#gymnastics fanfiction

[diushek]

This is entirely the fault of a fanfic I'm working on, but: the bingyuan who met at Shen Yuan's Da-ge's wedding banquet with one of Mobei-jun's brothers. So all humans must have demon masks, and all demons, human masks.

And Binghe is Binghe with his empire and rumors that he's willing to build a harem before taking an empress, and now, Shen Yuan is the younger brother of his second general's husband. The younger brother who has a bad temper, a sharp tongue, an obsession with monsters and greatly admires Emperor Luo Binghe (although, without knowing what he looks like and without ever having seen him... well, he might mistake him for one of the many demon princes invited to the wedding.)

Luo Binghe is so suddenly obsessed with this guy that he starts courting him. However, lol, Shen Yuan doesn't understand WHY THE EMPEROR IS COURTING HIM. WHY ARE HE SENDING THOSE EXPENSIVE GIFTS TO HIS HOME? THAT MONSTER SKIN WASN'T NECESSARY, THANKS. Of course he is unable to put two and two together and understand that his new pen pal demon prince of the southern kingdom is Luo Binghe. Because, hell, his friend is amazing and handsome but very sensitive and kind-hearted, and why would they be the same person with the ruthless reputation that Luo Binghe has on him?

... Luo Binghe doesn't understand the mixed messages Shen Yuan is giving him. But he still persists with the courtship, fully believing that Shen Yuan KNOWS that he is Luo Binghe. And thinks Shen Yuan knows that he just does not sign his letters to prevent his letters from being intercepted and altered for political disasters.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Somersaults and Stealing Hearts Part 1: Meeting the Coach✨

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast! OFC

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @lotusbxtch and @alltheirdamn for beta reading for me, and for @mountainsandmayhem for helping hype me up! I’m really excited about this one ✨

Summary: Welcoming a new coach is no easy task, especially when Joel Miller steps through those doors with his stupid tousled curls and dark brown eyes.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 4.2k

Tags: Eventual smut, enemies to lovers type energy, bitter OFC, a hint of swooning, age gap (Madison is 24, Joel is 39), slow burn, pre!outbreak au

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Sunlight bursts through the glass windows of the Austin Gymnastics Club as chalk and sweat permeate through the air of the heated gym. The long balance beams seem to shine in the distance, and the white walls with gold medals and trophies in glass cases fill the extensive space. My calloused fingers are numb from the lengthy bar routine I just finished, and my lower back burns from the shaky dismount. I take a moment to breathe deep and fill my lungs with icy water, letting the chill cool the ache of fiery lungs.

   Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on deep breaths. Don’t think about the heartbreaking loss that’s about to happen.

   When I open my glossy eyes, I take a minute to compose myself. Losing Coach Carr is near devastating when regionals are in a little less than two months. How the fuck am I supposed to be ready when we’re getting a brand new coach who doesn’t know a thing about our routines or training schedule? 

   Ripping the water bottle from my tight grip, I find my way back onto the blue spring floor and decide to stretch my sore triceps. Wincing in pain, I groan, extending my arms overhead, feeling as if my muscles will split in half at any moment, but I’m used to it. It’s just part of a gymnast’s daily routine. No pain, no gain. 

   Senior year. Only a little over three months until I’m graduating with a bachelor’s degree in Kinesiology. Granted, I opted for online classes to focus on what’s really important. Gymnastics. It’s what I breathe, all I can think about day after day, and I won’t stop until I qualify for the Olympics. And Coach Carr should’ve been the one to help me get there, but those dreams were crushed like sand beneath the soles of my feet. Go figure. Nothing ever went my way. Especially after I lost my dad…

   Having to take a whole year off training and college was rough enough. And close to being twenty-five-years-old? Well, some of the girls still tortured me about it, whispering how I was too old, how I’d never make it. But they were wrong, and I’d prove it. 

   If they were gentle sheep, then I was a starving wolf. Out for blood. 

   Another deep sigh leaves my lips, and my shiny pink leotard feels extremely tight, almost like it’s squeezing the breath right out of my lungs. In the next moment, someone is hip checking me, and I almost topple over onto the mat from the unwelcome force. I glare in the direction of where the uncalled action came from, but I immediately drop my frown when I see it’s just my best friend, Cassie. 

   “Whoa, did you wake up on the wrong side of bed this morning? You’re awfully cranky,” she laughs as she presses down some dark flyaways from her tight bun and smoothes out her violet leotard with the back of her palms.

   “Sorry,” I grumble, letting my arms fall down to my sides in defeat. “I’m just on edge today with Coach Carr leaving.”

   Cassie blinks twice and looks up with sympathetic emerald eyes. “I know. I’m upset too, but what can we do? She’s already leaving, we can’t stop her now.”

