#but sadly i have tennis practice this week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shingia · 3 years

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𝐒/𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃

stay safe and warm up conscientiously my dudes <3

⤷ hinata, tsukishima, yamaguchi, suga, oikawa, akaashi

warnings : knee, ankle, shoulder injuries

↳ hinata (basketball)

▻ there were only five minutes left and karasuno was two points behind. now was the time to give your all as you went in for the jump that would hopefully block your opponent’s attack

▻ when you felt the familiar texture of the ball against your fingertips, you focused all your strength in your arm and smashed it to the ground with an unbreakable determination

▻ it worked. it worked ! a loud roaring from the stands reached your ears, stirring up the wild fire that was burning in you

▻ but sadly, this wild fire vanished in a matter of seconds when your foot twisted to the right and your ankle hit the floor full force

▻ you let out a piercing scream as a sharp pain was radiating from your ankle to your whole leg

▻ “that’s it. it’s over for me” you thought as tears sprinkled the corner of your eyes

▻ you had no idea how much time it took the first aiders to come to you, but it did not matter. right now you couldn’t think about anything else than your sheer disappointment in yourself. your mind was numb. it was all your fault.

▻ the first tear you let out was when you were laying on the observation table of the infirmary, an ice pack on your elevated ankle as the first aider was out calling your parents

▻ you hadn’t been alone for long when the door suddenly burst open. you immediately recognized your boyfriend’s ginger locks

▻ but when your eyes fixed upon his face, you realized that he looked nothing like the shōyō you knew

▻ his everlasting spark seemed gone and he was looking at you with worried and sorry eyes for the first time ever

▻ he was about to say something when you suddenly broke down in tears right in front of him

▻ seeing you like this truly broke his heart. he couldn’t even imagine how you felt, although he really wanted to. he wanted you to give him your pain

▻ however, he knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. he ran to your bed and wrapped his arms around you, holding your sobbing body tightly before saying as happily as he could : “karasuno won, y/n ! they won for you !”

▻ you looked at him with red and swollen eyes. his bright face that you knew so well was back, and the colossal weight of guilt that was crushing you was slowly starting to disappear

▻ “they’ll be here in a few minutes. and you’ll see that nobody’s mad at you... except yourself. but absolutely none of this is your fault, alright ? don’t let these bad thoughts get to you, please... or i’ll fight you myself”

▻ you let out a faint laugh, still wrapped in the tenderness of his embrace and not ready to let go just yet

▻ for the months that followed your injury, shōyō was more than happy to help you with rehabilitation. he also made you write down every single progress you made, so that you could read it whenever you felt down

▻ he insisted on accompanying you to every match your team played without you, because he knew how hard it could be for you to watch from this side of the gym

▻ also, he definitely tried your crutches and did tricks with them

↳ tsukishima (tennis)

▻ tsukki was not even supposed to attend your match. but daichi knew that the first and second years had to study for their exams next week and decided to end their practice early, which is why he thought it’d be a good idea to come see you play

▻ you were really good at tennis, but you tended to overwork yourself and always tried to push your limits. physically or mentally

▻ he had already told you that this behavior would lead you to an injury, but you were too stubborn to listen to him

▻ so obviously, he was not very surprised when he saw you fall to the ground while painfully holding your shoulder as you let out harrowing sobs

▻ he might not have been surprised, but that didn't mean he was not concerned. he was actually pretty worried

▻ however, he was sensible and knew better than to run to you impulsively and bother the medics ; so he kept his distance until your were taken in hand

▻ you were laying on the floor, still painfully sobbing from both pain and frustration when you felt a hand on your leg

▻ you wiped away the tears that were troubled your sight and recognized your boyfriend’s face who was looking at you from above with his brows furrowed

▻ “go ahead, say it” you sniffled “« i told you »”

▻ tsukki shook his head no with a scoff “i won’t. not now at least. what did the medics say ?”

▻ “i have to go for an x-ray and ultrasound to make sure nothing’s fractured” you answered after swallowing the lump in your throat

▻ he sat more comfortably next to you and kept rubbing circles on your thigh, telling you that he’d stay with you for as long as he’s allowed to

▻ he knew very well that you were going to be hard enough on yourself so, for once, he put aside his salty comments and focused on taking your mind off of the pain

▻ so he thought he’d explain to you why he had finally been able to come. he also told you that from the little he had seen, you had played better than ever, hoping that this would make you feel at least a bit better

▻ emotional support might not be tsukki’s forte, but during your convalescence, he helped in his own way by thinking about how you could still play a role in your sport while being immobilized

▻ he encouraged you to ask your coach if you could help train the younger players, which you started doing a week after the accident - and it was one of the best idea tsukki had ever had

▻ even if he couldn’t go with you to all your doctor’s appointments, he knew all the dates by heart and always called you afterwards

↳ yamaguchi (gymnastics)

▻ yamaguchi loved to see you perform your routines and was always amazed at how you made everything look so effortless. and you loved knowing that he was there for you in the stands

▻ however, when you lost balance during a jump over the bar and dislocated your shoulder while trying to grab hold of it, you thought that for once it would have been better for him not to come and witness that

▻ the pain was sharp, like your joint was trying to pop out of your skin at any moment. although your coach tried to be as reassuring as she could, you couldn’t help but imagine the worst

▻ and that’s when you saw him. deathly pale, tadashi was standing next to the stairs that connected the stands to the competition hall, visibly weighing whether or not he should come and see you

▻ three medics came in no time and carefully put you on a stretcher before taking you to a quieter room where you’d have to wait for the ambulance. your coach was still with you, but you knew she had to deal with the rest of your teammates

▻ “go back there, they still need you” you told her “but before you leave, my boyfriend is in the competition hall, could you-”

▻ you weren’t even done talking that yamaguchi burst in the room, looking absolutely terrified. he rushed to you and your coach decided to leave, you were in good hands now

▻ “i’m alright, tadashi, i’m alright” you lied with a forced smile

▻ he squeezed your hand, his jaw clenched. “stop preserving me, it’s my turn to reassure you for once. it’s okay if you’re not alright, i’m here”

▻ at his words, a single tear ran down your cheek which he stopped by softly brushing your skin with his finger. you smiled gratefully at his angelic face, which was still tensed with worry

▻ “w-will you come to the hospital with me ?” you asked, finally letting your fear show through your voice

▻ tadashi obviously accepted to accompany you. actually, he was there every step of the way, until your parents took over

▻ for quite some time after your injury, tadashi stopped talking about volleyball. he thought it was unfair to talk to you about it when you were immobilized for at least a month

▻ but hearing him talk about his sport was one of the things you enjoyed most so you asked him not to refrain himself. if there was something he wanted to tell you, you were more than happy to listen

▻ however, it did not mean that you didn’t have moments when your sadness and anger were too much to handle

▻ at first, you were reluctant to call him when it happened. but nobody could comfort you the way tadashi did and he often stayed on the phone with you until you fell asleep

↳ suga (track)

▻ it was the first time. the first time suga wasn’t there to cheer for you from the stands. and of course you had to get your first injury in seven years of practice during that time

▻ he had a practice match the day of your competition, but you assured him that you’d be alright without him. which was now a lie, obviously

▻ you were on your way to the hospital to have an ultrasound, which would let you know how much of your hamstring had torn, and you still hadn’t told anything to suga

▻ a call seemed like the easiest way to warn him, but you feared that it might interrupt him during his match so you opted for a text, trying to make it sound the less worrisome as possible

▻ but based on suga’s panicked tone when he called you right after his match, your definition of “not worrisome” was definitely not the same as his

▻ he told you he’d come to the hospital right away but you refused and told him to meet you at your house in about an hour

▻ he was at your front door twenty minutes later. just to be sure

▻ when you finally got back, he wanted nothing more than to run to you for the tightest hug of his life. but just as he was about to wrap his arms around you, he froze and took a step back

▻ “no. no touching. i’m not taking any risk” he stated

▻ you chuckled and told him that except for your left leg, the rest of your body was more than disposed to be hug. but seeing that he was still reluctant, you pulled him in for a hug yourself

▻ although he didn’t want to tell you about it, he felt extremely guilty that he had not been there for you. he knew that he would not have been able to change the outcome, but he could have provided moral support ; that was one of the things he was the best at

▻ so he made you promise that if you were to be in trouble again, you’d call him no matter what. and you had no other choice but to promise him (he could be dreadfully convincing)

▻ he made up for his absence by pampering you ten times more than before, which was no small thing to say since he was already very devoted to your every needs

▻ and his pampering included hours of cheering you up every time the fear of never getting back to the same level as before seized you

▻ however, he knew better than to just your sadness to the back of your mind, so if you ever needed a good cry, his shoulder was there for you

▻ “let it all out, it’s alright, pumpkin. i didn’t care about this shirt anyways”

▻ as soon as you were allowed to go for short runs again, you can be sure that suga went with you every single time in case something was to happen again

↳ oikawa (ice skating)

▻ tōru had the reputation of being rather confident and proud of who he was, and you loved that about him

▻ after dating for about a year, you were now one of the fortunate ones that tōru was as proud of as he was of himself. and this was especially evident during your figure skating performances

▻ your body was so graceful when it moved on the ice, he considered you a true piece of art

▻ as for you, you were proud to be loved by such an amazing athlete, and seeing him in the front row when you entered the skating rink never failed to boost your confidence

▻ today was the day of the qualifications for the nationals, and you were one of the favorites of the competition. the pressure was on and you had to give everything you had during the four minutes and thirty seconds you spent on the rink

▻ unfortunately, you gave more than you had. which was too much for your body

▻ as soon as you heard a crack in your knee, you knew it was over. and when your body hit the ice full force after your failed landing, everyone around knew too

▻ the pain, the frustration, the anger, the distress, tōru was familiar with those

▻ he grabbed his bag and your jacket that he had kept with him before running out of the stands and try to meet with you as soon as he could

▻ but sadly, the staff did not let him enter the room you were kept in while waiting for the ambulance. he was furious and this close to make a scandal. but luckily, he reconsidered it and decided to use his head instead

▻ and thirty seconds later, he was standing next to your bed, holding your trembling hand in his

▻ “if anyone asks, i’m your brother” he whispered while placing a reassuring kiss on your forehead

▻ tears sprinkled the corner of his eyes and he did not even bother to wipe them away. it broke his heart to see you go through something even worse than what he had to endure with his ankle

▻ but on the other hand, he knew what words you needed to hear right now and he wanted to be the support he did not have

▻ “i know... i know this seems like a nightmare. but it’s not over, you’ll make it through, honey. and you’re not alone, nobody here is stupid enough to give up on you.”

▻ you did not realize it yet, but his hand in yours was the only thing that kept you going through both physical and mental pain

▻ and even when his hand left yours, even once you were out of the hospital, he was the one that kept you going. he would not have allowed that his prodigious s/o gave in to despair and sadness

▻ “when you come to think about it, this was just your way of letting a chance to the others. how nice of you, sweetie” he told you one day as you were walking home from his practice

▻ but he could see that you were not sharing his opinion as you kept walking with your eyes looking down

▻ he immediately stopped and turned around to face you. both his hands were your shoulders and he looked at you dead in the eyes

▻ “i know you’re strong enough to overcome this. and you know i’m never wrong ! sure, it will be long and difficult, but also i know you’re not afraid of that. just think about how ecstatic the crowd will be when you’ll win the selections next year ! you’ll get so much more credit than all these wannabes losers ! so don’t you dare chicken out now, alright, love ?”

▻ after a quick wink, he pulled you in one of the tender hugs that only he had the secret to. and as you let his familiar smell calm your nerves, it appeared that there was still a bit of hope after all

↳ akaashi (rhythmic gymnastics)

▻ akaashi did not understand. he did not want to believe it. ten seconds ago, you were majestically drawing spirals in the air with your ribbon while grabbing your leg from behind your neck ; it was beautiful, you were delivering the best routine he had ever seen. so why ? why did your ankle give up ?

▻ on his team, he was the quickest to make decisions, he was used to thinking fast. but right now ? he had absolutely no idea what to do and he hated to admit it that he didn’t dare to move from the stands for a few minutes

▻ but seeing your cheeks covered in tears as you were being taken out of the competition carpet was an electroshock. he stood up and ran as fast as he could to the corridor in which he last saw you

▻ he did not know the gym at all and had to ask many people before a woman was finally able to tell you where you had been taken. he thanked her about three times

▻ when he entered your team’s locker room, he was surprised and also a bit irritated to see that you had been left alone. but when you told him that it was actually you who had asked to be alone, he second-guessed everything

▻ “i don’t mind it if it’s you” you assured him as you tried to sit up straight

▻ when you winced in pain, he immediately grabbed your sides as gently as he could to help you sit against the wall. his eyes lingered on the ice pack on your ankle for a little while he softly replaced a few hairs behind your ear

▻ when he looked back at your face, you noticed a surprising amount of emotions visibly battling in his eyes. he was usually very good at looking calm and composed, seeing you getting hurt must have really shaken him

▻ after a few seconds spent staring at you, akaashi couldn’t hold on any longer and threw his arms around your shoulders before heaving a sigh of relief. you were taken aback and it took you a few seconds to hug him back

▻ “you scared me a lot. really” he said, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “it just... everything went so fast”

▻ “i scared myself too” you chuckled “but hey, we’re lucky it’s just the ankle. the medic said i’ll be up and about in less than a month”

▻ he broke the hug rather abruptly and sat back on the floor. his cheeks were starting to blush as he cleared his throat, looking away from you :

▻ “you’re right. sorry, i got a bit overwhelmed”

▻ there he was, the akaashi you were used to. you caressed his arm and his eyes finally darted towards you. when he saw you were smiling, he loosened up and a grin started spreading on his face as well

▻ the next monday was your first day of school with your splint and crutches and akaashi was extremely protective of you, especially in the hallways where he feared someone might bump into you

▻ he was also very protective when bokuto was around. he knew his friend was kind of an oaf and you had stopped counting how many times akaashi had to pull him by the collar when he got too close

▻ “he’s like a bull in a china shop, so no, he’s not allowed to come closer than six feet”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #headcanons #hinata #shoyo #tsukishima kei #sugawara #hcs #hq headcanons #oikawa #akaashi #yamaguchi #hq hinata

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midnightlee25 · 3 years

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Love letters (yandere kiyoko x reader

(you had gotten some love letters and wanted kiyoko advice) she is in her 2nd year of high school your a first year.

It was during break when (y/n) came up to me in the 2nd year building. they had only been at the school for a couple of months but they had already stolen my heart, but it appears I was not the only one. Being in a new place will do that. When they came up to me, they asked if we could go somewhere private. My heart raced a bit but was swiftly crash when they pulled out four letters…. love letters. They told me that they were in their shoe locker and bag. Only barely knowing one person who had written it but had no idea who the other three were, along with not knowing what to do.

“...this just has never happened to me before.” they said, a bit nervous.

I started to read them; their words of “love” were sickening. I know who the letters were from, one was from ojiyama in the tennis club, yoshida in the soccer club and the other two were in the basketball club. After reading the last one I looked up to see them waiting for a response, they looked like a kicked puppy, the sight made me soften a bit.

“Will the only real answer be to be honest and tell them how you feel…. that you don't have feelings for them...unless you do?” I asked as they shook their head.

“I just don't want to hurt them…they seem nice.”

“I'm sure they will understand and if they don't just come to me and I'll handle

…. trust me….”

The next day during lunch they told me all about it...they tell me everything….I smiled sweetly at them praising them for standing up and speaking their mind. It seemed to make them happy along with the lunch and extra sweets I had given them. Of course, the little talks didn't stop the storm that was coming. I heard around that ojiyama and yoshida were not giving up so easily plus the two basketball players had to be dealt with for confessing in the first place.

So, an unlucky week passed with small things happening first yoshida “found” a nail in his foot after practicing on the soccer field, next yoshida’s tennis racket was destroyed and finally the two basketball players uniforms, including shoes, were found to be shredded beyond repair along with many other unlucky events. Sadly, I had to keep them mild for now though they still filled me with enjoyment.

It all was made sweeter when after a long day I got to walk home with them. Whether waiting by the gate or until after practice they were there for ME and not anyone else. Every once in a while I would be filled with dread for the day. I would have to share them with the others but for now I had them all to myself.

“Kiyoko!” I looked to see them by the gate smiling at me. Those were the moments I cherished most and I'm not going to let anyone or anything ruin it!

...I won't let them take them away from me…

This is our fairy tale

And I won't let them ruin it!

