already had feelings for one another (albeit with some mind games interspersed).

Atsumu almost laughed when Kita grabbed your hand when the two of you walked home together. 

Kita knew what the setter was doing. What buttons he was trying to push, what he was trying to imply with you. The captain knew it all and he was still getting pissed off.

True to everyone’s assumptions, Kita knew about your feelings for him. The extent and duration, that he was not sure of. But he knew that you have thought about him in a romantic light for quite some time. Lingered looks and purposeful touches, on both your ends, was not something he could easily ignore.

What made Kita wonder was why you hadn’t said anything at all?

You were often pretty straight-forward as well. Not exactly in terms of romance, but you when were interested in something you tended to speak your mind. Whether it be a new show, some shounen anime you were following along with, you always shared it with him.

And for that fact he was always grateful.

Many of the others your age tended to be warded off by his way of thinking, branding him too mature or even too cold at times. To think that even the sarcastic Suna had nicknamed him as a robot, it was interesting to see that was how most people saw him.

But you didn’t.

Or at least, you saw passed his cold exterior and were just a freely-spoken with your mind. Kita’s blunt way of speaking had casualties sometimes, but you usually voiced if his blunt speech was too much. There were times that, if you were inadvertently hurt by his words, you would say it out-loud.

He remembered the last time this happened, not even a month ago. The two of you were hanging out under the shade of a tree, about to go out to a team hangout when you exited your back porch wearing a blue sundress. It flirted high above your knees and showed off the creamy legs of yours that he loved to trail his eyes over.

You looked breath-taking.

And so he said:

“Is there an occasion I’m missing today? I thought we were just going out with the team.”

The disappointed look on your face was immediate and it did not take a genius to figure those were the wrong words to say. But what he was not sure is where it went wrong. Logically, it made sense. You were going to walk at least two miles to the train and then from there a mile to the arcade. And most of that time you would all be standing. Would you even be comfortable doing all this walking in sandals?

But you didn’t get offended or draw away from him from these smaller misunderstandings.

You were always ready to knock some sense into him if need be.

“Not even a compliment on how I look? How mean.” You said with a frown, “I tried a bit more because I don’t usually get the chance to.”

“I know, but I want you to be comfortable considering the walks today.” Kita lightly grabbed your elbow as he stepped closer, “Besides, you always look beautiful no matter what you’re wearing.”

Your blush was palpable, Kita was almost sure he could fry an egg on your forehead, if the redness was any indication of temperature. 

“Let’s save this dress for another occasion. Preferably where only I see these.” He glanced down to indicate your legs, to which you sputtered and allowed him to guide you back inside the house.

And instead, he picked a pair of light-colored shorts and a loose summer-blouse. Kita knew you had a pair of black-and-white sneakers that would go with it anyway. You commented how it was almost scary that Kita knew your wardrobe, but he stated it simply:

I like what you wear. And I think it looks very agreeable on you.

It was simple and he stated it thusly. And from your reaction, it seemed as if it had made your day. From the beaming smile on your face to the new skip in your step, it was clear to him that he had amended the situation properly with your guidance.

But he still had the same issue: Kita thought he was being clear as day.

There was no one else he was spending time with like this. No one else whom Kita was expressing interest in like he was with you. From sharing ice-cream to hangouts alone with just the two of you, he thought his way of flirting with you was obvious? His actions alone should have been clear that he was showing his own interest in you.

And so if Kita was being clear with his feelings, why hadn’t you said anything?

This was not something he could just say and retract, either. The last thing he wanted to do was put your entire friendship on the line just to lose you. What if you actually did not feel the same way? But from your constant blushing and obvious gaze on him, you liked him too? But why hadn’t you said anything? Were you expecting him too?

He almost groaned aloud at this line of thinking.

Nothing had him flustered quite like you. Kita was confident both in school and on the court, a sure faith that no matter where it was. It was not a baseless arrogance, but more like a calm trust that he knew what he was doing was right.

And yet…

When it came to you, that brand of confidence simply withered away. Not always a bad thing, you often caught him off-guard with your own kindness and rarely did you ever truly fight. But there were times that he sorely wished he knew what was going on in that head of yours.

Like why hadn’t you said anything to him regarding this tension?

Or better yet, why the hell were you whispering with Atsumu in the gym closet?

The setter knew all about your being off-limits. Kita made it very clear that day and it seemed even then, the message did not totally receive in the asshole's mind. Or rather, it probably did, Atsumu just decided to ignore it.

And so on your shared walk home after practice, Kita gently grabbed your hand and did not let go. You almost jumped in surprise alongside him. Not that you hadn’t held hands before, but it was usually called for in the context. Navigating one of the twin’s parties, through a crowded group, or just to guide you somewhere.

But never had he held your hand for no reason.

Kita just smiled, hoping this would send a clear enough message to both you and the meddlesome boys behind you.

Meanwhile, Atsumu had to stop himself from cackling aloud. Osamu was ready to question his brother over what the hell was that about, but Suna assured him that it was best not to get involved at this rate. Aran simply sighed, but waved goodbye and goodnight to the rest of the team.

Your smile was a mask to your inward screaming, only to be silenced to a blank void. Your mind was comparable to that picture of spilled milk - the only thing inside as if the very act was an enigma. You had no idea what to say, what to do in this situation as you both continued to walk along.

For someone who was an athlete, the skin of his hand was surprisingly soft as it encased your own. You felt your hand unconsciously squeeze his and feared that the act would have him pulling away, as if waking him up from his act. But Kita squeezed back, a fond expression reflected back at you.

The two of you walked home together whenever you had the chance, unless called for by other duties. So this was usually normal for the two of you. Conversation was just easy, ranging from school or recent events, and even if one-sided you had no issues with simply speaking to the captain. And yet today…

Kita and you were both completely silent.

You couldn’t even tell if something else was on his mind, a neutral look on his face as he looked ahead. Was this action to show that he was reciprocating your feelings? You hated being unsure like this, but there was too much vulnerability to simply lay-out what you wanted to say.

Even on the train, Kita sat next to you quietly but still held your hand over his knee. You watched the action, before trying to level your breathing as to not freak out. But Kita kept going about his day, even taking out his phone to check a few texts with the other hand.

It was meant to show this was entirely on purpose.

Only when your house popped into view during something conspiratory popped into your mind - Did one of the boys tell him?

You felt the small seed of hope grow further. Was it just a coincidence that the day Suna and Atsumu found out about your secret was the same day, after literal years, that Kita found out as well? And that maybe if he knew now, was he reciprocating in some way?

You moved to glance at him in the corner of your eye, but he was already looking at you.

The both of you stopped short of the gate, but you hesitated for a second to say anything. There was so much on your mind and stewing in silence was the exact opposite thing you wanted to do. Before you could even think of words to say, your captain made the first move again.

Kita tenderly reached for your other hand, holding both in his much larger ones. He brought them up together and shot you a gentle smile, “(F/N), your hands are so soft.”

It came out like word vomit.

“I like you, Kita!”

SHIT.

Maybe you read him wrong?? If he was going to make a move, why was he looking at you so surprised??

“And here I was, wanting to say something first.” Kita said as he chuckled lightly, his hands gliding the rest of the way up your arms. “I like you, too.”

You didn’t even have time to overthink, Kita wasting no time and pulling you towards him. Quickly raising your hands to his chest, you steadied yourself against him as he held you in the close embrace. His smile was almost blinding - not from the size, but rather the genuine feel behind it.

Your hands slid upwards, folding behind his neck as your faces drew closer together. One of his hands gently carded in your hair, lightly guiding you to him. You closed your eyes in silent anticipation, long awaited joining finally happening with only stars as your audience.

The skin of his lips slotted gently against yours and you silently relished the feel of the prolonged peck. You pulled him closer, silently nudging him to go the step further. Kita smiled in response, making you beam right back at him. It was honestly hard to deepen the kiss further, expressions pulled from your shared grins. You were two idiots smiling at one another, foreheads pressed together as you struggled to deepen your impassioned kiss.

“I’ve waited so long to hold you like this.” Kita whispered against your lips, one of his hands resting around your waist.

“Me too.” You replied in a low vice, eyes still closed as you just felt him.

He watched your cute expression, from your rosy appearance to the way you deliciously leaned your body into him. Kita felt his eyes shutter closed, savoring the feeling of you two finally joined. You moved together in tandem, softly at first, and then with a swift intensity that made you cling to him even further - as if Kita was the only solid thing in this suddenly swaying world.

The world was constantly moving, either too fast or too slow or too much at times. Until finally, in Kita’s arms, it finally felt right.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time.” You confessed.

“I know.” Kita responded simply, “Me too.”

You almost wanted to laugh, but withheld it from possibly breaking the atmosphere. “Is it really that simple?”

“Yes.” Kita said as he smiled, moving to place a light kiss on your forehead. “I was honestly… afraid to say anything in fear of your response. But now we are both aware, right?”

You grinned back and stretched on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, “Yes.”

“That’s it then.” Kita stated as he leaned his forehead back against yours, “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

You whispered back, “Sounds like a deal.”

His insistent mouth parted your eager lips, sending wild tremors crawling up your spine, evoking sensations you had never known you were even capable of feeling. And as the swimming giddiness spun you round and round, you steadied yourself to kiss him back just as passionately. With a swipe of his tongue against the crease of your lips, you parted your mouth eagerly.

There was no battle, no insistent fight between your two appendages. There was only Kita, eagerly roaming around your mouth as you sensually rubbed tongues. You openly moaned at the feeling, not even noticing the noise until Kita was smiling in response.

You blushed at the realization, but Kita only complimented the sound. “Make that noise again for me.”

Your smile dropped to a more sultry smirk.

“You’ll have to earn it.”

Kita felt his eyes comically widen before dropping to a half-lid, “Oh?”

“My parents aren’t home…”

“Oh.”

Kita placed a kiss on your forehead just to lean away, one of his hands dropping to grab your own. You hurried along with his pace, suddenly breaking out into a faster walk in the direction of your home.

“Let’s make up for lost time, shall we?”

BONUS:

“No way.” Jisoo commented on the sight before her, nudging Atsumu standing next to her. The twin’s party was ravaging around them, but there was an unlikely and yet very likely couple that had just walked through the door. And while it was normal to see the two of them together, it was the first official time as an exclusive couple.

Walking in was Kita and you, hands clasped together like this was oh so natural.

Akagi greeted the both of you with a smile while Aran waved you guys over to the living, where many of the other team members were playing a game. Kita guided you through the party, joined hands proudly on display for all party goers.

Atsumu held out a hand in Jisoo direction’s, causing her to frown but nonetheless place some lost yen in his open palm.

But seeing you smile and share a kiss openly with the captain, Jisoo didn’t exactly mind losing this bet.

---xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx---

[uptheredslfc]

About me and my blog!

My name is Vanessa

I love many sports, it’s been like that forever, I have an athletic family. This blog is for football, I have an F1 account which is @ferraricharles if you’re interested, but I’m barely active on it anymore.

I also have a less serious (side) blog footballdumpswithv where I just post random pictures of footballers that i find on Pinterest

-> who do I support in football?

Men’s:

Club wise, it’s Liverpool FC, it’s always been like that for me, my brother and my dad (and my mom if she ever wants to watch football.)

National teams wise, it’s mine, but they never make it anywhere because they’re shit. Other than that and in big tournaments I usually support Norway even though they’ve got to improve as well😂I also like a couple of other teams mainly Netherlands and England but it’s Norway first

Individuals wise:

-> I don’t have a current favourite player. I love them all so much and I really can’t pick one. Everyday I’ll have a different answer to the question but it’ll always be some Liverpool player.

-> My all time favourite is between Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres. Fun fact, Nando was my first ever crush.

-> I also have soft spots for players that are not part of the Liverpool squad, if you follow me you probably know who they are.

Women’s

Club wise, Liverpool fc Women of course, but in addition to fc Barcelona women. I love watching them, I love their style of playing, and I especially love the support they get. That applies for both teams of course, I just hope more investment can go into Liverpool’s squad.

National teams wise, Norway as well with a huge soft spot for the England girlies.

Individuals wise, I do have favourites. Alexia Putellas from Barcelona. She’s an inspiration and she’s someone to look up to.

->Remarks for my blog; please read

You can follow me whoever you support, I really don’t mind, I don’t usually shit talk anyone. (Except some rival teams from time to time lmao). But note that when Liverpool are playing i don’t care about what I say about other teams so if you get mad then maybe don’t follow😭

I’ll most likely follow you back if you you’re sweet and unproblematic we’ll literally become best friends

If you wanna send me asks, feel free to, you can tell me anything, but with exceptions. Rude anons will be laughed at or ignored because they’re irrelevant, unless you said something pretty serious then I’ll probably have to throw some sense into you

I will never, ever objectify a player. I will say he’s cute or good looking, but that’s the farthest I’ll go. I don’t like seeing people sexualise players and i expect the same from myself. But football over their looks 100% obviously anyway. If you wanna do that, this blog isn’t the place to do so sorry

Feel free to message me whenever you want. We can become friends.

That’s it for now, I’ll add whenever I feel like I should!💖

[shhhlikeme]

hi can u do a headcanon when a fem reader moves from karasuno to aoba johsai and still is friends with the karasuno boys.Iwaizumi falls for her because of her skills as a setter and also for being independent and not crushing on oikawa lol.She occasionally smiles at him and likes him too but shes too scared of relationships because of her past one and, scenario where iwaizumi is watching her lead her team and making fun of the other team lol after that he confesses to her

This is the first request I’ve received that is this specific and while I found it harder to write than the rest.... it was a fun challenge trying to follow your plot! I had so much fun! Thank you anon youre awesome💜

TRIGGER WARNING: this story slightly explores themes of abusive relationships. Please tread carefully.

Iwaizumi Hajime x “The Spicy New Girl” Crush

Iwaizumi x Reader

———————————————-

After 2 1/2 years on the Karasuno’s volleyball team, you kind of figured that if you were really serious about getting a volleyball scholarship for University, you had to get on a better team.

A full-ride athletic scholarship was very important because you knew your parents couldn’t afford it otherwise and you’d just love to take that stress away from them

You were already in 3rd year and time as ticking

Not that anyone knew it, but your parents couldn’t afford your post secondary education because they had to tap into/empty your entire college savings fund in order to afford your lawyer expenses

The money had been used to fight a case against your abusive (all types), much older ex-boyfriend. You were susceptible and groomed in middle school by a 20-year old volleyball coach and you fell for him. It went how it usually goes for girls who stand up against their abuser who has power and was known as a stand-up coach in the community. No one believed you. The restraining order never worked or stopped him and the last time he found you he had beaten you so badly that you were able to put him away for battery only.

Your parents and yourself decided to pick up and move to the countryside of Japan in the hopes of starting fresh. You got to start high school at the charming Karasuno High School since the beginning.

They had a volleyball team, and you would be damned if you let your ex ruin your love for volleyball like he tried ruining your life

Each summer you trained like crazy and even though you were your own judge, you knew you were a force to be reckoned with as a player.

Of course you made the team and you were pretty happy

But you soon realized ‘happy’ did not equate to ‘scholarship’ not even close.

The Karasuno girls volleyball team wasn’t like the boys team, where it took shaking them up, new first years and determination to make them a killer team....

Your team didn’t even garner a 20% turnout at practices.

While your teammates are nice, none of them really saw volleyball as more than a club to satisfy a credit

Which meant you would constantly go over to the boys’ practice and wait until Ukai thought it was fine for you to set some spikes for them....

Kageyama, who became like a little brother to you, would bitch at you for stealing his reps while Sugawara (who was more like a twin brother since you were the same age) would give you corrections

While you had a strict personality by nature, It was great to watch talented setters like them

Improving was imperative because you just had to get that scholarship & if Universities were going to recruit you then you’d need to get to Nationals, at the very least

This was not going to be possible on your current team at Karasuno

Even though you adored your captain/bestie Michimiya —or what you liked to call her: Daichi’s dickrider who was always the only other girl at practice — even she had mentioned to your parents at a sleepover that they should look into other volleyball programs at other schools

She had known of your story because you trusted her so she was set on getting you that scholarship also

Your parents listened to Michimiya and sent your highlight tapes out.

Before you knew it you had been invited to multiple crash-tryouts mid-semester

Soon your parents received many offers, but they believed the best one was from a wealthy private school called Aoba Johsai (aka Seijoh) because they not only had an amazing team, they offered their daughter fully paid room and board on campus.

You immediately agreed because that meant even more money your parents could save after emptying their bank accounts on your awful lawsuit

So, after saying goodbye to your lovable Karasuno boys team and Michimiya, you traded your Karasuno high school uniforms much to Nishinoya’s displeasure for Seijoh’s turquoise accented fits

One week went by

You settled into Aobo Johsai school pretty quickly. The team was practically a shoe-in to win Nationals, especially with you, and your teammates were a little boy crazy but SO intense which you kind of loved.

The intense not the boy crazy .

You could get aggressive when it came to volleyball because you had so much on the line so it was nice to know the girls could take your attitude

Your team and coaches really got your head in the game to the point where you would caught yourself not even thinking about your past relationship some days

You made budding friends especially your roommate who was also on your team and everything was going smoothly for the first week

On your first Friday after move in you and your roommate were running late for practice

On the opposite side of school, Seijoh setter and Ace Oikawa Toru and Iwaizumi Hajime were making their way over to the gym too

They had just finished eating and were asked to run some errands for their coach, which included giving some time sheets to the girls volleyball teams head coach who they knew very well

Their coach happened to be the old captain of the boys team when Iwa and Toru were wee little first years

Iwaizumi had a little pet peeve of long treks with his best friend .... because they would be stopped 50 fucking times by his fan girls for shit-all.

It’s not that Iwaizumi was jealous of his best friend, not really. He knew he was a pretty good looking guy and he was sure Oikawa would die if he didn’t receive that kind of attention so it didn’t matter

It didn’t bother him most the time

But when it interrupted even a simple 10-minute walk to the girls gym it got pretty damn annoying

Granted, he would probably like for the hot girls in school to fawn over him as much as Oikawa but even when girls saw Iwa first and thought he was attractive, they would then see his best friend approaching and Iwaizumi would ultimately be eclipsed by his pretty-boy of a best friend

Oikawa’s bitch of an ex girlfriend once said that if Toru was “The Great King,” then Hajime was the attractive Lord Commander of the Kings Guard. Not as good as the king but, definitely still good.

He hated her lol. ❌ She really thought this was Game of Thrones or something

Iwa’s analogy was better:

It was kind of like that singing group The Pussycat Dolls...... while the other 5 members were smoking hot and talented, Nicole Scherzinger was the main event.

Toru was Nicole.

Maybe he should start calling him “Pussykawa” as a commemoration

Back to the present

Iwa-chan waited with his hands stuffed in his pockets like he always did while his friend thanked his admirers profusely for the compliments and gifts

The girls squealed and told him they’ve been trying to accidentally run into him all day

Yuck, are these chicks not embarassed to admit that? Iwa thought in disgust.

He’s heard worse before though. And then some. Even when they go off-campus on a normal outing to the movies or something with just the boys - Oikawa would be recognized from that volleyball magazine and tv and consequently get swarmed by cute girls. It made a lot of guys unable to even be around Oikawa because they were so insanely jealous

Over the years, Toru lost a lot of friends because of it

But Iwa-chan was a better friend than that. While everyone ditched annoyingkawa.... he endured the eclipse that was his best friend’s so-called peak-attractiveness because he was a real ass friend. They’ve been inseparable since they were kids. So, as much as he hated to admit it, and as much as they tease each other: he’d take a bullet for shittykawa and shittykawa would do the same tenfold.

Anyway, in double the time it should have taken, the 2 boys finally made it to the gym to deliver the sheets to the coach

Iwa walked over to the coach coolly while the girls team mostly stopped to wave and bat their eyelashes at Toru.

“Hey ladies, I saw your last game. Amazing pinch serve Natalie. Leah, awesome receives and—“

Iwa drowned him out as the coach began talking to him.

“Hajime, I thought I told you to keep Mr. Oikawa out of my practices? He distracts my players way too much.”

Iwa shrugged. “I’m not his keeper, coach.”

- Iwa squinted his eyes when he noticed there was one girl on the team that wasn’t gushing over shittykawa. She was setting herself in perfect sets, looking up at the gym ceiling so he couldn’t see her/your face.

Hajime looked away when the other squealed at something Toru said. He sighed. “You need someone on the team that will whip them into shape coac—“ Iwa started to say but he was interrupted by the yelling of that mystery girl. You had your back facing Iwa now because you were facing the group of girls who should be bloody practicing surrounding a boy who just walked into the gym. Getting PTSD from the times when your last team wouldn’t take volleyball seriously, you snapped at them.

“LADIES!” You belted. All the girls jumped from being startled. “I KNOW I’M NEW BUT YOUR AMAZING PARENTS DO NOT PAY 30K A YEAR TO THIS SCHOOL FOR YOU TO BE OVER THERE BEGGING FOR LIKES IN REAL LIFE. WE SHOULD BE PRACTICING! GET YOUR ASSES BACK HERE! NOW.”

The girls looked back with widened eyes before they jogged away from the boy, muttering their apologies to you and getting straight to drills.

“You were saying.....?” Laughed Seijoh’s coach to Iwa. He cupped his ear like he was listening. “I need someone on the team that does what now?”

Iwa barely heard because he was too busy staring at you in awe.

“W-wh-who is that?” Iwaizumi asked the coach as he crossed his arms in front of him.

“Meet Y/N L/N. 3rd year. New recruit. Used to be a crow, can you believe it? Tryna get a last minute scholarship. But she’s good. Very analytical. Setter. Brilliant and—“

“Gorgeous.” Iwa finished for the coach, finally gifted with the luxury of seeing your face as you let your bouncy hair out of its ponytail only to do it up again. His throat went dry temporarily.

“Iwa-chan, the new girl is pretty cute right?” Iwaizumi jumped out of his skin when he heard his best friend’s voice right beside him.

“Wha-when when did you get here?!” Hajime accused in surprise.

Oikawa studied his best friend with an amused smile. “Iwa-chan...are you blushing while you stare at our girls team’s new starting setter?!” He clutched his heart for dramatic effect. “I can admit that she’s almost as good looking as me but.... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before. My little boy is discovering the joys of the fairer sex.”

Iwaizumi was just about to punch the lights out of his friend for saying something so embarrassing before a volleyball did it for him. It hit Oikawa smack in the head and he fell to the ground.

You ran over in panic because you totally didn’t mean for your flying receive to go that far!

“Oh my God, oh my God I’m soooo sorry!” You ran past another tall boy and attempted to help the one that was on the floor back onto his feet.

Iwaizumi was on cloud nine when you brushed past him because you smelled like citrus. He openly stared at your ass as you bent down.

ya he was definitely going to be attending all of the girls games from now on just to see you

To Iwaizumi, you weren’t just gorgeous with a drool-worthy body, you were athletic, you put your team in their place just like he did without caring about being mean

which ultimately made you a fantasy of his

He wanted to know more about you

He wanted you to choose him.

For the first time, Iwaizumi silently held his breath because now was the part where you would come face-to-face with “the great kingkawa” and fall in love with him like every other girl did.

Iwa braced himself for dejection because for all he knew you hit Toru on purpose to have an excuse to talk to him

It was a volleyball players pick up strategy number #1

I’m serious lol

Well, if you did, at least she is better than the “we tried to run into you” girls, -__- thought Iwa.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You asked, genuinely concerned.

Iwaizumi caught himself staring at your lips as you spoke to his friend. Keep fucking talking, he thought, as he felt himself get a little aroused at the mere fact that you were so close. Blame him as you may but he wanted those lips of yours to move against his lips, and on his chest, and on his.....well, you know.