   “Yeah, but why didn’t she at least wait until after regionals? You know how important that competition is. If we want to go to the national championships, then we have to bring our A-game,” I huff, stomping my heel into the squishy floor just to show how frustrated I am.

   “Ask her husband, he’s the one that got the new job in Denver. Maybe you can talk him into letting his wife stay just for you,” she laughs, pushing against my shoulder playfully to try to get me to lighten up, but it doesn’t work. “And it’s you, babe. You want to go to nationals, and you want to win that championship title. I’m just here to ride it out with you. You’ve got the heart of a lion in this gym. No way you aren’t getting that gold medal,” she says encouragingly. 

   I give her a fake smile and hip check her right back. “Says the girl who medaled at our last competition. You’re going with me, and that’s final,” I smile.

   “We’ll see about that,” she says with bright green eyes.

   The room lightens up a little bit as Cassie pulls some of the anger from my tense body, but it all comes crashing back down like shattering like glass the moment I see Coach Carr’s bubbly smile and long blonde hair swaying as she greets a man I don’t recognize by the glass door.

   I tip my head to the side and squint, hoping to get a better view of the mystery man with the tight-fitting white t-shirt and dark jeans that hug strong legs. “Who’s that?” I ask, hoping Cassie will have a clue as to who that might be.

   “I think that’s our new coach. Joel Miller,” she says, peeling her eyes over his broad body.

   “Who is he?” My voice comes out quieter, like I almost don’t want to know. Coach Carr never said anything about a male coach, and she definitely didn’t mention that he’d be older and so… handsome. 

   “Not too sure, but I’ve been hearing the other coaches talk lately. Heard he took his prior team all the way to nationals,” she voices, making my ears perk up at that.

   My eyes grow a little wider, and my back stiffens up at the mentions of nationals. “Nationals, huh? Then why isn’t he still there with that team?” Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, I try to study the tall man, as if I can see inside his mind.

   “Not sure,” she shrugs. “Guess he heard we were the best, and maybe it’s a better paid position? I don’t know, but Jesus. Do you see the biceps on that man? He’s hot. Maybe he can help me stretch… if you know what I mean,” she winks, curling a loose strand behind her ear as her eyes go starry.

   Oh, for the love of God. 

   “Cas, stop. You’re being gross.” I scrunch my nose in disgust and hit her lightly in the side of the shoulder. 

   “What? Like you don’t find him attractive? He’s ridiculously good looking. Just look at him,” she sighs dreamily, her eyes sparkling from the sunlight peeking through the windows.

   But I am looking at him. And whether I like it or not, he’s walking straight up to the spring floor with Coach Carr right at his heels, and he’s not too far from where I’m standing. 

   When he’s only a mere few feet from me, I notice how his biceps hug the soft fabric of his t-shirt and large veins spiral down his thick forearms, spidering along the backs of his rough hands, ending in strong fingers. I gulp when I see how devastating his dark brown eyes are. They’re almost like pure marble, smooth enough to sink into. And his hair. Thick, sandy brown with speckles of gray threading through his lush locks and his clipped beard. Cassie was right; he’s breathtaking.

   “Fuck yeah, bestie. He’s taking us all the way to nationals,” she whispers as a fit of giggles leave her pink lips. 

   I roll my eyes and seal my mouth shut, but I can’t help but keep sneaking secret glances at the man with pretty eyes. Cassie doesn’t need her big ego boosted to know she’s right. He is good looking, really good looking. But that doesn’t mean I’ll accept him here. Coach Carr is abandoning me right when I need her most. She was supposed to be there for regionals which would set me up for nationals. No way will I just accept a stranger, like he knows anything about my routines or moves. No. I’ll just give him the cold shoulder because I’m bitter about this whole stupid arrangement.

   “Girls, gather around! I’d like for you to meet someone.” She gestures to the mystery man and beams her white smile to the entire room. The rest of the gymnasts take their place on the spring floor and glance with anticipation at the newcomer. “This has been a super hard decision for me to leave you all, but I did my best to make sure you’ll be in good hands. So, girls, I’d like you to meet your new coach, Joel Miller.”

   All the girls’ eyes blow wide, and whispers flit around the room, echoing giggles and gossip that makes me silently groan. Some of them bat their long lashes, some fix their high ponytails and twirl the hair they can reach. Others just stare and gawk, letting their eyes roam the expanse of his broad body, and my stomach drops when I realize all my teammates are going to be swooning over our new coach. 

   I let my eyes rake over the spongy floor, dragging my heel over a piece of fuzz like it’ll get me out of this awkward situation. I don’t want a new coach, especially one that all the girls won’t stop talking about.