I won't let them destroy us

Our

Happy

Sweet

life

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kiyoko #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #kiyoko x reader #kiyoko

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coatbear29 · 3 years

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College Football Week 11 Scores, Top 25 Testing And Must-see Moments

The mother of 16-year-old Kaylin Johnson stated her last conversation together with her boy had been as he asked authorization to push the vehicle into the YMCA before she went to work - sadly, he never managed to make it there. Then I requested him exactly what he had been doing hanging in North Philly, because We have always thought he existed in West Philly. After Frazier played for my staff, we never saw him once more until four months ago, when I ran into him at a church in North Philadelphia that has been changed into a youth sports center. As a youth baseball advisor, Frazier and Mitchell played to my staff. Your child will better comprehend childhood soccer guidelines and continue steadily to master fundamental soccer practices. Becky Edwards finalized with Florida State in 2006 out of Downington western High School in Downington, Pa., and became one of the better football players in Florida State history. That thirty days, Mitchell ended up being set to graduate from western Philadelphia full of the next a couple of weeks. She averaged 2.83 kills, 0.91 obstructs and 3.51 points per set and earned educational All-ACC honors for a third straight period. She led a defensive backline that set single-season files for shutouts (14) and GAA (0.67) making a location in the ACC All-Freshman Team and also the top-drawer Soccer National All-Freshman Team. He led FSU to its first-ever ACC Championship in 2007 and earned second-team All-America awards for the reason that same junior season. https://mtpolice24.com/ handled kickoffs for the Seminoles as a freshman in 2005 and was FSU’s starting punter and kickoff professional as a sophomore and junior. Brianna Barry was a star on / off the volleyball court from her freshman season in 2006 through her senior year when she became the first Seminole ever before named ACC Player of the Year. Each group contains 5 players from the court at any given time. Before I left the athletic center, I viewed Frazier dominate the baseball judge like an NBA basketball player. On July 26, relatives and buddies attended a memorial for Frazier at Boys Latin senior school. 3 months ago, Boys Latin High School had lost another student to gun assault - Kahree Simmons, a beloved person in the course of 2023, ended up being shot and murdered at Christy Recreation Center. Graham Gano signed with Florida State in 2005 out of Tate senior school in Pensacola and became one of the greatest unique groups players in Seminole baseball history. While I mourn the death of all three teenage boys, I had close dealings with two associated with players. It’s hard to believe that their young life has been tragically taken away. Young children should be cared for and it is difficult to perform a business effectively while taking proper care of kids. That name started an unprecedented run of success. The talented golfer’s All-America job helped launch the Seminoles’ powerful run of success under existing head coach Trey Jones. Former basketball celebrity Toney Douglas, ACC indoor volleyball Player of the Year the belated Brianna Barry, All-American golfer Jonas Blixt, women’s soccer All-American Becky Edwards, 2008 Lou Groza Award winner and present NFL celebrity Graham Gano, retired long-time athletic instructor Randy Oravetz, track-and-field sensation Ngoni Makusha, and Hamilton who is Seminoles’ all-time winningest basketball coach and presently the fifth all-time winningest advisor in ACC history. Florida State University’s Athletics Hall of Fame announced Wednesday the selection of eight brand new members, including current men’s basketball advisor Leonard Hamilton, who will constitute the 2021 class. By itself, it costs $35 four weeks and gets you 43 stations - including NBCSN. He averaged 40.8 yards per punt as a sophomore in 2006, including averaging over 40 or maybe more yards per punt in eight of the Seminoles’ 13 games. Douglas is ranked when you look at the top-10 in seven different statistical categories including job free throw shooting and steals. Toney Douglas used in FSU in 2006 from Auburn, where he attained third-team All-SEC and Freshman All-America awards. Douglas was FSU’s second-leading scorer (12.7 ppg) as a sophomore in 2007, starting 28 games at point shield for the Seminole staff that finished 22-13. As a junior, he led the 2007-08 team in scoring, averaging 15.4 points while leading the ACC in both assists and steals per online game. As a junior, she aided lead the Seminoles for their third consecutive Elite Eight appearance after FSU reached the school Cup the earlier two years. As a junior, she rated 51st when you look at the NCAA with a .349 striking percentage and was called to your CoSIDA/ESPN educational All-District staff. Their senior season was one of the better in FSU history, and it also established this program back in the national spotlight as FSU attained an NCAA bid finishing 25-10 and No. 16 in the united kingdom. She was the 2009 ACC athlete of the season, obtained United states Volleyball Coaches Association All-America 2nd Team awards, ended up being known as All-ACC and was AVCA All-Region after helping lead FSU to the Elite Eight into the 2009 NCAA Tournament, a 31-3 record and your final position of 11th in the nation. Americans’ tend to check out huge stadiums sometimes turns into watching recreations online free, just what gives more options and privileges: any groups in a state and around the world, all sorts of recreations possible, no missed objectives or big performs, possibility to watch recorded plays, etc. Based on this, most free recreation streaming sites cover preferred American games like wrestling, tennis, rugby, football, playing tennis, basketball, ice hockey, baseball, US baseball, and so forth. Edwards started 25 games as a freshman and led the Seminoles with eight helps and five game-winning helps. She began all 27 games as a sophomore scoring three goals and helping three more. Through the London 2012 and Rio 2016 Olympics, the BBC managed to provide a large number of free livestreams of various sports, revolutionising the way Uk visitors viewed the games and offering necessary promotion to niche events that would maybe not normally have enjoyed their moment in the general public eye. Both Frazier and Mitchell played lots of games for me. With a smile on their face, Frazier told me he had a relative just who existed there. Rahm informed reporters Tuesday. I talked to him and told him how pleased I was to see him. Little did I know it will be the past time I would personally see him with a basketball inside the hand - and now he’s gone. 1st one was held last week at the Christy Recreation Center where he grew up and played baseball. He entered their senior period as a preseason All-American and Ray Guy Award view record user and ended up being slated to become 1st player at school record to deal with all kicking tasks (punt, KOs and field goals).

#먹튀폴리스 #먹튀검증

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crimehathnofury · 3 years

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Today’s crime is a doozie. I heard this story from Bailey Sarian. If you haven’t seen her youtube channel you should. Murder and make up is her thing, and she is fabulous. I was just appalled when I heard this story. It’s about Sylvia Likens and Gertrude Baniszweski. Be prepared this is marked the worst case of torture and abuse. Let’s start, shall we?

So we start this off with a little backstory on Gertrude. Born on September 19, 1928. She was the 3rd of 6 kids. She had a close relationship with her father but not so much with her mother. When her father had died, the relationship grew even more distant. Gertrude dropped out of highschool when she was 16 and got married to her first husband, John Baniszweski. They had 4 children together. John had a violent temper and was abusive. Even though he was abusive they stayed together for 10 years. Gertrude had also gained custody of her children. Within the year of the divorce Gertrude remarried. Though it didn’t even last 3 months. Shortly after that, she remarried her first husband John. They had 2 more children and then again divorced after 7 years. Around this time, Gertrude had been dating and moved in with a man named Dennis Wright. He abused her. She did however get pregnant twice by him. One of which was a miscarrige(probably caused because of the abuse). The other pregnancy stuck though and gave her one last child named Dennis jr. SHortly after the birth of his son. Dennis sr. abandoned Gertrude. She was left alone to raise 7 children. Her first husband somewhat helped her though checks from him were sporadic. She also suffered depression

Now a little background on Sylvia. Slyvia was born on January 3rd, 1949 in between 2 sets of fraternal twins, Daniel and Dianna (2 years older), and Benny and Jenny (1 year younger). Jenny suffered from polio causing one of her legs to be weaker and a limp. Both of her parents and all 3 brothers traveled around and sold things at carnivals, like soda and snacks. This was a very unstable life moving frequently which the parents didn’t approve of their daughters travelling with them. So they would stay with relatives, often their grandmother. Once Sylvia was a teenager she would babysit to earn some money, part of which she would send to her mother. She would also do odd jobs around the neighborhood. June 1965 Jenny and Sylvia had been staying with their parents in Indianapolis. July 3rd, their mother was arrested and put in jail for shoplifting. So when their father had a new opportunity with the carnival he made a deal with the mother of Paula, Sylvia's new friend. Paula’s mother was Gertrude. Sylvia’s father and Gertrude had made an arrangement where Jenny and Sylvia would stay with Gertrude for a 20 dollar fee and Gertrude would take care of them like they were her own children. However after a couple of weeks the payment that Gertrude was promised failed to come. This enraged her to the point where she beat them saying “I took care of you bitches for a week for nothing.” It went from 0 to 100 am I right? Total personality change. Anyways, the abuse only got worse from there. If the Likens girls did anything Gertrude didn’t approve of like exchange glass bottles at the grocery store, she would beat them with a wooden paddle. Sadly Gertrude would then turn most of her rage towards Sylvia. It’s said that Gertrude was jealous of Sylvia’s looks and potential. This was mid August. Some of the initial abuse was starvation, beatings, and sometimes eating leftover or spoiled food from the trash. In late August Sylvia had said she had a boyfriend in Long Beach who she met in the spring of 1965. Once this was said Gertrude had asked if Sylvia had ever done anything with a boy. When she said she had shared a bed with her boyfriend Gertrude asked ‘why did you do that Sylvia?’ to which Sylvia said ‘I don’t know.’

Several days later Gertrude told Sylvia that she looked like she was getting big in the stomach and that she was pregnant. SYlvia thought she was only joking and said back that she might need to go on a diet. Gertrude then told her and the other girls in the house that if they did something with a boy they were sure to get pregnant and then kicked Sylvia in the genitals. Later during dinner Paula, who was overweight and 3 months pregnant herself, joined in abusing Sylvia by kicking her off of a chair saying ‘You’re not fit to sit in a chair.’ Also Gertrude Paula and a neighborhood boy named Randy Gordan Lepper force fed Sylvia a hot dog over done with condiments. When she vomited that up she was forced to eat that as well. Sylvia, in retaliation to being picked on she started a rumor that Paula and her sister Stephanie were prostitutes. However after a boy at school jokingly propositioned Stephanie, she came home and confronted Sylvia. Sylvia admitted to starting the rumor which prompted Stephanie to punch her. Sylvia then cried and apologized to which Stephanie also cried. But that didn’t stop her boyfriend Coy Hubbard from beating Sylvia, Slapping her and banging her head against the wall. When Gertrude found out she took her paddle and also beat Sylvia. On another occasion Paula beat Sylvia so bad she broke her wrist over Sylvia’s teeth and eyes. Gertrude would also force Jenny to hit Sylvia. Jenny of course didn’t want to but she also didn’t want to suffer either. Gertrude then would repeatedly accuse Sylvia of being promiscuous and being a prostitute. Coy Hubbard and a few classmates would frequently visit and brutally abuse Sylvia, physically and verbally. With encouragement from Gertrude the neighborhood kids would torment Sylvia and use her for judo practices, and burn her 100 times with cigarettes. There was one time that Gertrude forced Sylvia to strip and masturbate using a coke bottle in the living room and stated that she should show her sister what she really was. Then Gertrude had forbidden Sylvia from going to school cause she had stolen a gym uniform. I mean if Gertrude had just bought her clothes maybe she wouldn’t have to steal. Gertrude then beat Sylvia for this. She also went on a rant of the evils of premarital sex and repeatedly kicked Sylvia in the genitals. Stephanie stepped in and said she didn’t do anything. Gertrude still whipped her as well as burned her fingertips with matches. A few days later, because of a stolen tennis shoe, Gertrude beat Jenny. Jenny wanted to wear that shoe on her strong foot.

I bet you guys are wondering why the sisters didn’t try to reach out to family members. I got the answer. They were afraid. They feared that Gertrude would just make their situation worse. Their parents, whenever they could afford it, would go down and visit them. But in late August of their last visit neither girl showed any distress because they were in front of Gertrude and her kids. Once Sylvia’s parents left Gertrude just turned to Sylvia and said ‘What are you going to do Sylvia? They’re gone.’ In mid September the girls encountered their older sister Dianna. They had tried to tell her the abuse they were forced to endure, especially Sylvia, but not knowing the actual address their sister thought they were exaggerating. Weeks prior to that, Jenny and Sylvia had seen Dianna at the park. 11 year old Marie Bansizweski was also there. Sylvia had mentioned to her sister she was hungry and was given a sandwich. When the Likens sisters and Marie got home, Marie told her family about the sandwich and Gretrude and Paula proceeded to beat Sylvia for engaging in gluttony. Both then also started a scalding bath and shoved Sylvia in it to cleanse her of her sin. When Sylvia fainted Gertrude would beat her head on the bathtub to revive her. Shortly after the father of one of the neighborhood kids told the school she was attending that there was a girl with open sores living at the Baniszewski house. A nurse noting that Sylvia hadn’t been at school in a while went to check it out. Once there Gertrude claimed that she didn’t know where Sylvia was and that she was out of control. She told the nurse that Sylvia had just run away and was a bad influence on her children . Because of this the school made no further investigations into Sylvia’s welfare. They had no idea what was happening. Dianna finally found out that her sisters were staying at the Baniszewski house she went to try and make regular contact. Gertrude told her that by permission of their parents Gertrude was allowed to not let Dianna see her sisters. By chance though she ran into little Jenny. When Dianna asked about Sylvia, Jenny said ‘I can’t tell you or I’ll get in trouble.’ Due to the increasing brutal and frequent abuse, Sylvia became incontinet. She was denied the use of the bathroom being forced to wet herself. Gertrude punished her incontinence by locking her in the basement. Sometimes Sylvia would be tied to the railing of the stairs with her feet barely touching the ground, She was also kept naked, rarely fed, and dehydrated. That was on October 6th. In weeks prior to being locked up Gertrude would falsely accuse Sylvia of insulting everyone in the family. She did this to try and goad her children into attacking Sylvia. One occasion Gertrude took a knife and told Sylvia to try and fight her. Sylvia replied saying she didn’t know how to fight. In response Gertrude would cut Sylvia’s leg. Neighborhood children were paid 5 cents to mutilate Sylvia. 5 cents? Really? Gertrude also with the help of some neighborhood kids would fill the bathtub with scalding hot water and place her in it, then would take her out and rub salt in her wounds. Also Gertrude and her 12 year old son John jr would rub feces and urine from her 1 year old son's diaper in her mouth. Then they gave her half a cup of water and said that was all she would get for the rest of the day.

On October 22nd John jr tormented Sylvia by giving her a bowl of soup to eat. She was only allowed to eat with her hands and anytime she would try and eat it he would take it away. Gertrude said that Sylvia could start sleeping up stairs again if she had learned to not wet herself. But Gertrude whispered to Jenny to secretly give Sylvia a glass of water before bed. So when morning came and Gertrude saw that Slyvia had wet herself, Gertrude forced her to insert a glass coke bottle into her vagina in the presence of her children and was forced back into the basement. Shortly after Gertrude ordered that Sylvia go to the kitchen and then strip. Stating that Sylvia had branded her daughters and now she was to be branded. Gertrude then took a heated needle and carved I’m a prostitute and proud of it into Sylvia’s stomach. When Gertrude couldn’t finish the branding she had one of the present neighborhood children Richard Hobbs finish it for her. Then both Hobbs and 10 year old Shirely Baniszewski led Sylvia to the basement and took turns using an anchor bolt to burn the letter S under her left breast. However it looked like the number 3. Gertrude later then proceeded to taunt Sylvia saying that she’ll never get married with that brand. Then Sylvia was forced to show the carving to some neighborhood children with Gertrude saying she got it at a sex party. Later that night Sylvia had told her sister that even though Jenny didn’t want her to die, she was going to die. She could tell. The next day Gertrude forced Sylvia to write a letter to mislead her parents. Telling them that she ran away. The letter was meant to frame local boys for her murder. Gertrude then planned that she, John jr, and Jenny would blindfold Sylvia and then leave her in the forest to die. After Sylvia was done with the letter Gertrude tied her back up on the stairs in the basement.

October 25th, Sylvia attempts to escape from the basement. She makes it to the door before Gertrude catches her. Gertrude gave Sylvia a piece of toast but due to her state of dehydration Sylvia couldn’t eat it. Then Gertrude then forced the toast into Sylvia’s mouth while beating her with a shower curtain rod till it was bent out of place. Coy Hubbard was there and took the curtain rod from Gertrude and beat Sylvia unconscious. A witness heard a commotion but when it stopped at 3 am she didn’t call the cops. On the morning of October 26, Sylvia couldn’t speak or control her limbs. She was delirious. She tried again to escape the basement but collapsed on the stairs. Gertrude stamped on Sylvia’s head and just stared at her for a moment. Richard Hobbs came by and immediately went to the basement. He slipped on the wet stairs and fell hard to the basement where he was confronted with the sight of Stephanie crying over Sylvia’s emaciated and lacerated body. They gave her a warm bath, got her all cleaned up and took her upstairs to a bedroom. They rested her on a mattress. Stephanie turned to her little sister Shirley. Shirley said ‘Oh she’ll be alright.’ When Stephanie realized that Sylvia wasn’t breathing she tried mouth to mouth resuscitation. Sadly Sylvia had finally succumbed to her injuries. She died at 16 years old. Gertrude kept hitting Sylvia saying she was faking it; Kept calling her a faker. However she started to panic when Sylvia wasn't waking up. The police were called and at 6:30 they arrived on the scene. Gertrude had given them the note that was written by Sylvia. However Jenny whispered to them that if they could get her out of there she would tell them everything. The trial lasted 17 days but Gertrude was found guilty of 1st degree murder, Paula was found guilty of 2nd degree murder, and John jr Hobbs and Hubbard were found guilty of manslaughter. Gertrud and Paula got life imprisonment. Hobbs, Hubbard, and John jr got sentenced 2 to 21 years. This crime was marked the most horrible. I can see why. I just don’t understand how this could have happened. I wonder if they’re even sorry for what they did.

What do you guys think? Let me know. Message me or leave a comment. Like and reblog. And if you want to continue to read the cases I go through just follow my blog. Till next time.

#true crime #serial killer #abuse #murder

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rosaliefms · 4 years

Text

new york’s very own 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 was spotted on broadway street , with a striking semblance to 𝒋𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒎 ! you may know them as @𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 or hitting the front page of tmz as 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗻𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗲𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 . according to tmz , you just had your 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being obstinate , but also intrepid . things that would paint a better picture of you would be 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘀 , 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺 & 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗼𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝘀 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 . ( cis female + she / her ) ( career / voice claim : jennie kim )

hey all , i’m shay , sadly in the gmt timezone and i go by she / her pronouns . i’m super excited to be here again and i’m glad this group made a comeback . this is a very new muse and i’m still fleshing her out so if you’d like to read a little more about her , you can find it under the cut and i can’t wait to plot with you all !!