Iwa mentally slapped himself. God, he’s already having day dreams about you?! And he had just seen you for the first time 10 minutes ago??!! He needed to get it together.

Oikawa shook his head and blushed in response to your question. While he may get tons of female attention, he was still a guy, and he still recognized that you were really beautiful. Standing up, Oikawa smiled down at you. “I’m fine. No need for alarm, new princess. I can still attend the boys vs. girls game next week so there’s no need to cry or worry....”

You looked up at the boy curiously.

No one could have prepared themselves for what you were about to say to Oikawa next:

“Oh, are you on the boys team? Are you the manager?”

“World Stop.” - *Beyoncé voice*

..........

ummmmmmm

ummmmmmmmm

err-what’s worse than saying RIP Oikawa?

‘Sorry that you just ceased to exist’, Oikawa?

Iwaizumi froze when he heard what you said, instantaneously falling in love with you.

it’s possible ok? fight me

If there was ever a time when fast love was possible it would be now aight

Stunnedkawa, on the other hand, had frozen too.... but for entirely different reasons than his friend’s. He drew into himself, shutting his mouth and walking away like he was in a trance. He muttered something about going back to the room he and Iwaizumi shared and Iwaizumi watched him pass a few girls who were calling to him like he couldn’t even hear them.

“Strange guy.” You shrugged, turning your attention to the other guy who you thought truly looked like a volleyball player. “Can you make sure to tell your manager that I’m sorry for hitting him?” You ask hopefully.

Iwaizumi nods as you two maintain eye contact.

She’s perfect, he thinks

This man is so fine, you think. Tall, broad shoulders, brunette, looks like he could go for rounds, yes ma’am!

You snap back out of it, giving him an apologetic smile before running back to the court to finish the drills. Iwa melted at your smile. You yelled some more at your teammates who looked to be flirting with some more boys who came in.

Iwa’s gaze followed you as you moved out of earshot, unable to take his eyes off of you as you yelled again.

He thought you were beyonnnnd sexy when you yelled like that

Hajime didn’t know he had a type before today but he knows now that his ideal type is whatever comes closest to you

The girl’s coach, who was still standing beside Iwaizumi, nudged him lightly with his elbow.

“You stare at Y/N any harder and I think you actually will manage to ask her out telepathically.”

Iwa let a small smile grace his face. The desire to ask you out had taken off when he saw your little ponytail release. Now it was about — “Hey, thanks for the advice.” He mumbled sarcastically. “But, hey coach?” Iwaizumi asks in his deep voice, clearing his throat and still not taking his eyes off of you.

The coach turned to Iwa.

“Yeah?”

He smirked to himself. “Know any good jewelry stores in the city? I’m ready to buy your new setter an engagement ring.”

—————————-

Let me know if you guys want a part 2 to this bc I couldn’t get to the confession in this post obviously.... I was writing too much. In part 2 I’m thinking you and Iwa run into your ex one day? And we see that Seijoh boys vs. Girls volleyball match? You decide!

Ps. I almost titled this story Iwaizumi x “The New Girl That Fucked Shit Up” lmao

[inspector-montoya-fox]

#13 - Menace from the North, eh!

Setting part 1: i mean......... whatever, right? at this point, India got 2 levels and Prague got 2 levels so i’m like ok, let’s get this over with. and i genuinely believe this and Anatomy for Disaster are the game’s two weakest episodes, despite the great conclusion. look, SP... they fucking delivered. they served absolute excellence with episodes 2-4, but it’s getting redundant and Menace from the North, eh! is just Menace from the North, meh? (please forgive me Lord). the game takes a weird environmentalist turn, which i fully appreciate but am ultimately confused by, seeing as He Who Tames The Iron Horse had absolutely nothing to do with Jean Bison’s pollution aspect. it feels weird to return to a Canadian outing after the gang had such a successful run in the previous episode, which felt like a conclusion even with the absence of a bossfight. like, SP could have easily inserted a Bison bossfight at the end of He Who Tames The Iron Horse in order to add another Klaww Gang member for an extra episode or maybe replace Menace from the North, eh! with the lost Monaco episode. it sounds like i’m bitching a lot, and i actually am. what really takes me aback every single time i play this game is that after you complete the Rajan/Contessa saga, it all becomes so anticlimactic. and i can’t comprehend why. by the end of this episode, the stakes are so high but the drive just isn’t there. and it’s not because the gang is demotivated. Sly has been having so much fun throughout the game, even with Neyla’s backstab being a huge obstacle. so getting down, dirty and serious is a much needed mood change. but i feel like i speak for all of us when i say that episodes 5-7 are overshadowed by episodes 2-4. with a few alterations to the order of the episodes and some changes to the script, i really think we could have had an awesome Contessa vs Clock-La final showdown episode and have Bison come right after Dimitri. because, honestly, Canada feels like ‘second episode’ material.

Setting part 2: i’m splitting it up because i don’t want my rant above to spoil the actual writing. the gang sticks around for another Canadian caper after some kooky stuff goes down with the environment and, mainly, the Northern Lights, which as we’ll soon find out, play a rather unexpectedly significant role in the grand scheme of things. and we’re treated to a log-chopping area, an off-the-maps secretive camp which really ups the ante, because Jean Bison is being such a jerk to nature. we’ve got deforestation, we’ve got melting ice, exploitation of wild animals, and Bison getting a raging red boner by literally destroying the environment in order to flex in the Lumberjack Games..... both the player and the gang have had enough of this dude, and i think SP used the fact that his only traits are being an angry idiot and a bigot to their advantage. instead of providing the necessary character development as they did with the Contessa and Rajan, Bison and his actions (especially his communication with the mYsTeRiOuS Arpeggio) are used as a prelude to Anatomy for Disaster. there’s not really a lot of dialogue apart from the final mission and bossfight, because the overall Klaww Gang plot begins to unravel, and particularly so by the time we find out about the lighthouse and its technological contents. in fact, if you think about it, Anatomy for Disaster starts with Clock-La’s shitshow and an info-dump at the beginning, which, if you’ve been paying enough attention to the details (i know that until i turned 12 and replayed the game as a young teen i hadn’t been paying attention to shit so it was all gasp!), is just the connecting of the dots. Menace from the North, eh! is essentially the last piece of the puzzle, before it’s all given to us in full detail by Arpeggio. i mean, apart from Dimitri serving dishes with drugs in them (i still can’t get over that at the age of 21), the rest is all things the player could pick up. and that’s this episode’s main focus. trying to prevent the inevitable under countdown, before Arpeggio’s blimp arrives to collect the Northern Lights energy. so it feels very anticlimactic and strange to put in all this effort without purpose. if you’ve played it before, you know it’s all for nothing since all the parts will be gone by the end of the episode. and it’s even more anticlimactic (although hilarious in tonal shift) to see how the gang scrambles under the pressure of preventing the Klaww Gang’s doomsday by hacking boats and having all these grandiose plans involving the lighthouse, just to then resort to taking part in the Lumberjack Games, without even a clever scheme but actually just cheating, and finally have Bison, an idiot, foil their plans by finding out where they’ve been hiding. and the bossfight is fine, but again, meh... i mean, woohoo Bentley! or whatever the fuck.

Characters: let’s talk about Jean Bison and his mistreatment as a character. we first meet him at Rajan’s ball, where Bentley introduces him as a Canadian shipping baron and says that he owns half the trains in Canada. later on, during the introductory cutscene for He Who Tames The Iron Horse, we get his backstory and how he’s risen from being practically dead, frozen since his time, and back with a vengeance against the environment. in my previous #episodeproject entry i said: SP plays up Bison’s savagery and gruesome nature by spotlighting how his plans affect the environment and even going so far as to call his house ‘the lair of the beast’. this is all true but is never put into practice. like, Jean Bison is all tell and no show, y’know? even the cutscene that plays when Sly gets caught in Bison’s cabin during He Who Tames The Iron Horse’s first mission shows Bison getting angry, but hunty, that’s about it. apart from the Lumberjack Games and his bossfight, it’s all oh Bison will get angry and oh Bison will kill us with the talons. well, where is it? where’s the fucking Canadian shipping baron with a vengeance against the environment? my baby heart was legit quivering when we had to steal Rajan’s blueprints as Bentley, and the Contessa was such a grand sleazebag of a woman, like what a douchebag - and you see that, although i’m often flamboyant in my writing (!!!), the way i describe these moments with these villains is both effective and relatable, because they showed up and lived up to their descriptions. Bison was written to be a ferocious beast of a villain but never showed that. and that’s on SP. whatever... let’s talk about the gang. now, despite the gang looking seriously badass in the opening cutscene for this episode (image below), they’re actually in a pretty good headspace. they’re only missing the talons and whatever Clockwerk parts Arpeggio had before collecting all of them. so it’s only natural for them to feel a bit cocky, and that’s actually gonna be their demise. before that, i just wanna mention that almost all the missions here (as with He Who Tames The Iron Horse) are group missions: Sly and Murray infiltrate the moose club in RC Combat Club, all three of them work together in Lighthouse Break-In, Boat Hack, and Old Grizzle Face. what really stood out to me every time i played this episode, is how, at the end when they take down Bison and they rush to the battery, each member has a different way of entering it, which is a small detail but important nonetheless. this further reinforces how united the gang has become since the Contessa levels and how their bond has strengthened. now, lemme circle back to how they’re cocky. i mean, apart from Jean Bison, Menace from the North, eh! doesn’t present any immediate danger or like trouble, seeing as both Neyla and Carmelita are absent. without any interference, the gang had lots of breathing space to plan ahead, even under countdown before Arpeggio’s blimp arrived. and they kinda wasted the opportunity because, as i’ve already mentioned, the operation was an absolute train-wreck. there’s no plan b, or like something clever or whatever. and usually, the operations tend to get disrupted by third parties, such as Carmelita or Neyla, but here, it failed because it was never smart. and it’s only natural for them to fall hard (by losing all the Clockwerk parts) after feeling all cocky (maybe i’m being too harsh). and all this directly leads to some more Bentley character development.... again. look, i’m all for character development, but the turtle already faced his demons when he busted Sly and Murray out of jail. i know we got Murray vs Rajan, but i don’t know, Murray was always kinda just there throughout the game. the hippo had his ups and downs (face-off with Rajan, imprisonment, losing the van), but not a fully realised story arc. that’s why, when Sly 3 starts off with his enlightenment and return, that story arc is instantly so iconic. i could go on about how Bentley gains self-confidence after defeating Bison, but um, we’ve already done that sis.

Themes: He Who Tames The Iron Horse and Menace from the North, eh! should have been one episode and i truly believe that. they could have shared the same themes. for the former, i said there’s the speed theme, and that applies here too because the gang are under pressure. the countdown lights a fire under their asses and it’s all very destructive. again, there’s an antithesis between the calm Canadian atmosphere and the chaotic energy of the missions. but it’s not just speed theme anymore, it’s more like theme of ferocity. everyone’s kinda on edge??? Old Grizzle Face is a motherfucker and we get up close and personal with the eagles, lasers destroy huge ice pieces, there’s a mammoth, the destroyed oil manes create fiery air drafts... chaos. and it all results in the disastrous events and outcome of the Lumberjack Games, which make Menace from the North, eh! the straightest episode in the game. yuck. it only makes sense for the missions to become less sneaky and more destructive as the stakes get higher and the gang is in a hurry, and that kinda embodies the pollution motif/ environment motif. it’s less of a theme and more of a motif because it’s so story-centric, but that’s the other things the comes into contrast with the calm environment. saws, the buzzing, chopped-up logs flowing down the river, tree stumps spread across: these embody the pollution and the harm Jean Bison has been doing even though it’s a forced storyline in my opinion. and finally, size theme. it’s not major, but it feels like everything’s bigger in Canada... Sly feels so puny in this episode, like especially when climbing the lighthouse. the wild animals are huge, the structures are huge, Jean Bison’s house is huge. it’s just lots and lots of nothingness. if you took absolutely nothing and enlarged it by 10 times, you’d have this episode’s hub. and this is also seen in the bossfight when tiny Bentley takes on Jean Bison. so yea.

What I Like: gliding off the lighthouse and throwing fish onto already stinky guards before Old Grizzle Face rips them to shreds. also, those cute lil catfish-lookin viruses in Bentley’s hacking! they’re so adorable.

What I Don’t Like: erm... it’s not that i don’t like this episode, but i find it kinda boring? apart from interacting with the wild animals, the missions are meh. and i hate the Lumberjack Games...

Quote: Get too close and old Grizzle Face will be eating barbecued raccoon for dinner.

[thelunaticbinge]

Kenny Omega is a Siren

And I am but a flailing sailor throwing myself onto the rocks.

I've been watching wrestling since I was about 10 years old, give or take. I'm now 28, almost 29. I fell in and out of watching it along the way, but have been pretty consistent for the past 6 years.

WWF/WWE has been the primary player in my story, understandably. I grew up in love with (and still am in love with Jeff Hardy).  I gravitated, as a kid, toward colorful characters and teams like Team Xtreme, and ones that were high flying dare devils.  The acrobatic, lightning fast nature of that style captivates kids easily, it can’t be denied.  I still love the style, and appreciate any performer that works that way.  It’s high energy and grabs the audience.

Despite this preferred style, however, I must admit that the actual wrestling wasn’t what initially drew me in, and it isn’t often what keeps me held nowadays.  Obviously, if I didn’t enjoy the physical aspect, I wouldn’t be watching, and I can recognize when someone is particularly talented at what they do in the ring.  But it was always the characters and the stories that pulled me in when I was younger, and which continue to do this day.  That being said, I’ve gravitated away from WWE in a lot of ways.  I appreciate so much of what the guys and girls do, and how hard they work, and how talented they are, and yet I’ve been terribly bored by it all lately.  The stories just aren’t there for me.  But that’s an essay for another day when I have more patience.

Fast forward to roughly a year and half to two years ago.  Enter Bullet Club/The Elite.  

I have far too much solitary time at my job so my mind tends to wander into daydreaming about what it would be like to meet some of these guys, or else what it would be like to sit down and actually spew my wrestling fandom story to some made up interviewer.  Doing this really helped me dissect what it is I love about Kenny as a performer.  Because I love him as a person too, but that much goes without saying.  I’ll get this out of the way right now so that I can be genuine and serious for the rest of this.  Most of what I explain in this essay lends A TON to the fact that the man is just sexy as fuck.  Kill me dead.

 God damn angel.

The first thing that drew me to Kenny was, in fact, his in ring ability.  As I said before, I don’t often over analyze what the wrestlers do in the ring aside from finishers or signature moves and if I like the way they look.  For instance, I think the RKO is one of the loveliest moves to watch.  Call me fake all you want, it’s fine by me.  I’ve been watching long enough to know what most moves are called and how an in-ring performance aids the story: I’m not uneducated, this is simply about taste.  I’m a plot person, a charisma and character person.

But Kenny is one of the special ones.

Something about the way he moves strikes a chord.  It took me a while to pinpoint what it might be, but I finally had an epiphany not too long ago.  He really does move like a video game character.  I grew up loving video games and while I don’t play as much anymore, I really appreciate how his passion for them bleeds into his wrestling style.  

And it isn’t just his moves, but his mannerisms.  I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t like that about him; that he’s too over the top and goofy sometimes, and I just want to tell them, “That’s the point, though.”  He excels at being over the top.  Because depending on what he’s doing, who he’s fighting, what the current arc is, his mannerisms always make sense to me.  The deliveries of his finger gun, the “You can’t escape”, some of his crazy eyes.  I love it all.

I am 90% sure that the first match I ever saw of his was the one with Jericho at the Tokyo Dome.  So obviously I haven’t been around long as far as his career goes.  But if there was ever a match to fall in love at first sight with him, that was the one.

His moves, guys.  HIS MOVES.  The man is a machine.  But like a 95% organic, android machine.  Terminator, obviously.  Wink wink.

Think about it.  He is so crisp, concise, and articulate in how he moves.  He is both explosive and technical.  He mixes the powerful moves in with the high flying, manic style I’ve loved since I was ten in such a seamless way.  The one-winged angel is a great move for its established devastation.  Rarely have I seen anyone kick out of it, which is why I’m glad he never connected with it in the Mox match at Full Gear.  Mox was able to come out on top in his specialty match, and yet Kenny wasn’t lessened by having his finisher made ineffective.

But I’ve found that even though I adore Kenny’s finisher and his flying over the ropes and around the ring, it’s some of the other things he does that fascinate me.  For one, I adore the movement for his “You can’t escape” segment.  How, may I ask, does a person move like that?  And I’m not even talking about the moonsault part.  I provide a link to a twitter gif because I can’t save gifs off twitter.  Click HERE.

The man is like a gymnast with that stuck landing GOOD LORD.

To make up for the lack of an at hand visual, have this gif because I love it.

Secondly, the V-Trigger.  This is a signature, yes, but fucking beautiful to watch.  It’s speed and power and looks as life-ending as it does poetic.  Just ask Joey Janela.

Have I mentioned yet that I love Kenny’s run?  It’s so distinctive.  Especially when it first starts.  The high knee.  The acceleration.  The man is gorgeous in motion.  Just agree with me and we’ll keep trucking along here.

The one move, though, that really illustrates what I’m getting at here is one that should--at least to my not professional in any way eye--be fairly elementary.  I’m talking about the the snapdragon.

Please correct me if I’m wrong in saying this, but to my eye it seems like a move not developed for its power/match ending ability, but simply as a way to bring the opponent down and waylay them for a minute.  It’s a suplex of sorts, yes?  I imagine it isn’t meant to result in a pin.

But Kenny’s snapdragon is probably my favorite move he does.  The Speed.  The SPEED.  THE SPEED.  Whip-like and akin to the RKO in its tendency to strike out of nowhere.  I watched him do it 3 times in a row live in person and I could only stare with fucking heart eyes.  

He takes this move that should just be a trip up maneuver and makes it look like it could truly kill a man.  

This is the best gif I could find, my apologies.  Found on reddit.

Again, maybe the move was always supposed to spell obliteration for the opponent.  I don’t see it really outside of when Kenny does it.  But I think his style largely affects my view of it.

The motion of this man in his performance really drives home to me what so many people love about the art in wrestling.  I sit up and pay attention to the physicality in a way I don’t in other matches.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’ll be up out of my seat for a lot of guys and gals, screaming and electric with the crowd when shit gets crazy.  But when Kenny is in the ring, I find myself really absorbing what he does because of how well he does it.  His talent has really connected with me, but I get it doesn’t with some people.  Well, maybe I don’t get it, per-say, but to each his own.  

I find that a lot of the qualities I find so enrapturing about his wrestling transition into what I love about his promos.  His work on BTE is often very different from the NJPW/ROH/AEW stuff.  His BTE stuff is usually humorous and endearing in weird, chaotic ways.  I find him funny and cute and sometimes a bit unhinged.  I’ve always liked a little crazy in my faves, let’s be real.

His in-ring promos hit a different nerve.

As with his wrestling, Kenny’s speech is crisp, concise, and articulate.  It’s been a while since I’ve watched one, but I call to mind his introduction of Marty into Bullet Club.  The wording he uses in such promos really elevate his character, especially when he’s got The Cleaner vibe going on.  But for me, its all in his tone, the inflections.  He’s quiet and you listen.  The promos are smooth, easy to track, and evoke emotion.

It’s been a long time since a wrestler has really snatched my attention in the way Kenny Omega does.  I find myself listening to my faves’ promos in both WWE and AEW more often than “listening” to their matches, and this often leads to me missing parts of the story.  Do some promos fall flat?  Sure.  Depends on the character much of the time, and if I dig the current rivalry.

It hasn’t yet mattered to me who Kenny is facing.  I pay strict attention.  And in turn I pay attention to what the other person is doing, too.  I love the wildness of Kenny’s matches--a wildness that isn’t only made obvious by his high flying moves, but by the subtler ones, too, as well as his mannerisms and expressions.  The man can lay you out with a one-winged angel, 1,2,3.  But first he’s going to tear you apart with a plethora of poetry in motion. 

[charmingcentry]

GSA

Entry for Day 4 - High School

Summary: Beca has had a big crush on Chloe Beale ever since freshman year and thinks she has no chance at all with her. That is until Fat Amy and Jesse swoop in to save the day.

AO3

-

There are officially 179 school days left until Beca is out of this shithole.

Don’t be fooled by the brunette’s high marks in classes or how she frequently participates in school events, Beca Mitchell can’t tolerate dozens of people on this campus. The awful stereotypes and insignificant drama is what ruined the whole “high school experience.” Not that she expected much when entering in as a freshman, but ever since then, she dreads her school. The maintained 4.2 GPA and involvement within the school community is only kept because unlike many people at her school, Beca actually wants to attend college.

She doesn’t talk to people much other than her best friends Fat Amy and Jesse Swanson, both from completely separate friend groups. Fat Amy, is apart of what is considered the “popular” group and Jesse is categorized into “geeks and nerds,” it was luck that pushed Beca towards the two drastically different people.

Beca preferred to seclude herself from friend groups, usually sitting on the field and listening to her music which apparently deems you as a “loner freak,” just another example of why the brunette hates this school. She could’ve chosen to partake in socializing with people but conversations weren’t her thing. Sure now she sits by Fat Amy’s table or Jesse’s but she doesn’t talk much, usually studying or on her phone.

After school, the brunette doesn’t go anywhere… she’d rather stay away from home. Even after dozens of offers from Amy and Jesse for a sleepover or just to hang out, Beca would rather stay within school property, typically finding herself on the bleachers at the baseball field. Maybe not the best decision, especially after many excruciatingly prolonged conversation with a redhead, Chloe Beale.

“I like your bracelet.” Chloe compliments, pointing at a black-beaded bracelet with the colors of the rainbow on six of the beads. Beca looks up from her Calculus textbook.

“Oh, thanks… “

“What are you doing here?” The redhead asks, sitting next to Beca as she notices what she’s reading. “I’ve always had trouble with limits… especially these ones.” Chloe points to a problem in the textbook.

Without thinking Beca goes through the problem in her head. “You just factor out the numerator then it’ll cancel out in the denominator. Then you plug in this number for x in the expression you’re left with.” Her mouth became dry and could feel her stomachs doing flips when Chloe grinned at her

“You’re smart… no wonder your mister’s favorite.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “Sure…” “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question, what’re you doing here?” The redhead asks once again, moving in closer to Beca

The brunette swallows down a lump in her throat and stutters. “I- just, need some time for myself.”

“When the softball team is practicing?”

Beca notices the blue and white school jersey. “Oh… I mean, I don’t really pay attention so. I don’t mind.”

A whistle blows and Chloe shoots up. “Oop! There’s coach, I’ll see you around Bec!”

The redhead runs back onto the field as Beca looks back at the problem Chloe pointed out and swallows another lump in her throat.

It’s not that Beca doesn’t know the girl, she does… it’s just that Chloe may be the girl Beca has been pining on ever since freshman year, the only other girl in her grade that was nice to the brunette. She wasn’t the stereotypical popular girl nor was she a stereotype in general… Chloe was, Chloe. The redhead was honest, compassionate, intelligent, and extremely friendly… and kind of hot. But Beca knew she wasn’ t gay. Yet still, the brunette couldn’t get over her.

Fat Amy and Jesse are heavily aware of Beca’s crush on popular softball player Chloe Beale, the blonde being one of Chloe’s best friends. The brunette never discusses anything related to her romantic feelings, yet her attitude and demeanor towards the redhead clearly show how she feels for her. Fat Amy noticed when their Physics teacher had people go into partners for a project.