   “Now, you might’ve not heard of him before, but he’s coached a few varsity teams, and he even took the Oklahoma Sooners all the way to nationals, which I know is a dream for most of you,” she says proudly, her chin held high as some of the girls gasp and drop their jaws to the floor. 

   Great. Now I’ll have to hear their stupid lovesick mouths drag on about how handsome and talented he is. Give me a fucking break. 

   “Nationals? I want to go to nationals!” One of the girls shouts as she jumps up and down frantically, only stopping when Coach Carr tells her to settle down.

   “As do most of you, and I’m sure Coach Miller here will do just that,” she smiles wide, letting her long blonde hair fall over her light blue polo shirt. Joel sheepishly smiles and follows Coach Carr’s lead. “Okay, well let me go around the room and introduce you to all the girls. There’s quite a bit,” she laughs, glancing at me and the other eleven gymnasts.

   As she makes her way around the room slowly, I can’t help but tune the room out, making a small bubble in my mind where only my thoughts start to tick like the hanging clock above the front glass doors. 

   You can do this, just breathe. Don’t freak out, you’re only losing your most favorite coach in the entire world. I bite my lower lip and feel the sharp pain sink into my skin. 

   Breathe. 

   Just when I start to fade off into the soft blue tones in my mind, I hear my name being called loud and clear across the open room. I snap my eyes up frantically when Coach Carr says my name again. “And this is our shining star right here, Madison Summers. She’s the best of the best,” she smiles proudly, like I’ve just won her the gold medal.

   Joel shifts his weight to the left and folds his flexed arms over his broad chest, and I swear he’s about to rip right through that thin t-shirt. “Your shining star, s’that right?” he asks with a thick Southern drawl that floats through my eardrums like a sweet melody. 

   Fuck. Even his voice is charming. All deep and gravelly and annoyingly enthralling. It’s about to give me a damn headache at this rate.

   “Oh, yes,” she replies brazenly. “This girl right here has been bringing us home with first place titles since she started here. She’s the real deal, Miller. I think she might even take you all the way to nationals. Keep her on her toes.” She claps him on the back firmly, and a slow smile expands across his plush mouth, framing his dark mustache. His brown eyes flick over my body slowly like he’s assessing every single inch of me to make sure it’s true, and he parts his mouth like he wants to say something.

   Letting my hazel eyes fall to the ground, I adjust my position and keep my arms locked tight around my chest. Maybe I can hide from the red blush that’s building in my cheeks because now all the girls are staring at me with envy, and I despise being the center of attention. 

   When the sting of embarrassment starts to fade away, I hear him clear his throat. “Impressive. Guess we’ll jus’ have to see ‘bout nationals then. See jus’ what you bring to the floor, Shining Star,” he murmurs with a light voice that spouts off that deep, gravelly tone that makes my insides clench.

   Shining Star. The nickname makes the little light blonde hairs on my neck stand straight up and has my crimson cheeks flushed. He needs to stop.

   I slowly lift my chin, and then my eyes meet his straight on. Butterflies flit through the pit of my stomach for just a second when his amber colored irises stay locked on mine. He gives me a once over, one eyebrow lifted as if I’ve piqued his interest, and that’s the last thing I want to be right now because these girls will give me hell about it.

   Averting my eyes back to the floor to escape that growing tension in the air, I listen to Coach Carr go on about how she’s letting Joel take the reins. I can still feel his dark eyes honing in on me, and the room suddenly feels like the Texas summer heat, stifling and insufferable. I don’t care what it takes, but I will not think of Coach Miller as anything other than my coach. He may be handsome as hell, but there’s no way I’m going to simp like a lovesick puppy over him like every other girl in this gym. 

   Katelyn’s piercing blue eyes find mine in an instant when I finally find the strength to look up. Her painted red lips are pursed, and her high cheekbones look like they could cut straight through glass with the way she’s glaring. Her too-tight, sparkly white leotard shows off her curvy figure, and I know she’s already jealous of the attention I’m getting. 

   Great. Just great. That’s the last thing I wanted to happen. She already hates my guts; why did Coach Carr have to make it worse? 

   I concentrate back on the fabric of the ocean blue floor and pray it’ll swallow me whole. Cassie places a comforting palm on my shoulder and nudges me to see if I’m alright. I give her a tight-lipped smile and again pretend. So much for not feeling overwhelmed and anxious today. 

   Joel’s voice booms through the room, and my hesitant eyes slowly shift back up to him as he paces the floor and looks out to the sea of eager gymnasts. “Alright, ladies. Coach Carr here has given me a rundown of some of your routines, but I’d like to jus’ walk around the room today and get a feel for them and how your practices usually go. She was kind enough to let me scope the team out a few weeks ago. And I will say, I was very impressed. Some more than others.” His eyes shift to find mine, and I suddenly feel like a deer in the headlights. Blindsighted and paralyzed. He’ll surely collide right into me at the worst possible time when I don’t even see him coming.