° ⁎ ⋆ 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔

full name: rosalie moon .

face claim: jennie kim .

nicknames: rosie mainly , rosa and rose ( but you have to be real special for her to let you call her this one ) .

age: twenty two .

sexuality: bisexual .

date of birth: 14th december 1998 .

place of birth: manhattan , new york .

° ⁎ ⋆ 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

education: graduated highschool and went to culinary school .

occupation: singer / business owner .

drinks, smokes & drugs: only drinks sometimes .

° ⁎ ⋆ 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

zodiac: saggitarius .

MBTI: ESFJ .

likes: bouquets of flowers in every room , baking at least twice a week , glazed donuts , butterscotch milkshakes , dogs , summer picnics in the park , sunglasses for each outfit , an updated instagram , neatly organised closets & grilled cheese sandwiches .

dislikes: rude people .

bad habits: none .

hobbies: reading , cooking , baking & painting .

fears: none .

positive traits: affable , allocentric , altruistic , benevolent , cordial , diligent , humble , jovial , optimistic , punctual , reverent , staunch & virtuous .

negative traits: boisterous , enigmatic , fanciful , indulgent , mealymouthed & reticent .

inspired by: amy santiago ( brooklyn nine nine ) , josie saltzman ( legacies ) , pam beesly ( the office ) & phoebe buffay ( friends ) .

° ⁎ ⋆ 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒚

born in the heart of the city , rosalie was born to sung-ho and sera moon one cold decembers morning . her father is currently a plastic surgeon with his own practice while her mother is a socialite essentially and former tennis player . their careers couldn’t have been more different but they made it work , eventually marrying and giving birth to rosalie .

with her father’s practice just starting up at the time of her birth , they were somewhat average at the time , living a fairly normal life and so rosalie was never spoilt and didn’t grow up surrounded by everything she could possibly dream off . instead , it took years before the practice actually made any profits . all it took was one celebrity to be spotted leaving the place and business sky rocketed from there . the practice was full for months at a time with limited appointments and celebs willing to pay ridiculous prices to just be seen and so it was no surprise that as popularity increased so did the moon’s wealth .

the family were quick to relocate into a newer and much deserved bigger home , boasting more bedrooms than they ever needed but that didn’t matter because they’d earned their place among the rich and wealthy in new york . rosalie’s mother began to spend most of her time socialising and meeting with the high ranking neighbours and her father was continously working hard to maintain the life they were still adjusting to . as a result , rosalie was left to her own devices , free to do as she pleased and take up whatever she liked to the pass the time .

art was one of her first discoveries , realising that she enjoyed painting , liked the serenity of making something come to life and she often filled the bedrooms with her framed artwork . this quickly stopped once she hit her teen years and instead she turned to music , quickly discovering she had a voice that might actually do well . her mother had close contacts with producers and agents and rosalie was quickly signed up and went on to produce her own music for a while . she even went on tours , met fans and more and though she enjoyed this , she wasn’t sure if it was what she really wanted to do .

it was one afternoon alone when she had to cook for herself that she realised that was what she wanted to do . food made most people content and she wanted to do exactly that , to please people with her food and so after some convincing , her mother set her up with some critics who gave her advice she’d never forget . do whatever it takes to get your name and food out there . and so that’s exactly what she did . she’d spent hours in the kitchen , pouring her heart and soul into her food to then give it to fans and paps outside and it gave her the push she needed .

diving into her own savings , rosalie sought out her first restaurant , finding an ideal location in the heart of the city to open up rosalie’s . she took full responsibility for the development , design and promotion of the restaurant and even cooked behind the scenes on opening night . and as interest grew in the place , her time suddenly became more and more limited . she was offered a book contract and has recently signed a tv contract for her own slot on day time tv to showcase what she can really do .

currently , she still adores singing ( she’s still a part of blackpink ) and does it to please fans and she’s also juggling the running of her restaurant and starring on her own tv show . when she’s not doing that , she’s painting or just chilling at home .

° ⁎ ⋆ 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 & 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

is very soft , basically a sweetheart and will definitely let things slide unless said things concern her friends or family , then she’ll have a stern word or two to say about it .

big believer in second chances ... within reason . she’s the kinda person to see the best in everyone until they give her a reason not to .

loves people and socialising and conversations about something and nothing

is probably the kinda friend to turn up with muffins or whatever concoction she decided to bake

has two pomeranian puppies called chewie and han

° ⁎ ⋆ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

pr relationship - maybe they’re friends , maybe they can’t stand one another but pretending to be romantically involved benefits them both . idk this could be fun

roommates - idk this could be fun , just a couple people living together , having movie nights every week and hosting pool parties . bonus she’ll cook for all her roommates too .

best friend - self explanatory . probably a ny native , someone she’s grown up with her and is probably her oldest friend . they’ve stuck by one another through thick and thin and they’re still going on strong .

ex - friends - they were friends once upon a time but something drove them apart , whether it was their new careers , opposing opinions or the fact they grew up , something pushed them apart and they’ve not made up since .

girl squad - who doesn’t love a cute lil girl squad . just them having manicures together and spa days . they’ve been on plenty of vacations together and they always have the best nights out together too .

crush - could be mutual or not , rosalies probably too oblivious to ever realise

exes - good or bad , i imagine rosalies had a couple relationships in the past . we can figure out the finer details together

other ideas - childhood friends , neighbours , highschool sweethearts , one night stand , enemies , sibling like friendship , partner in crime / ride or die , pr relationship / friendship

#wealthyhq:intro #hopefully the formatting didn't mess up bc this is q'd akdjskfj

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katefiction · 4 years

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The Cambridge Cub

by katefiction (Maria) / 2012

A bright light burned through her eyelids. A large thud followed, and then a loud slam. At least it sounded loud to Kate.

Four am and William was getting up for his early shift.

‘William’ Kate croaked. ‘Turn the light off!’ She heard footsteps approaching.

‘How am I supposed to see in the dark?’ he said, flicking the switch on the lamp.

‘Says the search and rescue pilot who rescues people in the middle of the night… when it’s dark!’ she grumbled, pulling the cover over her head.

Kate heard his footsteps retreat and then a bang.

‘Shit!’ William yelled ‘this is why I need the bloody light on!’

‘Are you ok?’ she called to him, not knowing if or where he’d gone. She soon heard the shower running and willed herself to go back to sleep. She tossed and turned for two minutes, realising she may have felt a little guilty about making Will injure himself.

Dragging herself out of bed, she trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen, flinching at the cold tiles on her bare feet. In the space of thirty seconds, she had pulled out the coffee pot, two peices of bread, some eggs and bacon from the fridge and set to work making William a good, hearty breakfast to start his day. The smell of the cooking hit William as soon as he left the bathroom. He dressed quickly and trotted down the stairs two at a time, finding Kate plating up his breakfast. ‘Why aren’t you still in bed?’, he asked, stroking her arm. ‘I felt guilty that I made you hurt yourself’, she said, sticking out her bottom lip. William bit into a peice of toast. ‘Just a stubbed toe. I’ll survive’, he teased. ‘Even so’, she said, nuzzling her face into William’s chest. She felt her stomach flip. She was so glad he could still give her butterflies, she thought. Then it flipped again. And the next time, the flip was a churn and those butterflies seemed to be flying up her throat. She pushed William back, spun around, and threw up into the sink. ‘Whoa’ William said, dropping his toast onto the counter. Kate was hunched over the sink. ‘Are you ok?’

‘Fine’ she said, standing up straight. ‘That was so weird, I feel totally fine now.’ ‘Go to bed’, William said, picking up his breakfast as Kate cleared the sink. ‘Are you not going to eat that?’ she said, she said eying the food. ‘I’m suddenly not that hungry anymore’, William replied as he tipped the contents into the bin.

*** Twelve hours later and William burst through the door, energetic as always after a day on the base. Kate was sat at the kitchen table, reading some notes. ‘Hi’, he said, planting a kiss on her lips, ‘how are you feeling?’ ‘Better’, she shrugged unconvincingly. She had bags under her eyes and her hair was piled messily at the top of her head. ‘What did you do today? You look exhausted!’ he asked. ‘Took Lupo for a walk, did the shopping and read these notes for the hospital visit tomorrow’. Kate held up her notes on St Ormond’s Hospital, where she had an engagement the next day. ‘That seems to have taken all my energy’, she sighed, putting her head in her hands. ‘Plus you were sick this morning’, Will said, a thought forming in his head. ‘And my period is late, which only ever happens when I’m stressed’ she said from behind her hands. ‘Or….’ Will said, a light going off. ‘Or…?’ she mimicked, placing her hands on the table. They both looked down at Kate’s stomach. There was a long silence until William jumped up suddenly, sending his chair flying backwards. ‘We need to get a test’ he said abruptly, pacing the kitchen. ‘What now?!- William’ she said, standing up and placing a steady hand on his arm. ‘We can’t just waltz into Waitrose and buy a pregnancy test.’ William’s face flushed with excitement as she said the word out loud. ‘I’m in London tomorrrow, I’ll try to get an appointment with Doctor Jenkins.’ Dr. Jenkins was their apothocary and was renound for his deiscretion with the royal family. ‘But I want to be there’ Will said sadly. ‘It’s either that or we wait until you have a day off work’, Kate suggested. William considered the options. His next day off was next week. He couldn’t wait that long. ‘You’ll call me right away, ok? Either way.’ ‘William I am not telling you that over the phone!’ Will looked wounded. ‘I’ll be back in the evening. I want to see your face if…well you know’, she said with a small smile. William nodded, knowing as usual that Kate was right. ‘Ok, tomorrow then.’ *** ‘Your Royal Highness, please come in’ Dr. Jenkins said as Kate walked back into his office hesitantly. ‘I told you it wouldn’t be a long wait, didn’t I?’ Kate had only been waiting fifteen minutes for her results, but it had felt like fifteen hours to her. Dr. Jenkins sat down behind his desk, her results in front of him. His face gave nothing away. Kate took a deep breath and sat down opposite him. *** Kate paused at the front door. It had been a tough drive back to Angelsey trying to decide how to tell William the result. Slowly, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, expecting silence and her husband to greet her. ‘GOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!!!’ Four voices boomed from the living room. She made her way through and found William and three of his fellow pilots from the base spread across the living room, boxes of pizza and beer cans amongst them. William sprang up the moment he saw her. ‘Hello’, he said rushing towards her, his eyes were unreadable. ‘The guys are over to watch the football, seeing as I was all alone tonight.’ He put his arm around her shoulder, which Kate promptly shrugged off. ‘Hope it’s ok Kate’ Matt, one of the pilots said, perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘Only Will said he had no-one to cook for him tonight so we thought we’d help him out.’ He held up a slice of pizza. ‘Of course, it’s fine’ she said, putting on her brightest fake smile. ‘How was your day?’ Will sensed her annoyance and led her to the kitchen. ‘Why would you invite them here tonight?!’ she whispered furiously as soon as they were out of earshot of their visitors. She ignored William’s question. ‘I’m sorry’ he whispered back. ‘I just mentioned you weren’t here tonight…and the game was on…they kind of just invited themselves’ he said, desperately trying to make her understand. ‘You could have just made something up, and said you were busy’ she hissed. ‘You know I can’t lie under pressure’, he pleaded, taking her hand. ‘Now please, just tell me what happened.’ ‘Now?!’ With them in there?’ she said tilting her head to the living room, where the boys were yelling at the tv. ‘I can’t wait any longer – please Kate’, he begged. Kate couldn’t punish him for this. Not now, not on this day. He face broke into a wide grin that seemed to reach her eyes. She gave William a quick nod. ‘Yes?’ William whispered. She nodded again. ‘YES!’ he shouted at full volume now. ‘Ssh!’ she said, holding her finger to his lips, trying to contain her own excitement at the same time. William jumped up and down on the spot, pumping his arm in the air. Kate tried to stifle her laughter as they silently celebrated. William pulled Kate into a tight hug, leant down and said close to her ear, ‘I can’t believe it.’ Kate stretched up and kissed his flushed, red cheek. ‘We’re having a baby.’

Ch. 2

‘You can see it, I’m sure you can see it.’

‘For the fifteenth time, these’s nothing there!’

‘It’s definitely there’. Kate smoothed her top down over her stomach, convinced that there was a bump forming under it.

‘Besides, at eight weeks, the baby is no bigger than a kidney bean’, William read from his phone, lounging on the bed.

‘Oh for God’s sake William, will you give that website a rest?!’, she said grabbing his iPhone and throwing it across the bed. He had been quoting from a pregnancy website since the day they found out about the baby. His daily updates were endearing at first, but were beginning to grate.

Kate picked up her bag, satisfied that this was the most bump-concealing top she owned. They were due to visit Kate’s family for the first time since they found out about the baby. They had decided to keep it a secret for now, wanting to savour the excitement for themselves before the world found out.

Settled in the car, they practiced for awkward questions.

‘Right Catherine’, Will said, putting on a high pitched voice, apparently and immitation of Carole. ‘Why aren’t you drinking?’

‘Well…mum. I’m driving home because Will’s too tired’, she said raising an eyebrow.

‘Good’, he replied in his normal voice, before doing his best Carole impression once again, ‘Catherine dear, help me pick up this heavy box, won’t you?’

‘Must you do that voice?’

‘Answer the question’, he said, laughing.

‘Well mother, I hurt my wrist playing tennis, I can’t pick up anything heavy.’

‘Perfect, but try not to be so robotic’, he said taking her hand. He could sense her nerves. Carole knew Kate better than most, but they were determined not to let anything slip.

As soon as the door to the family home opened, Carole pulled Kate into a hug, prompting Kate to push away slightly, all too concious that Carole might be able to feel her stomach. Carole didn’t seem to notice and followed with a hug for William and ushered them inside the house.

‘Relax’ William urged Kate when Carole was out of earshot, giving her a reassuring pat on the back.

Obligatory hugs and hellos, as well as a home cooked meal, over, they settled into the living room.

‘Kate, I’m going to book the flights for the skiing trip’ Pippa said, sitting next to her sister on the couch. ‘Can you give me your final dates?’

‘What?’ Kate said.

‘You know? Our yearly ski trip? I told you to confirm when you’re free so I can book them?’, she replied, poking Kate in the head.

‘Right, the ski trip…in Febuary?’

‘Yes…what is wrong with you?’ Pippa said, shaking her head at Kate’s apparant forgetfulness.

‘I can’t, I mean, we can’t go.’ In Febuary, Kate would be seven months pregnant, and skiing wasn’t exactly a pregnant woman’s pursuit.

‘Why not?’ Carole quizzed.

Kate looked at William, her mind racing to find an answer.

‘Yes why?’ Pippa added. ‘You said you’d checked your diary weeks ago.’

‘I, urm, it’s -‘

’ – it’s my fault’. William interjected. ‘I booked a surprise holiday for Kate. I’ really sorry, I forgot all about the skiing.1

‘Oh don’t be silly!’ Carole said relaxing, ‘where are you going?’

‘France’

‘Italy’

They spoke at the same time. ‘France then Italy’ Will said quickly as Kate turned a deep shade of crimson.

‘Another time then?’ Pippa said.

‘Of course’ Kate replied, thinking it would be a long time before she would ski again.

***

‘Shit that was close!’ Will said as they drove away from the house that evening.

‘Was I really obvious?’ Kate asked, panicking.

‘You were fine…just relax. You know research shows that stress isn’t good for the baby.’

‘Seriously, I am taking that phone off you!’ she said scowling, before turning away from him and smiling.

***

The following day and it was over to Clarence House for lunch with William’s family. Charles and Camilla greeted them, however Harry was nowhere to be seen.

‘Where’s Harry?’ Will asked.

‘He’s been taken ill’, Charles replied, seeming unconvinced.

‘Hangover, then.’ William said to Camilla and Kate from the corner of his mouth, prompting a giggle from them both.

‘Shall we eat?!’ Camilla said, leading them to the dining room, where a Sunday roast was ready for them. They dug in, Kate particularly ravenous since becoming pregnant.

Near the end of the meal came the cheese course and Kate picked up an enticing piece of brie. William glard at her across the table, but she was deep in conversation with Camilla.

‘Will and I are really looking forward to seeing Asia, we -’ She suddenly felt a light kick under the table, but continued ‘-we’re not so sure about the weather though.’ Another kick followed. She turned to look at William, who shot her, then the brie a hard look.

Kate furrowed her brow, not understanding, and reached for the brie from her plate. William’s hand swept across the plate, sending it flying to the floor.

‘William!’ Kate exclaimed, followed by an ‘oh!’ from Camilla and Charles.

‘Oops!’, he said kneeling to the floor, trying to clear the mess from the carpet. ‘There was a fly on the food – I aimed a little low’, he said holding his hands up. Kate bent down to help.

‘There’s plenty more’ Charles said, smiling at Kate.

‘No!…she can’t, I mean won’t eat it’ Will said hurriedly. Kate opened her mouth to protest, but William cut her off before she started ‘it’s a weird fly complex, isn’t it Kate? She’s a bit OCD bless her.’

Camilla and Charles looked puzzled, but simply nodded, thinking maybe they had more to learn about Kate as they went off to find someone to clean the stain on the carpet.

‘What was that?!’ Kate said as soon as they left the room.

‘You’re not allowed brie.’

‘Says who?’ she said, guessing the answer.