Beca was sitting at her desk, looking around to see who doesn’t have a partner, Fat Amy paired with this kid named Bumper so the brunette was left on her own. The teenager sighs and contemplates asking their teacher if they could be individual for this project too until someone pops up.

“Hi, Bec!” Fat Amy turns her attention to her two best friends

Beca’s cheeks go pink as she shuffles around in her seat. “Uh, hey Chloe.”

“You have a partner?” Chloe asks, sitting in the seat directly in front of Beca. The brunette shakes her head. “You wanna be mine?”

Beca readjusts her sitting position once more as she twirls her pencil in her left hand. “Y-yeah that’d be cool.”

The teacher calls time for partner search. “Well, text me to see when we can meet up okay?” Beca nods. “Awes.”

The redhead smiles and winks at Beca before returning to her original seat. “Yeah! Awes.”

Fat Amy chuckles at how the brunette places her head in her hands and mutters an incoherent phrase. The blonde returns her attention to Bumper who is staring very intensely at her…

Jesse noticed during an interesting interaction between the two during the passing period…

“Okay look, I’m just saying! You’re way too smart to be at this school Beca.” The brunette rolls her eyes as she walks down the hall to their next class, World History. “Like really? You’re always receiving A’s and shit, then you still stay here?”

“Yeah, Jess because it’s nearly end of the sophomore year where am I supposed to g-

A redhead walks past the two, she smiles at Beca, along with one of her signature winks. The brunette immediately shuts up and waves awkwardly at Chloe. Beca looks behind her to see Chloe still walking until she hears Jesse clear her throat.

“Sooo… Chloe?” The male teases, nudging Beca in the shoulder.

They stop in front of their designated classroom. “Shut up Jess, never speak about that again.”

Her friends are extremely supportive of Beca, Jesse even going as far to say “I’ll be the best lesbro you’ll ever have,” which the brunette finds slightly annoying. But Beca couldn’t believe how supportive her two friends are, she found that’s why she’s always stayed with them - no matter what happened, Amy and Jesse were and are always there behind the brunette.

-

“Hey, Jesse come here for a second.” Fat Amy says, waving her hand over to Jesse during a break they had during their Economics class. Jesse immediately comes on over like a puppy and sits next to the blonde.

“What’s up?”

“You tired of the sexual tension between ginger and Beca?” Jesse lets out a laugh and notices how serious Fat Amy sounds about this question.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, kind of. Like it’s obvious Chloe likes her back… all those winks and flirty moves and crap…” Fat Amy nods.

“So I have a plan to convince the little gremlin that Chloe likes her back.” Jesse leans in to listen more.

“What is it?”

“Drag Beca to GSA.”

Jesse widens his eyes. “She wouldn’t Amy, like never.”

“Whatever, we’re gonna do it, Swanson, whether Beca likes it or not. It’s for her own good”

The teacher calls their attention back to the board and the class resumes… the two are going to have to do a lot of dragging to get Beca into the GSA classroom.

The bell rings to dismiss the fifth-period classes, signifying that lunch is starting and it is now time to drag Beca into the Gay-Straight Alliance classroom. Fat Amy and Jesse walk out of their economics classroom quickly, on their way to find wherever Beca would be. Usually, the brunette alternates between the two’s friend groups, sitting at either table throughout the school week. Some days Beca goes to her usual alone spot, so it’s usually a challenging task to locate where the brunette may be.

“Is she supposed to hang out with me or you today?” Jesse asks, the two scanning the cafeteria room for a petite brunette with headphones around her neck. Amy looks around, their friend is nowhere to be seen.

“I think she’s on her own today, come on, let’s go find that gremlin.”

The two acquaintances walk out of the cafeteria towards the quad area of the school, their heads darting around every direction to find Beca. They walk near an area with a tree and find Beca laying down under the shade, headphones covering her ears and her eyes were closed. Fat Amy storms over to the serene brunette and pulls her up by the arm.

“Dude what the fuck!” The brunette yells, trying to resist Fat Amy’s grip around her arm as her headphones fall around her neck. Jesse leans down to gather Beca’s school belongings and holds Beca’s other arm down. “Jesse you too? Okay, what the hell is going on…”

They begin walking over to the GSA classroom and unbeknownst to Beca, Chloe will be attending the meeting as well. As the two friends begin dragging Beca to what seems her inevitable doom, the brunette tries to pull away. “Beca you’re going to a GSA meeting and that’s that.” Fat Amy declares, turning left around the corner of a school building.

“What! No! Why!” Beca says, still trying to plant herself to the ground

“For your… own… good!” Fat Amy says, opening the door to the GSA classroom and shoving the brunette inside. Of course, being the good samaritans they are, stick with Beca for the meeting to make sure she won’t run away. The teacher who supervises the club, waves over at the seemingly distressed friend group and hands the three a sign-in sheet.

“Amy, what’re you doing here?” A taller female brunette asks, walking over to the three, she notices Beca. “Hey, newcomer!”

Beca turns back around after frustratedly signing herself into the club. “Uh, hey.”

“I’m Stacie, you’re in my Chemistry class.” Beca raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, you know that you hang out with us sometimes…”

“Yeah… these two-” Beca points at Jesse and Fat Amy. “Dragged me in here and I have no clue why…” Stacie smirks. “What?”

“Nothing. Just our president is late so the meeting isn’t starting yet.”

The group of four took their seats at a table near the front of the classroom as the rest of the club talks amongst themselves. The main ones talking were Jesse, Fat Amy, and Stacie while Beca was sitting in her seat, pouting like a 5-year-old. Just as she’s about to drape her headphones back onto her head, the door opens and someone runs in.

“So sorry I’m late guys, let’s get started.” A familiar voice rings from the side of the room, Beca turns red the minute she hears the voice and her head subconsciously focuses on the president of the club… Chloe Beale. “How’s everyone’s first we-

“Chlo! We have a new member.” Stacie intervenes as she points at Beca who is sinking slowly in her seat. The redhead looks over at notices the brunette and gives Beca an endearing grin, the two of them both blushing crazily. Beca waves awkwardly as Chloe gestures her to stand up The brunette follows and hesitantly stands, waving at all the people within the club.

“Introduce yourself Bec! Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” Chloe winks, walking closer towards the brunette.

“Okay well… I’m Beca Mitchell and uh, yeah. That’s it.” The brunette immediately sits back down as the redhead lets out a giggle of her extremely awkward demeanor.

“She’s also candidate for valedictorian guys~” The brunette tries to hide her amused grin and playfully rolls her eyes. Fat Amy and Jesse high-five one another as Stacie gives a thumbs-up to Chloe. “Glad you joined us here today Bec… okay, the topic of today’s meeting, going to middle schools and promoting GSA and support!”

A smile slips onto Beca’s face as she admires how Chloe looks when she’s in charge and leading a group.

-

The lunch bell rings and everyone begins gathering their belongings, Beca especially as she doesn’t want to go through any more of the awkward tension surrounding her. Just as she’s about to walk out, she feels a soft grip wrap around her wrist. Beca turns around and notices Chloe, smiling softly at her.

“Hey, I’m glad you came today Beca.” The redhead says as Beca begins to walk closer to her crush. Fat Amy, Jesse, and Stacie walk past the two and smirk, walking out without their friend. “I’ll keep this short but I was wondering if you would be interested in coming to my softball game? Friday? First one of the season.” Chloe entices, still holding onto Beca’s wrist. The brunette is shocked by the invite and the corners of her lips perk up.

“I- yeah sure. I mean, yes. I know a lot about… softball. My favorite sport actually.” Beca blurts out, distracted by the smile Chloe gives off. The redhead’s grin becomes wider as she slowly lets go of her wrist.

“Great! See you then Bec.” Chloe leaves the classroom as Beca follows her out as well.

As Beca makes her way to the final period of the day, she realizes what she had just said about softball during their interaction. Her face scrunches up as she pounds her fist against the palm of her other hand, knowing damn well she had just lied to her crush.

Beca sure has a lot to learn about softball.

And that GSA meeting sure won’t be the last.

[pabloimagines]

Requested by Anonymous

Title: Things They Don’t Teach You in STC Pairing: Ray x Reader Rating: PG  A/N: Dear nonny, I took some liberties here, ‘cause I couldn’t figure out whether you wanted Ray or Pablo. If I fucked it up, please let me know and you’ll get the two-for-one special! STC stands for Special Operations Training Course, which is a course MARSOC Marines go through on their way to becoming...MARSOC Marines. Yeah.  Word Count: 1,500

“Take it from the top. I still don’t… How?” Ray rubbed his face, trying to get a handle on how his girlfriend was going to push their kid out.

“Okay, from the top. This is her cervix. It’s at the back of where you hit it. When she starts having contractions, this shit opens up, dilates, to open her up enough to let the kid come through. The contractions pull it apart or some shit, and that’s why it hurts.” Enson explained, pointing at the diagram on the screen for the fourth time, knowing Ray wouldn’t truly get it until it really happened.

“And what happens after? Does it just…Go back to normal?”

Enson laughed knowingly, smacking Ray hard in the back before pressing his friend’s shoulders in a show of solidarity.

“After one? Sure, it’ll go back to normal. After that? You’re on your own, my man.”

Ray growled out a sigh, leaning back in his chair, frustrated by the fact that he was in over his head. He hated not being able to grasp a concept, and this was one concept where failure wasn’t an option.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He said to no one in particular, shaking his head.

“Welcome to the fuckin’ club, man.” Enson wheezed, enjoying his friend’s misery more than he should have, but remembering full well when it was him in that same position and how, over time, everything just fell into place.

“Listen, man. Only thing you gotta worry about is catching the kid, aight? Everything else? Breezy,” Enson added, pretending to wash his hands of his friend’s proverbial worries, his expression confident. “Oh, and don’t do what I did with Carly and drop your phone on the kid when you’re taking pictures right after. She’ll never forgive you.”

Ray closed his eyes and took a breath. He had to go home.

You were growing a basketball player. There was no other explanation. You still weren’t even sure you trusted the ultrasound when it showed only one baby; it would’ve made more sense for a twin to be hiding somewhere in there, given how big your belly was.

Sighing, you padded over to the stove to check the sauce. Though it was getting harder to stay on your feet, and you were miserable anywhere but the couch, cooking was something you were adamant about still doing. Not because of any bullshit patriarchal reason, but because you’d mastered the art of making food that didn’t give you immediate heartburn, and no one, not even Ray, was going to mess with that system.

You rolled your ankles one at a time as you stirred, feeling the swelling in the joint with every turn, your skin feeling like it would rip apart at any second because of how much fluid had collected there. Your back ached like Satan himself was sitting on it, and with your belly as big as it was, you knew there was no way to get any sort of massage to ease it.

The door opened just as you were trying to stretch out your back, holding onto the counter and doing your best forward bend. Before you managed to unfold yourself, you felt strong, sturdy hands right over your tailbone, Ray sliding them under your shirt, applying just the right amount of pressure as he worked his way up your sore muscles. It felt so good, you couldn’t help the tears that pricked your eyes. It’s not that Ray hasn’t been attentive; on the contrary, he’s more than pulled his weight. It’s just that you miss the little things, and at that moment, getting a back massage was definitely one of them. Discreetly, you wiped your tears, feeling silly for crying over something so simple.

You waited until he’d done a few laps from tailbone to shoulders and back again before slowly standing back up. You’re greeted with a look of sympathy and a gentle kiss.

“How was your day, babe? Dinner smells good.” His voice is always softer with you, especially when it’s just the two of you and none of his boys are around. Searching his face, you could tell he was stressed, and you made a mental note to talk about it later.

“My day was...boring. I feel like I’ve watched everything on Netflix. Twice. I love you, babe, but if your kid doesn’t come out soon, I’m gonna have to take matters into my own hands,” you joked, shooting him a wink before moving back over to the stove. His eyes narrowed playfully and he waited until you were done stirring to turn you to face him.

You watched as Ray wordlessly got down on his knees, his hands slipping your shirt up over your belly before he pressed a soft kiss just above your now-deformed belly button. The baby kicked almost immediately, the force of it making an outline against your taut skin, something you weren’t sure you’d ever be used to seeing.

“Are we sure it’s human?” You whispered, making a face down at Ray, who only chuckled, clearly less freaked out by the baby’s movements than you were.

“It’s human, babe. That little foot just proved it. Could damn-near count the toes.” His eyes moved back down to your tummy, Ray’s gaze softening as it always did when he was getting ready to talk to your baby.

“Have you been treating mommy well today, lil’ guy? Giving her kidneys a break?” Ray rubbed your belly gently, and you felt the tears come back, for a different, deeper reason. Though you tried never to think about it, you knew what Ray did for a living was dangerous; it had been from day one. Even when he was still in the service, there was always a chance of uniformed men showing up to your door with condolences. The only difference now was that the uniform would be different and the condolences would be interrogation questions. You pressed a hand over your mouth, unwilling to interrupt the tender moment with tears and anxiety over something that might never happen; with Ray’s luck, he’d live to be 100.

“Me and your mommy can’t wait to meet you, you know? Daddy was freaking out today, worrying about how you’d get here and what it would do to mommy and what it would be like once you were here. But, at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is that you get here healthy, with all ten fingers and toes, and a good set of lungs on you. Right, mommy?”

You knew your face had crumpled into one of withheld sobs from the silence that followed his question, and when you managed to open your eyes, Ray looked concerned and a little emotional himself; a rarity for him.

“Babe? Everything okay?”

“I-I love you so much!” You blurted out on a sob, the confession bringing an understanding smile to Ray’s face as he stood back up to his full height. “I love you and I d-don’t want anything to ha-happen to you!”

Ray sighed softly and wrapped his arms around you, not caring that there was a slight distance between you on account of the belly; his height made for a far easier reach.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, babe, I promise. If it starts going sideways, we pull the plug, just like we always do. We get out of there, and we get home. I love you. You can’t keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. It’s not good for you or the baby.”

You were crying too hard to speak, grateful to be in his arms, even if it wasn’t the usual cocooning hug you were used to. Part of the frustration was sitting at home all day, utterly alone until Ray showed up. Having him there now made all the difference, and if you’d had your way, he’d have taken the last month of your pregnancy off with you. Nodding to make sure he’d understood you’d heard him, you held on as tight as you could, not willing to let go, even if the sauce burned.

“We’re gonna be fine. In a few weeks--” you shot him a look, “days, our baby will be here, and we’ll have way more important things to worry about than labor or Netflix, or things happening. We’ll have our little one and he’ll be our world. I don’t know about you, but I’m excited, even if I am kind of freaking out. Did you know you have to open up like, 20 centimeters for him to even come out?”

His words caused an unintentional snort to escape amidst the tears, his look of confusion so endearing you couldn’t help but kiss him.

“It’s only ten, babe. Only ten.”

“File under, ‘Shit they never taught me in STC’.” Ray looked serious, but you couldn’t help but laugh. Things would work out, even if neither of you had a training manual to go by.

[mikeshanlon]

he’s all that: chapter two

fandom: it

pairing: reddie (richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak)

word count: 5k

one | on ao3

summary:

Richie smiled smugly, “You’ve got spunk Kaspbrak. I like that.”

“Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up Tozier,” Eddie retorted as the line moved forward, “So what is this, if not some ploy to get me to tutor you? Some sort of dork outreach program? Because I’m not interested.”

—

Or: The one where Richie Tozier has six weeks to get into a relationship and make someone fall for him. Only problem? That someone is the anxiety ridden, goody two shoes Eddie Kaspbrak, and he can’t even stand to be in the same room as Richie.

warnings: there is drug use in that bev/mike/richie are HUGE stoners. also this chapter there is mentions to maggie being an alcoholic. 

a/n: hey! decided to post two weeks in a row just to get the ball rolling (which is why i still dont have all the chapters figured out as promised, my apologies). i'll probably start the every other week thing for next update (so chapter three should be up by march 4th). i would try to do every week but im a college student who has Stuff to do and also makes gifs and im horrible at finishing my writing so, giving myself a realistic deadline that will still hopefully produce quality work. anyways, richie and eddie finally interact this chapter! it's.......................  a bit messy though. and we get to see the rest of the losers club in this one too. 

tag list:  @richietoaster, @wintersember, @howellhxlic, @ed-txzier, @clara-farl3y

After standing in the hallway arguing with Bev for ten minutes, (“I mean really Bevs, fuck!” “You said anyone.” “How do we even know he’s gay?!” “Richie, please.”) Richie resigned himself to the fact that he was going to find some way to charm Eddie. Maybe Beverly would let him borrow that spellbook she bought junior year when she had become obsessed with witchcraft and hexing the patriarchy.

Once school was finally over, Richie dropped off Mike at his farm per usual, ranting about the bet the whole ride over. The farm boy nodded along, but he knew the words ‘told you so’ sat on the tip of his tongue.  

They pulled up to his house, the engine idling so he wouldn’t have to spend time getting it to start again, “Don’t wait up for me tonight if you wanna smoke. Got lotsa research in store,” Richie said as Mike grabbed his backpack and got out of the car.

Mike raised a brow, leaning into the passenger window (which in its broken state always stayed down), “I’m surprised Rich. You never do your homework.”

“Homework shmomwork,” he tapped the end of his cigarette out the window before taking another drag, “Gotta figure out what little ol’ Edward likes. Time for some deep dark internet exploration.”

“Ah, you’re gonna stalk him. Wasting time on social media does sound much more in character,” Mike smiled.

“It’s not a waste Mikey darlin’, a shit ton of preemo dank is on the line.”

The other boy laughed and shook his head, “Godspeed Tozier.”

Richie saluted Mike as he reversed out back to the main road, Bigmouth Strikes Again blasting on the old car radio.

He weaved through the streets filled with kids walking home or trying to find something to do in this shit-hole town. Long afternoons spent at The Aladdin watching the newest releases or aggressively slamming his fingers down on his favorite game at the arcade came to mind; along with going out of his way to bother just about everyone in his path. Richie never really had many friends when he was younger, spending most of his time alone. He was grateful he crossed paths with Bev and Mike, to fate, luck, God if it existed. The universe was rarely kind to him, but finding them was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Plus, the first time he had smoked weed, but that was with them too.

Turning onto his street, Richie pulled up to the unsuspecting two-story white house. It was straight out of a handbook on the American Dream; but the closer one looked, the imperfections started to appear.

The box overflowing with bottles once filled with alcohol next to the recycling bin, which was already too full with more empty bottles. A crooked ‘Home Sweet Home’ sign by the front door. Dying grass, overgrown and conquered with the little weeds Richie used to make wishes on before blowing the seeds into the summer air (I wish for friends. I wish for better parents. I wish to be loved).

He parked the station wagon on the curb, saving the space next to his Mom’s car for his father.

Maggie’s car hadn’t been driven in months (years?), and Richie absently wondered if it would even work anymore. It was nice, a decent heater and it drove well, at least it did when she had bothered to drop him off at school as a kid. Despite her general lack of care for the wellbeing of others, Mrs. Tozier did not drink and drive. Meaning, she didn’t drive at all, as she was drunk off her ass most of the time.

Richie grabbed his books from the backseat and clambered out, fumbling to find his house key among the mess of weird keychains he bought while high.

He didn’t bother stating his presence, even as a pretense, giving up the habit long ago.

Maggie Tozier sat outside, her back facing the screen door in the kitchen. A cigarette rested from her fingertips, and Richie wasn’t sure if she was actually smoking it or just watching it burn. Of course, her other hand gripped a bottle of beer, and a wine cooler sat at her feet.

Richie scoffed and bounded up the stairs to his room, a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign and band posters adorning the door.

It was often said that one’s room reflected who they were as a person, and Richie was no exception. That is, to say, his room was an absolute fucking mess. His bed was never made, and clothes and knick knacks littered the floor (he had already tripped over some beat up sneakers as he walked in). Old mugs, comics, a lava lamp, lotion, and an ashtray Bev had made him in ceramics sat on his bedside table (read: an old wooden apple carton). The only thing that he kept clear was his record player and vinyls at the edge of the bed, which were meticulously organized.

He tossed his notebooks on his desk, alongside stolen pens, his laptop, and his bong. If his parents actually fucking talked to him he would bother to hide his shit, but it didn’t really matter.

Picking up his laptop and its charger, Richie was on his way out again. He could stay home to conduct his research, but he hated the stuffiness and how lifeless the house felt. It wasn’t really even a home, at least not his. Plus, coffee. It was a necessity, especially for the amount of bullshit he’d have to go through just for the tiny brat.

Richie drove to the Starbucks on Main and Belmont, strolling up to barista and ordering his usual: venti quadruple-shot, black. While he often gorged himself on sweets, his need for caffeine could only be sated by the purest form the coffeeshop could offer.

Per usual, the barista gave him a look, “You sure?”

“Listen, I’ve already made a shit ton of horrible decisions today. Trust me, this is not the worst of them,” Richie answered, sliding the cash across the counter

She raised her brows but said nothing else, handing him the change.

He set up shop at a table by the window in the back, away enough from the other patrons. Most of the time Richie threw caution to the wind, but he figured it would suspicious if someone saw him furiously stalking someone who looked like they hadn’t even graduated from middle school.

After retrieving his coffee, opening his MacBook, and plugging his headphones in, Richie scoured Instagram first. ‘Eddie.k’ didn’t post much, mostly some artsy photos, including ones of Bill and Stanley Uris (their other best friend). There were only one or two selfies, much to Richie’s disappointment. Eddie wasn’t actually too bad looking if you ignored his clothes, his hair, his… everything. Freckles dusted his face, concentrated around his little nose, a few on his lips. Cute lips. Cute cheeks. He had the urge to pinch them. But Jesus, that combover. What was he, a balding man in the 80’s?

Other than those pictures, Eddie hadn’t really posted to Instagram in months. He moved onto  his tagged photos. They had some more substance, although Eddie had pretty much only been tagged in pictures by Bill and Stan. It wasn’t like Richie wasn’t in the same boat of having only a few close friends, but at least he hung out with other people.

For the most part, the pictures were pretty normal, the three of them hanging out. Richie couldn’t help but snort at a picture of the three, presumably after a sleepover. They looked exhausted, hair messy, and were brushing their teeth. Pretty mundane, but Eddie had pulled a ridiculous face in the mirror. It was silly, but Richie hadn’t even thought Eddie was capable of making jokes or doing weird shit. The fucker was always uptight, serious even when they had a substitute. Unsurprisingly, Eddie did not appreciate the post.

eddie.k: literally stan delete this!!!!!!

stantheman: @eddie.k, sorry sweatie (:

Richie grinned and continued to scroll, stopping at a picture of Eddie lying down on the grass, laughing. He wore a red tracksuit, the one students wore to P.E. when the bitter chill of autumn came to Derry. His hair must’ve been a little sweaty, because it was curling up into a messy halo around his grinning face. Richie wanted to know this Eddie, see him curl up laughing, but he knew that would never happen.

He perused their profiles for a while before growing bored, downing a third of his coffee before moving on. Except Eddie didn’t seem to have a Twitter, or a Snapchat. A quick google search of his name only came up with a few images and… a Facebook profile?

Richie prayed that it was an old one Eddie had never deleted, but after the page loaded he saw that the most recent status was made last night.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whispered to himself.

Eddie’s profile picture made him look particularly child-like, a weird picture of him pointing to the camera like he was cool, even though the same hand had a clunky old watch wrapped around it. His header picture displayed the quote ‘there is bravery in being soft’.

Richie snorted, “Yeah, a soft fucking dick!”

Another patron scoffed at his fowl mouth, and he shot her a smug grin.