   He’s been at practice before? He’s watched me specifically? Oh, shit. 

   Some of the other girls giggle, but I stand frozen like a mouse caught in a trap. How can Coach Carr leave me alone with him? He’ll have me losing my balance over a simple split jump on the balance beam. But I won’t let that happen. Not a chance because I’m going to ice him out, just like I planned to do before I even knew he’d be the new coach. 

   “Okay, girls. I do have to get going, I'm afraid, but please be respectful to Coach Miller. He is a very good coach, and I expect you all to be on your best behaviors.” She gives all the girls a knowing look that says don’t test her, and then she makes her way over to me as some of the girls disperse around the gym.

   “Ahh, my favorite athlete,” she smiles as she pulls me in for a tight squeeze. I breathe in her lemon perfume and memorize what it feels like to be embraced by her because I won’t have any more warm hugs after this. I’ll only have rough hands that maybe high five me for landing a double tuck on the mat, if that. 

   I squeeze her right back and hold on for dear life. “Please, don’t go. I need you,” I whine, afraid tears might run down my cheeks when I watch her walk out that door one last time.

   “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I hate leaving you, but you know I’ll be there for Regionals.” She gathers my hands in hers and squeezes gently. I feel the sting of fresh tears in the back of my eyes, and they start to gloss over. 

   “Hey, now,” she reassures me. “You’re going to be just fine without me. You have a great coach to take over my spot now.” She smiles warmly, but it doesn’t quite meet her bright blue eyes.

   “But it’s not you. You promised to take me all the way to Nationals,” I pout, letting my bottom lip jut out as a cold tear slips free.

   “Hey, no tears now. Everything will be okay. And I know I promised, but marriage and Eric’s new job just got in the way. I can’t tell you how sorry I truly am, but I still believe in you. You’ve got this, and Joel will take you to Nationals. I know he will.” 

   My eyes flick to him subtly, and I huff out a long sigh as my eyes start to narrow into thin slits. Joel wouldn’t take me to nationals. It was never his job to, and I sure as hell don’t want to put my faith in a new coach I know almost nothing about. I don’t care how good looking he is; he’s not my coach. 

   Coach Carr quickly picks up on my building anger and irritation to the whole situation, so she steers me back to look her dead in the eyes. “Hey, be nice. I don’t want you giving him trouble just because you’re upset,” she warns with a stern look written over her serious face. 

   “Who said I was going to give him trouble?” I scoff, kicking my heel into the blue padding of the floor like that will do me any good.

   “Madison Summers!” She says my full name sharply like a mother would when their child is getting scolded, and her grip tightens on my hands. “Now, I know you very well. And I know when you’re upset. You can be upset with me, but please don’t take it out on him. He’s only here to help you reach your dreams, and I have no doubt that he’ll do just that. So give him a chance, for my sake. I wouldn’t leave you to someone I didn’t trust.”

   I bite my lower lip and nod, turning my gaze back to Joel as he focuses on Giselle’s uneven bar routine, watching the way her sparkly red leotard shimmers in the glistening sunlight that melts through the glass windows. Sighing heavily, I agree to obey her wishes, “Okay, I guess I can try to play nice.”

   She gives me a quick hug and squeezes tightly. “That’s my girl.” I let the warm comfort envelop me fully, remembering the scent of spearmint gum and lemon perfume. A smell I’ll soon only remember in my fading memory. 

   With one more hug, she sends her best wishes to me and says goodbye to the other girls, and then she’s just gone. A vacant ghost that’s disappeared into her new life. 

   A life that I won’t be in.

   I watch the glass window like she’ll come back, like she was just kidding about leaving the entire time, but every second the clock ticks tells me she’s gone. And now I have to suffer without her. First it was my dad, now my favorite coach…

   Dragging my feet on the thick carpet, I hold my head high and decide to focus on my balance beam routine today. I’ve been struggling with sticking my landings lately, and I need to focus.

   Blocking out all the blaring music in the gym, I pull my head together and spend the next couple of hours perfecting my routine. Firm arms, chin up, jump high, dazzle the crowd, smile. But it’s hard faking a smile when my favorite coach just left me in the dust to deal with him. Coach Miller, the bane of my existence.

   Pushing him clear out of my mind, I find my center and complete a back handspring, back tuck combination, throwing all my rolling emotions into quick motions. I think I have it but when I land, I find that I nearly get knocked off my center and almost go crashing down to the blue mat that sits beneath me. 

   Shit. Almost had it.

   “Tuck your knees and point your toes harder.” The deep voice nearly takes me over the edge of the chalky beam.

   “What?” I whisper out, looking up under my thick lashes, right at Joel fucking Miller.