‘Well it was on the website, it said it was best to avoid it.’ Will said sheepishly, predicting a telling-off.

‘Oh Will’ she said shaking her head. ‘And YOU told ME to relax!’

‘I just want to be safe’ he replied.

‘Luckily for you, we got away with it- this time!’ she said, vowing to herself that she would delete that website from Will’s bookmarks in the morning.

***

That evening, Will and Kate were relaxing at their cottage at Kensington Palace, discussing how lucky they’d been to keep the baby a secret this weekend, when there was a knock at the door.

A slightly dishevelled Harry greeted them when Will opened the door.

‘Can I have some dinner?’ Harry said immediately.

‘Come in’ Will sighed and pointed him in the direction of the kitchen, where there were leftovers from the roast lunch.

‘Hi Kate’ Harry called as he sped into the kitchen. ‘What?’ he said at William’s unimpressed expression. ‘Kate said I could come over for dinner whenever I wanted!’

‘You’ll regret that’ Will said to Kate.

Harry settled on the couch with his warmed up meal. ‘Can I borrow your phone?’ He said to his brother with a mouthful of food. ‘No battery in mine.’

Will passed him the phone, and started flicking through the tv channels.

‘Urm’ Harry said, staring at the phone a few seconds later.

‘You haven’t broken it have you?’ Will said.

Harry turned the phone around. Glaring from the screen was the pregnancy website.

‘Oh crap’ Kate said quietly.

Will immediately started to think of his third excuse of the weekend, but a nudge from Kate and Harry’s face him told him otherwise. He looked over to Kate and she gave him a reassuring smile.

‘Yeh…well, we’re…you’re gonna be an uncle’ he said finally.

‘Shit!’ Harry said beaming. He leapt to his feet and grabbed Will into a hug.

Kate giggled from the sofa, until Harry said ‘and you, sis! Congratulations!’ and gave her a warm embrace.

‘So does anyone else know?!’ he said, grinning from ear to ear.

‘Not yet’ Will replied. ‘And we want to keep it that way.’

‘My lips are sealed.’

‘Right’ Kate said. ‘Harry’s not the one we should be worried about.’ She grabbed the iPhone ‘This needs to go!’

—-

I didn’t finish the rest of this series, here was the plan:

Ch. 3. They see the baby for the first time on a scan. This freaks William out and he doesn’t want to be intimate with Kate. They argue because Kate feels unwanted, but they make up in a romantic sex scene.

Ch. 4. They tell the world about the baby.

Ch. 5. They argue about baby names.

Ch. 6. Didn’t plan this chapter.

Ch. 7. While William is away on an engagement, Kate collapses and is taken into hospital.

Ch. 8. Kate is put on bed rest, and is told not to work. She refuses and does an engagement anyway, against William’s wishes. Eventually they announce that she will be put on bed rest.

Ch. 9. The baby is born in hospital. It is a boy.

#katefiction #royal fanfiction #cambridge fanfiction #kate middleton

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custardcove · 3 years

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Here’s a fifteen-questions meme I stole from my splat-blog!

I’m not tagging fifteen people, but if you’re a mutual of mine that wants to take part, consider yourself tagged.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Pansy: A flower, if that counts! It’s a family tradition for the firstborn.

Ivan: Not exactly. I share a name with some video game character Alice liked the sound of.

Queenie: Sadly not. While I appreciate that my name stands out, sharing a name with one of my ancestors would’ve been a mark of pride.

Taylor: Mmmnope. I like ‘Taylor’ enough because it starts with a T like Tomiichi, but I wasn’t named after anybody—though you know, as a point of interest, it was meant to rhyme with my brother’s name!

Neo: I was named after my grandmother.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Pansy: Aw, man… I try to stay positive around Prim, but I do cry about silly stuff sometimes. Maybe a week ago? Sometimes the past just catches up to you.

Ivan: Longer than I can remember.

Queenie: What an invasive question! I don’t think that’s any of your business. I do not cry frequently.

Taylor: Now why’d you want to know a thing like that? I think I’ll keep it to myself!

Neo: Mind your own business.

3. Do you have kids?

Pansy: Have you met Primrose? That’s my daughter. She’s really sweet, but she’s also quite shy, so please keep that in mind.

Ivan: This is a difficult question to answer. I’d say no. I don’t think granting someone’s wish makes me a father.

Queenie: Not yet. I intend to.

Taylor: Woah, no! Do I look responsible enough to be a dad? Ahah…

Neo: No. I would rather not.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Pansy: I try not to, er, I’m not so great at it. And it’s kinda mean.

Ivan: I get reprimanded for being sarcastic. It happens regularly.

Queenie: What do you think?

Taylor: There’s always room for some well-placed sarcasm!

Neo: Any time I make a joke.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Pansy: I try to get a good read on folks—so, I guess their whole profile? That’s before I start looking at their individual features. If something sticks out to me from there, I’ll focus on that—but not in a mean way! Like, seeing someone’s smile, or if they’re carrying something, or their size, or claws. That’s what I mean.

Ivan: Their aura. It’s not difficult for me to discern a person’s moral alignment, and that’s important for my role.

Queenie: Their posture, how they walk, how they talk. It’s important for a first impression and can often be an indication of status. Or, perhaps more importantly, an indication of their intent…

Taylor: Their mood! I don’t want to step on the toes of anyone that’s angry, and happier people are more likely to give you the time of day, you know? Improving someone’s low mood is great too, but I have to gauge my limits.

Neo: I’m not known for noticing people. How social they are, I suppose.

6. What’s your eye colour?

Pansy: Psychic pink! They do that thing where they get more vivid when I use my powers—just the psychic ones, though. And I don’t use those too much ‘cause I risk a headache… still, I like my eyes.

Ivan: Brown, orange.

Queenie: Smoky Quartz.

Taylor: Brown. You know, like coffee? If I were a coffee, I think I’d be a Caffe Latte. … But, yeah they’re darker than that.

Neo: …I don’t mind my eyes being green as much as my hair.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

Pansy: Don’t mind either one, but I’d prefer a happy ending, even in a scary movie. That said, there are scary movies I just won’t watch, so I guess happy endings win out.

Ivan: I don’t waste much time watching films unless I’m asked to, but I prefer a happy ending. A good story is the most important, though.

Queenie: Happy endings are far too sappy and saccharine, but I can’t say I receive much thrill from horror either. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy watching them … my favourite part of a movie is criticizing it.

Taylor: Happy endings, please! I can’t understand why anyone would want to scare themselves – unless it’s silly fun, but that’s different. Y’know, not that I scare easy or anything…

Neo: Scary movies tend to be more interesting, but… I don’t have anything against happy endings. Horror isn’t my genre, either, unless it’s psychological.

8. Any special talents?

Pansy: I have a bit of a green thumb!

Ivan: That all depends on your perspective.

Queenie: I’m an excellent piano player.

Taylor: People tell me I’ve got a lot of charisma, and I consider that a talent!

Neo: I suppose converting myself into digital matter could be considered a talent.

9. Where were you born?

Pansy: A town not so different from Erryton, actually! It’s not far.

Ivan: Great question.

Queenie: Enigma Island, not far from Thorn’s Peak.

Taylor: Would you believe me if I told you I couldn’t remember? Aha. I know we moved when I was really young.

Neo: Doesn’t matter.

10. What are your hobbies?

Pansy: Well, like I mentioned, I quite like doing plant stuff. I used to sketch ‘em and make notes about ‘em too, but I stick more to the practical side these days. I also like to bake! Mainly pies, cakes and cookies.

Ivan: I play the flute and cithara. Next question.

Queenie: I have a wide array of hobbies. I enjoy painting, reading, and playing the piano—as I have already mentioned. While I’m not … particularly adept at sewing, I practice cross-stitch on occasion. I also like to write poetry, and take a bit of interest in botany…

Taylor: Most of my hobbies have some aspect of music tied to them—I like playing the guitar, mixing tracks, and just listening to albums. But I also like playing videogames and taking apart machinery for fun. I can even help people fix things! Er, sometimes.

Neo: I read comics and watch movies, like most people. You wouldn’t be interested.

11. Do you have any pets?

Pansy: Not anymore, but I’ve had two cats – Mr Ravioli in my childhood home, and then Kiki later on. I’ve considered getting another, but I think I should wait until Primmy is a little older…

Ivan: No.

Queenie: Estelle! She’s a darling little kitty-cat and I love her so. <3

Taylor: One dog, a shibe—my father bred his, and I got a puppy. Tadashi!

Neo: My brother makes robots, and we have one of those roving floor cleaners. I would consider that a pet. We call him V.I.N.CENT.

12. What sports do you/have you played?

Pansy: I’m not really big on sports – I like magic fights? But I don’t do that a lot now.

Ivan: I may have taken part in some sport or another, but if I did, I did not commit it to memory.

Queenie: I like to swim, though I have not played any sports as such. I have also been horse riding—oh, and I’ve played badminton once or twice.

Taylor: Alice likes table tennis, and we play together sometimes. Apart from that, um… I’ve been asked to play football and baseball before?

Neo: I like to run. Parkour is fun too.

13. How tall are you?

Pansy: Five foot seven, and I’m the shortest in my family…

Ivan: Depends.

Queenie: A reasonable five feet and ten inches without heels.

Taylor: Ahaha … let’s just skip this one, shall we? You don’t need to know that.

Neo: Taller than you.

14. Dream job?

Pansy: I’ve pretty much got my dream job, all things considered! I guess I’d like it if I could get paid to do plant study, but I never really had the grades to do that as a job.

Ivan: I’m working on my rank.

Queenie: I have entertained the possibility of having a career before. Hotel management seems like an interesting prospect … or a jeweller, perhaps? Oho, I don’t know if I could be trusted to sell anything. Either way, I’m comfortable enough managing my home and finances.

Taylor: I’ve always wanted to be a big-name tv presenter—hell, even a small-name gameshow host! I’ve not given up on my dream yet, but being a radio show host is close enough. I can use it as a stepping stone. Yeah, a music quiz show would be great…

Neo: I don’t know. Even when it comes to things I like doing, I’m not sure I’d want to make a job out of it. Coding is just convenient.

15. Favourite subject in school?

Pansy: Science! I also liked geography, ‘cause I was pretty decent at it.

Ivan: I have never attended school.

Queenie: I’ve both been to school and had private tutors, but my favourite subjects were history and literature. They rely on eachother, so were easy to write papers on.

Taylor: Apart from the obvious ‘music’, it was mathematics—and yes, I’m serious! I also liked science and IT.

Neo: From what I remember of school, I liked science and computing classes. The rest of what I learned was from online courses.

That’s… that’s it? It just ends? Alright then.

#Pansy #Ivan #Queenie #Taylor #Neo #OC Questions

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oregoncoastcamping · 3 years

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The 10 Best Places To Camp On Oregons Coast

“In the cute little fishing town of Garibaldi, on the Oregon Coast, we discovered this gem of an RV park. Waterfront, full hookup sites with a fantastic view led us to build a fire in hearth pit supplied and sit outdoors in December! Fall and winter give the Oregon coast a definite aura. Mist swirls across the seaside and massive waves pound the shoreline. If you love that wild, dramatic vibe, just load up on heat, waterproof layers. Oregon state parks have a 9 month booking window so it’s hard to get spots except you book way prematurely. However you possibly can snag cancellations which is how we were able to keep at so Oregon Coast camping.

If you’re in search of the proper place to take the children, or simply want a nice enjoyable getaway, there may be never a bad time to discover a place to pitch a tent in the Pacific Northwest. Set in the heart of the Oregon Coast Range, this trail is an area favorite for its distant accessibility and breathtaking beauty. Hikers, mountain bikers, and swimming hole lovers will all find the Opal Creek Trail accessible and gratifying. From the Oregon’s central desert to a few of the best beaches the Pacific Northwest has to supply, you possibly can unplug and unwind nearly anyplace you want within the state. Around the bend, town of Astoria sits on the banks of the mouth of the Columbia River where it spills into the Pacific Ocean. Kayak excursions and seaside horseback rides are popular activities in the space. Additional options such as an indoor pool and business heart go an extended way to making your keep as snug as potential.

<h2>Discover Each Seaside Spot</h2>

The Seaside Aquarium is one other great attraction to go to, together with the Lewis and Clark historical sites, the air museum, and lots of shopping outlets nearby. Just down the road in Bandon, you can go to local retailers, galleries and eating. Face Rock also lies nearby, in addition to miles of ocean beach on Beach Loop Drive. The Coquille River Lighthouse is one other close by interesting historic attraction. The park is just down the highway from many fantastic eating places, stores, galleries, and beautiful scenic walks alongside the seashore.

Fort Stevens State Park Campground has practically 500 campsites and a big selection of yurts and cabins for rent. Expect throngs of tourists due to the campground’s proximity to Portland, but with so many campsites and expansive grounds there’s loads of room to share. You’ll be greeted and welcomed like an old pal by the Wright household, who nonetheless run the every day operations of this seasonal campground. Rest straightforward underneath the tall pines, and clean your self up in the bathhouse after a long day at the seashore. They’re easy to spot, however seashores will be closed throughout snowy plover nesting season to guard the delicate birds.

“If you might be in search of an excellent, quiet campground on the coast that is the place. I will return many instances to this beautiful area.” — The Dyrt camper Karen S. There are good bathrooms with showers on website, a sand volleyball court docket, a store, little wild bunnies working round, and nice fire pits at every site.” — The Dyrt camper Ryan E.

It's extremely beneficial to explore the site's navy historical past unfold all through the park during any keep. The customer middle is a great place to begin a self-guided historical past tour, the place archival images and displays paint a picture of the fort's military previous.

The top 10 campgrounds we chosen all show daily, weekly and month-to-month rates for you. Located within the north-east of the state is Grande Hot Springs RV Resort, primarily based within the scenic Grande Rhonde Valley area. It’s additionally simply 8 miles south of downtown La Grande, which is home to numerous fun points of interest similar to Hilgard Junction State Park, the Wallowa Lake Scenic bike path, and Hot Lake Springs. North of Tillamook is a county campground near the beach known as Barview Jetty. There are some Forest Service campgrounds however they do not have showers.

<h3>What Individuals Are Saying About Wallowa Lake State Park</h3>

This campground is mostly a properly-saved secret with Umpqua River Lighthouse, which has an adjacent museum and is managed by the Douglas County Parks Department, close by. Located two miles north of Bandon-by-the-sea, this state park has lots to see and do with close by Coquille River Lighthouse and Bandon Marsh National Wildlife Refuge. The park has 13 yurts and no tent sites, sadly, but does sport a horse camp with eight primitive websites. The nearby town of Bandon, the "Cranberry Capitol of the World," has retailers, galleries, and restaurants obtainable. Fluffy, sandy seashores of Florence Various clear water lakes are found right here, sitting in the midst of the enormous, typically towering dunes.

We took our canine to Cape Lookout and he beloved the quick 5 minute stroll to the seaside. We puzzled down the seashore and up the seashore for over two hours one morning and it was heaven. I checked out the locations across the Gold Coast however I think it might be a bit too far south for us as we need to restrict our driving once we hit Oregon.

<h2>Things To See + Do Close To Beverly Seashore State Park</h2>

Sunset Bay State Park has a number of the BEST sunset views in all the Oregon coastline. If you need to camp out in completely breathtaking surroundings, Sunset Bay is for you. The tall rock cliffs, white beaches and Pacific Ocean views are digicam worthy at every angle. If that describes you then look no additional than Seaside KOA. This campground sits where the good Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean. You can embark on climbing adventures by day and benefit from the hot tub by night.

There's also disc golf, a playground area, and horseshoe pits. Kayak tours are supplied from July by way of Labor Day at close by Beaver Creek. There's even at lighthouse, Yaquina Bay Lighthouse, obtainable for viewing. Many folks contemplate this their favourite Oregon State Park, and with camping, swimming, hiking, biking, wildlife viewing, a shipwreck, and a military fort unfold over 4,300 acres, it isn't troublesome to see why. Visitors can keep in one of many six tent sites, 15 yurts, or 11 deluxe cabins and absorb a few of the best sunsets in the world. Hidden cove at Washburne There’s a simple path to the beach, containing miles of sand and a few surprises.

<h3>Safety At Hipcamp</h3>

From the principle seashore entry, head south and for the following mile or so you may find beautiful little cove-like locations, the primary of which is just 1 / 4 mile down the seashore. Some of these are only possibly 30 ft wide and 20 ft deep - which makes them excellent for letting the rays in however keeping the wind out.

Staying at an RV Park for a protracted time frame will vary on the campground & RV Park you choose. The distant thermal resort offers a wide range of accommodation types, including several RV spots for motorhome owners to take pleasure in all that the power has to offer. If soaking in a therapeutic, thermal scorching spring pond or private tub seems like your concept of relaxation, then this is certainly the place for you! The campsites are dog-pleasant too, so even your four-legged family members received’t should miss out. The Umatilla Marina RV Park is perched next to the gorgeous Columbia River in the northern finish of the state.

<h3>Awesome Places To Camp On The Oregon Coast</h3>

Only one SP tenting space is on the ocean (Beachside - between Yachats and Waldport), however select your website carefully as it's also proper on busy Hwy one hundred and one. For those with bigger RVs who're nonetheless looking for that in-the-woods feeling, the popular Harrington Loop Road south of Sisters doesn’t disappoint. If your thought of camping means sharing your site with extra ravens than different RVs, there’s no higher place to seek Oregon Coast camping out solace and seclusion than in Mount Hood National Forest. Expect towering Douglas-fir bushes to forged shade and conceal you away within the forest. Think trickling creeks and mushrooms springing up from each crevice, squirrels dancing acrobatic as eagles perch majestically in their eternal pursuit of representing liberty and justice for all. While it is hardly the one forested mountain you'll be able to discover, this combination of river, height and sheer vastness makes it one of the well-liked.