Eddie only had 40 friends on the site, which consisted of Bill, Stan, some of the other nerds at Derry High, and his mother and her friends. It wasn’t like someone’s Facebook friends actually mattered, especially because only middle aged mothers who posted minion memes about their alcoholism used it anymore, but it was still kinda pitiful.

His posts were generally uninteresting, stuff like ‘super nervous for the math test’, or ‘soooooooooooo bored ://///’. Otherwise, he mostly just shared pictures of cute dogs and DIY videos.

It was hard to find any useful information on Eddie, since he obviously lied a lot. Not in the way of bragging, or saying that he did things he didn’t (like Richie did). But there were comments from Mrs. Kaspbrak’s friends calling him a lady killer, or a few posts calling Carly Rae Jepsen cute (please, Run Away With Me is the one of gayest songs of all time). Eddie was closeted, and Richie knew from experience that someone could never really be themselves around others if they weren’t out.

What his profile lacked in useable information, it more than made up with blackmail material.

Take, for instance, little Eddie in possibly the gayest fucking hat imaginable.

He screeched as he saw the picture of the eleven year old, a white fedora-bucket hat hybrid sitting atop his tiny head, before breaking out into a full on wheeze. Richie was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and then he thought about Eddie using his inhaler in that gay ass hat and laughed even harder.

The other customers began to stare, some concerned, and others pissed off at the disturbance.

Once he had collected himself somewhat, Richie sent a screenshot to the group chat.

the losers

bev: oh my fucking G O D

richie: I CANT FUCKIN BREATHE ELRNKKLNERG

richie: LIKE F U C K !!! KLJKLGRJKLLEJK

richie: LOOK AT HIS GAY HAT

richie: LIKE, IT’S GAYER THAN WEARING NOTHING BUT A PRIDE FLAG AND GLITTER

richie: HE LOOKS LIKE A TWINKY SKIPPER

richie: HOW IS THAT HAT MORE GAY THAN EVERY SINGLE ONE RYAN EVANS WORE IN THE ENTIRE HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL FRANCHISE COMBINED

bev: i’m muting you

mike: me too

mike: also that hat isn’t that bad

“‘Not that bad?!’” Richie squawked, not that he’d be able to hear him.

(Really, Richie had no authority on the subject. He still donned the occasional Hawaiian shirt over his tees).

He refreshed Eddie’s profile, seeing that he had made a new status.

Eddie Kaspbrak: big night friday, nervous but excited !!!!

Richie raised his brows in intrigue, seeing that Bill and a handful of other people liked the status. What was going on Friday?

He checked to see if Bill had posted anything, if Eddie was going somewhere, chances were Bill was too.

Bill Denbrough: almost the weekend, finally ready to let loose

Seriously, it would’ve been so much easier if Bill was the guy Richie had to woo. Kid was probably fucking nervous for a party, a place where you threw caution to the wind and had a good time. Still, he made a mental note about finding out what their Friday plans were.

Richie sighed, taking another swig of his coffee, “God, what a fucking loser.”

Suddenly, his headphones were being tugged out of his ear by an angry middle-aged woman with short-layered hair and eye bags.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Richie glared, snatching back his headphones.

The woman returned the look, putting her hands on her hips, “Don’t you have respect for the other customers?!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t have respect for myself, let alone some PTA moms-- like the post-divorce haircut by the way.”

Apparently, his finger guns did not soften the blow, because the lady started to scream at him.

And, apparently, this lady was also the manager, and was pushing him out the door.

So great, Eddie and his dumb gay hat got him banned from Starbucks.

Even though he was wounded from Eddie’s betrayal, (because Richie getting kicked out was definitely not his fault-- it was Eddie’s homosexual headwear. An anthropomorphic device of chaos, that Eddie owned, so, yeah, it was Kaspbrak’s fucking fault.) Richie still skipped smoking on Thursday to spend his lunch with the tiny fuck.

Obviously, they hadn’t made plans to do so, but Richie had, and he really couldn’t delay starting the bet. There was a lot on the line.

So, after getting out of econ (turning in an unstudied for but probably aced quiz), and throwing his shit in his locker, Richie detoured to the cafeteria.

The place was a fucking mess, and it reminded Richie just why he avoided the place. It was pure chaos, loud and overwhelming, a million things to get distracted by. Freshman with their stupid rolling backpacks kept whizzing by, making Richie trip or get his feet ran over. The tables were already filled, the honor roll kids, the partiers, Gretta and her gang. Fucking cliches.

He got in line, picking up a tray and proceeding to fiddle with the buttons at the cuff of his black and white flannel; trying to tune out the buzz of conversation. It was weird, at parties he thrived on the noise and disorder, but here all it was doing was fucking with his ADHD.

Richie drummed a beat onto his tray as the line moved forward and picked the most edible looking slop from the menu. The lunch lady glowered at him as he reached for his money only to realize he had put it in the other pocket, fumbling to put the bills and coins on the counter.  

As she put the money in the register, Richie looked around the room, checking to see where Eddie was sitting. He was sat near one of the exits, carefully taking out his lunch and swinging his legs. And he was alone. Perfect.

“Kid, do you want a receipt or not?” the lunch lady snapped from across from him.

Richie blinked back into focus, “Uh, sure, sorry.”

She sighed and printed out the receipt, slamming it down on the tray, “Next!”

Grabbing his tray, Richie plucked up some plastic cutlery and made his way through the sea of students to Eddie Kaspbrak. He had to twist and lift his tray a bit, but eventually the crowds started to part a bit. A chorus of whispers started to erupt. Stupid small town.

“Is that Richie Tozier?”

“I think, but doesn’t he always get high with his stoner friends?”

“What is he doing here?”

“God, he’s so hot.”

Richie smirked, sending a wink at the girl’s praise before sitting across from Eddie. He watched for a moment as the boy continued to focus on on unpacking his utensils and napkins before clearing his throat.

Eddie’s eyes snapped up from his lunchbox, widening when he saw Richie.

“What the fuck?” It was meant to be a whisper to himself, but Eddie’s voice was louder than expected.

Richie grinned at the blushing boy, “Well, hello to you to Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, returning to his food.

Richie waited for him to say something else, at least fucking look at him, but the little fuck kept his eyes glued to his grapes, nails aggressively ripping the fruit from their stems.

“Okay,” he started, taking a sip of his apple juice, “So, you may be wondering why I’m sitting with you—“

Eddie interrupted, annoyance apparent in every fiber of his being, “Is this gonna be quick or not?”

“I’m hoping it’s not quick, although given how hot I am it’s difficult for people to control themselves.”

A long, deep sigh came from Eddie’s (cute, soft) lips. Eddie grabbed at Richie’s hands, flipping them over so that the palms faced upwards.

“Wow, a bit forward, but I’m liking your style Kaspbrak,” Richie winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes and proceed to take out hand sanitizer from his fanny pack, squirting the floral scented product into Richie’s hands.

Honestly, what the fuck?

He must’ve sent the same message to Eddie with his face, because Eddie said, “You obviously aren’t gonna leave me the fuck alone, and if you’re gonna be in my space, you need to be clean.”

Richie raised a brow at this but rubbed the hand sanitizer into his hands anyways.

Jesus Christ, what a weird, defensive little bitch.

Eddie watched with focused eyes, and only spoke when Richie was finished.

“Continue.”

It took a moment for Richie to gain his bearings once more. This mission seemed dead on arrival, but he had to keep trying anyways.

“So, Eddie…” Richie trailed off, twirling the pasta on his plate before his eyes lit up, “Eddie Spaghetti, Eduardo, what’s up?”

Eddie scowled, “That’s not my fucking name!” he squeaked, “And ‘what’s up?’ I mean, we’ve barely even talked before. You think I’m just gonna put up with this because you’re Richie Tozier? I swear to god, if this is some fucking bullying thing...”

Around them, people began to stare and eavesdrop at the sound of Eddie yelling. Fucking perfect.

Richie blinked back at the boy across from him, now red in the face for a different reason, “Calm down, I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Fat fucking chance.”

Okay, wow. Richie had more work cut out for him than expected. He thought of what to say next as he watched Eddie finish his grapes.

“This isn’t, like, a joke,” (it wasn’t real either), “I just wanna hang out.”

“Hang out?” Eddie’s chocolate brown eyes met Richie’s, his tone mocking.

Richie nodded, “Yeah, ya know, kick it with the homies. Make out a little if you’re down. Friend stuff.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, “You’re unbelievable. Just fucking unbe— you know, how can you even say any of that shit? How can we be ‘homies’ if we’ve never ‘hung out’ before? And don’t want to-- I’m not-- you don’t know me!”

There was something underlying in Eddie’s voice as he snapped, wavering at the end. Richie, like most things in life, was completely and utterly fucking up.

“Well then, how about we fix that?” Richie leaned forward, “I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna—“

Abruptly, Eddie stood up, grabbing his food and walked off, making his way towards the cafeteria line where Bill and Stan were paying for their lunch.

Richie looked around at all the watching faces, some snickering and others as shocked as he was.

“...Embarrass me horribly in front of all these people.”

He took a deep breath, and shoved some spaghetti in his mouth, his frown growing larger at the disgusting taste. Richie was often considered a wild card, but this was when routine was a good thing. He should’ve just avoided this and sparked up with Bev and Mike.

Actually, he was going to do just that. There was still some left in lunch, and no reason for him to stay in the cafeteria if Eddie was giving him the cold shoulder. More like a giant fucking iceberg but still, pointless. Besides, he really needed to get high now. Eddie ruined his whole mood and pissed him the fuck off.

Richie got up and tossed out the inedible garbage before going to the usual spot, finger itching for a joint.

He used his foot to push open the door, which would’ve been cool, except with his clumsiness and horrible luck he tripped forward, narrowly avoiding falling down the steps and face planting by grabbing the railing.

As Richie caught his breath and stabilized himself, he could hear his friends laughing.

“Back so soon?” Bev smirked knowingly, taking a drag.

Richie huffed, “Ha ha. Let’s yuck it up for my misfortune,” he grabbed her joint and took a long hit, “This fucking kid, Bev. I don’t think I can do this!”

“As in, you’re morally incapable of leading him on?” Mike asked hopefully.

“Please, let’s be realistic here Mikey. No, that kid is like, the fuckin devil incarnate. Shithead is fucking crazy!” Richie paced, smoking from the joint.

Bev laughed, “What makes you say that?”

“Why don’t ya ask the whole fucking school?” Richie snapped, though the anger wasn’t directed at her, “They were watching it all go down. If that wheezy asshole ruins my reputation—“

“What reputation?” Mike interjected.

Richie rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

Another voice spoke up, “I dunno, Richie’s pretty well known. I like him well enough.”

Richie whirled around, just noticing a new face among the usual group, Ben Hanscom.

The eternal new kid, since no one ever moved to ass backwards Derry, was not someone he’d expect to be behind the art building. Maybe reciting poetry or some shit, but not blazing. Ben was sweet and genuine, albeit a little shy. He was no longer the chubby kid he once was, more stocky and muscular now. They weren’t too close, as the tawny haired boy spent more time with Mike and Bev, and if not them, the other dorks (like Eddie and his friends). But either way, dude was pretty chill. Richie just didn’t really want him there mid-meltdown.

“Haystack?! You smoke?!” he whistled, “Ho-ly shit, who woulda thought!”

Ben shook his head, “Uh, no I don’t. Mike and I just had to study for history next block.”

His deep brown eyes flitted to Beverly, who had now stolen back her joint and was playing with the key that hung from her neck. Yeah, studying was the only reason. Not Ben’s excruciatingly obvious crush on the red head.

“We would’ve just gone to the library, but Bev and I made a bet about if you’d be successful or not today,” Mike said.

Richie gasped, “Betting on my failure? Fuck you guys, Benny Boy is my new best friend.”

“I didn’t sign up for that.”

“Hey, I bet on you succeeding,” Mike put his hands up in surrender, “She’s the one who thought you’d screw it up.”

“And I was right. Pay up,” Bev smiled, holding out her palm.

Mike dropped a candy bar in it with a deep sigh. She tore open the wrapping, taking a savage bite of the chocolatey sweet.

“I think you have a gambling problem,” Mike quipped.

Bev shrugged, “Not a problem if I keep winning.”

She grinned, her teeth covered in chocolate and spit. Gross. Ben still looked enraptured. Double gross.

“Anyways, can we focus on the important bet, and the fact that this fuck is impossible! Seriously, Bev, babygirl, pick anyone else!” Richie whined, plopping his bony ass on the cement.

“First off, don’t call me ‘babygirl’,” she flicked the ash off the end of the joint at him, “Second, the deal was anyone. You either woo him or you don’t.”

Richie opened his mouth to complain again but Ben beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, but what are we talking about?”

The other three looked at each other in panic. Ben was friends with Eddie, there was no way he could find out what was going on. The whole thing would be ruined before it started.

“Nothin!” Richie squeaked, “Just uh… bet that I couldn’t ace a group project. I usually just bullshit a lot of that stuff and leave it up to the others if I can. Partner’s just a little… high strung.”

Bev groaned and Mike sighed. A horrible fucking lie. Richie was already trying to formulate a better one in his head.

Ben smiled, “That’s nice, a wholesome, supportive bet. But you really should just communicate with your partner. They might be nervous because of your history is all.”

Richie let out a sound of relief before realizing Ben’s advice could actually be helpful.

“Sure, but I already tried to talk to him and it didn’t go well,” he explained.

Bev and Mike raised their brows, catching on.

“Well, how did you talk to him?” Ben asked, “Was it an ambush or a friendly conversation?

Bev snorted, “Ambush, knowing Richie. He doesn’t do friendly conversations.”

“Maybe with you, because you’re on my ass all the time,” Richie shot back, “But uh, she’s right. Shouldn’t matter though, everyone knows that’s how Tough Guy Tozier does his business.”

Mike groaned, “Please don’t call yourself that ever again.”

“You’re just coming on too strong. You have to consider what he likes, what he wants. A good partnership comes with compromise and communication,” Ben nodded sagely.

Richie ruffled his hair, putting on his trusty British voice, “Thank you Advisor Hanscom. Your wisdom is greatly appreciated.”

Ben smiled awkwardly, his eyes going to Bev once again, “Course.”

He took the joint from Bev, inhaling the musty smoke and blowing it out his nostrils, the burning sensation familiar and welcome.

“And maybe, you should talk to him sober next time,” Mike suggested.

Richie laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

By the time the final bell rang, he was still feeling defeated and unsure of his next move. Sure, he’d have to dial back his trashmouth charm, try to seem actually invested in Eddie but… that wasn’t going to happen if the brat never talked to him again. Richie had to find a way to break the tension between them, start fresh.

He sulked to his locker, pulling out his shit from the looming mess. Loose binder paper and pencils fell onto the ground, and Richie just wanted to bang his head against the wall of metal. Also, go home and smoke while playing video games but, mostly, hit his head repeatedly. Maybe he’d lose enough brain cells to forget the entire day.

After a few moments of excessive cursing, Richie grabbed what he needed and got everything that fell back into the locker. He noticed a new post it on the door just before he closed it.

Don’t give up :) <3 - mike

Richie smiled, and slammed the locker shut with a resounding clang. With a little stretch and a fix of his glasses, he strolled through the halls, making his way to the parking lot to wait for Mike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bill and Stan loitering around the halls as well, engaged in (an undoubtedly boring) conversation.

He remembered Bill and Eddie’s facebook status’ about exciting plans for tomorrow night and decided he should investigate.

“Billiam! Staniel!” Richie called as he approached them, “What’s up?”

The two stopped talking and looked up, Bill smiling while Stan rolled his eyes.

“H-hey, Richie,” Bill waved.  Richie noted that his stutter had gotten a lot better just over the past year. The two of them had shared a few classes when they were juniors and were pretty friendly with one another. At least compared to his relationship with Eddie and Stan, who also seemed to hate him for no reason.

Speaking of, the prim and proper boy was glaring at him, “Didn’t get enough of being a nuisance at lunch?”

Richie raised a brow, “Whatever do you mean?”

Stan scoffed, and opened his mouth to respond, but Bill put a hand on his shoulder, “N-nothing. Stan’s just… on edge. What’s up w-with you?”

“Not much, just trying to figure out what my plans are for tomorrow,” Richie shrugged, “Got any suggestions?”

“The only thing on your mind is where to party? Not surprised,” Stan quipped.

Richie shoved his hands in his pockets, biting his tongue. Snapping at Eddie was what caused his whole operation to go south, and he couldn’t mess up this second chance.

Bill ignored the tension between them, “Well, usually w-we don’t do t-t-too m-much, but it’s s-senior year. Probably going to Peter Gordon's party.”

“That kid’s an ass.”

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Stan commented, his arms crossed.

His grinned, “Well, yeah, I am Rich.”

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, he is, but he’s also s-super wealthy,” Bill avoided another ‘rich’ pun, “Meaning he’ll h-h-ave q-q-quality shit.”

Richie beamed, “Ah, I get it. You’re Robin Hood-ing that fuck. I like your style Billy Boy.”

He clapped Bill on the shoulder, and the other boy blushed slightly, “W-well, it wasn’t j-just my idea. Eddie and Stan helped.”

“Eddie? He’s coming with you guys?”

Bill shook his head, “N-no. He was supposed to, b-b-but that art thing came up so he h-had to cancel.”

“Art thing?” Richie asked, suddenly intrigued. This was the information he wanted.

“Yeah,” Bill nodded, “It’s this show that happens every month. At Jester Theatre. He always goes.”

Stan not so subtly elbowed Bill in the ribs, hissing at him to shut up.

“W-what?!”

“Yeah, what’s got your steamed panties in a twist Uris?” Richie smirked.

Stan sent him a scowl, “You know very well Tozier. Eddie told us all about what you did at lunch. Back the fuck off.”

“S-stan, I don’t think he meant--”

“No, Bill, he did,” Stan interrupted, “I don’t know what your game is, but if you hurt him…”

Richie put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I’m not going to hurt him. He seems pretty strong anyways. I mean no harm.”

Stan didn’t look convinced at all. Fair enough.

The air between the two was tense, but Bill broke it by clearing his throat, “So, uh, will w-we see you at the p-p-party?”

Richie shook his head ‘no’, “Probably not. I have some more sophisticated plans lined up.”

a/n: hope you liked it! next chapter is p much all richie and eddie so get excited. if you enjoyed i would love hearing your feedback

oh and this is eddie’s gay hat if you were curious

[moonbelt]

»kaleidoscope

↳soulmate au | baseball player au

⇢ pairing: park jinyoung | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + soft angst

⇢ word count: 7.227

author’s note: born out of this anon request and the unbecoming amount of love i have for soulmate aus lmaoo

It's a cold, dark and windy day in the middle of April when you first see through the eyes of someone else.

Cold weather, although comfy when in sweatshirts and cardigans, isn't your favorite thing in the world, and given your luck, the weather isn't the only thing that has been slowly creeping up your skin. Your boyfriend — ex now — had given you the whole breakup speech a day before. The usual "it's not you, it's me," as he slid his fingers into the ones of his newly found soul mate. You don't intend to sound like a broken record to your posse of friends, but you find yourself repeating the same words every ten minutes.

"Fuck soulmates."

Your closest friend, Althea, laughs at your statement but doesn't try to talk you out of your self-indulgent mourning. You'll be honest, you don't hate the concept of soulmates but you do despise how quickly Nathan had dropped you; like hot coal. With a flick of his wrist, you were gone and replaced by Mr. Nice Guy. You didn't bother to remember Nathan's soulmate's name, why would you? You'd thought you and Nathan were forever. As it turns out, forever only lasts a year and six months. A whole year and a half of Nathan and you asserting that having soulmates 'didn't matter in the grand schemes of life.' Now you realize, that had all been wishful thinking and the height of naiveté.

Grabbing the nearest bottle of soda, you crack open the lid and down half of it in one gulp, pretending it's something stronger. You're on a mission to not drink any alcohol because of him. And even though your chest is a mass of emotions and broken promises, you figure you'd rather die than give Nathan the satisfaction of crying over him. Not that he'd care. He doesn't seem to care for you at all anymore and you're on track to doing the same.

Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a heartwarming experience. Colored by streams of light and love, something you'll tell everyone you know - and the people you don't - because you finally found the one made for you. You understand that you're being a tad cynical but, what happens to the person who was left behind? What happens to you? The glitch in the equation. Do your feelings suddenly, by some sort of miracle, become invalid? Because at this moment, you are sure there's nothing worse than feeling like discarded leftovers.

It wasn't like you didn't know the both of you had soulmates lounging around and about out there in the world. You knew this. But you'd thought it had no effect on your connection. It's not like you'd ever met your soulmate before to have something to compare your relationship to. Nathan himself had called you his one and only love, proclaiming to the heavens and back how he was willing to fight for you. You scoff. All his words, about how the soulmate business didn't faze him, coming to bite you in the ass.

Soulmate or not, the two of you had loved each other. Or at least you loved him. And now you were trying to un-love him all on your own.

"You know what we should do?" BamBam, who originally was a distant friend of a friend but nuzzled his way into your group, perks up in his seat. "Ditch this dump and head to Club Medusa. I swear you'll forget Nathan even existed within ten minutes."

"I'd rather spare my lungs Bam," you say rolling your eyes as you kick your head back and stare at the fluorescent overhead lights.

The fast-food joint you and your group of friends are currently inhabiting is a newly established one. Freshly opened and with zero regular customers, which in turn made it one of your favorite places. You'd rather be here than in a club where personal space was akin to the devil.

Althea reaches over with her boot-clad foot and nudges your knee, dragging your attention back to her. Her face is pressed against her palm as she leans on the table's surface, a look of pity painted across her features.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're lucky he found his soulmate now and not later down the line. I mean, imagine if he left you at the altar? God, or worse if he —"

BamBam hits her arm... hard, effectively cutting your best friend off. "You are not helping. Like at all. Let me handle this, okay?" He angles his body back at you. "[y/n], believe me when I say anything," he flashes a pointed look at Althea. "Beats eating burger and fries — alone — after a breakup."

"I'm not alone. I have you guys," you say feigning ignorance, raising your hands to your chest and bowing them into a heart. "I love you guys."

Althea snorts out in laughter while Bambam shakes his head in bemusement. You really do love them, honest, more than you bargained for. Platonic soulmates are something you're glad to believe in, especially now that your friends haven't ditched you even with all your moping and sulking.

At the back of your mind, however, you acknowledge BamBam's logic. It does suck to eat junk food after a breakup but rationally, you think Althea is kind of right. You are somewhat lucky that Nathan and you called it quits before things got too serious. Even though almost two years in most relationships would be considered pretty damn serious. You thought it was serious, apparently, Nathan had not. Besides, you're trying to look at the bright side of the situation and not resort to crying your heart out in a near-empty restaurant. So just to prove a point, you reach over and stuff your mouth with a handful of fries.

Fast food might not be the answer but you sure as hell are going to make it work.

BamBam swats your hand away when you try to grab another set of fries, going on another rave about how Club Medusa is the shit. You know it's just another excuse for him to go on a dabbing spree in the cloak of darkness and an intoxicated crowd. You're about to tell him off for the umpteenth time that night; you are most definitely not getting drunk off your ass just because you got dumped. You're not that pathetic, you think. However, before you can get the words past your lips, a wave of nausea inflames your senses.

It floods over you so quickly that you don’t have time to register what’s happening as your vision darkens to pitch black. When it relights, it's to a completely different view.

Loud cheering and even louder panting usher you in. It feels... like your chest is about to implode in on itself, sweat relentlessly pooling at your armpits. You've never felt such an adrenaline rush before. Sure, you've done a few workout routines here and there but this felt oddly contrasting and for a moment your body freezes up, clutching the only thing in your hand for support. Which so happens to be a bat? But even with the peculiar item, you strangely feel at ease. Safe. Like you've done this a thousand times before even though you're positive you have not. Still, more than anything, you're confused by your situation. And when you raise your head in an attempt to determine your surroundings, you almost lose your footing.