   “Tuck your knees more next time. It’ll speed up your rotation, and you’ll land solid. Pointin’ your toes harder will give you quicker and sharper movements. And remember, presentation is everything.” He leans against the white wall steadily, right next to one of the chalk stands and carelessly taps his index finger against his tanned forearm.  

   “My rotation was just fine,” I sneer.

   “Could be quicker,” he defaults back quickly.

   “I was quick enough,” I snap.

   “Is that why you almost fell after your back tuck?” He tilts his head and gives me a contemplative look that dares me to challenge him. I bite my tongue in response and stare right into his big brown eyes, not saying a word.

   God. Those fucking eyes.

    “Jus’ try again,” he presses, his eyes fixed on me. I purse my lips and dig my hands into my hips, standing my ground as the balance beam becomes my rock. I don’t want to try again. At least not when he’s looking and has his eyes glued on every single move I make. I could’ve figured it out on my own how to perfect my landing.I don’t need him.

   “I don’t got all day. The clock’s tickin’.” He points to the black military style watch on his left wrist and keeps his large arms glued across his chest, his thick eyebrows threading together like he expects me to fire off another sharp response.

   I huff and get back into position, my toes pointed and resting right on the edge. I take one quick glance his way and then jolt my body backwards. With my toes pointed hard, almost sharp as a pencil, I flip into a back handspring, my fingers meeting the beam for just a second, and then I jump hard and high. Making sure to tuck my knees deeper into my chest, I flip into a back tuck easily. Every rotation seems sharper and faster, much better than the sluggish one I just did before. And before I know it, I’m landing perfectly on the balance beam, not even a single wobble flows through my body as I stick the landing.

   Joel’s eyebrows raise, and the hint of a proud smirk shadows his mouth. I want to wipe that stupid smirk off his face because I know just what he’s thinking. He was right all along. “What’d I tell ya? Perfect landin’. Maybe you should listen to me after all, huh? Think I might know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

   I roll my eyes and cross my arms firmly over my chest, standing with full attention on the balance beam. “I could’ve figured it out on my own.”

   “You’re a stubborn thing, ain’t ya?” he chuckles, shaking his head as silver threads and sandy brown curls tousle with every movement he makes. His eyes are basically milk chocolate, the way they glitter in the sunlight when he’s laughing. And I fucking hate it.

   “Apparently,” I shrug, giving him a stern look while I lick my tongue against my bottom teeth aggressively. 

   “We’ll jus’ have to work on that then, won’t we?” He tips his head my way and pushes off the wall, flexing his rock hard biceps as he waltzes away with a stupid grin spread across his mouth. 

   I clench my fists at my sides and dig my heels into the firm balance beam, trying my best to keep my wits about me. Stupid Coach Miller and his sly remarks. 

   Stubborn thing, ain’t ya. I scoff at the statement. Of course I’m stubborn. If he thinks he’ll get on my good side and tear down my walls then he’s sadly mistaken. I won’t budge. No. I’ll just have to show him how much more stubborn I can be.

   This isn’t his gym. This is mine. And I plan to make that very clear.

[yupthisisshe]

Neville headcanon/drabble - Emoticons and love hearts:

�� He uses emoticons (70% of his personality is “:)” and well as 70% of his texts because he uses that one nearly every time he texts you) more than emojis, and when he does use emojis, the ones he uses most are ❤️ and 😮

✿ He also definitely signs his name in letters to you with a smiley and/or heart

✿ He doesn’t like just saying ok so he will say “Ok, love ❤️” or “Okay, love <3” and it gets you every time (pls I can’t he’s so sweet)

✿ Sometimes (especially when he first got a phone to communicate with you better) he just sends “:)” and nothing else

✿ You think it’s the cutest thing (it is)

✿ <3

✿ In conclusion, Neville Longbottom has my heart for life and he is the sweetest boy EVER.

[allsouls-emma]

Hi! I saw that you were making fanfics about Leon Marchand. Maybe you can make one where the reader is a very anxious person and he comforts her before her olympic competion (you can choose any sport you want). And she end up winning and After gotten her medal, she just hug him ? (Sorry if i made any mistakes, english is not my first language) I don't have any oc but can you make the reader be in the estonian team ! Thanks you and i hope you have a great day/night !

✧✧✧ ─ Calm Before the Storm

Léon Marchand X Female!Reader

Hello my dearie, I hope you're well. I have chosen gymnastics if that's alright, I liked going for the super Fluff. Enjoy Mwah!

Warnings: Fluff, No knowledge of Olympic Village going ons, Friendship, I have NO Gymnastics knowledge, Mature themes.