Other amenities embrace two clubhouses, two playgrounds, health heart, mini golf, basketball and tennis courts, clean bogs, and a laundry room. The solely draw back is it’s situated on the south side of the park, so you’ll must drive if camping on the north side. When we arrived, we received an actions calendar, however the only exercise we attempted to attend was a bonfire at the group fireplace pit space. Apparently, it was a member-led exercise, and that member didn’t show up, so no bonfire. There is Wi-Fi out there throughout the park for a charge, but it's free in the clubhouses and laundry room. We had 2-3 bars of 4G LTE of Verizon and AT&T throughout most of the park. The Oregon coast is a wonderful place to name home for a couple of days, weeks, or months when taking a highway journey in an RV.

The summer time months are undoubtedly the most effective time for Oregon coast camping. The weather is typically nice at the moment of the 12 months, but it's also the most crowded time to go to. I’ve heard it’s great to visit in the spring and fall when the parks are not so crowded.

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smithbysmithies · 3 years

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Hi, I’m a new transfer student and really excited to come to Smith this fall. I have questions about Smith’s residential houses and club sports: What houses have kitchenettes? Are students allowed to cook in their houses these days (considering the pandemic situation)? As to club sports, I’m interested in archery and equestrian. Are these teams still active, and if so, how are they operated these days? Thank you so much!

Hi! Welcome to Smith!

All houses have kitchenettes/ kitchens of some sorts, with a sink, microwave and small refrigerator (see housing FAQ here). Many houses (usually those without a dining hall) have a full kitchen with stoves, ovens and basic communal items like pots and pans (because all houses used to have their own dining halls before the dining consolidation plan 30 years ago). There are also two food co-op houses, Tenny and Hopkins, where students cook for themselves and are off the campus dining plan. You can read more about them here.

Right now (Feb 11th, 2021) the campus is in Blue Mode (our initial operating mode that lasts till the second week of the semester), which means that kitchens and common spaces are closed. However, once we are in Green Mode, house kitchens will be available via sign-up. You can check out this website for more information on the pandemic operating modes and how they affect residential life.

A short answer to your second question regarding club sports is yes, both archery and equestrian are vibrantly active! I signed up for both club sports last year and am a current member of the equestrian club. So glad you asked here!

Prior to the pandemic, the archery club holds weekly practice with coaches in the ITT (Smith College Indoor Track and Tennis Facility). Here is the link to their website. As for the equestrian club, we ride in school vans to take one-hour long riding lessons at Stoneleigh Burnham, an equestrian center in Greenfield, MA, twice a week. As a club member, you can also try out to be on the team. You can learn more about the equestrian lesson program in this document. Outside the barn, we have club/team bonding events like movie nights. (Our last one was one week before we suddenly got sent home last March, and we watched Spirit: Stallion of Cimarron at the Campus Center. Little did we know back then... )

Sadly due to COVID restrictions, all sports-related activities have been postponed since fall 2020 till further notice. I am hopeful that things will go back to normal soon and club sports will safely resume!

Cheers,

--ÆH ‘23

#housing #clubs #smithbysmithies #Anonymous

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ivashkovadrian · 4 years

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tagged by @scinnlaece , thank you so much!!! 🤩

what is the color of your hairbrush? light purple

name a food you never eat. shrimp

are you typically too cold or too warm? too cold

what were you doing 45min ago? watching the second semi-final of the French Open (tennis)

what’s your favorite candy bar? twix, or mars, or bounty, or kinder bueno. i guess twix. but i extremely rarely eat any candy bar

have you ever been to a professional sports’ game? yes, i went to two ice hockey matches (one local and one between two national teams) although i don’t really care for ice hockey, and to one group figure ice skating competition.

what is the last thing you said out loud? “good night” to my mom

what is your favorite ice cream? rose, lavender, oreo, saffron,

what was the last thing you had to drink? a glass of water

do you like your wallet? it does the job. it’s the only one big enough for my id’s size

what was the last thing you ate? yoghurt for dessert

did you buy new clothes last weekend? nope, i already have enough

what’s the last sporting event you watched? see question 4 aka the French Open taking over my life although i already have 0 time

what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? i don’t really eat popcorn, but i know i’m fine with the basic salty flavor

who is the last person you sent a text message to? the whatsapp group from a training i’m taking part in regarding our session tomorrow (because it’s really badly organized and we only received our online usernames/passwords tonight at 8pm)

ever been camping? HELL NO, i’d rather chew off my own foot

do you take vitamins? yes.

do you regularly attend a place of worship? nope nope nope nope

do you have a tan? not much anymore although i did tan during lockdown and afterwards just by going on small walks in the neighborhood

do you prefer Chinese or pizza? pizza

do you drink your soda with a straw? i can’t even remember the last time i drank soda

what color socks do you usually wear? black when i go out, fluffy pink at home

do you ever drive above the speed limit? no, i don’t have enough practice

what terrifies you? losing my closed ones

look to your left, what do you see? my diary calendar

what chore do you hate most? doing the dishes

what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? “ah there it is” and “mmh that would be what i would hear all day long if i were to move to australia, cool”

what’s your favorite soda? canada dry and sprite, though i haven’t drank any for literal years

do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-through? go in

what’s your favorite number? 4, it’s my lucky number

who’s the last person you talked to? my mom

favorite cut of beef? i don’t eat beef often but i guess steak

last song you listened to? The Draw by Bastille

last book you read? Fangs by Sarah Andersen, it’s a comic book about a vampire and a werewolf dating and it’s the freaking cutest! (the comic is available on tapas.io)

favorite day of the week? saturday

can you say the alphabet backwards? no

how do you like your coffee? i don’t drink coffee

favorite pair of shoes? my small boots from New Look which are both super comfortable despite a 5-7cm heel, make me taller and are classy

time you normally get up? 10am

what do you prefer: sunrises or sunsets? sunsets

how many blankets on your bed? two duvets, one quilt and one plaid

describe your kitchen plates. black induction plates. minimalist and modern

describe your kitchen at the moment. teapot already out on the counter, waiting for tomorrow morning. quiet, lights turned off (it’s midnight)

do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? i guess cocktails, in particular pina colada, because they’re sweet so you don’t taste the alcohol? i’m not fond of the taste of alcohol although i’ve been forced to learn to tolerate it. there was a running joke among my friends about me and rosé wine because that was the only thing i would drink when we would have parties

do you play cards? sometimes

what color is your car? i don’t own a car

can you change a tire? lmao, no

your favorite state? is this questionnaire USA-centric... i couldn’t care less about that. so, state of bliss

favorite job you’ve had? lmao a long time ago, i was a policy analyst (trainee) and i absolutely loved it, it was perfect. sadly, it was only for 5 months

tagging and please, feel free to ignore!: @martellen @allisonaergents @tragicdeadgirl @fairytalespond

#tagged games #long text post #about me #this was fun though at times weirdly specific #thanks again for tagging me!

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bubmyg · 5 years

Text

game, set, love - jhs

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre/warnings: tennis!au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst (w a hopeful ending), some humor because seokjin is in it, grumpy tennis instructor namjoon is here too, mentions of injuries, lots of tennis terminology (sorry)

word count: 13,466

summary: you like to be on the opposing side of the net from jung hoseok so when you drill a forehand volley through his teeth it can be considered kind of an accident or where seokjin just had to go and tear his ACL.

There’s a specific sound associated with that of a good, great, volley, the satisfying thwack of the thin fibers of the ball smacking against the spaces in your strings, rebounding off the surface and ricocheting into the thin space of the alley. It’s easy to imagine catching the angle instead, aiming the ball for the box just on the other side of the net, nearly impossible for the opponent to sprint to even if they catch the way your body angles.

It’s a more complex shot anyway, the angle and trajectory and the pronation of your wrist just right so the ball doesn’t catch on the frame of your racket and sail out. Cross court is the safer shot. It’s not even cross court, not really, not in the same way a forehand is from your partner. The safe shot is to aim at the other net player, their feet to be exact.

But Namjoon wouldn’t ever tell you to aim at another player and he definitely wouldn’t encourage your favorite net strategy.

Imagine every hanging ball at the net is Jung Hoseok’s face.

“Again,” There was a mechanical whir and the ball machine at the baseline rumbled to life at the hands of Namjoon. He’d emptied another basket of balls into the top, shifting them around with the head of his racket as he waited for the first one to spit back out. “Hit your target areas or I’ll put you on court five and make you do it throughout Seokjin’s session.”

You leaned into a backhand volley, making it spin when it landed. “Noted.”

Another basket of balls and Namjoon was satisfied enough to let you switch sides, nearly tripping into the ball machine cord as he rolled it aside. Your arm had just begun to ache on your third basket, neon yellow littered in a sea around your trainer’s feet, when the door to the courts of the complex slammed shut.

You were distracted by the wave of Namjoon’s arm as he began to nudge through balls toward your side of the net and the incoming ball caught on the neck of your racket, dribbling sadly down your side of the net. You hit the next one properly for the sake of Namjoon’s knowing glance at you, a single cocked eyebrow letting you know he was still watching even if he’d nearly rolled his ankle on your most recently hit ball. There was a flash of yellow in your peripheral, not a stray ball from one of the courts over the mesh nets that separated them, and you gaped as you lost your stance.

Hoseok was looking directly at you as he shrugged himself out of the massive bag perched over his shoulders, dropping it rather unceremoniously to the bench between courts. He was every shade of yellow, sweatbands, slick t-shirt, the stripe down the sides of his shorts, the laces on his white shoes, the headband peeling back faded blonde hair, like he’d just stepped out of an athletic magazine for pretentious assholes who thought the sport was all about the matching clothes. A smirk twitched at his lips as the clinking of rackets in his bag sent your water jug toppling to the ground.

Your racket clutched at your torso was the only thing keeping the next ball that fired out from smacking into your chest and you huffed, halfheartedly swinging to catch the next ball on your strings instead of on the handle.

“If you’re done, go turn it off and start picking up.”

You glared at Namjoon because why the fuck is Hoseok here? but that question didn’t come out, instead a sickly sweet, “Am I done?” as you jerked your racket to hit another sloppy but angry ball onto the other side of the net.

“You’re done. Pick up.”

You snatched an empty hopper en route to dodge another shot that barreled from the machine without someone on the other side of the net to intercept it. You only managed to collect three balls before you made it to the small black box, flicking it off and silencing the courts into the chatter of the two individuals on your court. A dent was barely made in the sea of balls surrounding the opposite end of the court but you only wanted enough out of the way to make a path for Namjoon and Hoseok, approaching with the half full hopper bouncing against your thigh and your racket tucked underneath your arm.

“What’s next, coach?” You pointedly dropped the hopper, crouching to snatch up your water jug from where it’d tumbled just in front of Hoseok’s shoe. He nudged it toward you and you resisted the urge to pop the lid and let ice water spill through into his socks.

“I’m going to have Hoseok take some serves for a little while…”

He had two crooked fingers in parted bangs, brushing them aside the elastic of his headband and he smirked when you quipped, “I meant for me seeing as this is my training session…”

“Relax,” Namjoon glanced between the two of you, “You’ve got twenty minutes to deal with being in the same general proximity. I think you can handle it.”

“Twenty minutes?” One of Hoseok’s dark eyebrows nudged underneath the seam of neon green on his forehead, “Tapping out early? I get it, conditioning has never been your forte—”

“Seokjin’s coming in,” You gritted, “Then we have a joint practice.”

“Ah,” He flicked the hair he’d just fixed, dropping his racket from his chest to properly grip in his hand, “Your better half.”

“Could kick your ass.”

“I don’t accept challenges from doubles players, sorry.”

“Enough.” Namjoon’s fingers brushed yours aside, taking the hopper from you to turn it in nimble fingers, effectively spilling all the balls you’d worked to pick up. When the bouncing had subsided for the most part, he stretched the wire basket back toward you. “I thought I told you to pick up. All balls. Every one you miss is a lap for Seokjin.”

“...as for you—”

Albeit satisfying, forcing the image of Hoseok to conjure on the surface of the ball hurtling at you over and over and over becomes not only frustrating, but mentally taxing with the bubble of discontent that burst in the pit of your stomach with even the ghosted hint of his stupidly swollen cheeks above tiny little dimples indented into his smirking lips. The real pleasure came when it was the real thing standing on the opposite end of you, way out of range from where your shots were meant to be landing but there, tangible and an easy target if you wanted to face the wrath of Namjoon after welting a bruise on the face of the tennis club’s star singles player.

Hoseok paused in between serves, as if expecting you to do the very thing your mind craved, shuffling on his feet as the ball bounced from the flick of his wrist to the surface of the court. Namjoon stood opposite of him, serve in his own hand with the stipulation that you had to get it back cross court regardless of it was out or not. No matter how out it was. You’d barely taken three off a low, slicing bounce on the corner of the box when Namjoon was holding up a single finger in your direction, crossing the center line to nudge a hand under Hoseok’s elbow when he raised his arm to serve.

There was a certain aura about Hoseok that made your blood boil, from the content nod he passed Namjoon, stepping out of his grasp and disrupting his serve routine but making it easily with barely applying the correction. It’d always been that way, skills coming easily to Hoseok that you’d kill or pay or both to acquire in a years time. He’d won a game before you on your first day of tennis camp, a tiny elementary student with the ball perfectly balanced on the end of his racket as he terrorized everyone near him with screams and flailing hands that made others go scrambling after their balls. He’d learned to slice before you, a tiny middle schooler with clunky running shoes on and a sleeve stretched over his elbow that he’d seen his basketball player friends wear, doing the shot to you two seconds later in a practice match that had you stumbling head first into the net in front of thirty thirteen year olds. He’d made the varsity team before you, taking the last unofficial but official spot because he beat you in a third set tiebreaker when you were still adjusting to ankle braces the trainer said you needed to wear and there was never time the rest of the season to challenge him again.

You’d joined the tennis club first, however, a youth instructor during college until Namjoon had found you taking serves after a group lesson and coaxed you into a pickup match and eventually to try out for the competitive team. As a manager of the club by the time Hoseok’s application came across your desk, you had half the mind to shred it, but your degree and your job position knew better. Hoseok was Namjoon’s friend. Park Jimin had just left a singles spot open on the competitive team.

You decided you could put up with him. If he stayed out of your way. He had since graduation.

But of course he couldn’t. Switching trainers to be with Namjoon. Taking the open locker next to yours when there were, at minimum, seventeen free ones. Wooing your middle school group lessons to the point where they asked for him to teach.

Standing in on your training sessions just weeks before the first of regional qualifier matches.

“Are you awake?” Your cheeks burned at Namjoon’s call and you glared at Hoseok just because you knew he’d be laughing. He was.

“What are you doing?” He continued to scold and you continued to flame, “Back up. And step toward the middle. You aren’t a twelve year old trying to protect your backhand anymore.”

You didn’t move, setting up to take the next serve directly down the line, a fiery ball that bounced lowly just in on the baseline before smacking Hoseok hard on the knee. You twirled your racket as you stood, eyes on your watch and Namjoon’s tight sigh helped with your curt exit.

“Go. Send Seokjin in.”

“Who let Hoseok spit in your lunch?”

You glared at your doubles partner and he giggled, leaning against the locker next to yours as you began to yank clothes out of it, sweatpants and a hoodie and the dangling fabric of your lanyard with your car and house keys attached.

“You joke—” You slammed the metal so hard you hoped it reverberated through the walls to the courts, “—but he’s out there. He was out there during half my training. He’ll probably still be out there for yours and for when I get back. Who knew going undefeated two seasons in a row earned ass kissing from your trainer.”

Seokjin quirked an eyebrow as you struggled with a leg of your sweatpants, cupping a gentle hand on your elbow. “Yeah. Who would have ever guessed. We should try it.”

“We’re regional runner up.”

“Runner up…”

“Look, fuck—”

“I’m aware you hate everyone today, don’t remind me of those who beat us last year,” He held onto your arm until you cinched the drawstrings around your waist, “...look I’m not trying to be an asshole. But when you go home, can you do something for me?”

You glared with the hoodie curled in your fists until Seokjin continued, deadpan, “Crawl into your bed. I know it’s not made because you had an early lesson this morning. Shut your eyes. Then roll over and get up on the other side. Then come back for our joint training.”

If you wouldn’t have got caught in the head of your hoodie, your fuck off would have been entirely more effective.

Seokjin held up two hands in solace anyway, his bag hiking higher on broad shoulders. “Just saying. I don’t need drilled in the back of the head with your serve. Again.”

“That’s only happened twice.”

“Four times,” He wiggled four fingers in front of your nose, “All Hoseok induced. It’s the I can’t stand Hoseok serve. Otherwise known as us losing a point immediately.”

“Whatever,” You stretched your lanyard around your neck, smacking his hand that continued to wave in front of your eyes in order to step around him, “I’ll be back.”

“Bring me an iced coffee from McDonald’s?”

“...you don’t want an apple or something?”

“Yeah, apple slices from a happy meal would be amazing—”

Fresh from your apartment, ankle braces shed in favor of your knee brace, and a happy meal with an iced coffee in hand, you shouldered your way back into the complex. It was silent in the middle of the afternoon, no one aside from the staff, competitive teams, and adult patrons milling around until the children showed up for their evening lessons.