Maybe it's due to the feeling of unfamiliarity that seeps into your bones once your eyes connect with what's ahead of you, or maybe it's because your heart has faulted in its beating, but you suddenly can't breathe.

Large expanses of sand and neatly cut grass lay onward. There's a distinct cheer that filters through your ears. "Jinyoung. Park. Jinyoung. Park." It's loud. It's deafening. And it is taking up all the space left in the stadium. Contrary to what you think, it gives you an unusual sense of calm? But in spite of that, you can't stop the one question relaying in your mind: what the fuck is going on?

Your eyes connect with the man directly in your line of sight. Posture prickly straight with a cap sitting low on his head. Blue uniform loose yet fitting against his form, and a gloved hand dangerously close to his chest. The urge to scream in fear is daunting. What, the ever-loving-fuck, is going on? You have absolutely no idea. You vaguely remember that it resembles the dreams you used to have as a kid. Back in a time when you placed baseball players on a high pedestal, aspiring to be a professional later in life. Reality came in a hard dose of ridiculous hand-eye coordination and your father urging you to quit early to prevent catastrophic injuries.

Faster than light, the man in blue whips his arm back, his leg positioned slightly ajar as he releases the ball. Your eyes barely follow the white baseball that comes flying straight at you. On impulse, you're prepared to swing at it with all your pent-up frustrations. But just as fast as you were dragged away from your world, you are ruefully brought back. Clasping your chest like your life depends on it, a sheen of heavy sweat lining your forehead and brows, eyes wide as you wait for the ball to connect with — hopefully — not your face.

"Holy shit," you manage to stutter out long after the sensation has come and gone. Your heart took its time with catching itself back in place. Your friends don't seem to have noticed your out-of-body experience. Instead, their bickering is the only thing that remains constant.

BamBam is shooting Althea an unimpressed look as he draws his words out dryly. "All I'm saying is, [y/n] needs a break from relationships. Don't set up some stupid blind date and think you're doing the Lords work because I can assure you, you are not."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with you!" She exclaims incredulously, flipping her hair to the side. "[y/n] loves my blind dates, don't you [y/n]?" Althea cocks an expectant eyebrow at you, waiting for your input.

"Holy shit! Holy freaking shit!" You say instead with a voice louder than before, toppling over your chair in a bid to stand up and pace the adrenaline away. "Oh, my fucking gosh. D-did you guys see what j-just happened?"

"Um... no?" Bam's concerned gaze flicks incessantly between you and Althea like maybe the two of you are telepathic and are holding out on him. "Why are we freaking out? I want to know why we're freaking out. I can't freak out if I don't know what happened!"

"I-I just saw something. Or at least... I think I did."

Althea squints her eyes at you not exactly confident on where you're going with this, but nevertheless, she rises to her full height and clamps two calming hands on your shoulders.

"Deep breaths [y/n]. In out, in out. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than Nathan dumping you for Mr. Nice Guy —"

"Althea!" BamBam's exasperated voice booms out as he throws his arms up in the air. "Don't bring up that asshole, not now—"

You cut the conversation short. "I think I just connected with my soulmate," your voice reverts back to whispering. It's a miracle that Bambam can even hear you. "I mean, I'm not sure... but I'm positive I just saw a snippet from their life or something. Again, not sure about this, but I swear I'm not making this up I—"

"What?!" Althea cuts you off, her eyes widening in disbelief but also curiosity. All of you seem to be cutting each other off today. "You're not shitting us, are you?"

Amidst the pounding of your heart, you relax at her facial expression. "Do I look like I'm shitting on you right now? This has never happened before. Does this mean what I think it means or am I being delusional?" You look to Bambam for support.

He shrugs his shoulders in astonishment. "Why are you looking at me?! I've never met a rare before."

Soulmates — no matter how commonplace they've become over the decades and with the advancement of science, are still an enigma to the world. Why do they exist? How did they suddenly come into being? And most importantly, in what forms do people find them?

The most common had to be the name business. Finely printed letters across wrists, something you never got even after clocking seventeen. Closely after that came Soul marking — in which you only know your soulmate by touching them and getting a peculiar mark from them in that area. Add that to the never-ending list of stuff you've never experienced. But then there's the ultimate rarity, God tier level if you will, instances where people suddenly could see through their soul mates eyes; snippets that barely lasted four minutes.

You'd read countless work about them in your high school Advanced History class, some fabled and some rumored to be true, but not once did you think you would be the one experiencing it.

Terrifying yet thrilling at the same time.

"Do you know how amazing this is?" Althea is bouncing up and down, her arms caging you in a hug. "Loser Nathan can suck it. Your soulmate exists!"

Bambam quickly gets the memo and wraps his hands around the two of you, cementing your bond closer. You're still in a daze as your mind grasps the implication of what happened. You don't know if it is right to feel as elevated as you do.

Twenty-four hours ago, you had a relationship and although that has since become dust, you can't help the little attachment tying around your heart. What if your soulmate already has someone? Someone who is obviously not the one the universe wants for them, but someone nonetheless. What if they don't pull a Nathan and dump their significant other? What if they genuinely love them? More than they love a practical stranger at least. What if —

"This is a cause for celebration, isn't it?" Bambam shoots you a shit-eating grin as he releases his grip on you. "There's no reason why we can't hit Club Medusa —"

"I agree!" Althea nods her head adamantly, long hair falling across her shoulders.

You try, a little, to pay attention to the excitement of your friends but it proves to be a feeble attempt. Your mind - and heart - can't stop racing. It feels like you've flown closer to the sun, electricity flowing through your veins, lighting everything in sight. And even though you're sort of scared of how weightless you feel, you don't want to ever let this feeling go. You still have insecurities plaguing your mind, probably won't cease just because you want them to. But like before, you decide to only look at the bright side of the situation. At long last, the Universe is getting on your side and you're not stupid enough to jinx it with negative thoughts.

Soulmates might not be the end all and be all of the world, but you'd rather not spend the rest of your life wondering about the might-have-beens. At least for today, you vow to revel in this sensation, like everything is finally right.

Soon after, you find yourself leading your trio to Club Medusa, thoughts of your ex-banished to all hell and replaced by thoughts of the person with the bat. Two words piercing through your thoughts consistently. For reasons you don't understand, you get inexplicably lightheaded from them.

Park Jinyoung.

It has a nice ring to it, you think. Comparable to how you believe hitting a home run would feel like. Exhilarating; like you're gliding on ice and nothing can stop you. Not even death. Maybe it applies almost exclusively to death? As if this feeling won't ever stop, regardless if time passes.

It scares you. After all, almost every fairy tale you know of was spawned out of tragedy. And you're not stupid enough to believe completely in things you can't see. But for all that you do believe in, you want to trust this feeling.

Not to sound philosophical or anything like that, but life is all about moments. Moments before life, moments during life and moments afterlife. And no matter how coincidental you believe a situation to be, it most likely wasn't accidental or simply by chance. It comes as no surprise to you then that you find yourself repeating this mantra to yourself, more often than not, over the next few days since the incident.

You haven't experienced a really out of tuned snippet like the one you had back at the fast food restaurant. In fact, since then all you'd had were dizzy spells. Instances where you could taste something when you weren't eating. Or when you closed your eyes to doze for a bit, you'd wake up disoriented with the feeling of being in a body that is not yours. This happened for two weeks. Two weeks of you almost feeling your soulmate but not.

To be quite frank, you never thought you'd be one of those people. You know, the ones who become obsessed — to the point of borderline insanity — over their soulmates. Ergo Nathan. Okay, maybe you're still holding a slight grudge against him but it's not like you're a saint. Or want to be. And it's not like you want to relentlessly think about your soulmate, but for the life of you, your brain seems adamant on not listening to any of your demands.

Like right now, as you filter through the orders of the day. Working at the only on-campus coffee shop/bakery was quickly proving itself to be a bad decision. You work the late evening shift and half the time it was scarce, a big difference compared to most afternoons where orders were constantly flooding in.

The only downside of not having enough orders to occupy your body was that your mind was consistently straying away from the present. Weaving vivid descriptions of your soulmate. How tall would they be? How loud did they laugh? What kind of things did they do for fun? You're so far gone in your thoughts that you don't realize a new group of customers have walked into the store. In fact, you don't return to the present until one of them, a lean and tall yellow-haired boy, clears his throat loudly.

Your shoulders jump back, startled. It's a group of six boys all in white baseball uniforms and even though you consider yourself pretty tall, they tower over your height as they make their way to the back of the store where the speakers are located. They barely give you any attention, instead, they leave Blondie to handle their orders.

The blonde boy who winks at you, like maybe you're taken aback by his admittedly unabashed beauty and not the intrusion of your personal space. You manage to awkwardly offer him a smile, your eyes scanning the pack that has now settled in a corner booth.

Usually, you worked your shift alongside Yuri, a Nursing major, but due to unforeseen circumstances, she had to check out early. Yuri was the one that dealt with the jocks, for a lack of a better term. Not that you had anything against the athletics department, you'd just rather not put yourself in a situation to interact with them. Your view on them may have been slightly tainted due to experiences in high school. But life was all about moments, you tell yourself, and right now you're trying to get past the faint lingering smell of sweat and dirt.

"What can I get for you today?" You try to put a pep in your voice but it falls flat.

"Can I have, uh, you?" he replies with an unexpected grin on his face. Like he knows how cringe and unreasonable he's being but is engaging you in his humor. You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and spare both of us the embarrassment, okay?" You say, not really expecting an answer from him but still offering him a cocky smile regardless. The store is CCTV protected and your manager will bust a vein if he found you being slightly ominous to any customer, even if you had a right to it. "Is there anything else you and your buddies want to order this fine evening?"

He doesn't seem at all fazed by the sarcasm dripping from your voice, if anything, his cheeks expand even more. "I like you; you're funny." Blondie casually remarks before he narrates his and his teammates' orders. He gets through five orders before he draws a blank, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he turns around and gets the attention of his friends.

"Jinyoung, what’s the order for today?"

Your eyes follow to where the other boys are situated and fall on the boy in question. A dark baseball cap sitting on his head, his eyes tear away from his phone and focus on Blondie and you. His voice comes out low and serene but at the same time loud enough to travel the path to your ears. You fumble a little with ringing up the total and Blondie snickers when you finally hand him the receipt. He sends you another wink, this time more playful than flirty before he makes his way over to his friends.

As you work your way through the requests, you wonder what's up with your luck these days. First, you get the scare of your lifetime by being thrown into a baseball game mid-pitch and now you're coming face to face with a pack of baseball players. Just your luck that the only name you can remember from the snippet is Park Jinyoung.

You found out over the course of the past two weeks, that Park and Jinyoung were among common names that came in the same package. Or at least common enough for you to be in class with four other namesakes. The only reassurance you had was that you were positive that if you ever came in contact with the Jinyoung from back then, you would know.

You also know not to get your hopes up. There probably is more than one Jinyoung in your university's baseball team. Moreover, you're not sure which baseball team your soulmate even plays for. It could be the university a few towns over, it could be pro-league... in fact now that you really thought about it, it could be any team on the planet. Well, aren't you fucked? You think to yourself solemnly.

You're so distracted by your thoughts that you almost burn your hand under hot water, but even then, your thoughts don't stop twisting and turning around in your head.

It takes longer than usual but once you complete their full order, you look up to grab the attention of Blondie but you're met with Jinyoung's intent gaze instead. It's not quite daunting but at the same time, it doesn't put your heart at ease. Head cocked to the side and his lower lip threatening to crack between his teeth; he looks like he's desperately trying to glue pieces of something together.

You raise your hand to wave him over and in an instant, he's standing to his full height and walking over to you. You'd naively thought that he would've sent Blondie to do the deed instead, this Jinyoung didn't strike you as someone that liked communicating with people unless he absolutely had to. You guessed wrong.

He takes long strides to the cashier and you try not to stare as he does so but your eyes have other plans. He has a boyish yet manly vibe to him, and even though he looks stoic in appearance, now that he's come close, you can see how his eyes differ. They hold something akin to warmth and you find yourself staring into them longer than necessary. Today just isn't your day, you tell yourself to justify how weird you've been acting. You do not ogle boys in the cafe. You simply don't.

"Thanks," he says, grabbing two of the trays. "I hope Yugyeom didn't weird you out? He does that a lot... sorry."

Not expecting him to apologize for his friends' antics, words die in your throat but you force a chuckle out of your lips at best, you refuse to be on the same level as a mannequin.

Jinyoung nods his head as if your laughter is a good enough response. The corners of his lips tilt up before he's hauling his way back to his pack and you finally let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Christ, since when did you get so weak? It wasn't like this was the first attractive person you'd ever met. Get it together! Your soulmate was out there. Probably a few thousand miles away, but out there nonetheless!

You flip your notepad to a new blank page and proceed to doodle on it. Little trees sprouting from the corners and swirling lines outlining the borders but soon enough you find yourself lettering Park Jinyoung along with those as well. You don't even know if this name belongs to your soulmate. You're relying on trial and error and now that you're thinking about Jinyoung, your eyes flick up and lock in on him.

You wonder if he's your soulmate. Probably not, but you wonder regardless. How would you know? It's not like the heavens are going to split open and a white dove will appear above his head. He isn't Jesus, you reckon, and you aren't either. You're about to disregard thoughts of him from your mind when you feel a familiar sensation wash over you.

Gripping the corners of the table you try to anchor yourself. It's a futile attempt because in an instant you lose your sight and by the time you regain it, you already know you've parted with your body.

The chatter is annoyingly loud, most likely because you've been thrown in the midst of it. To your sides sit boys on a baseball team. You're not as surprised as you ought to be when your vision connects with Blondie — Yugyeom. He's making a joke about hitting a home run and one of them, the loudest besides Yugyeom, laughs maniacally at that.

Your body freezes up as your eyes drift over and count how many of the boys you can see. Five. Five and none of them are Jinyoung. You can tell someone is drilling holes into you; desperate to grab your attention so you quickly raise your head. Well, if you're being technical, it's not your head. But that's easily understandable.

It's weird and honestly terrifying to see your own body looking at you. Not the same as looking at yourself in a mirror but not completely different either. Eyes wide and a tad bit glassy stare back at you in shock. A shock that you're sure is mirrored in your borrowed pair of eyes. You sit there staring at each other for what seems like hours until you're dragged out of your reverie by one of the boys tapping your shoulder.

"How do you feel about sporks?"

"Huh?" Your voice comes out deeper than you know and it shakes you to your core.

"Dude," the black-haired boy with a perpetual smile on his face, rolls his eyes. "Aren't you listening? Sporks, you know those things that double as forks and spoons?"

One of his friends rubs his hands against his face as he sighs out, exasperatedly. "Sporks are not a thing, Jackson. Jesus Christ, no one calls them that."

Jackson seems highly offended by the statement. "What do you mean? Everyone calls them that! You're so —"

You don't get to hear the ending of his rant. Jackson and the loudness of the table fade to distant chatter in an instant as you return to your rightful place. Damn, you don't think you'll ever get used to this. What are you supposed to do now? You'd thought finding your soulmate will automatically put things in perspective. But right now, as you barely stand at the back of the cashier and peer over at him, you can confidently say that nothing makes any sense.

It's not like you can walk up to him and demand the two of you run into the sunset together. Okay maybe that's a little extreme but that's pretty much what Nathan did if your memory serves you correctly. You can't really do much with this situation, truly. You don't want to introduce yourself to him in front of his teammates, imagining the looks on their faces already did the honors of turning your feet cold.

"Ah," you sigh out to yourself.

Maybe you should sneak him your phone number? No, no, no! Abort! Your brain waves a red flag. Not only is that the cliché of clichés, you are assertive the napkin will find its end in a nearby dumpster and not his contact list like you want.

You nibble on your bottom lip, deep in thought. None of the stories that you'd read prepared you for this moment. They'd all ended with the two soulmates [tearfully] acknowledging each other. Bells ringing in the distance and love blooming in their eyes. You snort. What a fucking joke. This is awkward. Awkward as fucking hell. And you have no idea how you are supposed to break the ice. Perhaps ask him about his take on sporks?

Maybe you should just wing it? And see how it goes? If the stars are bent on putting the two of you together, it shouldn't matter if you embarrass yourself a few times... right? Before you come to a conclusion on the matter, you hear scraping of seats and the thudding sounds of sneakers hitting the floor as the one group you've been avoiding eye contact with, gets up and begins trudging out.

"See you around sweetheart," Blondie calls out, winking as he does. "Maybe next time I'll win you over with my amazing skills?"

No, you think, but you're too distracted with trying to discreetly watch Jinyoung as his friends drag him out. He seems out of place, his body being pushed against his will. He looks at you like he wants to say something but then decides against it. You open your mouth to... call out to him? You're not sure. But you end up closing your mouth remorsefully, as the door to the store swings shut.

Well, there goes chance number one. If your luck was anything to go by, you probably wouldn't meet him again for weeks. You could always religiously jog past the baseball teams’ practice field but you figure that will turn out really creepy really fast.

Busying yourself with your closing routine, you quickly buzz through wiping tables and accounting everything for what they're worth. In the back of your mind though, you think about Jinyoung. How he looks without that cap shadowing his face. If he ever won that game. If he has any idea how the two of you are supposed to connect. If he can honestly feel the low strumming of wires been set ablaze under your skin, or maybe it's just you.

Once you've finished everything that needs to be done in the store, you lock up and make your way out of the university center. The time on your watch reads 10:12 and you wonder if you'll be able to make the last bus to your dorm across campus. Your boots crunch dirt under your path and you tighten your hoodie closer to your skin. It's awfully cold for April but you don't question the weather.

The weirdest thing you've come to understand about the soulmate euphoria is that no matter how life-altering or intense a feeling like that continues on for, so long as it happens within the constraints of your mind, nobody else knows.

Your skin might sheen over with sweat, your mind buzzing with incoherent words but nobody else in the world knows what's going on and sometimes not even you.

"Are you following me?" Your voice comes out tentative because what if you're wrong? Oh, the embarrassment.

There's a ruffle somewhere behind you and then a pair of white shoes come to a halt beside you. Two forceful coughs later comes out his reply.

"I wasn't following you, honest. I was looking at the moon."

"Why do I feel like you're lying?"

He shrugs, not bothered. "Do you usually accuse everyone you meet? Or is this a thing reserved for me?"

You decide to not answer. Instead, you pick up the pace and continue the walk to the bus stop. In five minutes the bus is going to vamoose out and you're going to be left with no other option than walking back home. It wasn't the worst, but it certainly wasn't the best or fastest.

It doesn't take him that much effort to catch up to you. In fact, you're afraid he barely has to huff out a breath to reach you.

"Hey, wait. Are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?"

You steel yourself from sparing him a glance. "No, it's not you per se. But the bus waits for no one and I hate walking."

"Really? I like walking. Feels good. Also, you use the bus?"

"You do play baseball, it'll be more of a shocker if you didn't." You say finally looking at him. Nervous energy emits from him, his fingers wringing around one another repeatedly. "Cars are expensive and well, buses are cool... kinda."

There's no plausible reason why the two of you are engaging in this conversation other than the fact that you're both trying to break the ice.

"So," you make an attempt, the butterflies in your stomach making house. "Do you usually come to the cafe? I've never seen you there before."

He shakes his head. "First time. I lost a bet and Yugyeom wouldn't stand for me chickening out."

"What, you're too good for coffee or something?" You hope there's a joking tint in your voice because you're not being snobby, you're trying to joke around. Oh God, no one ever prepared you for this.

Luckily, he understands and he laughs aloud. Your heart calms down at this, you feel strangely accomplished.

"I hate coffee but since I lost, I didn't really have a say."

"What bet did you lose?"

He bites his tongue in uncertainty and you wonder if it was okay for you to ask. The two of you haven't even exchanged names and you're already prying. You feel your body heating up, for more reasons than one.   You're ready to tell him that it doesn't matter when he says:

"I got struck out by the pitcher in my last game. I told the guys that I was gonna hit a home run but uh, you know that thing happened and..." his voice trails off.

You add two and two together, not like it was any hard. You had totally missed that swing that time. Damn, as if it wasn't enough that you'd went and lost, you'd also helped him lose a bet? This soulmate thing was supposed to be o' so rosy and beautiful, wasn't it? You are beyond mortified and the only thing saving you is that you've arrived at the bus stop.

However, the last bus is nowhere to be seen and your heart sinks into your chest as you turn around to face Jinyoung.

"I'm so sorry,” you focus your eyes on his nose. “I really thought I had that. Is there a way I can make it up to you?"

He waves away your apology with his hand. "It's no big deal. I mean it's not like either of us had it coming, plus you must have been terrified. That guy has one of the fastest pitches in the bracket. I was surprised I didn't walk out with a black eye."

"That bad?"

Jinyoung nods solemnly but the light in his eyes eases the elephant stomping on your chest. "Don't sweat it. Anyways," he takes a look around. "I don't think your bus is still here."

He is right. Just thinking about the ten-minute walk to your dorm is enough to put a damper on your mood. It sucks but it's what you get for being so absentminded all day. One good thing came from this though... and he was standing right in front you.

"Seems like I'll be walking. How about you? Are you heading straight?" Even though you want to continue talking to him [you feel like you could listen to his voice for forever], you know better than to push your luck with these things.

"Yeah. You?" He asks as he readjusts the strap of his Nike duffel bag on his shoulder. It looks ridiculously heavy and you wonder what's inside it.

Fate, you guess, is having a field day. You nod your head in agreement, allowing your hair cascade around your face in a bid to hide how giddy your feeling. The awkwardness is still there but something more is pushing it to the back of your mind until it lies dormant. You want to enjoy this feeling. The fact that Jinyoung hasn't gone running the opposite direction is enough faith to have you willing to test this whole soulmate thing out.

The two of you, without much words, fall into step next to each other on the way to your respective destinations. You play a game of kicking the stray stones on your path, playing footsie with yourself. You bite your lower lip, asking your inner gods for strength.

"So," you start a new conversation. "How long have you been playing baseball?"

"Since I was ten," Jinyoung replies as he raises his cap and runs a hand through his inky black hair. You're in awe at how chiseled his face looks. Beyond what you are expecting but you're not exactly complaining. "Twelve years." There's unabashed pride in his voice.

"Ooh," you clap your hands together in astonishment.

He takes a mock bow and you laugh at him. He's actually pretty cute now that you think about it. At first, you had been intimidated by how intense he looked at you but as the moments' tick on you're beginning to warm up to him or maybe he is warming up to you? Either way, you're finding it harder and harder to contain the heat seeping through your body and you're sure he can tell the effect he's having on you.

"How about you? Do you play any sports?"

You clear your throat. "Well, of course. I'm exceptionally skilled in the arts of procrastinating and crying about said procrastinated work when I accidentally miss a deadline. I'm self-taught and a professional."

Jinyoung's laughter lifts weights from your chest and frankly, you're surprised when he doubles over, clutching his sides. You like him already. Anyone that can put up with your lame jokes is a keeper in your books. You don't mean to compare but Nathan had never once cracked a smile at them. Okay so maybe you do want to compare, Nathan can suck it.

"Tell me more about this sport of yours," he says after he has regained his breath and his chest isn't threatening to explode.

"It usually ends in regret and soon after that I'll vouch to never procrastinate again but as expected, I never listen."