The familiar hum of the arena buzzed around you, the sound of spectators, coaches, and the occasional outburst of applause echoing through the corridors. The rhythmic beats of your heart were louder, though, pounding in your ears as you sat on a bench in the warm-up area. Your hands trembled as you tried to take deep breaths, your mind racing with the what-ifs and the weight of the moment. The Olympic Games—your Olympic Games—were at their peak, and you were minutes away from the most important performance of your life.

Representing Estonia was a dream come true, but the pressure was crushing. You’d trained your entire life for this, yet now, with everything on the line, the anxiety was threatening to consume you.

“Hey,” a familiar voice cut through the fog of your thoughts.

You looked up to see Léon Marchand standing there, his swim cap still in hand, a gold medal already draped around his neck from his event earlier that day. He smiled, that easy, reassuring grin that you’d come to rely on during these stressful days in the Olympic Village.

“Léon,” you managed to say, though your voice wavered.

He sat down beside you, close but not too close, giving you the space you needed. “You looked like you could use a friend right about now.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I just... I can’t seem to calm down. What if I mess up? What if...”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Léon interrupted softly, placing a hand on your knee. “Take a deep breath with me.”

You tried to follow his lead, inhaling deeply, though your breath hitched halfway. He noticed and smiled softly, waiting until you tried again. This time, it was a little easier.

“Look,” he said, his tone steady, “I know how you’re feeling. Maybe not the exact same way, but I’ve been there. Everyone here has. This is the Olympics. It’s supposed to be overwhelming, but it’s also supposed to be the moment you’ve been dreaming about. You’re ready for this. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

His words were a balm, slowly easing the tension that had wound itself tight around your chest. You focused on his calm demeanor, the way he spoke as if this were just another day, another competition, not the pinnacle of your career.

“Remember when we talked about why you love gymnastics?” he continued, his voice gentle. “You told me it’s about the feeling of flying, of losing yourself in the movement. It’s about the freedom. Don’t let the pressure take that away from you. This is your moment to do what you love.”

You nodded, the knot in your stomach beginning to loosen. “But what if I fail?”

“And what if you don’t?” he countered. “What if this is the best performance of your life? Either way, you’re going out there and giving it everything. That’s all you can do. And no matter what happens, you’ve already made your country proud. You’ve made me proud.”

His words sank in, anchoring you to the moment. You took another deep breath, steadier this time, and felt the panic recede, leaving determination in its place.

“I guess you’re right,” you said, offering a small smile.

“I’m always right,” Léon teased, earning a soft laugh from you. “Now go out there and show them what you’ve got. I’ll be watching.”

With one last reassuring squeeze of your knee, he stood, offering you a hand to help you up. You took it, feeling a renewed sense of confidence as you rose to your feet.

As you walked towards the arena, the noise of the crowd grew louder, but instead of being overwhelming, it now felt like a distant hum, something separate from the clarity in your mind. You turned back to Léon, who gave you a thumbs-up and a wink before disappearing into the sea of athletes and coaches.

The competition itself felt like a blur, each movement ingrained in muscle memory, each routine executed with a precision you hadn’t felt in years. When you finished, the crowd erupted in applause, but it wasn’t until you saw your scores flash on the screen—scores high enough to secure a medal—that it truly hit you.

You’d done it.

Later, standing on the podium with a medal around your neck, the national anthem of Estonia playing in the background, you searched the crowd. When you found Léon, he was grinning, pride shining in his eyes.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you bolted off the podium and straight into his arms. He caught you easily, laughing as you buried your face in his chest, the reality of what you’d just accomplished sinking in.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at you.

“For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

Léon smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Always.”

And in that moment, you knew that no matter where your career took you next, you’d never face it alone.

[cactusracoon]

I wanna go to bed so fucking bad right now. But no!! I have to live in fucking OHIO!! WHERE WE GET STUPID THUNDER STORMS THAT PUT US ON TORNADO WARNING!!! It's bot expected to stop till 5 in the fucking morning. I have school at 7 in the morning. So I'm sitting here at 12 am about to give you fanfic recs.

__________________

These are mostly if not all Tim Drake centric

_________________

This story is such a cute love story between Dick and Dana, Tim's step mother. I love myself a good rare pair. Dana adopts Tim after Jack dieds, she takes an interest in his gymnastics teacher Dick. She struggles with parenting Tim, he helps her through it. It's a great wholesome fic if your looking for some hurt/comfort light on the hurt. It's not finished though.

Another rare pair fic. This time it's between Talia, Bruce, and Janet. Not as wholesome as the last one but definitely a good one if you want hurt/comfort. Tim is Bruce's Bio son, Jack finds out and wants a divorce. Bruce is an awkward dad trying to parent 3 kids with one on the way. Janet is trying to survive living under the same roof as her exe husband with a drinking problem all while trying to keep Tim safe. Talia is just trying to get in Janet's pants and hating on Jack. Also not a finished book but it was updated in the last 2 months

Tim trying to not get caught smoking weed. That's the whole book. Stoner Tim is a very under used trope and I need more of it! Perfect fluffy book. This one is finished.