Rather, it was normally silent. And the lobby area followed the same routine when you settled the brown paper bag onto the front desk, no one at the tiny row of bleachers set in front of the window for viewing, no clinging lockers or running shower heads in the locker room. Instead, through the window, figures rushed by. Back and forth. Up and down. A squinted glance and you registered the neon yellow blur to be Hoseok. Then Namjoon. Then one of the other tennis pros who had been on the far side of the complex. Namjoon again.

Namjoon catching your attention by means of wide eyes and frantic hands.

“What?” You didn’t know what you were running for but your slide on sandals weren’t a tripping hazard as you dashed after Namjoon, “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t turn over his shoulder but it was easy to make out his loud it’s Jin when you saw the crumpled heap of your doubles partner, shoulders slumped against the glass viewing window with his knee curled upward to his chest.

“What? What—” You ran out of your sandals, socked feet sliding into a crouched position, “—what happened?”

Seokjin’s ears were painted in red, not the same color as when members of an opposing team complimented the width of his shoulders on a changeover, but one that traveled upward from the pained purse of his lips, curling around the lids of shut eyes. A soft groan let some tension from his shoulders and he tried to roll them out when his eyes curled open to look at you.

“Took a fall,” He tried to smile more so for your benefit, “Thought I could get to a corner backhand. Didn’t have you at the net to cover me.”

“What hurts?”

Seokjin blinked, “Darling, it’s my knee.”

Namjoon was back, dangling fabric bandage in hand but Seokjin batted it away immediately. The trainer agreed with the sentiment, arm around Seokjin’s ribs as he fumbled to a crouched position, tugging. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

There was a muted shock that numbed at your stature as you watched your normally bright and bubbly double partner limb feebly at the grace of Namjoon off the court, racket forgotten at the far corner of the court, water bottle and bag untouched and forgotten. Three steps after them to the door and you remembered there was another individual who’d witnessed the incident, too.

“I’m coming with you.”

You glared at Hoseok, clammy hand slick on the screen door. “You’re not.”

“I wasn’t asking,” You bristled at his hand coming in contact with the small of your back, coaxing you through the door, “I’m driving. Also not up for debate.”

You didn’t have much energy to be disgruntled, ducking into his sports car without the top on and your first thought was that it’d probably rain because why wouldn’t it. It was a second before he jammed the keys into the ignition, a roar of an engine where you gladly wouldn’t be able to speak to him any longer.

“Is it bad?”

Hoseok squinted, not bothering to yank expensive sunglasses from the cupholder. Instead of verbally answering, he nodded.

The next question, quipped, “Did you do it?”

He sighed, wrist limp on the top of the steering wheel and his breath visibly stuttered in his chest.

“I can’t believe we’ve got to a point where think you need to ask me that.”

“So it’s torn?”

“Absolutely ripped to shreds.”

“And there’s no miracle of science that can heal you in a month?”

“The only miracle that powerful is—”

“Your face, yes, I’m aware,” You touched the back of Seokjin’s hand, IV’s covered in thick plastic bandages, “You couldn’t have just like, fractured it, huh?”

“That’s now how it works and—” He winked, “—I don’t do anything half-assed.”

Your fingers curled a bit tighter between the spaces in his own, letting your smile fall with your chin to your chest and a miniscule shake of your head. Seokjin watched you, steady gaze without falter when you looked at him again, tight lipped and with a shrug.

“Guess we won’t even have the chance at runner-up this year.”

He shrugged, equally as carefree laced in disappointment as you. There was barely a hesitation from that movement to the part of his lips.

Seokjin corrected, “I won’t have a chance, no. But you can still play.”

You scoffed, drawing your hand into your lap to pick at a stray piece of skin still clinging to your cuticle. “What, in a singles spot? Not a chance.”

“Surely you can find someone else to play with,” Seokjin’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, “What are some options—”

“You got hurt less than six hours ago and you expect me to have thought about a new partner already?” You glared at him at his smile grew into the dimples in his cheeks, “Well I haven’t, Jin.”

“I would have. I want—”

You held a hand up, the other coming to scrunch your closed eyelids between the stretch of your fingers. “I don’t want to hear about your fantasy doubles partner.”

“Not even if it’s Venus Williams?”

“Fuck, is she an option? I would have traded you out yesterday.”

Seokjin beamed, “Seriously, darling. Ask Namjoon to find you a new partner, if he can. I’ll be the one at the finals waving two crutches around.”

“Can we attach streamers to them?”

“Obviously…”

“Sit.”

Your iced coffee sat first, cubes clicking dully against plastic, a ring of condensation immediately soaking into the chipped round table engulfing the majority of the conference room. The metal folding chair bumped against the wall with the proximity but you managed to squeeze onto the ripped upholstery, fingers trailing upward on the cup to twirl at the straw.

Namjoon, meanwhile, continued to shuffle stacks of paperwork from within an unbuckled orange binder, registration fees and scribbled rosters and a calendar with a poetic picture of a live tennis ball smacking into an ambiguous line, in no matter the circumstance. A neat pile turned messy when he shuffled the papers again, and finally he settled with three stacks, ends overlapping visibly so you could count the number in each pile.

“We have two options,” He fingered at the end of a piece of paper that hung over the edge of the table, effectively creasing the dull yellow sheet.

The ring of condensation expanded into more of a cylinder when you dragged the cup closer, noisely slurping from the straw as Namjoon sighed. “Mhmm?”

“We add an extra singles spot to the roster,” He fished out the piece of paper, pointing to the empty cell at the end of a complicated spreadsheet. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble. You’d just have to place in at least two of the four remaining qualifiers to make it to the regional. I haven’t researched the competition much but that wouldn’t be too much of a far fetched feat. Trying doesn’t hurt either, seeing as the club is currently paying for a spot that’s not being used anyway.”

You pretended to consider it for a moment and even if you wouldn’t admit it, tiniest part of your conscious seriously considered it. Instead, you nodded, straw still balanced in the center of your bottom lip as you hummed for him to continue.

“The other option is we find you a new partner,” Namjoon’s expression grew considerably greyer, reaching for a different stack of papers this time. His shoulders sagged as he shucked aside the top piece face down, “and of everyone in the club, only three players are currently eligible to take on such a role.”

“And of those three players…”

“One is Park Jimin who I, evidently, have yet to throw paperwork out for. I tried to call him, regardless, and his loyalties lie with his new club. Not that I blame him…”

“The next is Jeon Jeongguk,” Namjoon eyed you through annoyed eyelashes, another paper slapped onto the wobbly table, “...who has preexisting eSports obligations during two of the qualifying matches.”

“Which leaves us with one option—” He peeled the sheet away, nudging it toward you. It messily fluttered but you managed to drag it closer by only wetting the corner with the excess from your cup. A stat sheet with an invoice for lessons scrawled across the bottom, two things among other numbers you passed through in a rush to try to find the name but Namjoon spoke right as your eyes scanned the block printed characters.

“—Jung Hoseok.”

You slapped the paper down into the puddle created by your drink, drowning his name much to Namjoon’s audible dismay. “That’s fine. It was a good season while it lasted but I think I’ll just wait for Jin and the next circuit to begin. You can turn my Friday lessons back over to me early, if you like, since we won’t need to train any longer—”

Namjoon murmured your name, gentle like the way he pried Hoseok’s stat sheet out of your clutches in order not to tear it in the way the delicate width of it was soaked through with caramel water.

“You did used to play together, you know. Well, might I add.”

Hoseok was your first true doubles partner, put together by a student coach on your university’s club team who had no idea of your ever growing distaste for the loud, and then, brown headed man, seeing as Hoseok never left your side during practices, was seen walking you home, among a few things. You were good together, good enough to beat surrounding universities, at the very least. Good enough to stay out of each other’s way, lack the communication of normal doubles teams for the most part, win in silence and easy, truly a silent but deadly duo.

He was never openly cocky, never a keyword as his extreme humbleness seemed to further your not-so-maxed distaste for the man who’d now messily bleached his hair where bits of brown continued to poke out in reverse highlights. At least, not until you ran up against some sizable competition in the finals of the university club tennis championships, his first instinct to insert his vast knowledge in skill in place of your lack of communication while you responded with the same resistance that you always did, except now with a hint of I knew it.

You lost and Hoseok took his slip up as a confirmation of your horrible impression you not-so-subtly had of him. You took it as a confirmation of what you’d thought all along.

“There’s a reason we stopped.”

“A good one?”

You fumed, the water beneath your palm evaporating into steam that, quite literally, could be billowing from your ears if your cheeks heated anymore. You tried to stand, push the chair back, but it lodged against the wall and you stumbled on the leg.

“Good enough for me.”

Namjoon muttered your name again, once soft and again an octave firmer, waiting until you stopped flailing between the rungs of metal to order again, “Sit down.”

“Your already have your answer—”

“Sit down,” He seemed disinterested as he began to carelessly shove papers back into the open flap of the folder but you knew better as he added a quieter but insistent, “Please.”

The back of your knees knocked into the metal ring around the seat of the chair and you sighed upon impact.

“Can you do one thing for me?”

You blinked and your fingers were back to fiddling with the straw. “Depends.”

“Try,” Namjoon closed the folder once everything was tucked semi safely inside, letting his fingers fold into a neat fist on top, “Just try it. We’ll double training sessions so that you’re ready to play in that exhibition match next weekend. If it’s a disaster, I’ll pull your team. It won’t affect you next season and it won’t affect Hoseok’s singles bracket.”

“What do I get in return?”

“My undying appreciation,” Namjoon took your lack of immediate no as you folding, rising to his feet with the folder tucked to his chest, “and maybe I’ll buy you muffins for your morning sessions.”

“I have another question.”

“No, you can’t use Hoseok as a human volley target just because he’s your new partner—”

“First of all, I haven’t said yes yet—” You leaned back in your chair, water dribbling onto the front of your shirt as you brought the straw to poke between your two front teeth, “—secondly…”

“...have you asked Hoseok?”

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok’s watch clinked against the table when he placed both palms flat, shoulders tensing pre-stand, “Anything else?”

Namjoon was a bit firmer with Hoseok than he had been with you, pinning him to the spot with a glare and even you shivered when he hissed, “Sit down, Hoseok.”

The man in question let the tension sink from his shoulders all the way into his wrists, settling his cheek into one palm instead, ringed hand attached to his watched wrist pattering an off beat tune into the wood. After a second of Namjoon staring at him with a single raised eyebrow, he folded his fingers again, the sound of his jewelry rebounding off the wood making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Let me put it a little clearer—” He glanced at you, serious albeit the comical raise of both eyebrows, “—and I’m not in any way trying to hurt your feelings, but I don’t play doubles. I have the singles championship to worry about.”

“Who said you were going to win that,” You grumbled into the knuckles curled over your mouth.

Hoseok’s lips parted, hand flattening in your direction, “I never said I was going to win—”

“Listen to me,” Namjoon exchanged a pained glance between the two of you and you could see his hair greying at the roots.

He turned to you first, “I already know how you feel. I don’t need your input at the moment, not yet.”

Your face heated but you slumped in your chair nonetheless, trying to ignore Hoseok’s stare at the side of your face no matter the expression he had. Especially if that expression was one of sorrow or apology.

“As for you,” The shrug of Namjoon’s shoulders into his hands he began using to help him speak was exasperated, “I’m not trying to take anything away from your training for the singles championship. If anything, this will help. The extra training sessions. The ability to play high level doubles. Everyone should have to play at this level of doubles at least once, if you ask me.”

He jerked a thumb in your direction, “Season’s over if you choose not to play. Which is fine. I just think it’d be a waste of that position. A waste of potential grants for the facility. You know, we could use new quick start nets for the kids but—”

Hoseok groaned but there was a hint of laughter to his tone, “Oh, you’re going to guilt me with the children then, huh, Joon?”

“—but, most of all, it’d be a waste of potential,” Namjoon’s admission silenced even the annoyance brewing in the pit of your stomach, “There’s too much potential here to let an entire season’s worth of work go to waste just because of a little bad luck and two stubborn adults.”

There was an uncomfortable shifting between the two of your chairs and Namjoon took that shade of silence to continue, “Today is Saturday. You train every day twice a day with me until next Friday. We go down the street to the exhibition match. You—” Namjoon pointed the end of his pen in Hoseok’s direction, “—kick Park Jimin’s ass in the morning. Then the two of you kick whoever’s ass in the afternoon.”

“If you don’t do well, which I doubt, then we’ll call the whole thing off. Hobi can continue on to be king of the tri-state area in singles tennis and you can have your six to eight year olds back on Friday evenings,” He finished with a sigh, like he’d just rang seven consecutive laps around the perimeter of the complex, “Yes?”

There was a hesitation and it wasn’t a yes but a sure that grumbled past your lips, one that was mirrored by Hoseok when his chin met his shoulder and he spoke to the tattered shag carpet below.

“That has to be a yes,” Namjoon pointedly glared at you, “From both of you.”

“Sure,” Hoseok waved a dismissive hand under the watchful glower of his longtime friend, “Yes. Yes, I’ll do it.”

You saved the theatrics for glaring at your expression in your mirror. It’d be soft and unsure, just like the murmur that you spoke directly to Namjoon’s awaiting features.

“Yes. Let’s do it.”

“Again.”

You hadn’t sweat this much since it was a fall temperature, almost winter with the whip of the wind, in an early morning clinic in high school only to be summer, extremely so, by hour two and you hadn’t brought anything else to change into and had to suffer with bulky fabric curled around the entirety of your upper half.

You grunted into the forehand, force so much your body tumbled forward a full pace to where you’d been before. The ball sailed past Hoseok at the net, landing at a sharp angle where Namjoon sat in wait.

“Not deep enough,” Another ball was fished from his pocket, prepared to feed to you again, “Again.”

You hadn’t been this sore since you’d forgotten your proper shoes at your apartment and hadn’t had time to go back, taking a hundred serves in low top, completely flat converse that rubbed raw blisters into each pinky toe and made your knees hate you more than ever.

Your ball landed past the service line this time, past where Namjoon stood next to a full basket of balls. He considered it until it thumped against the back wall, rolling sadly to a stop upon impact.

Another ball snagged in the nylon of his shorts.

“Again.”

It was unintentional, a footwork error, the force in which you leaned into the swing of your racket just late enough to have the ball misshit, bad. If there hadn’t been a person in the way, it would have caught in the center of the net, collecting with a few others that had unfortunately met the same fate. But there was a human there, barely crouched like he should be, head hanging low with his racket poised up at his face.

The ball smacked into Hoseok’s waist, the sound audible and the force of the ball so great it shot off in the opposite trajectory as before.

Namjoon had barely turned to dig for more balls to fill his pockets, another again lingering on the tip of his tongue when Hoseok straightened.

“You did that on purpose.”

He was equally covered in sweat, dirty blonde sticking in uneven pleats down the side of his headband and you’d never seen his cheeks so pale and sunken in. His tank top was pasted to the defined planes of his torso, splotches coating his back similarly and it even shone down into the rivets of his bulging calves.

For once, “I didn’t.” Your racket drooped lazily to your side and you heaved in some much needed air, “I swear I didn’t.”

“See, I know you’re lying,” He dabbed the soaked sweatband on his wrist into his bangs, “That doesn’t just happen. Not to you.”

“But it did. It was an accident,” Your grip tightened on the sweat stained handle of your racket, “You’d know if it was on purpose.”

“Okay,” Hoseok kicked a ball, one of the ones displaced by a former shot of yours that had hit the net, “Do it correctly, then. Get it deep in that corner—”

“I know where it needs to go.”

“Then why haven’t you hit it one time yet? Forget your horrid topspin technique…”

“Who’s the coach here, Hoseok?”

There was a distinct sound of spilling tennis balls, ones from the cart Namjoon had carefully dumped over until each and every one of the hundreds of balls littered around his feet. He spoke coldly, knuckles anemic where he gripped his racket two his chest in two hands, “Don’t look at me. I’m done.”

Hoseok watched after Namjoon while you continued to stare at a droplet of sweat contouring the slope of Hoseok’s nose, your attention only diverting when your trainer paused in the doorway.

“Come tomorrow with a better attitude or don’t come at all.”

“And pick all of that up before you leave.”

“Are you ready?”

You glanced at your bare feet shoved in some slides, loose sweatpants rolled twice at the hip and stained university hoodie where it draped over your torso underneath your key lanyard. The next glare was directed at Seokjin, propped half on the row of lockers, half on one of his crutches.

“...to play?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, “No. To go watch Hoseok—”

“Why are you in here, by the way?—”

Heart shaped lips bloomed into a drooping tulip, shuffling on one crutch. “Just because you replaced me doesn’t mean I’m not still part of the team.”

“I didn’t willingly replace you—”

“Are you coming or not?”

You resisted the urge to throw your keys directly at the tiny hole in the brace supporting his knee. “Coming where—”

Seokjin cocked an eyebrow and you smacked him with the wallet part hanging off your keys, letting him work his way through the weased laughter of amusement at himself before he finally shrugged.

“Don’t know I guess, darling. I’m going to watch Hoseok though, so if you’d like to sit here for another five hours, then be my guest.”

You paused as Seokjin shuffled, retrieving his other crutch and settling it underneath his arm. He was one swing toward the door when you sighed, “Is he playing Jimin?”

“Yes.”

“What color hair does Jimin have?”