He chuckles lightly at that but lets the conversation die. This time the silence is comfortable and you don't feel the need to fill it with words. However, you do want to ask him for his phone number and maybe if you're daring enough, ask him to hang out tomorrow after your shift; to get to know him better. It's one thing finding your soulmate, it's another actually bonding with them. You wonder if he's thinking along the same lines as you are or if he's a go-with-the-flow kinda person.

Before you know it, you've arrived at the front steps of your dorm. Lone college students stream out of it, probably on their way to a frat party or maybe they enjoy the cool night air? Who knows. You turn your gaze back to Jinyoung, steeling your resolve. If you don't ask him now for his contact then when? Unless he drops by the cafe sometime later or if you indulge in perpetually jogging around the baseball's practice field in hopes of seeing him again, you doubt the universe is going to give you another chance.

"Do you mind if —" you begin just as Jinyoung says, "Should we exchange —"

Your lips lean upwards and you do nothing to stop the laughter bubbling up from your ribs. You motion for him to say his words first and you snort [internally] as you watch him fiddle with his mobile phone, nervous.

He clears his throat. "Should we, uh, exchange numbers or something? Only if you want though."

Instead of answering him directly, you reach into your back pocket and produce your mobile device and hand it to him. As he swaps his phone with yours, your fingers brush against each other and you swear you can feel your nerves expand and burst... if that's even possible.

The pair of you make quick work with inputting your data and you're about to hand him his phone back when you see him raise your phone to his eye-level and take a picture. Ah, profiles. You filter back to edit your contact and do the same. The lighting is bad and your hair is a mess but your smile is bright. Brighter than you imagined. And after fruitless attempts to rein it in, you hand Jinyoung his phone in optimistic silence.

He takes one glance at your saved contact before he stuffs his phone in his pocket. "You can call me whenever you want... Even if you don't have a reason to."

"Okay," you say. "You too. Maybe we can meet up sometime?"

"Sounds like a plan."

You're about to head up the steps and fly to your room when you finally remember that you haven't introduced yourself to him yet. You whip your head back and push a palm out. "I'm [y/n], by the way."

He gives you a lopsided smile that kind of melts your insides as he grabs your hand, his wrapping yours in its entirety.

"Jinyoung."

It feels like the two of you have created a pact. You're definitely attracted to him and to God you hope this soulmate system is actually something to swear by. But if the butterflies in your stomach are anything to go by, this — whatever it is — is something good. You manage to utter a goodbye before you're dashing up to your room, afraid to turn back because you know he'll be able to tell that you're three steps away from falling headfirst over him.

Althea and BamBam are the first things on your mind. Right now you just want to scream out in joy. And even though three is a crowd, three is also company. Company that you’re sure will lose their shit along with you by these turn of events.

You're almost in the safety of your room, already pulling open Snapchat when your phone chimes with a new message.

Park Jinyoung >-< » by the way, I got tongue tied earlier [10:42 pm]

Park Jinyoung >-< » but you are so very cute, my god [10:42 pm]

A/N: woo! i hope people like this and tell me what they think. thank you very much for reading!

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2017 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

[richiestoziers]

stay gold

summary: richie is desperate to win best couple costume at derry high’s halloween dance, and who better to go matching with than stanley uris.

warnings: um kissing, slightly sexual talk or notions??

read on ao3 here!

got messed up during posting sorry for any mistakes!!

it’s the derry high annual halloween dance and almost all of the school is there, usually everyone would be at the party at sally mueller’s house, but this year they put a curfew on halloween and they were strict. apparently there have been some threats of violence this halloween so cops are driving up and down the streets to catch anyone violating this curfew, and the only way to have a semblance of fun and not break the curfew was going to the school dance.

richie and his friends had never gone before, they usually stayed at bill’s and rented some scary movies, but this year they decided to go. it was mainly because bill’s parents had a party to go to themselves and they were afraid to leave the kids alone with these threats. they were all either seventeen or eighteen but the denbrough’s still saw them as children, and probably would until they graduated high school.

that was how they found themselves in this situation, scrambling for costumes to wear to the dance, and richie begging “someone please go matching with me!”

they all looked at him and shook their heads, knowing whatever richie wanted to wear would not be good for them.

“come on guys, they have a couples contest and i really want to win. please, please, please.” he got on his knees as they all hung out one day, his hands seemingly ready to pray as he begged his group.

“sorry richie, i already have a superman costume.” mike responded first, and richie almost offered to be lois lane until he realized that was already taken by the resident red head of the group.

“eddie and i are going to be batman and robin.” bill spoke next, leaving ben and stan for his two options to match with.

“i’m going as an olympic track player, which i don’t think would make much of a matching costume.” there goes ben, always representing the track team he was so proud to be apart of.

“stan, please tell me you don’t have anything.” richie turned, still on his knees, feeling the sting of the gravel rubbing into his knees as he made eye contact with stanley. “you’re my best friend, my love, the one person i want to match with. please, stan, do this for me and i’ll do anything for you.”

stan rolled his eyes in typical stan fashion, and put his hand out. “stand up, seeing you begging on your knees was fun at first but now it’s just pathetic.”

richie took his hand to help himself up, and wiped the pebbles that rammed their way into his knee. “are you sure it’s not cuz if you keep seeing me on my knees like that you’ll get hard?” there is richie, making crude comments that make stan blush.

“shut up, say shit like that and i won’t match with you.” stan looked down to his feet, trying to hide the blush from the lanky boy towering over him.

it was an unoffical offical thing that stanley uris was crushing on richie, he was butt-crazy in love with that boy. everyone in the losers club knew except for richie, he was somehow blind to stan’s obvious affections towards him, despite stan being so blatantly obvious with it.

“come on stanley, if you do me this favor i’ll owe you big time...whatever you want.” richie took stan’s hand in his as he said this, making stan look up to this big eyes made even bigger with those ridiculous glasses richie still wore (stan found it so cute). god, richie did not know what he was doing when he did this to stan. holding his smaller hands in richie’s larger harder ones, telling him these things that made stan want to faint and fall in his arms.

he thought he was crazy for falling for richie tozier, and he was right.

“fine, i’ll match with you, but i have to agree with the costume. i’m not wearing something ridiculous or embarrassing myself.” stan agreed, though he knew he would the minute richie asked.

richie let go of stan’s hands and missed stan’s face fall, a wide smile showing those big horse like teeth richie had that stan thought was cute for some reason. they were right when they called him bucky beaver as kids, except stan saw it as cute rather than an insult.

“great! come over to my house and we can plan it all out. we better win or i’m going to trash the school.” richie spoke, half serious.

“well i won’t be helping in trashing the school, you can get kicked out on your own.” stan rolled his eyes, using his typical richie centric sarcasm as a way to deflect his obvious crush on him.

“you’re supposed to be my partner in crime, stan, don’t bail on me so quickly.” richie feigned dejection, but stan was used to his fake over dramatics.

“beep beep, richie.” stan spoke, with a curled smile on his face that he desperately tried to hide, even more so when richie wrapped his arm around his shoulder as they walked with the group.

the group disperses until it’s just richie and stan, and stan is shy and scared but trying not to show it. him and richie always hang out alone, but every time stan feels his heart beating frantically and thinks he’s gonna faint, and he always has to hide it from richie so he doesn’t suspect anything.

stan is convinced he has no chance with richie, it’s all apart of his self loathing that has haunted him for years and years.

but he climbs in richie’s truck anyway, always struggling since it’s so high off the ground and stan hasn’t grown since eighth grade when he hit 5′7″, versus richie who seems to never stop growing. he’s a beanstalk, and stan is jack because boy does he want to climb up that.

he shouldn’t think such things, so he keeps his eyes on the road rather than look at richie and think thoughts that will leave him red in the face and his hands all clammy.

“you okay, stan?” richie questions as he drives them back to his house, used to stan being quiet but not when it was just them two.

stan and richie had been best friends since richie was one and stan was born (richie was a year older), and even as children they knew they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

and so far they had, they were still best friends to this day, and even though they were close with the other losers when it came down to it it would always be stan and richie. just how they liked it.

“fine, just a bit tired.” stan turned to look at richie as he spoke, a smile on his face reassuring richie, and richie swore he almost got in an accident at the sight. looking at stan like that, leaned against the seat, curls unruly and his big brown eyes looking up at richie, and his thin pink lips spread out into a smile.

richie would never tell anyone, but he thought his best friend was gorgeous.

so he had to turn away, look back on the road before he swerved to the side and killed them both, because stan was like the sun. he was like the sun because he was beautiful and warm and everything he wanted, but he couldn’t look too long or he’d lose himself in it.

it’s a good thing they weren’t too far from richie’s house, making it quickly over. “here we are.”

parking in his usual spot the two boys jumped out of the truck, making their way to richie’s door as he unlocked it for them. all the lights were off indicating that they were alone in the house for the time being, which both excited stan and made him nervous.

“come on, let’s go up to my room and plan our award winning couple costume.” hearing it referred to a couple costume made stan almost swoon, but he followed richie up the stairs and into his bedroom none the less.

“so what were you thinking of?” stan asked richie, making himself comfortable on richie’s bed, finding the one clean spot on it and in his room to sit on.

“i don’t know, maybe some brokeback mountain.” richie winked at stan, teasing him and taking a seat on the rolling chair at his desk.

“so just a cowboy costume? not very distinguishable.” stan tried to play it off cool, especially since brokeback mountain was one of his favorite movies.

“all jokes, but i don’t know. batman and robin are already taken, and i wanna look good so no tweedle dee and tweedle dum or shit like that. we’ve gotta look hot, hot hot.” richie sang the last words, and since they were in private stan felt no need to deliver a snarky comment.

“well i honestly have no idea. we could be spongebob and patrick?” he offered up, but felt dumb immediately.

“did you not hear me say i want to look hot, and a sponge and a starfish aren’t exactly that. let me get my creative juices flowing, i always have been the smart one of us.” richie teased, getting a smack from stan which interrupted him rubbing his temple in hopes of an idea. “hey! watch it! i’m trying to think here!”

stan could only smile, loving how silly the boy in front of him was.

“greasers! like a grease meets the outsiders type thing, we could be ponyboy and johnny or some shit like that. come on, hair all greased back, cool sunglasses and leather jackets. we’ll pull some honeys and win the contest with our charming good looks.” richie got out of his chair as he said this, making ridiculous poses stan thought was his attempt at being a ‘greaser’.

“fine, not like i have any other ideas.” not to mention he wouldn’t mind seeing richie in that, and it was a pretty simple costume to get together.

“better not half ass this or bail out on me, stanley, i really want to win.” richie spoke with a pointed finger, and stan doubted they would win but did it anyway.

“promise, now i’ve got to get home and do some homework. i’ll see you later though.” stan got off the bed and walked through the mess that was richie tozier’s room to his door.

“wait, i can drive you.” richie offered, quickly getting up from his seat.

“thanks, but i can walk.” stan smiled at him, not wanting richie to go through the trouble of driving him home.

“are you sure? it’s no problem, really.” richie asked, leaning against his doorway, pale skin and pink lips in a goofy grin. it was going to drive stan crazy.

“i’m sure, thanks anyway.” stan smiled one last time, making his way down the stairs and to the door. “bye, richie!”

“bye, stan!” richie screamed back, smiling as he looked at stan walk out the door and into his heart.

he was just as madly in love with stan as stan was with him.

so they go to the dance, separately in the end and both are excited to see the others costume.

richie has his hair greased up but not greased back, it’s still down and if it wasn’t so greasey it would look good. he has sunglasses on over his contact which he rarely wears, and a leather jacket over a worn out mickey mouse shirt and ripped jeans. all together and all on him, it really works.

and he’s talking with bill and waiting for stan, and when he walks in he almost drops his spiked punch because stan looks hot. his curls are greased back so you wouldn’t even think curls are under there, and it makes you focus more on his face which is absolutely gorgeous. he’s in all black, a look richie has never seen him in, but he secretly loves. he loves seeing him in a black shirt and leather jacket and black skinny jeans that make richie’s jeans feel tight too.

“stan the man, looking good. i haven’t seen your hair like that since your bar mitzvah, and you looked hot then and you look hot now.” richie says as he greets him, putting his arm around the shorter boy to make sure everyone knows they were matching.

“you guys have to sign up to be apart of the couples contest, you know that right? none of us did so you guys could actually have a chance.” bill teased, and richie made a mocking face in response.

“let’s go, stanley my man, we still gotta win this thing.” richie leads stan to the booth with the entries, and stan’s heart is racing at the sight of richie and that his arm was still around him.

tonight was the best night of his life, or at least he hoped so.

richie only lets go of his grip on stan to sign them up in the almost empty bin, making him realize almost nobody cared about this shit, but he was still dead set on winning.

writing down in his chicken scratch handwriting richie tozier and stanley uris he quickly enters it and grabs stan’s hand, that big smile on his face and asking. “come dance with me?”

stan doesn’t even have to speak, just nod his head and give him a lovestruck smile as they go to the dancefloor. they dance to some trashy top 40 hit that they can barely hear the lyrics too, but they jump around and richie is a horrible dancer making stan laugh until his stomach hurts (richie loves the sight of it).

stan swore richie was starting to dance worse just to keep him laughing.

stan was right, richie was doing that, because he loved getting stan to laugh and he loved seeing him laugh and he loved him.

isn’t it funny how two people can be so crazy in love with each other but not tell the other?

it must be a high school type of thing, or at least that’s how they imagined it.

“are you having fun?” richie screams to stan over the music, his dancing all over the place making his hair go crazy.

stan moves closer so they can talk, screaming in response. “yeah, more than i thought i would!” stan was never a school dance, homecoming game type of guy. the only reason he ever went to games was for mike since he was on the team, but he was bored and cold throughout it all.

“good, i can’t have it getting around that my date is bored.” richie screams back, and stan’s dancing falters a bit before he gets back into the rhythm.

“date?” he questions, unable to ask anymore.

“well, not a date but...you know. we’re a couples costume, you’re kind of my date.” richie gives an unsure smile to stan, and stan doesn’t understand what he means but nods anyway.

they dance until they’re tired and sweaty and they both agree they need something to drink, and while richie gets some of the juice spiked with vodka stan sticks with the clean water in the cooler to the side.

“hey guys, you look great.” coming from superman, or rather mike, it was a great compliment.

“thanks, mikey, you look great. where’s lois?” richie asks, looking mike up and down, his costume is great.

“with ben, of course.” even though they were matching they were nothing more than friends, beverly’s heart belonged to ben hanscom.

the two followed mike back to the table claimed by the losers, all of them sitting their either talking or eating the halloween themed snacks.

“they’re going to announce the winners soon, shut up!” beverly tells them when they get too loud, and stan and richie are squeezing each others hands in hopes that they win.

up on stage is some girl in the grade below them, and richie is blanking on her name because he’s so excited he hopes he wins. “and the winner of this halloweens couple contest is...eddie corcoran and betty ripsom!”

feeling dejected and disappointed as he watches the winners in a ketchup and mustard costume go up on stage, he’s sad and pretending to be mad because that’s what they all expect. “this is bullshit, come on stan, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” he grabs stan’s hand and drags him out, and the losers know he isn’t really mad and let them be.

“richie? are you okay?” stan questions as they walk through the empty hallways and out to the parking lot.

“yeah, but our costumes were so much better than that shit.” his lanky arms flail around as she speaks.

“you’re not actually mad, are you?” stan questions, unsure.

richie smiles and laughs as he unlocks his truck, ready for them both to go in. “no, but i’m still going to destroy the school since they stole my claim to fame from me.”

stan shakes his head and gets in richie’s death trap of a truck, looking at richie and wishing they won for his sake.

“i’m sorry.” stan says, and he’s doing it again. he’s leaning against the seat and looking so precious that richie wonders how he is still resisting himself.

“stan, it’s fine. i had fun, and i hope you did too.” god, he’s starting to treat this like a date.

stan nodded, giving him a genuine smile. “i did...i always have fun with you richie.”

richie takes off his sunglasses and gives stan that look, that look of tenderness and loving and stan’s lips open a bit at the sight, because he is so in love with his best friend and he just can’t resist...

so he doesn’t.

he leans in, hypnotized by richie’s plump pink lips and big brown eyes, and their lips are pressed against each other. it’s soft, barely a peck, but it’s something and stan pulls away because he’s so shocked by what he did.

he looks at richie with terror in his eyes, worried that he ruined everything he had, but as he looks richie’s eyes are still closed and his lips are so kissable and stan is under his trance so he goes in for more.

this time it’s a real kiss, and richie cups stan’s cheek and stan grabs richie’s shoulder and kisses him the way he always wanted to. he kisses him like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss him, he kisses him like he does in his dreams.

they finally pull away with their foreheads still together and their arms still all over each other, and they look into each others brown eyes and smile.

“i guess this technically was a date.” richie speaks first, his smirk making stan’s smile grow wider.

“good, i was hoping it was.” stan responds, and he doesn’t think he’s ever smiled bigger than he is right now.

and they were right when they said they would spend the rest of their lives together, because that’s what you do when the person you love loves you back.

@wyattghouleff

[airshipcity]

for HC post: Harry potter, aph norway, legolas?, (from haikyuu) hinata, nishinoya,suga, bokuto, oikawa, yamaguchi (hopefully you don't mind so many ahhhh )

:OOO dw i don’t mind!!! i’m putting them under a cut to save my poor followers’ dashes tho 

harry 

A - when he finds out how easy it is for him to get wizarding clothes that are actually fitted for him and sit right on his body, as opposed to dudley’s leftover clothes, he never wants to go back and hermione helps him get all kinds of nice, casual clothes, both muggle clothes and robes 

B - no matter how much harry loves the wizarding world and how different it is from his old life, harry and hermione still smuggle regular ballpoint pens into hogwarts because they can’t always be arsed to go buy more quills and inkwells just to finish their homework on time 

C - it takes harry forever to actually nail apparating, primarily because he just has so many shitty memories and experiences with apparating and portkeys and floo powder and all sorts of magical non-broom transport 

D - harry tries working as an auror for a while, but eventually decides to start a career as dada teacher at hogwarts, to the relief of all the people in his life tired of him still getting into life-threatening situations on a regular basis 

aph norway 

A - he owns like, eight different coffee machines. even though he primarily drinks black coffee. you never know what your next houseguest might want so he has Everything 

B - he also has two drawers full of ties, because the other nordics keep giving him ties for birthdays and christmas etc. a lot of them are joke gifts and he has at least twelve different christmas ties that play songs and/or light up 

C - he genuinely tries to keep up with all the new icelandic words for technology stuff and trends and all that stuff?? partly because it’s interesting, and partly because he feels like he’ll fall behind and lose touch with iceland if he doesn’t, like if he doesn’t pay attention icelandic will just stop sounding familiar 

D - he knows every single norwegian dialect. even the dumb made-up ones and the ones that hardly sound norwegian at all. he also speaks fluent swedish and danish, but refuses to speak either in the presence of sweden or denmark, 100% because they want him to. (he might switch over to a random obscure norwegian dialect just to mess with them, though) 

legolas 

A - legolas can use swords, but he’s fully aware he’s not nearly as impressive with a sword as with a bow or a knife or a pair of daggers, and is juuust petty enough that he’ll only use a sword if he really has to 

B - he’s a horrible, horrible actor. too emotional and takes all the fake arguing personally. breaks character and storms out in a huff. terrible at lying and pretending unless it’s to temporarily get a playful rise out of someone, and even then he’d prefer being honest and smug about it 

C - will stubbornly pretend he’s not hurt until he’s literally falling over from the pain, absolute shit at laying down and letting people take care of him if he can help it 

D - you know the “how to talk to short people” graphic??? he exhausts every possible Wrong option at every opportunity and every dwarf in middle earth has him on their personal shit list because of it. with halflings he just kinda crouches all the way down like he’s about to pet a cat and they just kinda endure it at this point because fuck it at least this way they get to look non-hobbits in the eye while talking for once 

hinata shoyo 

A - hinata will train and practice with like, absolutely anyone. some middle school kids sees him practicing and asks to join? hell yeah. old grandpa wants to throw for the kid a few times to feel young again? hit it gramps! some asshole in class lobs a ball of paper at him from across the room? hinata’s already spiking it and hollering a cheery “thanks” 

B - even though he’s plenty capable of jumping super high himself, he’ll never really get tired of riding on someone else’s shoulders. he likes the view and he’d like to enjoy it for longer than a split second sometimes, thank you very much 

C - occasionally, he trains and practices until his hands and feet are bleeding. sometimes he shows up with bandaids and sports tape around his ankles or knuckles and while it’d be easy to make jokes about hinata getting into fights with kageyama or the other teams, all the third years + tanaka are very aware of what’s happening and insist that hinata has them on speedcall, just in case something really horrible happens while hinata’s practicing alone late at night again 

D - hinata does parkour and no one gets to tell me otherwise. it’s just facts 

nishinoya 

A - on the team, his appetite is only second to hinata’s. no one has a clue where all that food goes. asahi is constantly terrified of their power level 

B - noya and hinata have an act where they balance on each other inside a massive trenchcoat they borrow from the drama club, which they use during training camps and stuff to entertain the other players - usually by imitating all the tallest people present, and some that aren’t there. their ushiwaka’s a crowd favourite, and whenever seijou is present for the act, oikawa immediately requests they do him (followed by iwa who usually follows up with “yeah and then do oikawa next” to zero protest from anyone but oikawa) 

C - man i don’t have a lot of sad headcanons for noya??? but: part of him kind of wishes hinata would consider taking over as libero. not because he’s short or because he’s fast, all those things help but ultimately he sees a vast potential in hinata that he thinks would make for a great libero if hinata wanted to give it a try. he respects that hinata wants to be a good middle blocker and even an ace, and thinks it’s a super cool and ambitious goal that hinata might actually achieve, but hinata understands what being a libero truly means at the core, probably moreso than anyone else in karasuno, and noya’s sad to see that possibility already gone 

D - noya is suuuper affectionate when people let him be. he’ll happily give out hugs and smooch cheeks and play with people’s hair and lay on their laps like a cat in the sun, as long as he’s certain the other person is comfortable with it 

suga 

A - suga does bunny ears on people in photos like, all the time. most pictures with suga standing next to someone will have to be retaken 

B - suga has a surprisingly strong competitive streak, and loves challenges set by his kohais. he wins most of them, sometimes just because he’d rather push himself to the limit and be pleasantly smug about “still got it” than have his juniors laugh at him and calling him old 

C - you’d think asahi would be the one that gets sick the most often and that suga’s the team mom who always has to take care of all the sick team members, but suga’s usually the first to catch anything that’s going around, and the flu just knocks him completely out for a full week. he kinda hates it, especially missing training and matches and having people worry about him and not being able to rely on him for being there for an important match because he could well be sick for it, but he doesn’t like talking about it, so he just grumbles and lets the others help so he can get back on his feet, only to huff at them about how they shouldn’t put themselves at risk of catching it from him. daichi fondly tells him to shut up and then sneezes. suga yells even louder 

D - suga used to be an avid reader, but hasn’t had much time to sit down with books since he started doing volleyball, so he listens to a lot of audiobooks when he can 

bokuto 

A - bokuto is 100% a dog person, he’s especially great with big dog breeds but he loves them all and sometimes volunteers at kennels when he has extra time 

B - the fukurodani drama club has been trying to recruit bokuto for years, and go to all their volleyball matches just bc bokuto’s dramatic everything is 1) entertaining and 2) gives them a lot of inspiration for their own activities and roles. bokuto’s heart is with the ball but he still shows up to just about all of the drama club’s shows in return, clapping and cheering loudly (which helps with the drama club members’ nerves because none of them are gonna look sillier than bokuto even if they trip up) 

C - bokuto has a heart condition, and everyone on the fukurodani team is aware of it, but he persistently doesn’t talk about it and none of them ever bring it up, unless something really, really serious happens. akaashi nearly falls over himself whenever it looks like something’s wrong with bokuto but he usually manages to keep his cool 

D - bokuto sings in the shower, especially communal showers, loudly and badly. he’s actually much better at singing when he wants to but where’s the fun in that when he can joke around instead (also if the drama club finds out he’s actually good at singing they’ll never let go) 

oikawa 

A - oikawa is the undisputed king of movie nerds at aoba johsai, but he’s kind of a snob about it, with thorough lists of what movies he thinks are Good and which ones he’ll grimace at you at for even acknowledging out loud 

B - oikawa just really really cannot swim. he’s so bad at it, it’s barely even funny. he can sort of dog paddle, but that’s it. everyone else at seijoh swims circles around him. 