Yet another rare pair but this time it's cross Fandom. This one is Neal Caffrey x Bruce wayne. Neal and Bruce are dating, Bruce's kids find out. Neal and the white collar division now have to deal with the chaos of Bruce's far to many kids. Again a really good comfort book. This one is finished.

Tim's Uber hits Red Hood with his car. Now Tim feels like he owes Hood a favor. Then the Outlaws claim Tim as their child. Great hurt/comfort fic! Bit more on the angsty side. Deals alot with child Neglect but that's a given for a Tim drake centric fanfic. This one is also a finished fic.

[pleasantglitterflower]

Power Couple (Joe Burrow x Simone Biles)

Joe was very excited to land in Paris, after all he was going to surprise his girlfriend, who is simply Simone Biles. Simone didn't know, but I was already going to surprise her and was going to watch her performance in the final of the artistic gymnastics vaults at the Olympics.

  Joe was very sorry about not being able to accompany Simone in person at the Paris Olympics, as the training camp period before the NFL preseason would be taking place at the same time, and this season will be decisive for Joe, after months of treating a serious hand injury.

Simone was super understanding and understood the fact that Joe couldn't be in Paris, as he also needed to focus on his preparation to return to playing at a high level. The gymnast was like a compass for Joe's recovery, for the quarterback, if it weren't for Simone supporting and encouraging him, his recovery wouldn't have been so successful.

Joe did not give up and spoke with the Bengals board and coaching staff to get permission to travel to Paris, in return he would do extra training when he returned. Simone had no idea that her boyfriend was going to surprise her, Joe already had everything planned with the US artistic gymnastics team and Jade Carey, one of the American gymnasts competing in the Olympic Games, wished one day to have a boyfriend like Joe.

Bercy Arena - August 3,2024

The day of the competition finally arrived and Joe was very nervous. Although he was not very religious, he kept praying silently, asking the gods of gymnastics that Simone would perform her lifts very well and that no adversity would befall her.

First came the men's artistic gymnastics performance, and with each movement, he found it fascinating how those men executed their jumps with perfection. Despite knowing his whole life that he wanted to play football, he had always admired the entire concept of artistic gymnastics, so much so that whenever he had a break from a game, during his time at LSU, he would always go and watch the performances of the college's women's gymnastics team, led by Olivia Dunne. He laughed, thinking that if it were him trying to do one of those jumps, he would probably have broken all his bones. If you're going to get hurt, you might as well do it at the intensity of football.

The men's performance ended and finally the women's vault solo performance arrived. The main favorites for the gold medal were Simone and Rebeca Andrade, who are the two main references in artistic gymnastics today. Simone was the fourth gymnast to perform and her performance left no doubt that the gold medal was hers. She landed the vault that bears her name, the Biles II, and despite taking a 0.1 penalty for stepping off the jump, she received a spectacular 15.700 - 6.400 for the start score, 9.400 for the execution and -0.100 penalty.

Burrow couldn't contain himself and celebrated a lot when she performed Biles II, he was very happy and excited. On her second vault, Biles went for a very well-executed Cheng, which earned her a score of 14.900 - 5.600 for difficulty and 9.300 for execution. With that, she had an average of 15.300. Joe screamed so much, he probably wasn't as happy with the Bengals' victories as he was with Biles's jumps.

The other performances took place and then they waited for the results, and finally it became official: Simone Biles was the vault solo champion and broke another record. Joe couldn't control his emotions and cried with joy, he saw how hard Simone was on herself and how intensely she trained, it's always special when hard work is rewarded. He celebrated happily with other American fans, who fortunately, when they saw that Joe was very focused on watching the performance, didn't ask him for photos and autographs, because for those present there, he was a fan like any other.

Simone, Rebeca Andrade and Jade Carey took their places on the podium, respectively, and Joe was smiling very proud of his beloved. After all the formal celebrations, Simone began to interact with some fans, until she had an unexpected surprise, with Joe going to her and hugging her tightly. —Joe, I can't believe you actually came - Biles says shocked to see her man face to face with her

-I wouldn't miss the chance to see you win eye to eye my love, in person it's much better, the same way when you go see my games - Joe speaks, giving her a little kiss afterwards.

-I'm so happy you came my love, but what about training and the team?

-Honey, they really understood how important the Olympics are and allowed me to be here, but let's not talk about that, today is all about you and we have to celebrate, especially because the whole team is watching the competitions right now.