“Does it really matter? He has those tight shorts on—”

“Oh fuck off. I’m coming, I’m coming, slow down, you’re faster on those things then with two good knees—”

You navigated into the fairly crowded set of bleachers outside the first court of the outdoor complex, taking a seat on the first row while Seokjin tried to balance his crutches against the fence with muted squeaks of protest. He finally went for flat on the ground by the time the players on the court were nearly halfway through the match with Hoseok in a comfortable lead.

But he didn’t show it, sweat pouring out from underneath the dark blue headband that contained the flattened part of his hair, white sweatbands pressed against his face between each point, groans of effort emitting off the surface of the court every time he had to strain for a corner shot from Jimin.

He made eye contact with you when he jogged to the fence to retrieve a loose ball, a serve way out by Jimin, tucking it into his pocket with blind eyes as he instead stared you down with parted lips. He nodded, barely, the smallest acknowledgement that shook the sweat stained ends of blonde hair, splattering more to the dark blue patches that made his shirt stick to his torso.

Seokjin nudged you, “His hair is pink right now, I guess.”

You tried to pretend you weren’t eyeing the peak of Hoseok’s thighs where his shorts rode up on his sticky skin, spluttering, “You think that’s pink?”

“Well it’s not blue.”

You managed to avert your gaze enough to notice that Seokjin wasn’t lying to get a rile out of you, it was pink, cotton candy in variety and fluffed in waves even if he seemed to be sweating as much if not worse than Hoseok. It was your mouth that betrayed you in the end, ranting, “Blue? Why would it be blue? Blue sucks really. Who would dye their hair blue—”

Seokjin watched the side of your face with a smirk pressed into his dimples and knuckles curled across his lips, “Maybe I should have warned you about Hoseok instead of Jimin—”

“Hey, will it hurt if I punch your scar right now?”

“Probably, why?”

“Good, turn toward me a little bit—”

You grew comfortable in your absent stare at the loop of Hoseok’s shoelaces, one through a whole tightened, repeat. They were a different pair than he’d worn in the morning, white now, with what appeared to be a strip of pastel purple shoved into a sleeve on the side of each shoe. The laces were similar, a soft hue that looked delicate in Hoseok’s nimble fingers, a woven melody that seemed to overlap Namjoon’s droning words in the back of your conscious.

“Are either of you listening to me?”

Your grip tightened on the straps of your bag as your gaze jerked away from comfort and it was the startled part of your mouth that gave you away before you could even try to lie.

Namjoon’s palms hit the bench he’d been perched on with renewed fervor, shaking his head as he stalked for the doorway. “I don’t even know why I try. All I ask is that you don’t kill each other out there. Otherwise, I’ll see you afterwards.”

Hoseok grunted as he straightened, joints cracking as he deliberately twisted his spine in time with hiking his foot up higher than necessary to push it off the elevation he’d been tying his shoe.

“Don’t need him anyway, right?” He teased.

“Since when do you not have to listen to your coaches?”

The sunshine curved upward into the apples of his cheeks immediately flattened, turning downward even as his chin curtly cocked.

“I didn’t see you listening to him either, princess,” Hoseok heaved his bag onto his shoulders, smile returned but anything less than inviting as it had been before.

Your features burned, “That’s not—”

“Whatever.”

You made every excuse possible to debunk that the expression on his face was not one of genuine pain.

You didn’t stop from the firm shake of hands with each member of the opposing team to the gravel around the trunk of your car where you, rather unceremoniously, dropped your bag from your shoulders to dig around for you keys. You’d just snagged the end of them, buried underneath a couple stray balls and a shock absorber shaped like a broken heart emoji, when scuffing feet passed by you.

You wished you hadn’t look up.

“Don’t look at me,” Namjoon ordered, hands up, palms wide on either side of his shoulders. He paused next to his own car, three down from your own but he didn’t climb inside, fishing out a binder as he took off back the way he came, “Figure it out on your own.”

“In fact, there’s two of you,” Namjoon tripped when he tried to walk backward and talk to you, clutching the binder to his chest as he faltered, “Figure it out with him.”

But you weren’t in the mood, not after the walking purple highlighter had spent the entire match scolding your technique under his breath and not bothering to communicate strategy with you once, not even when you won the first game on your serve and had them down forty love in the second game.

It’d gone south from there. Two-six, zero-six. Not in your favor.

You didn’t stop from the jam of your keys into the ignition, nearly reversing into a truck that was pulling out at the same time, until you navigated into a kind-of-but-not-really parking spot just on the edge of striped lines in the garage beside your building.

You’d figured it out on your side, not needing to consult Hoseok’s opinion because you’d already come to terms with your season ending while trying to convince Seokjin you couldn’t sneak him out to the nearest Chili’s (it’ll take thirty minutes, no one will even notice I’m gone). You dumped your tennis bag and keys in the foyer, tripping over them with your phone pressed to your nose as you spit out the nasty text message to the bleeding highlighter himself.

I think you know what I’m going to say. Best of luck for the remainder of the season.

You left your phone face up on the counter while you disappeared into face melting steam only the rest of the hot water in your building could produce.

A stress ordered pizza and half the pieces later, you passed by your phone with still dripping hair, droplets smearing onto the screen when you leaned over the device as it lit with a notification. A top notification of five. Three emails, one from Namjoon and business related which meant he wasn’t going to fire you from your manager position.

Two texts from Hoseok.

Thank you.

Dinner at my place tomorrow?

Your burp tasted of pepperoni as you clutched the phone to your chest, bouncing onto your couch with a dramatic hop. One leg propped up on the coffee table. A pillow tucked underneath your elbow.

Disinterested in the recording of a Wednesday night reality show, you tapped with one thumb busy.

Three bubbles appeared almost immediately and you almost puked in the rush to exit out of the application because, no, you hadn’t turned on read receipts just to send him a text.

Busy with what?

You gasped but he couldn’t hear you. Angrily now, with two thumbs I have work at the complex to finish.

An eye roll emoji in response. Followed by a smiling one but not the one with rosy cheeks. The one that looks slightly uncomfortable but also all-knowing.

We’re closed on Sundays.

I do comanage. I have keys.

...so you’ll be over at five?

You glared at your phone and, unfortunately, you could picture he triumphant smile filling up the entirety of your screen. The smallest part of your seasoned conscious said there he goes, cocky again. Your fingers worked before that thought fully traveled to the angel on your left shoulder, the devil on your right controlling your joints as you tapped on your phone.

What’s your address?

You tossed your phone aside as the next message lit up your phone immediately. The address. You acknowledged the text so you wouldn’t have to get the second notification, pulling your knees to your chest instead.

There was a second text because of course there was. A heart emoticon, this time with the blushing cheeks. And three tiny hearts. You sighed and you didn’t know why your singular heart fluttered a bit against your ribs.

Your knuckles had barely tapped against the door for a third time when Hoseok’s sharp voice flit through the sizable gap underneath the door, spilling light into the dim hallway. Shadows danced by the white, small, rounded at the end with little points.

The points explained the sound of scuffling from within, Hoseok’s cooing explained when the door was pulled open from the inside to him crouched on the floor, palm curved around the breast of a brown and white shitzhu. The dog didn’t bark, but it was clear he wanted to get to you, feet absently swimming underneath him as Hoseok rose with him in toe, eyeing the tongue that curled out of the puppy’s mouth with a tender fondness you’d never seen before.

“Hi,” Hoseok bounced the dog once in his arms. “Mickey was excited for you to get here.”

Frozen steps brought you through the threshold, fingers reaching gently for the dog. He seemed to melt under your touch, letting you rub behind and up and down his ears. It was unintentional the way you glanced up at Hoseok, through your eyelashes and with a smile tucked into your cheeks.

You weren’t surprised to see that his wardrobe wasn’t any less when outside of the confining lines of the tennis court. A baggy button up tucked into the waist of tight black jeans, sleeves hanging past his elbows and decked in brightly colored shapes pasted above and below vertical black lines stretched the length of the top. A bright gold watch strapped to his dainty wrist. What appeared to be clip-on matching earrings suffocating his lobes. A thin chain dipping below the first two buttons that were undone. His blonde hair was fluffier when not carefully parted with a sweatband, swept in a flattering bowl across his forehead, more of the brown roots tucked behind his ears.

Even his smile was different, crawling upward in pretty pink lips the longer you failed to break eye contact with him at the close proximity.

You broke the trance by speaking way too loud for the door still being open and for that part of your conscious seeming to forget that this man was your mortal enemy.

“Mickey, huh?”

Hoseok hummed in acknowledgement, wordlessly passing the dog to your arms as he reached around you to tug the door shut. You awed at the tiny creature as he tongued at the apex of your elbow, gently and almost methodical in nature before beaded brown eyes peered up at you.

“He keeps me company.”

You’d been too busy prodding at the dog’s nose to laugh when his tongue darted out to try to chase your affections to notice that Hoseok had already disappeared into the depths of the apartment. You exchanged a glance with the puppy, bundling him tighter to your chest as you trekked down the hall.

Hallway was a relative term, just a few feet of walls on either side before the room opened up into a kitchen, living room combination. Something played on the television, muted, but a program you didn’t recognize nonetheless, curved in by a thick black throw rug and a tattered, red leather couch. Dark grey walls paired with a monochromatic interior theme didn’t match the ratty white linoleum peeking out from corners of various colored rugs.

You were entranced in the most mundane aspects of the apartment, focused on a worn edge of matte black countertop when Hoseok’s gentle voice chided at you.

“You can put him down, you know.”

The dog hadn’t so much as made a noise in your aimless wandering and when you glanced down, you found his muzzle resting on your forearm, eyes fluttering with soft sighs. You cooed, gently rocking him as though he were a child. “But he’s napping.”

Plates knocked together as Hoseok spread them two across the bar, diligent in his work with cocked eyebrows and the beginnings of a smile. “He’s always napping,” He dove for the pots on the stove, a pronged utensil dipping into the depths before drawing out a stringy clump of pasta. The meal was deposited onto the first plate and he murmured, “Better not bring you around too much, he won’t want to walk anywhere.”

You relented when Mickey woke with a soft yawn, jostled by your conversation and the continued sound of dishes. He skidded across the floor with the softest delighted yip!, disappearing around the corner and you could tell by the way Hoseok chirped and glanced down that he was pestering his owner for attention now instead.

“I didn’t even ask,” Hoseok continued to plate the dishes, now spreading a sweet smelling sauce to the top, “Is spaghetti alright with you?”

You hummed, elbows knocking into the edge of the counter to peer at his creation. You lessened the severity of your tone in hopes that he would recognize you were kidding, “A gourmet meal…”

“Hey—” The glint in the wrinkles around his eyes let you know he too was kidding and the tension in your shoulders relaxed, “—it’s all I had here on such short notice.”

“You asked me to come. In fact, you didn’t give me much of a chance to say no…”

“I wanted you to be here,” His final dollop of sauce ended up half on the plate, half splattered on the counter, and he slid the clean plate across to you before ducking for a napkin. The mess was cleaned with scrunched features, a sigh falling from parted lips when he balled the paper and missed the trash bin on the very edge.

You watched Hoseok quietly from your perched position on one of two barstools as he collected his own plate, silverware in hand as he rounded the bar to you. “I think we have some things to talk through—” He tugged the empty chair back with the round of his foot, depositing the cutlery to the surface of the counter as he went, “—don’t you?”

“Without Namjoon?”

He shot you a pointed look, stabbing the end of his fork into the center of his pasta spiral, “Definitely without Namjoon.”

You quietly cut into the ends of the noodles, scooping up a sizeable bite, “Yesterday was clearly a disaster.”

“It wasn’t that bad. The score doesn’t always tell the whole story,” There was a fleck of garlic stuck to the corner of pouted lips when he glanced at you, “A little more practice can fix our chemistry issues.”

“Can it though?” You dumped the pieces of pasta you’d cut back to the plate, gently setting your fork down, “I don’t know that any amount of practice can make us like each other. Or even pretend—”

“Do you dislike me?”

“No,” You answered quickly and earnestly because you didn’t. For the most part. Not really. “I mean...no. No, I don’t.”

Hoseok nodded, quickly at first and then slower, more to himself as he began to stab around the pasta some more. Moving it back and forth, coating the clean parts of the plate in sticky red sauce and then finally he mumbled, “Good...that’s—that’s good to know.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know why it ever got to this point. Where we can’t even collaborate for a few days on the thing we both love.”

More pointed clicking of metal against glass. A noisy slurp of water from a plastic cup. More scooting and then, “Why can’t we though?”

“You saw how yesterday went. How all our training sessions have gone—”

“Forget about those,” He dropped his fork now too, rotating until his knees almost knocked into yours, “Seriously, forget about them.”

Hoseok inhaled, a deep sigh that had his gaze trailing over your head, “...look, I don’t know what you think about me. I try not to care. But let’s just...for the sake of right now, start over?”

A mental slideshow passed by in front of your eyes as you stared at the genuine plea pasted over Hoseok’s heart shaped features, all the moments your stomach had stirred with a fire and your tongue had lashed out those internal hardships but you suddenly couldn’t find the ignition, the accelerant that made the flames engulf your nerve endings to the very tips of your fingers non existent, smoking like doused with water (or store bought, jar made spaghetti sauce). A mirage, maybe, just like the limp noodle lodged between one of your back molars.

You extended your hand toward the figure across from you.

“Yeah, let’s start over—” You sucked in a sharp breath, setting your shoulders and the smile that spread to your lips was supposed to be faux but turned out light hearted anyway. You cheered your name, tilting your head toward your wiggling fingers, “—it’s a pleasure to be your doubles partner for an eighth of the season, sir.”

He touched your hand, loose in sliding his fingers across your palm to squeeze, not shake. His voice feathered out of twitching lips just like the stumble of your heart, wholy unsure but willing to try.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“No Namjoon?”

Seokjin was off his crutches now but still sporting what appeared to be the world’s largest brace, coated in metal gears that made you joke if he was starting his transition to immortality. He met you in the doorway of the locker room, holding a hand out for your water jug. You handed it over, expecting him to carry it for you as you brushed past but he flicked the lid and took the longest gulp, mashing a piece of ice between his teeth as he handed it back.

“No,” You popped the lid closed, smacking his bicep with the knowledge he couldn’t catch up to you if you took off running, “No, no Namjoon today. He’s here but not...here. Not trying to coach us yet.”

“Not after what happened last time,” Hoseok was fiddling with the velcro strap of a visor as he exited the opposite door. He sported the same light purple color scheme, something about reversing the bad luck of the exhibition match.

You’d changed up your outfit, just in case omens were real and the tennis gods hated red. Yellow was your color choice. You weren’t brave enough to match him yet, either.

He looked up when he secured it, jamming the hat down over his hair, eliminating the signature part that marked his quick dashes across the court. The bright smile stayed as he flanked your small posse, nudging you with the arm covered in two sweatbands and a skin colored arm sleeve.

“Are you two...like friends now?”

Seokjin’s loud inquiry heated your cheeks but Hoseok just shrugged, still looking at where his elbow had touched your stomach. “Partners, at the very least,” Hoseok provided, “Doubles partners. Ones who work together and don’t try to concuss each other with serves.”

Your mouth parted to deny that I’ve never done that but Seokin quipped, “Oh, she’s tried to do that to you for ages. It was one of her training strategies with me—”

“Where’s your off switch, Mr. Robot.”

“Don’t have one. Anyway, best of luck!”

When there was a sailing lob over Hoseok’s head, you were eager to call out to switch!, worn traction on the soles of your shoes allowing you to slide to catch the shot, lobbing it back cross court while Hoseok lay in wait at the net, seeking out the easy put away shot at the net that would eventually and did eventually come.

When there was an opportunity to play strategy on his serve, you did, each starting on the left side the second point into the game, allowing Hoseok to serve a hard, down the line ball to the opponent's backhand which, in turn, set you up for a sneaky and easy floater that you crammed in the center of the two players.

When there was a changeover in the first set, five games to love in your favor, your hand was there for Hoseok’s to smack, a high five he taunted a little bit above your head while you tried to balance your water bottle in one palm and seek out his hand in the other. It earned a smile when you spilled ice water down the front of your top and he had to hand you a hand towel from his bag while the opposing team watched impatiently from their positions.

When there was an opportunity in the second set for the opposing team to get a breakpoint, make it three to four rather than five to two, Namjoon called you over to the fence with only a sliver of the feeling of dread lingering in his posture. He eyed the pair of you as you approached, Hoseok shoved lightly on your arm as you went to plant but instead of an outraged screech from you, it just earned another push and a fit of mingling giggles, ones Namjoon nearly went into cardiac arrest over and he never thought he’d have to tell you and Jung Hoseok to stop laughing at each other so that he could speak.

There were still moments of tension, moments that made you inhale and dig your fingernails into the grip of your racket but instead of muttering obscenities under your breath and using his head as target practice for your spin serve, you smiled, real and genuine, and you leaned closer to his fiery explanations spoken as a similarly smiley octave, “What was it you wanted me to do?”

They were easy to navigate in the first round of the tournament, take you through the lunch of cold cut sandwiches Seokjin had laid out on a picnic table for you, the second round that drew a little bit closer in score but was still a win (both statistically and morally, especially when Namjoon walked you out to the court with instruction rather than hid in the safety of his car until it seemed like you wouldn’t try to slash Hosoek’s achilles with the frame of your racket). The third round brought more of the past to rear its ugly head, a dark storm cloud that reminded you in rain and miscommunication at the net that you were a human, not a miracle worker.