C - he’s a massive hypocrite when it comes to food and nutrition, and pays fairly close attention to his team to make sure they eat as much as they need and the right kinds of foods, while simultaneously eating like, one (1) banana for breakfast because he didn’t take the time to prepare anything the night before and was in a rush. fortunately iwaizumi gets on his case about it constantly and usually packs extra food to make sure tohru eats, but he has collapsed mid-practice at least once because he just straight up forgot to eat properly for two days straight 

D - he has like, an entire wall in his room dedicated to his team and his family and the people he gives a shit about. dumb pictures, newspaper cutouts, heart-shaped post-it notes with quotes, little neatly scrawled notes about their favourite foods and how they like their tosses and specific weaknesses of the various other teams, all that junk. it’s  kind of a huge mess but he loves looking at it 

yamaguchi 

A - yamaguchi is such an all-over nerd that he sometimes forgets he plays an actual sport. he shows up to every practice and trains his jump-float serve all the time and yet he somehow keeps catching himself thinking jocks are the furthest thing from him and tsukki 

B - yamaguchi has, hands down, the neatest handwriting of the whole karasuno team. even neater than kiyoko, yachi, or tsukki, which is incredibly impressive. he doesn’t even realize it. 

C - he’s great at doing chores and household stuff, but that’s mainly because he’s always had to do these things and learnt at a very young age. as a result, he feels constantly responsible for everything, including the happiness of people around him and making sure everything is as good as it can be, which is hard sometimes. especially with tsukishima, who doesn’t always communicate properly whether something’s wrong or if everything’s okay or if he needs anything, so yamaguchi often feels like he’s not doing enough 

D - yachi and yamaguchi chat a lot when they have the time, so they both bring powerbanks and phone chargers everywhere because their line apps never get any rest. sometimes yamaguchi accidentally sends something to tsukki instead of yachi and tsukishima’s response is always some variation on “what the hell are you guys even talking about, how is this possibly related to anything” and yamaguchi just “oh whoops sorry, it makes sense in context okay”. tsukishima genuinely wonders if they just send him weird pictures and shit just to mess with him. sometimes he’s actually right 

[spine-buster]

Chapter 7 - The Beginning and the End of Everything (Finn Balor)

Fergal only thought about how Gemma would get to his flat once he heard her knock at the door.  Like it had been doing a lot recently, his mind went on overdrive when he knew he would be near her or with her in some capacity.  He didn’t know why.  Despite their kind of heart-to-heart earlier in the week at the coffee shop, he still couldn’t help but watch what he said around her most of the time.  He liked to think that she wouldn’t blow up on him now – now that she knew he was on her side and ready to listen to her, support her.  But like most things concerning Gemma, he wasn’t so sure.  He could never say he was 100% positive she would or would not do something.

She was about ten minutes late from the agreed upon time, but he wasn’t mad since he was an idiot and didn’t offer to pick her up.  Her Uber was probably late.  Hell, she probably got into a fight with the driver because he had tried to help her and she kept refusing.  

When he finally opened the door he was greeted with Gemma and her crutch.  There was no attempt to dress up on her part – she was wearing a pair of workout tights, a light oversized sweater, and a dark denim jacket.  Not that he thought she would – this wasn’t a date, after all.  He smiled at her and let her wobble into the apartment.    “How are you?” he asked politely, taking her jean jacket and hanging it on his coat rack.  He noticed a small red maple leaf patch sewn underneath the collar, the number 23 in black in the centre of the leaf.  

“I’ve been okay,” she said softly, shrugging her shoulders.  “I’ve had better days.  You know how it is.”

Fergal was able to get a good look at her, now that he had hung up her coat, and noticed that her eyes were red.  Her face wasn’t wet, but her eyes were definitely red; rubbed aggressively by the back of her hand to rid the evidence of her tears, he thought.   It was obvious she was lying, at least somewhat.  “Were you crying?”

She nodded her head.  He hoped she’d explain why without him having to ask, but of course, she stayed silent.  He should have known better than to think she’d explain something without persistence on his part.  “Why?” he asked.  

Gemma shrugged her shoulders again.  Fergal was beginning to think it was her go-to answer for everything.  “Cause I’m an wreck who can’t keep her emotions in check?” she asked rhetorically, attempting a joke.  Fergal clearly didn’t find it funny, not laughing at all and not picking up on her sarcasm.  She sighed, knowing she’d have to explain.  “I’ve been crying a lot since I got injured.  My emotions have been an epic shit-storm.”

Fergal nodded his head, trying to understand.  “Yeah, me too.”

“Not as bad as mine, I bet,” she said, her eyes darting around the room.  “You have a nice place.”

“Thanks,” he said politely, absentmindedly.  He was still stuck on the crying part.  He didn’t appreciate her trying to change the subject, especially when he was trying to talk to her.  “Seriously, are you sure nothing else is wrong?”

“Positive,” she said, a lot more convincingly this time.  He gave her a look, and she noticed.  “Honest to God, Fergal.  My emotions are just all over the place.  Like I said at the coffee shop…I just want to be playing hockey.  I hate that I’m not right now.”

“You will be, eventually.  Just like I’ll be wrestling again,” he tried to offer some words of encouragement.  

“Yeah, well…” she shrugged her shoulders again.  It was obvious she didn’t believe him and was brushing him off.  “What are we having for dinner?”

It was obvious to him that she didn’t want to talk about it; that she had tried to cover up the fact that she was crying in the first place before she got to his apartment.  Nevermind the Uber theory from earlier.  “There’s this place that does amazing gourmet thin-crust pizza,” he said, digressing to the fact that she didn’t want to discuss why she was crying anymore.  He knew if they were going to have any semblance of a good night he should stop trying to bring it up.  “You in?”

“Damn right I am.”

Once the pizzas were ordered, Fergal invited her to sit on his couch while he prepared drinks for them; he swayed her out of a boring request of water and convinced her to have a bottle of a craft Irish cider his parents literally smuggled in through their suitcases when they were in town for SummerSlam.  Upon taking a sip and announcing she really liked it, Fergal smiled proudly and joined her on the couch, flipping on the TV but turning down the volume, just so it could be background noise.  

They settled into casual conversation, mostly about their families.  Fergal told Gemma about his brothers and sisters, how he was the second oldest, and about his new sisters-in-laws and brother-in-law he considered family now, too.  He spoke glowingly about his little nieces and nephew, how Eoin’s daughter looked exactly like him, and how his parents were enjoying their new role as grandparents.  

Gemma was surprisingly more open than usual, and he enjoyed her this way.  When she spoke of her family, a constant smile was tugging on her lips.  She spoke of her Arab mom, Nabilah, from Lebanon, and her dad, James, a Canadian now for generations but whose family originally came from Ireland.  She had no siblings to speak of but she spoke about a family trip to Ireland when she was a preteen to visit her Dad’s extended family.  She also spoke at length about Jane, her best friend.  Jane, who had a path quite similar to hers – young female hockey player, scouted at a young age, made a name for herself independently with her skill, without the help of shady ‘agents’, and definitely without the help of hockey reporters who only wanted to focus on the boys.  The fact that they had both made it onto Team Canada was their dream come true; the result of years of hard work, playing just like the boys – hell, even fucking better than the boys.  

Fergal was having a great time, and he hoped at the end of the night he could say the same for Gemma.  When the pizza came, they exchanged one slice each before digging in, focusing their attention to the TV, a re-run of a network sitcom keeping them entertained.   During commercials, they kept their conversation going, funny stories about their families making them laugh.  Fergal told Gemma about the time his little brother hit him in the forehead with a golf club, causing a permanent scar; Gemma told Fergal about how she was once responsible for her father’s black eye = they were practicing slap shots and he was the goalie, of course.  The next day, he had a slew of meetings at work and it was quite the talk around the office.

The only real hiccup in their conversation was when Fergal offered Gemma another beer.  Instead of accepting another one, she shook her head vigorously.  “I really should just stick with water,” she waved him off.

“Come on, live a little,” he joked.

“Nah, I can’t.  Besides the fact that too much alcohol might mess with any painkillers I might need to take, beer won’t do my body well,” Gemma said.

“Oh come on, Gemma,” Fergal laughed, thinking she was joking.  

“I’m being serious!” she said, a little more harshly than Fergal anticipated.  “Not everybody can have Adonis abs like you do.”

Fergal cocked his eyebrow.  “You mean the abs I kill myself in CrossFit for,” he offered.

“I mean the abs I don’t have and won’t have for at least a year since I can’t work out like I usually do,” she clarified.  “Seriously, I can’t slack too much, especially since I need to get back into even better shape than I was in before when I starts to play hockey again.”

Like most conversations he had with her, he digressed and gave in.  There was no use fighting with her.  She was set in her ways, and in her beliefs, and, well, who was he to make her deviate from them?  “Alright, fine…you have a point,” Fergal smiled slightly.  “I wouldn’t want my abs disappearing on me after the shit I put myself through just to get them.” 

“See,” Gemma nodded slightly, “you’re on the dark side now.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna regret eating that pizza.”

Gemma snorted.  “Yeah, me neither.”

When the night winded down and Fergal could tell Gemma was tired from the day and wanted to go home, he offered to drive her back to her place, which she accepted.  They hopped into his car and he drove through the streets slowly.  

“I’m going to show up to the NXT tapings in about two weeks,” he said as his foot barely touched the gas pedal.  He noticed Gemma look over at him.  “NXT is like the wrestling developmental system – well, at least in the WWE, in Japan they have these things called dojos where you train --”

“I know what a dojo is,” Gemma interrupted him.

“Right, of course you do,” Fergal said, shaking his head at himself for being such an idiot.  “Anyway, I’m going there in about two weeks, because they’re going to be taping NXT shows.  Do you want to come with me to see it?”

He could tell Gemma was taken aback by the proposition, though she tried to hide it.  She ceased looking at him and began to look out the window, like she always seemed to do in times where she was unsure, or just didn’t want to talk.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, her voice soft again, like when she first got to his apartment and had been crying.

“Why not?”

“I don’t…I just don’t feel like being around athletes right now,” she revealed. “You’re hanging out with me,” Fergal challenged.

She snapped her head towards him, her eyebrows furrowed.  “You’re not wrestling every time I see you,” she countered.  “You’re injured just like I am.”

“What’s the difference?”

She sighed, crossing her arms across her chest.  “I don’t get to see how great of an athlete you are while I sit on my ass literally incapable of doing anything,” she grumbled, looking out the window again.  “I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to go.”

“Well, alright,” Fergal gave in, knowing he hit another sore spot with her.  “Just thought I’d ask is all.”

Despite his slowed pace, he reached her apartment quickly, pulling up at the curb like he usually did when he picked her up and dropped her off.  She hadn’t said another word to him since she told him she didn’t want to go to NXT with her.  He knew she was upset, and he had only himself to blame.  He put his car in park and shifted so that his body was facing hers a bit more than usual.   He noticed that she wasn’t looking out the window; instead she was just looking straight in front of her, obviously contemplating something in her head.  “You alright?” he asked.  He felt like that was all he ever asked her.

She looked over at him.  “Why do you want to hang out with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…like…it’s obvious I’m not easy to deal with right now.  I’m a mess, I cry about 75% of the day…I’m a hormonal and miserable bitch,” she said.

“So?”

“So?  You invite me over for dinner, you want me to go to NXT with you.  Why do you want to hang out with me?” she repeated her original question.

Fergal shrugged his shoulders.  He wasn’t exactly sure, either.  She was hormonal, she was miserable.  But there was something more to her, and he knew it was there because he saw it in that video of her Golden Goal.  It sounded stupid, but it revealed a lot to him – a lot she didn’t know.  A lot that he couldn’t see in her now, but he knew he would see in her in the future.   But how could he say all of that out loud?  There was no way.  So he resorted to shrugging his shoulders and stating what he wanted to say in its simplest terms.  “Because I like you.”

Gemma looked at him like he had five heads.  “You like me?”

“Well, yeah,” he said.  She kept giving him the same look and that made him know he needed to clarify his comments.  “I mean I don’t write Mrs. Fitzgerald-Devitt on notebooks or anything but despite your mood swings, I like you and I like being around you.  You’re only miserable because you’re not doing what you love right now.”

Gemma couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  Somebody liking her, wanting to be her friend at the absolute lowest part of her life was something she didn’t think was possible.  She wasn’t sure what to say.  “Uh…thanks.”

Fergal nodded his head in acknowledgement.  “So if you don’t want to come to NXT with me, do you at least want to get dinner again?  Maybe sometime next week?”

He felt like he was waiting a lifetime for her response.  In Gemma’s defense, she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Fergal enjoyed her company.  He tried to control the smile threatening to take over his face when she finally answered with “Yeah…okay.”

[adventurgal]

Marching Band AU

Part 1 out of 2

I mentioned this au in a chat and people were really enthusiastic about it! I was already compiling ideas for it, but I really wanted to share this! This is really long, so I’ll put the rest of it under the cut.

I’ll start with the Esper Squad.

Mob. Mobs in the color guard!

He wanted to play an instrument, but he just doesn't have the stamina to blow into something and march across a field at the same time.

What is that something??? I’m not sure yet. I was thinking a clarinet. He seems like a clarinet-ey kinda guy.

He plays the clarinet during concert band. He's actually not that bad!

He joins band because he was amazed by how much went into putting a show together! He thought it was cool, and felt that it would be a great use of his time. Tsubomi was a motivator too, she’s also in the color guard.

He's not that great at marching. At first, he's always off tempo and starts off with the wrong foot. After a year or so, he gets better at staying in form and not sticking out.

He’s surprisingly good at remembering his flag movements. He spaces out a lot during practice so it surprises everyone because he keeps to himself.

Carrying around heavy ass flags and batons isn't easy for him. He’s usually so sore after practice that he can't lift his arms

Note: I’ve only ever only held a flag like, once. I remember it being heavy, though I have no upper arm strength so who knows how heavy those things actually are. They look heavy...

Hes passed out on the field during practice before. Luckily it hasn't happened during a performance

All of his fellow guard members know he's the weakest link, but he tries so hard. They're proud of him and acknowledge how hard he's working!

Ritsu. He’s a flute/piccolo.

I might change this, but yeah. Ritsus in the flute section. (Self projecting? Oh, I'd never do that~)

His first year of band, he plays the flute during marching season. The next year he’s promoted to piccolo, and becomes a section leader.

He’s pretty good at playing the flute. He’s technically good at playing the piccolo too, but piccolos sound like shit. He manages to not make everyone's eardrums bleed, though.

He joins band because of Mob. He thought it was cool and wanted to be like his big bro

He has pretty good stamina. Impeccable posture. Almost perfect attendance. Always in tune. He's a model band student.

He always has his music memorized, always has his dot sheet. He’s always on point and makes sure that the rest of his section is too

He doesn't really talk so he doesn't get yelled at or told to stay focused

He helps out the other sections too. If they need instrument assistance, he’ll help them. He has extra reeds, valve oil~

Why the fuck does he have all of that stuff with him. Like, he just pulls it out of his pockets

He helps Shou the pit load their truck too. They could always use extra help

He gets really heated during competitions. If someone's goofing off, he’s the first to tell them be serious

Despite being a model student, he contemplates quitting band because he only joined because of Mob. School and such gets in the way too. After a while, he decides to stay, because he notices how much fun he has on the field! He starts to mellow out a bit once Shou joins too.

Shou. My precious fire child. He's a percussionist!

I’ve always imagined him being a percussionist. I don't know why, But he just seems like he’d play the drums.

I might flesh this aspect of the au out a bit more at some point? But Shou is a transfer student. He transfers into Mob and Ritz’s school (which is still Salt Mid. Or maybe Salt High? I’m not sure yet.) He transfers to Salt Mid. during Ritsus first marching season.

His first year, he's in the pit. (Which is the front ensemble. At my high school, we called it the pit.) He really wants to be in the drumline, and he begs Serizawa (Who I’m going to get to in a bit, along with Reigen and Dimple don’t worry,) to promote him. Seri says no, because he’s new to the marching scene.

He has a ton of fun playing so many instruments. The marimba, bells; The gong is his favorite. Especially during competitions. He loves the rush of adrenaline he gets when he hits it.

He practices a lot after school and outside of practice. He’s very passionate about what he’s doing.

Surprisingly, he’s the most composed when he’s practicing alone. He’s actually focused. He doesn't stay focused during practice.

 He’s always pulling a prank on someone, flirting messing with Ritsu, trying to piss off Reigen… He still manages to have any new material memorized by the end of practice some how.

He just,, YELLS at Ritz from across the field. He just wants to talk to him, he doesn't care if he’s annoying people.

It’s very rare that he’s close to him during practice. During their breaks, Ritsu usually scolds Shou for bothering him. Then they canoodle.

His second year of marching, he’s finally in the drumline. He's a tenor!

His lackeys are the rest of the drumline.

He breaks sticks all of the time. Not because he's playing too hard or something, but because he’s always twirling them when he’s not playing.

This drives Serizawa absolutely insane, but he’d never show that to Shou

He likes to throw them at Reigen when he’s distracted

Teru. He’s also in the color guard!

He’s not attending the same school as the rest of the squad. He still attends Black Vinegar.

Shou originally went to B.V, so he knows Teru. (I might change this) Teru meets Mob and Ritsu through Shou because of this

At first, he’s very competitive against Salt Mids guard, but once he gets to know everyone he chills out a bit and starts to root for them

He is B.Vinegars guard captain

He was originally a saxophone, but switched to guard because he thought everyone looked cool

He’s really good at playing the sax. He’s a bari sax! He also plays the clarinet, the trumpet; he's dabbled with every instrument there is in his school's band

He’s also a model band student, much like Ritsu

He has so much fun on the field and he’s very enthusiastic about marching in general

He has little spirit days with the rest of his section. Like, they’ll have pink day, they have to wear pink to practice. *wink wonk*

He doesn't get to hang with the rest of the squad that much because of his school, but at competitions, they hang and wait for their results together

Reigen. He’s a part of this too!

He's the boss of the field staff. He’s the one who puts each formation together and writes the show

He’s really enthusiastic. Everyone laughs at him because he’s just. All over the place, always

He’s a jack of all trades. When he helps out each section he knows what the fuck he’s talking about

I could see him being a brass player, maybe he was a trumpet or maybe even a mellophone when he was in school

But, yeah. He’s well versed in everything. If Mobs having trouble with his hand work, he’ll grab his flag and show him how to do whatever it is he has to do

It’s the same with Ritsu. If he's having a hard time with a set, Reigen will march it for him to see what the problem is

This annoys the fuck out of Ritsu

He’s so proud of Mob. Once Mob showed interest in marching he started showing him videos of his own shows when he was still in school. Once Mob told him he actually joined, he started crying

He gets so pumped up during competitions holy shit

If the band has a really powerful hit, he’s yelling at the top of his lungs! He’s so proud of the kiddos!

If he feels that the band wasn't scored correctly during results, he’ll go and try to fight the judges

Serizawa has stopped him from doing this wayyyy too many times

Dimple encourages him to fight the judges

The last competition of the season, he starts crying during the last note. They’ve come so far. He’s so proud ;O;

Serizawa. He’s also a percussionist!

He directs the pit and the drumline too, sometimes

He was reluctant to help out with the band, but once he saw how passionate the kids were he wanted to be a part of the magic

Once Shou joins the pit he’s so happy oh god

He’s just really proud of the kid and happy that he's found a less destructive outlet to let out his energy

He’s way more… open. During practice. He likes making music and is very happy to see children just as enthusiastic about it like how he was when he was still in school.

He gets really nervous during competitions. Everyone does, but he usually needs to step away after the band performs to compose himself

He’s always doting over his section. He brings snacks and extra blankets for when it starts to get colder during practices

Dimple. He’s also there.

I’m not really sure what his role is yet? He’s kind of just there. He helps Reigen and Seri whenever they need it though.

He helps the pit load their truck for competitions. He’s usually the one to drive it too

This isn't security guard Dimple. This is muscle man Dimple

He’s also really proud of the kids. It’s a ton of work and they do it pretty well

I’ll make another post with the Telepathy Club, Body Improvement Club, and Student council eventually. I burned myself out typing this out, lol

If you have any ideas, PLEASE send them to me. I would like to see them! Thank you for reading this!

@unluckyships

@brostrid

[afterpartyhell]

It was a stressful game, to say the least. Xander had long since forgotten about his food. During the periods, his eyes hadn’t moved from the tv once. Even during the intermissions, he hadn’t gotten a chance to eat, too busy looking up everything he could about Alexei Kallasov and the Assassins. At least, he tried to look up Alexei, but was too distracted by Minji’s pestering to actually get any real work done.

“What did you guys do? You probably didn’t have that much space or time to do anything too crazy. Did he blow you? Did you blow him?” Minji giggled like a little girl. “Please tell me that you did. What was his dick like? I bet it was big.”

“Minji!” Xander finally snapped. “Calm the fuck down. Yes, he blew me. No, I didn’t blow him, not technically. And yes, it was definitely above average. Happy?” His voice sounded exasperated, but Xander was grinning. He was glad that Minji had found out about him and Alexei. He hadn’t liked keeping it to himself, but he hadn’t known how to bring it up to her. Thank god for tv.

Minji huffed and crossed her arms. “No, I absolutely am not happy. What the fuck do you mean ‘technically no’? Did you partially suck his dick? Is that even possible? I don’t understand.”

Xander’s blush returned and there was a shy smile teasing his lips. “There weren’t any towels for him to clean himself up with, you know, after. So I decided to get creative.” He kept his voice low. The bartender wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation, especially with the tv going, but he was quiet none the less. Earlier today was the first time he had been with a guy, ever, and now this was the first time he was admitting out loud that not only had he received a blow job from a guy, but had also made sure to tease him back before leaving.

Minji was silent for a moment, but then her eyes widened in realization. She whistled and slapped Xander’s shoulder. “You’re a kinky little fucker.”

Xander’s answering grin was wicked. “Oh yes, I’m positively filthy. Now leave me alone, the game’s about to start back up.”

Before long, there were only minutes left in the last period. Alexei had managed to tie up the game, but it was still nerve-wracking. “What happens if there’s a tie?” Xander asked Minji. He had never watched or been interested in hockey before now, and knew next to nothing about the sport. Minji knew slightly more. Upset over American’s complete lack of interest in rugby, Minji had searched for a new sport to fill the void. Hockey was fast paced and violent enough to do the job. But she had just started getting into it, and was still learning the ropes. “Do they go into overtime?”

Minji nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But there’s still four minutes left, and that’s a long time in hockey. Anything could happen.”

A player for the Assassins, Dragomir, almost scored but was hit hard by one of the Blue’s players. Xander could see why Minji had started watching hockey. Her nickname in the rugby world had been the goddess of war. With the constant checks and fighting in hockey, it was definitely enough to catch and keep her interest.

After the hit against Dragomir, some of the players on each team got switched out. “So do they get unlimited subs?”

“It’s called a line change,” Minji told him. “And yeah, they do.”

Xander perked up as he watched Alexei skate onto the ice. He was so fascinating to watch play. He was a quick skater, and confident in everything he did. He bit his lip as Alexei started instigating a fight with 75 on the Blues. Throughout the game, Reaves had gotten into a lot of fights and seemed to play pretty rough. Even though Xander had seen Alexei prove his strength throughout the game, he was still nervous about the situation.

Xander wasn’t surprised when Alexei dropped his stick and Reaves did the same. He was surprised though when Reaves threw off his gloves and Alexei immediately backed off. The ref called a penalty on Reaves and Xander’s jaw dropped.

“Fuck,” Minji swore. “Looks like you’re not the only filthy one around here. That was dirty.”

Xander’s mouth curled into a grin at Alexei’s clever move. “That was genius.”

His worry returned when Reaves broke free from the ref’s grasp and went after Alexei. Minji was leaning forward, anticipating the fight, but Xander’s stomach was in knots. He was glad when Alexei landed a swing on Reaves and then managed to duck out of the way the first time. The second time, he wasn’t as lucky, and got hit in the jaw.

Before any more damage could be done, Dragomir was on Reaves, yanking him off of Alexei and throwing him down to the ice. “Dragomir,” Minji said thoughtfully. “He’s strong, I like him. Although I would have liked to see a bit more fighting.”

The game continued, with the Assassins in a power play. It was hard to keep up with the puck, all of the players were moving so quickly. Both teams were desperate. Xander watched as Alexei made his way to the net. There was a blur of motion and then a load siren. Alexei had scored. Xander cheered and slammed his hand down on the bar counter. “Yes! Thank god.”

He watched as Alexei celebrated his goal. The man got down on one knee and drew his stick up like a sniper rifle, taking an imaginary shot. It was a very fitting move. Assassin, indeed. He grinned when Alexei blew a kiss at Reaves in the penalty box. He was reckless, and Xander loved it.

“He scored all of his team’s goals tonight.” Minji sounded almost disbelieving. “Three goals in a row, no interruptions. Do you know how rare that is?”

“Very rare, guessing from the tone of your voice.”

Minji nodded and then let a short chuckle, licking her lips and shaking her head. “Your boy’s good.”  

Xander welled up with pride. Of course Alexei was good. Xander had known the second he met him that there was something special about that man.

The game finished quickly after that. The Assassin’s won 3-2, and Xander couldn’t have been happier. He watched as the teams shook hands and saw that Reaves and Alexei were being civil, if not friendly, to each other. That was good at least. After another moment of showing all the players celebrating, the game cut off. It switched back to the announcers and Xander stood up to leave. He didn’t really like listening to them. They were loud and annoying and had a tendency to shit talk about all of the players.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Xander told Minji. “While I’m in there, your job is to-“

“Wipe your ass?” Minji interjected.

“Of course. Right after you find out where the Assassins are going next. There has to be some kind of after party or something.” Minji was the best at finding out information on things. Xander had no idea how she found out the things she did, and her research was always so fast.  

Minji wagged her eyebrows. “You got it, lover boy. I’ll help you stalk Alexei.”

“It’s not stalking.” Xander said as he walked away from her. “I want to help my city’s hockey team celebrate their victory. What’s wrong with that?”

After using the bathroom, Xander checked his appearance in the mirror. His hair was still slicked back, but it was a little messier than usual, thanks to Alexei. Xander didn’t mind though. He had liked it when Alexei had run his fingers through his hair, and wanted him to do it again.

When he came back out, Minji was smiling victoriously. “I figured out where they’re gonna be at. It’s an exclusive party, the club was rented out by the team for the night, but as soon as I dropped your name, I got us on the list. Isn’t it nice being famous?”

Xander chuckled. “I’m very grateful. Let’s go.”

“Woah, slow down. The team isn’t even there yet. Those sweaty boys need time to shower and change. And I also need to shower and change, since someone decided to spit their beer on me.”

They made a quick pit stop at their hotel. They were sharing a suite, it made Minji’s job easier, but each had their own bedroom and bathroom. Minji ended up skipping the shower because she didn’t want to have to redo her makeup, and just rinsed out her hair in the sink.

Xander came into the bathroom and sat on the toilet as Minji blow dried and styled her hair. She noticed that he seemed to have something on his mind, but knowing Xander, wouldn’t talk about it until she brought it up first. “What’s up?” She asked him.

Xander seemed to hesitate. He bit his lip. “How do you flirt with boys?”

Laughing so hard, Minji nearly dropped her curling wand. “Oh my god, Xander.” She grabbed a strand of hair and twisted it expertly around the metal.

“I’m serious! I’ve never done it before.” Xander was blushing. The whole ride over to the hotel he had been trying to figure out what to say to Alexei, and he was coming up blank.

“You got him to suck your dick.” Minji pointed out.

“That was all his idea, I didn’t do anything. He initiated everything. I don’t know what to do.” Xander dropped his head into his hands.

“Just flirt with him like you would a girl. It’s not that different.”

Xander thought of all the different things he could say or do, but none of them seemed right. He groaned. “I don’t know if I can do this. Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

“Uh uh,” Minji said, putting down her wand so she could turn and look at Xander. “There’s no way you’re backing out of this now. You have nothing to worry about. You’re Young fucking Theron. You’re always rapping about how you have game, well now it’s time to prove it.” Minji grinned at Xander and he grinned back. “And besides, those pants that hockey players wear are basically diapers, so I haven’t gotten a chance to see Alexei’s legendary ass that apparently has the magical ability to turn straight men gay. So we’re going to that party.”

Xander laughed. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“Of course I know that. Let me get changed, and then we can go.”

Once they pulled up to the party, the paparazzi was all over Xander. They had been there for when the Assassins arrived and had stuck around just in case anyone else important showed up. Minji made sure that they stayed back far enough that they didn’t invade Xander’s personal space as they took as many pictures of him as they could.

They made it up to the bouncer, and after a quick glance at the list, they were in. The party was well under way by the time they walked in. Minji was right about it being exclusive. The club was nowhere near capacity, but it was busy enough that at first glance Xander couldn’t find Alexei.

Minji looked around, but she couldn’t spot him either. “Wanna dance until you find him?” She called out loudly, to be heard over the music.

Xander nodded, it was a better vantage point anyways. He grabbed Minji’s hand so as not to lose her in the crowd, she was very tiny after all, and led the way to the dance floor.

After a few minutes of dancing, Xander finally found Alexei. He pointed him out to Minji, who smirked. She winked at him and slipped away, off into the crowd so that Xander could go talk to him.

Xander’s palms were clammy as he walked over to Alexei. What if he didn’t want to see him again? Xander had no idea how he’d survive the humiliation.

Taking a deep breath, and focusing on Minji’s encouragements, Xander tapped Alexei on the shoulder. “Hey, remember me?”

Alexei looked surprised, and also angry, at seeing him. The shock made sense, this was a pretty exclusive party, and Xander figured this was probably the last place on earth Alexei would have expected to see him. The anger though, he didn’t understand. Maybe he fucked up by coming here. “I watched the game, you were great.” Xander said, yelling over the thumping bass. Alexei didn’t seem impressed, and Xander cursed inwardly. This wasn't going well.

He couldn’t think with the music blasting, and it was giving him a headache. “Wanna go somewhere quieter so we can talk?”

They moved off of the dance floor and over to the least crowded corner of the club. Xander looked at Alexei nervously. “Hey, have I done something to offend you?” He was dreading the Russian’s answer. Whatever he was about to say, Alexei was more than likely going to rip him to pieces and Xander knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 817

Omaha

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

“This show really blows. They need to stop letting the Americans bid for things. Did Schü call? I wish I had taken my phone with me. It was so boring over there. I could have done with some tunes,” Christina remarked resentfully as she kicked off her stirrups and slid down to the ground from her tall and rotund Hanoverian stallion. Nick seemed to be enjoying the reclamation of his place in her competition rotation after the intermediate-length absence from the circuit. He was a happy boy when he landed in Omaha, as if he hadn’t just spent 11 hours in a box on a plane. Rio, his traveling companion, was always thrilled to be getting off a plane, but his happiness was usually heavily made up of relief and not much excitement. Christina and Tom could tell the difference. Nick was perky and affectionate right away. Rio acted as if stress was melting away. He never flew particularly well, and a trip that long was hard on him. Nevertheless, the Brazilian bred warmblood was sitting in second place in the World Cup Final after the first round on Thursday night, and was calm and relaxed in his stall with plenty of hay and his favorite stuffed animal on Friday afternoon when his rider returned Nick to Tom after a brief hack. Nick only had one competitive event the entire week, and it was Saturday, so Christina took him over to the schooling ring to stretch his legs that afternoon before the dressage final started.

The only two redeeming qualities about the horse show venue in Nebraska were the ambient temperature inside, and the food. It was warm enough to ride in a long-sleeve top without additional layers, which was why she didn’t have her phone with her, and there was a vendor right in the convention center part of the facility with standard Midwest-ernized German food. Many Americans in the Midwest fancy themselves the children of generations of German immigrants, whether they really are or not. As a consequence, lots of flyover territory is full of vaguely German restaurants with food that sort of nods at authentic cuisine but definitely Americanizes it. An American bratwurst is nothing like one at Signal Iduna Park, for example, but Christina loved both kinds. She loved the potato pancakes that were closer to a McDonald’s hashbrown than her dad’s kartoffelpuffer. Tom looked like he’d had too many of them when she handed over Nick’s double set of reins. She furrowed her brows at him, silently inviting an explanation for the positively perturbed look on his face. He exchanged her iPhone for the reins.

“I think there is some bad news,” he replied, apologetic. Oh no, his rider thought. Is he not going to play? She was eagerly waiting to hear from André about whether or not he was fit enough to be in the team for the match against Schalke on Saturday. Obviously everyone wanted to play in the Revierderby. He really, really wanted to play because he scored two goals for Germany the weekend before and thought he could carry some momentum over. His wife was rooting for him. Unfortunately he was also carrying over a painful knock sustained early in that match, and hadn’t been able to train with his club again yet. She thumbed the Home button and quickly scanned the variety of notifications on the screen, expecting Tom to provide an explanation for his response. He was supposed to answer if André called.

“Oh no.” Her own response was more grave than the disappointed version of the one she said in her head a few seconds earlier. “Juan Mata could be out for the rest of the season? What? What the hell?” She swiped urgently at the Bleacher Report notification to find out what was going on, and tried to deduce it while the news article loaded. What could have possibly happened to him in training today that he’s already diagnosed and going to be out forever? Did someone break his leg or something? What the hell.

“Did he call you or anything?” her new stable manager questioned. He was already trying to get the big warmblood into his grooming stall so he could untack him and put him away. He knew her more than well enough to know that she would be very upset for the Spaniard if he were really going to miss the rest of the season, and he knew her more than well enough to know that a serious injury to the player likely would have come up as a talking point between them if she knew about it. Christina told him nearly everything on her mind when they were alone on the road, especially when they were together so much. Almost none of her friends were in Omaha. She spent nearly all of her time hanging around the stalls, except for meals, which she sometimes shared with Marcus and Ludger instead since Tom was often working while she was free to eat.

“Bleacher Report says that he had groin surgery today. How? I just talked to him last night! It must be a mistake. I’m calling him.” She furiously but absently stroked Nick’s nose while she waited for her friend to pick up, and then growled aloud when she got his voicemail. “Is it tomorrow in the UK already or something?” she asked, forlorn. “Is it April Fool’s Day already? This can’t be right. Is it all over Twi-“ A text interrupted her rant and the loading of the Twitter app on her phone.

“I’ll call you soon,” Juan told her.

“He would have said it’s wrong and he’s fine if it were wrong and he’s fine. He just said he’d call me back. Maaaan. If he got hurt today he couldn’t possibly have the surgery today too, right? Nobody does that.”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so. He didn’t say anything about an injury?”

“Not a word. We talked last night before I rode, and he texted me this morning to congratulate me.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to worry you. You are talking about someone who lied to you about Seven being put down the last time we were at one of these,” Tom pointed out. He too was guilty of keeping things from her so as to keep her plate clear, so to speak, but that hypocrisy didn’t seem to matter to him, or was outweighed by his longtime dislike of Christina’s relationship with the Chelsea man.

“Nothing from Schü though?” They can’t both be injured. Jeez.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll wait for Juan to call me back and then I’ll call him, so I don’t end up with both of them at the same time.” Shudder.

“Whatever. Take your helmet and your boots off and relax. There is nothing you can do for injured football players on another continent by worrying about them and staring at a phone.”

That is a reasonable point. I’ll go change, she thought before dropping a kiss on her pretty stallion’s nose and leaving him and his handler to their business. I have to put the watch that I won for this last year on anyway before I go to the autograph table. Bleh. I appreciate fans and all but this isn’t a sport for or funded by spectators, and I’m forever afraid I’m going to get sick because they all want to hug me and shit. Or I’ll get Lukas sick. These Midwestern American folk are all really huggy. I bet nobody tries to hug me in Mexico City. Oh! Phone!

“Dude, what’s going on?” she sputtered into Juan’s ear while simultaneously tripping over a lunge whip and her own foot.

“I had a bad pain in training some days ago, we decided the surgical option to fix it is best, and now I have a while to recover,” he explained like a father trying to reassure his very young daughter that yes, the dinosaurs did go extinct, but her stuffed one survived and is fine, and no, he doesn’t miss his extinct family. He sounded very calm. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to distract from what you’re doing there, and because I’m fine. I’m disappointed that I won’t play for a while, but I’m feeling okay and there is no need for you to worry, or try to come home, or be overwhelmed with sadness on my behalf.”

“But how long is a while?” Christina despaired.

“Three, four weeks.”

“Oh. Well, gosh. The Internet made it sound like an eternity! I’m so relieved, Juanin, you have no idea.” She released a long, pent up breath and plopped on her tack trunk. Heiner’s familiar whistle was audible somewhere up the aisle and she was glad to be on the phone because it meant he might not try to talk to her. The Germany boss had been annoying her all week with mini-interrogations about her life, her training, and why she was systematically severing ties with various advertisers. He’d been so hands-off with her throughout the winter that there was a gulf between her willingness to open up to him and his willingness to advise her. Even she knew he was asking the questions so that he could help her or guide her through if she was having some kind of problem that made her want to scale back her associations with brands. It was just difficult for her to do a heart to heart about it. The rider thought of all their broad-spectrum conversations as a process- as her warming up to being able to unload the full state of the union address on him, so to speak.

Tom overheard a lot of those talks, and he was encouraging her to let the chef know exactly what was going on with her, from her homesickness to her questions about Dirk’s form and fitness, and even her relationship struggles. The groom was even more intimately acquainted with her problems than in the past since he was with her every day instead of just at competitions. He was an observant creature, like Christina, and didn’t need to have things spelled out for him. She argued that it couldn’t possibly be wise to clue the team coach in on all of her problems a few months before he would sit down with Holger to make a final decision on the Olympic team, and Tom argued back that she needed to let go of the idea that Heiner was like a supervisor she needed to avoid while sneaking out early at the end of the day, or coming back from lunch 15 minutes late. He said she needed to stop treating him like an enemy that she had to negotiate with explicitly and with subtle diplomatic maneuvers in public. Tom said Heiner was there to help, and that he sought information so he could be most useful to his riders, not so that he could use it against them. Christina didn’t 100% believe that, but she accepted that it was mostly true. She’d been burned by the man before and didn’t think she needed to share everything with him when everything included information that would make it harder for him to pick her.

“It’s just a little thing, cariña,” Juan reiterated reassuringly. “Just a small hernia. Two weeks to rest, and then I can start a little training.”

“Okay,” Christina replied, her voice quiet and private. I want Heiner to realize I’m on the phone, but I don’t want him hearing what I’m saying, she thought. Private. Her eyes were on the curtain concealing her in the stall. “Who is taking care of you? Did your mom come? Is Paula there? Is someone bringing you juice and making you food?”

“Yes, my mom was here anyway, and she’s looking after me,” the player chuckled. “It was a routine thing- the surgeon does a few every day. I’m just resting and watching TV. Do you want to speak to her to verify that everything is fine?”

“No. I trust you. I was just scared. You didn’t tell me,” his friend complained. “I was more concerned for your heart than your health. I was worried you’d be so upset not getting to play forever,” she mumbled. Her own heart felt a little funny, as it always did when she recovered slowly from a shock or a scare, real or imagined.

“My heart is fine, my head is fine, and my abdominal wall is reinforced and extra fine! Don’t worry about anything. Focus on what you’re doing there.”

“I miss you,” she said even more quietly. He had to have surgery and the time out is terrible news even if it’s only three weeks, and he’s thinking of me and my needs and my head. He’s such a good person. And a better one than me. I’d be wanting him to come take care of me and talk me out of wallowing in woe. I would want him and Schü both to wait on- Hey, wait-

“I miss you too, but I’m free to watch all of your riding now. What time tonight?”

“Is Taylor there? She probably doesn’t want to watch show jumping...”

“She’s with friends in Manchester.”

“She didn’t come back? Did you tell her?”

“We don’t see so much of each other right now. I told her, yes, but I don’t need her here to watch me rest either.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t talk more about that right now, cariña,” the recovering Spaniard added, his voice quiet too. “Another time.”

“Okay...” Are they done? He never talks about her anymore, regardless of who is sitting next to him on the couch.

“What time tonight?”

“2 am.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Christina laughed, forgetting the question on her mind. Juan sounded so thrown off. “You’re excused. You don’t have to watch. If it’s a great round, I’ll send it to you in the morning.”

“I’ll call you back again before you ride, okay? I have a few other people to get back to now.”

“Okay. Call or text any time if you’re bored resting. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby girl. Talk to you later.”

I bet his mom or dad or Toni or somebody was coming and going from nearby during that conversation, she reckoned. He was all quiet and hiding some things but then not others. Whatever. At least he’s okay and he isn’t going to be out of commission for the rest of the season. Phew. Now, boots and helmet off, and-

“Chris!”

Here we go. Heiner joined her in the tack room stall to chat while she changed her footwear and brushed out her hair. He just wanted to discuss a person he’d just met- an American trainer who he thought she might know, or know of. Christina knew the man well enough to say hello and how are you, and she knew enough of him to be able to give a decent account of his reputation up until she lost touch with the East Coast show scene not long after she moved to London. By the time André called to catch up and tell her that he wasn’t going to be in the team for Saturday, his girl had to head to that solo autograph session for the FEI. The line to meet her was ridiculous, and it didn’t flatter her at all. It simply made her groan into the phone about how long it would take to sign that many programs and posters. He told her to call him back after if she could. He was having dinner with his friend Dominic, who he’d known for at least twice as many years as he knew her.

“It’s going to be between 3 and 4 in the morning that she rides,” he told this friend, whom he met at his hometown youth club. Dominic lived in nearby Düsseldorf, and provided a companion with which to do things when Christina wasn’t around. Usually there was a third member at their boys’ dinner, but the other friend was unavailable on Friday since he did still play lower league football and had a match coming up. “I don’t know if I should try to stay up or if I should go to sleep early and then try to wake up.”

“You’re not going to stay up,” Dominic replied, assured. He was an inch or so taller than André, and spent more time lifting weights and less time running like his life depended on it. He easily reached across the table to point down into the other German’s wine glass, as if to say that the wine was going to put him to sleep.

“I could call Mel and make her talk to me so I don’t fall asleep,” André countered.

“When is the baby expected?”

“Next week. She’s having trouble sleeping now. That’s why I know she’ll be up. Her husband is with her but he’s supposed to go to the same shows as Chris after this weekend. He’s even more senseless than she is. Why would you go overseas when your wife is about to give birth?”

“You have no idea what it’s like to be around a woman about to give birth,” Dominic chuckled. His long time girlfriend’s sister had three kids, and André talked to him about where to take children in the area for fun or interesting outings when he was alone with Lukas. Dominic and the girlfriend did a decent amount of kid-sitting, so he figured he’d know.

“I don’t think Chris was bad enough that I would want to go away if I didn’t have to. I talked to her every day on the phone. She was frustrated and whiny but not that much more than usual, and she definitely didn’t have sleep problems. All she did was sleep and watch TV when she was this close. And tell my mom to leave her alone. I still regret that I wasn’t with her during the last weeks, and when Lukas was born.”

“Don’t schedule the next one to come during a tournament, then.”

“I don’t know if there is a next one.” André lowered his eyes from the conversation and grasped his chopsticks with more intent than before. “I know Chris wants Lukas to have a sibling, and she’s said many times that she wants the brother or sister to be around the same age. I don’t see her putting her riding on hold again any time soon.” Or wanting to have another baby with me while she’s walking around not even sure that we’re going to be together in the future, the BVB player added more bleakly to himself. He thought things were really feeling better between them when he left for international duty. That was nearly two weeks in the past, however, and as usual, being apart left room for doubts and disappointment. Hearing about how much fun was had trying to fit as much of Berlin as possible into two days with Juan, for example, was a small blow to the confidence with which André left Christina. Her constant reiteration that she wished Daniel were in Omaha was another annoying detractor from the sense of progress. He kept reminding himself that those things didn’t have to matter, or mean anything. He knew his relationship with her could be just fine even when she was having lots of fun with Juan, so he knew he shouldn’t worry that her having a good time with the Spaniard and her being happy with her partner might be mutually exclusive. He knew there was nothing going on between his girl and her teammate, so he knew he shouldn’t be upset that she just wished her friend were at the World Cup too. It was just irritating to be away from her, and unable to observe her and glean whatever he could from her behavior and demeanor the way he’d been doing at home. Paying attention to her and moderating his own behavior and demeanor instinctively in response was really helping to stamp out the accidental fights and flashpoints.

“I thought you want at least two?”

“I do, but who knows,” André shrugged, hoping to change the subject. “Which country to do you think has the most restaurants in the top 10? The big list, that everyone respects.”

“The US?” Dominic guessed. His right eyebrow dipped to indicate his surprise at the turn in conversation. André was waving a tuna roll around between his chopsticks, but it wasn’t like they were eating at the world’s best Japanese restaurant and had been discussing food. After deciding what to order, nobody even mentioned food.

“Spain. Chris told me that today. She’s lining up a pitch to spend our summer holiday taking the boat around Spain and Portugal. I don’t think she has any idea how big Spain is,” the player smiled, more to himself than his friend. “She wants to go to San Sebastian, which is practically in France but on the top, and Estoril way over there. They have a competition there.”

“The restaurants?”

“No, the horses, in July right after the Confederations Cup. Does Lena ever just start randomly bringing up things about places you think she might want to go to, while pointing out reasons to be there? Like every couple of days?”

“No. She picks a holiday and tells me where we’re going.”

“Oh. Actually...Chris does that too, but she also does the hints, for...lots of things.”

“You talk about her a lot more lately.” Dominic’s observation was plain and lacking any indication about how he felt about the fact he was relaying. André knew the reason he was amidst his third Christina conversation of dinner was that thinking about her, and her very name, was no longer igniting rage and hurt in the pit of his stomach. His partner wasn’t stressing him out so much anymore. He was able to think of her randomly throughout the day and focus on a positive or at least neutral issue or context rather than just negative ones. That actually marked a huge change from the last time she went away. It meant his state of mind stayed generally more neutral or positive, in spite of his boo-boo keeping him out of team training and the matchday squad. André found that encouraging as he thought it over and finished his sushi.

“I love loving you,” he tapped out to send to Christina when the plate was empty. Loving her can be so hard. Right now it’s just nice, I think.