But you won, barely, in a tiebreaker that nearly killed your stamina for the championship but the taste to win was so fresh on the roof of your mouth, you grit your teeth to grind it up and swallow it. Second best wasn’t good enough, even if it would qualify you for the regional champions, if you were already qualified.

But you lost and you had to accept the bitter regurgitation of the victory you could taste, washing it away with your lukewarm water that had melted all the ice cubes onto your tongue throughout your fourth and final match of the day. Except it was just that, a learning experience, bitter but available to all the critiques Namjoon chattered in your ears as you trekked into the parking lot. You didn’t speed away, nearly destroy your ignition with your keys this time, instead leaned against your driver side door while Hoseok coaxed your bag from your shoulders and stuffed it into your trunk with your keys in his hand.

Namjoon’s fleeting expression at the action was the same when you entered the complex for a training session not nearly a week later, both from Hoseok’s car, your bag slung over one of his shoulders while you held up what appeared to be a strawberry smoothie for him to sip out of. The startled trainer explained the wrong drill four times and resorted to letting you do the wrong thing on the fifth try as he went about collecting barely there balls in a hopper while muttering to himself.

Thus is why you didn’t think the hotel conseguir was kidding when she handed you two keycards while asking, “Are you checking in for Jung Hoseok as well?”

“Oh, no. Why would I—”

“You’re each listed under this room,” Her grip tightened on the plastic cards when you pinched them, trying to pull them back, “Is that incorrect?”

Someone in the growing line behind you coughed and the quick glance behind you noted that his t-shirt advertised some sort of local tennis tournament. Similarly to the person approaching the desk in the opposite line from you with a spare racket tucked under their arm, one that must have spilled from the half open bag slopped at their ankles.

“I...no, that’s—”

“That’s how it was booked,” She continued to tug on the cards, freeing them from your grasp to flatten them on the desk in front of you as she began to click around on the monitor, “...and it appears we have no other rooms for the weekend, so—”

“Yes, I’m checking in for Jung Hoseok as well. He’s with me—” She glanced up at you through a stray hair that had escaped from behind her ear and you panicked, “—I didn’t know he booked it under his...other name.”

“Right…” A receipt printed with various pieces of information, one of which blurred the majority of the tennis club’s credit card number, a card held in Namjoon’s name. “Third floor, room forty. Enjoy your stay.”

You called Namjoon in the elevator, ranting at him before the dead spot could end as you stepped off on the third floor.

“Why’d you book us the same room?”

He yawned into the receiver and you briefly felt bad for waking him from his pre-connecting-flight-nap. Briefly. “Me and you?”

“No dumba—” You stopped yourself to fumble and jam one of the keycards into the slot of room forty, waiting until it clicked over. “—no, Namjoon. Hoseok and I.”

The edge of one of your rackets misplaced inside your bag, catching on the doorframe as you stumbled inside to find the worst part of the singular room. The singular bed.

“You couldn’t even book a room with two full beds?”

“I booked two rooms with one queen bed each.”

“No, you booked one room with a king bed—” You dropped the handle of your suitcase to swat at the towel folded like a swan at the edge of the bed.

“Well at least it’s a king.”

“Namjoon.”

“Did you just...ask for another room?”

“They’re booked for the weekend. Kind of a large tennis tournament going on at the attached event center. And some cooking ware convention, but I didn’t take the guy’s brochure…”

“...speaking of which, are you sure you booked yourself a room? Or did you just book the entire club one singular room—” You swatted the swan again to take a seat on the corner, “—because if so, we’re about to get real comfy for the weekend.”

“I’ll call here in a second but if they only mentioned you and Hoseok’s names in the room...then I think it’s just the two of you, love.”

You groaned to which Namjoon sighed, “Just try for me, okay?”

“I just tried to be his doubles partner, not—”

“And look where that got you,” You paused because Namjoon was right. You were a better team than either of you cared to admit. Than you cared to admit to yourself. And all it took was trying, sincerely, applying your passion for the game to the partnership with someone you would no longer regard as you mortal enemy.

Just your roommate for two days, apparently.

“...anyway, I need you to call Hoseok and explain what’s going on. That’s a phone call I don’t have time to make.”

“Namjoon—”

“Have a good night!”

You glared at your thumb for it’s seasoned ability to move to Hoseok’s contact but especially the ability to hit call and place it on speaker.

“Was just about to text you,” He sounded far away, out of breath, and faintly you heard the call of a boarding flight. “Just landed. Meeting my driver to the hotel now.”

“Room three-forty.”

“Do you want me to make a pit stop at a grocery store or something? Get some fruit and waters—wait what?”

“Room three-forty,” You repeated, glaring at the opposite wall to prevent yourself from calling Hoseok a dumbass out loud until you noticed in your reflection of the flat screen television that you still had your backpack on, “That’s where you’re staying.”

“...okay,” You heard him utter a thank you and then a door shut, “Are we neighbors or something?”

“Mhm, I suppose you could call it that.”

More silence. More muffled directions, and then he sighed, “Did Namjoon book us the same room?”

“Were you in on it?”

“So that’s a yes but, w-what? No, I—” Hoseok laughed and under normal circumstances you’d fume, “—sweetheart, he joked about it in practice like twenty times. He probably joked about it so many times that he did it without thinking.”

You paused and one of the twenty instances flooded back, when Namjoon had entered the complex to you leaned back in your desk chair while Hoseok wrapped new purple grip onto the handle of your racket.

“Maybe I should just book you the same room for the championships,” His voice had faded as he ducked into his own office, “Wouldn’t that be a treat!”

You’d snatched your racket back from Hoseok not without jamming the end into his stomach playfully. “Maybe you should not do that!”

“Oh,” You switched the phone between your palms as you finally shrugged out of your backpack, letting it sag limply against the neatly stacked pillows, “Oh yeah.”

“So do you want those snacks?”

“If you get something other than fruit.”

“Noted, you want junk food,” You could hear the smile in his voice, “Any other requests?”

You flopped backward onto the mattress, forearm over your eyes and you sighed into the immediate heat that spread across your skin.

“Yeah, hurry up. I’m lonely.”

“Just one bed too, huh?”

Hoseok rubbed at his eyes, skin coated in a thin sheen underneath the lowlights of the room where he’d just lathered two layers of a fresh smelling skin cream. A loose pajama shirt hung cockeyed over his torso and he fiddled with the top button, not done up in the same way the two below it weren’t either, knee bending to sink into the spot on the mattress across from you.

“Yeah,” You rolled where you’d already cocooned yourself in the duvet. You pitched your voice to match Namjoon’s, exaggerated and drawn out, “but at least it’s a king.”

He hesitated in peeling back the sheets, waiting until you glanced curiously at him to soften, “Is this...okay?”

“What?”

“I can sleep on the floor,” The bracelets still attached to his wrist tinkled together as he gestured to the lumps on lumps of white sprawled across the massive bed, “I think there’s enough here to make some decent padding—”

“And give you stiff joints before the first two rounds tomorrow?” You rolled your eyes, patting the space next to you, “Get in here. Namjoon was partially right. This is a massive king bed.”

Hoseok was hesitant in the entrance albeit confident in the way he sprawled, nearly intruding on what you’d deemed “your side” with a vertical pillow that prevented you from seeing his face when he finally settled his cheek to his hand. But you could tell he was facing you from the slide of his foot underneath the sheets and you held your breath that it wouldn’t brush the bend of your knees until something else drew your attention, a hand slapping over the pillow in the middle and gently pushing it down until you could see shower fresh blonde hair and crinkled brown irises.

“There you are,” His voice trilled at the end of the last syllable and you tucked the blankets tighter to you as if they would shield the sound of your heart in your ears.

Lamely, muffled by the blankets you nodded, “I’m here!”

His smile shifted to where his fingers drummed against the pillow still placed between you. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, first round shouldn’t be too difficult but either opponent we’d face in the second round will be the real challenge. They’re both from different complexes in the north that are known for being pretty competitive so...I heard Namjoon say you got one of the best draws in your singles bracket though so that’s—”

“Yeah,” Hoseok’s fingers stopped their movements on the pillow, “I mean, like are you...are you actually, you know, ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, still avoiding your gaze and his fingernails went to picking at loose fibers in the pillowcase, “I know you wanted to get back to this spot with Seokjin. And instead it’s with me, so I can understand why you wouldn’t…”

“Where is all this coming from?”

“You know I never…” Hoseok’s wandering eyes stared directly at you now, dark and dilated and shining with the city lights that sheared through the curtains, “I’ve never hated you. I want you to know that.”

“...and I never wanted you to hate me. I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not but I will apologize for whatever I’ve done to give you this horrible impression of me.”

You burned with a sickening realization that only grew worse the longer he talked to the sheets.

“You intrigued me, so I thought, you know, you were an obstacle to conquer, especially when it seemed like you vehemently hated me. And then I realized you did actually not like me, and I wasn’t really sure what to do.”

“Remember the day Seokjin got hurt?”

You didn’t trust your numb chords to vocalize so you swallowed and nodded.

“You asked me if I’d done it. If I’d sabotaged you for virtually no reason,” He blinked, eyes closed for a little longer than necessary and your breath felt heavy in your lungs, “I could live with you thinking I’m a little cocky because sometimes, I am. I’m confident in my abilities and I won’t apologize for that.”

“But for you to think I’d purposely injure your doubles partner, injure someone else so you...what? Couldn’t share the notoriety of winning a championship like I had? I began to, you know, question it.”

“And I thought it was all in my head, that maybe it was just a fit of passion that made you ask me that, and everything would continue per normal. Less than friendly insults. You using the image of my face as serve target practice.”

“After that first exhibition match is when I kind of knew that it wasn’t in my head, you know,” Hoseok shrugged, sadly again and the last bit of your heart crumbled, “I wanted to fix it. Because I never wanted you to hate me. I’ve always admired you too much for that.”

You shed the pillow barrier to scoot closer, rushing, “I was jealous of you, you know that? I always have been. It’s ridiculous. Sorry doesn’t cut it, but I am. So sorry.”

He laughed and you touched his face to lessen it, scooting another space closer. “I know you were. It’s okay.”

“It’s not though, I shouldn’t have been. I had no reason to be other than my stupid petty personal vendettas,” Your palm fully cupped his cheek, thumbing at the passion induced liquid that had leaked underneath that set of eyelashes, “I’ve been an asshole to you.”

“I’m not exactly innocent.”

“No, but I’m not going to play a game of who's the bigger asshole,” You didn’t startle when he touched your hand, holding onto the cling of his gaze, “I’m sorry for this giant misunderstand. I am.”

“A years upon years long misunderstanding.”

You laughed, soft and dry on a tiny cough that racked through your body. “Yeah...that.”

“I’m sorry. Too,” Hoseok’s hand threaded underneath your own, holding up a hopeful pinky and the remaining tears glittered at his irises, “Truce?”

You linked your pinkies, letting him tug you close enough to ghost his lips to your forehead.

“Truce.”

You woke with his limbs tangled around your torso, lips in your hair telling you to stay asleep as he sleepily shuffled for his suitcase still laying limply at the edge of the bed. But you didn’t listen, you alarm going off after he’d disappeared into the shower with his uniform in hand, bright yellow this time and matching of yours with the team name scrawled across the front. You were happy it said Game, Set, Match Tennis HQ instead of Namjoon’s proposed Namjoon’s Ball Kids.

(“We’re the same age.” “You’re still my kid.” “No.”)

“Did I wake you?” He hushed into the room as if you weren’t half dressed with the room light on.

“I’m coming with you?”

“Why? Our call time for warm up isn’t until at least after one o’clock and—”

“I’m coming to watch you—” You paused with an arm half in a sweatshirt and you pumped it cheesily, “—you know. Cheer you on.”

“Ah,” He fluffed deft fingers into partially damp hair, sweatband twirled around his arm, “My good luck charm?”

You were enough luck for him to finish in plenty of time for you to get a nap in before your first round draw. Enough luck for you to catch dinner with an arriving Seokjin just before your second round match. Enough luck for you to go two and O on the day while Hoseok belted four wins between his two positions.

Not enough luck for the matching trophy to the one cased in glass at the complex, instead earning Hoseok a third place plaque on the second day that he displayed in the center of your hotel room bed.

“Would rather win with you, anyway,” He muttered into your ear before the championship, popping out one of your earbuds mid calf stretch. You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his lips brushed down your neck as he pulled away into his own stretch, shrugging bulky headphones back across his head.

Frustration pricked early at your conscious, Hoseok’s quip not under his breath but directly to your face while you sucked down water on a changeover, informing you to fix your grip on the backhands and seal the line on the deuce side of the net. It was the flex of his palm toward the fire in your eyes that quieted you though, the silent assurance that he was just trying to help and he didn’t so much as flinch when you pointed out the forehand player on the opposing team was eating him alive at the net. He just shrugged, holding his racket up for you to click together and agreed.

“You’re right. I’ll play double back for a game.”

He played double back while you switched to a flat shot on your backhand and you won the game, tying the first set at three-three until you won on your serve from a similar strategy of capitalizing on Hoseok’s quickness at the baseline, giving you the opportunity to charge for putaways.

It was a communicated strategy that you tweaked between games but otherwise allowed you to sail through the first set with only one more dropped game, six-four, and two games into the second set until your grip started to drift again, sending three backhands in a row sailing out of bounds.

“C’mon now,” A simple enough encouragement, spoken at a slightly irritated tone that forced Hoseok’s next shot to sail into the center of the net.

You cut in front of him on the third shot of the next game, ball meeting a similar feat where the net and the ground met and Hoseok threw up his hands in frustration. Namjoon spoke freely now, a single yell from the side that said settle down and although it was meant for both of you, you took it personally and fumbled through two double faults on your next serve opportunity, putting you down two-three.

“I don’t care if you win or lose, frankly,” Namjoon said when you met him at the fence, “but we will not play a third set.”

Hoseok didn’t wait until Namjoon shuffled away to his spot on the bleachers to chide, “Let me get the next few shots. Stop trying to cheat at the net.”

...which led you to cheat at the net four more times, only two of which were successful. Five-three, Hoseok’s serve, his reluctance of fine, go for it when you’d gone up four-three and a simple nod when you’d tossed him the extra balls for the beginning of his serve for, potentially, the entire match.

You let him get the fifteen point, then the thirty point. They fumbled his serve on the forty point.

It was an all or nothing shot up the line, fired at an angle and you knew it was coming from the way your opponent set up with open feet, an audible grunt ringing down the other courts as the ball raced off the strings. It was down the line, a beautiful shot in any other circumstance, and your reflexes forgot your years of training, footwork, drills.

Instead, you stood up and stuck your racket out.

The ball caught the corner of your frame, barely brushing the worn and tattered black edges, applying just enough spin to fall in over the net, dying upon impact and winning.

Six-four, six-three, championship.

You turned, dropping your racket as you spread your arms and through a loud, unabashed laugh did you call, “I thought you told me to stop going for them?”

A steady pair of arms engulfed your waist, lifting your feet from the ground and you lost count of how many circles you’d actually spun but you tallied at least seven when your heels were planted back to the court and a warm pair of lips pressed between the seam of your own.

“We won!” You cheered into Hoseok’s face and he just blinked happily, smile permanent, each of you shocked to the previous kiss but not to the next when you threaded tight fingers into the sweat stained blonde, effectively knocking his headband off to where it bounced between the connection of your mouths.

“Told you I would rather win with you.”

You hummed, kissing his chin, “Saving it for me?”

You shivered with the way he nosed down your cheek, “Always, sweetheart.”

There was an audible pout in Seokjin’s voice even when you weren’t looking at him.

“What about me?”

Hoseok chuckled from where he was craned behind you to inspect the trophy, palm rubbing gentle circles into the small of your back. “Don’t worry, buddy. I prefer singles, anyway.”

“...but not when our doubles champion here is single, yeah?” You finally glanced up at Seokjin as he traded a curled fist between you and Hoseok’s stomach. “Yeah? Yeah!?”

“Oh come on. You don’t think the entire audience didn’t see that kiss?”

“Get out of here, Jin.”

“Pinky promise not to ditch me next season.”

“I pinky promise.”

“You have to do the thing.”

You held up a limp pinky just to sate him but he clucked his tongue. “No. The thing.”

Hoseok’s hand stiffened on your spine as he watched you wet your smallest finger, lathing your tongue over it for good measure before sticking it out for Seokjin. The older man popped his from his cheek, twisting your fingers together before scampering off. Or at least, you thought.

“Does anyone want to go drinking tonight? My treat!”

“For the record, he’s right,” Hoseok brushed hair off your neck to press soft lips there, “I’d prefer you not be single.”

“Oh, yeah?” You hugged the trophy to your chest to turn to him, “And what would you prefer I be?”

“Mine.”

Your lips rounded into a perfect circle, one droning syllable leaving as you reached up to pat his cheek, “See, that kind of cocky is attractive.”

“M’not cocky,” There was a pout to Hoseok’s heart shaped mouth but a seriousness behind his statement that made you heat with more than sunburn.

“You’re not at all,” You turned in the slot of his arm, stretching to peck his jaw. “I would prefer to be yours, too. If it’s any consolation.”

He pretended to think, shadows falling over one side of his face as the sun began to set and reflect off the gold plated award clutched in your arms.

“Want to try it?” Hoseok grinned finally, dropping his chin to look at you, “Just see how it goes?”

You placed the trophy aside, down on the bottom row of bleacher closest to you to wrap both arms around his neck. “Yeah, let’s try it.”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #hoseok imagines #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #hoseok imagine #hoseok scenario #hoseok scenarios #fic: game set love

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