-I love you so much Joe, thank you so much for always being with me and supporting me in everything - she kisses the quarterback

-I am lucky enough to have a woman like you in my life Simone, you are so important in my life that if it weren't for you, I would be very lost, I love you forever - they give a movie kiss to the delight of everyone present in that gym, just proving that the Paris 2024 Olympic Games are already in history as one of the most iconic Olympics of all time.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Leaps and Dives

Author: @annepi-blog

Rating: M

Status: Completed in August 2024

Word Count: 54,795

Summary: As the 2024 Paris Olympics unfold, gymnast Blaine Anderson and diver Kurt Hummel find themselves navigating more than just their athletic dreams. Blaine, focused on his second chance at Olympic glory, crosses paths with Kurt, a newcomer to the world of professional diving with extraordinary talent. What begins as a chance encounter blossoms into something neither of them expected.

Tropes/Genre: Olympics!Klaine, AU, gymnast!Blaine, Diver!Kurt, meet cute, fluff, romance, Paris

Lynne's review: I loved their journey, both in the Olympic games, and to each other. GOLD!!

Read at: AO3

[lythevoidwitch]

Because I'm tired of struggling with Tumblr and apparently my inability to edit posts, imma just be terrible and make a SECOND POST.

Wooo, plus- TGP needs more of a shout out anyway because holy shit this was such a good fic. IT HAD ME HOOKED.

So I just finished this wonderful fanfiction. Heres the link to my previous post, which is just a plug for said amazing fic.

This was such a good read and totally a roller coaster of emotions. I'm still mad that I can't leave Kudos on all 98 chapters.

TGP worked hard on this story, and their dedication to crafting us a flushed out story with more character development than Airplane could ever hope to manage, shows. While it may seem like a long read, TGP keeps us looped throughout the story. They do a wonderful job rotating between devastating and bringing us to tears with laughter.

Definitely take it slow if some of the tags on the fic hit close to home. SY does hit a lot of lows and does a lot of self sabotage, which can be hard for some readers.

I am excited and thrilled at the possibilities of what might be next for our trio. TGP is an amazing author, and I cannot wait (I can wait, please take your time, I know writing such intense stories can be difficult) to read the next part of the story.

Love, Live, Contemplate murder with Shen Qingqiu.

Love Shen Yuan so much, that Luo Binghe might develop a complex.

Love, Live, Laugh in horror as Luo Binghe watches Shen Yuan play mental gymnastics so well it could be an olympic sport.

[saiyanmazen]

Who can imagine Vegeta do this?

In my newest chapter of On the Cusp, he does just that.

And others, more lewd things.

I love this guy's moves.

[knifeforkspooncup]

Thanks for the tag @crowleys-bentley-and-plants

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you like)

Just some good old fashioned Aziraphale repression for today.

Tagging: @bellisima-writes @fearandhatred @haemey @aspiring-pansy

[yellowcakeuf6]

After reading chapter 5 of the brilliant fic Deliverence in Deep Space by @spookyshoosh the image of the OC doing an aerial silks routine for Lore has been stuck in my head. So I thrashed this out in 20 minutes today. For some reason I headcanon that the reader has short hair, and I don't know if this move is in the fic or not but I thought it fitted the grace and elegance of the workout...

[virgo-writer]

It is hilarious to me that Ao3 has ‘Marcus McGowan’ as a character tag, because that’s not the characters name on the show - the writers never gave him a last name. ‘Marcus McGowan’ is the name JCI came up with and we all used for consistency and I love that the tag wranglers on Ao3 have decided to treat it as canon.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Somersaults and Stealing Hearts Part 2: Watch Me✨

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast! OFC

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to the lovely @alltheirdamn for beta reading and screaming about them with me 🥰

Summary: While all the other girls gush over Coach Miller, Madison can’t stand him. And when her turn comes on the vault, she gets a little carried away.

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: 18+ only

Tags: Lots of banter, arguing to flirting, dual POV

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day is barely tolerable as I stand with my arms crossed firmly against my chest, my right hip cocked out to the side. I let the cool breeze from the vents take the bitter sting away that rushes like a raging waterfall through my sore joints. 

   The slick purple leotard clings to my tanned, burning skin, and my tight blonde ponytail feels like it’s creating an incurable migraine at the back of my skull. I roll my eyes with every insufferable breath Joel breathes, not even caring if he sees how his droning voice affects my sour mood.

   He’s not my coach. He will never be my coach.

   “Listen up, girls,” Joel yells across the room, standing in the middle of the blue mat with a clipboard in one hand and a black ink pen in the other. “I’m gonna have each of you go through your uneven bar and vault routines. We have a lot of cover to ground before regionals, and it’s not that far off.”

   Unbelievable. If he really knew me, he’d know those were my two strongest routines. It’s my floor and balance beam routine that’ve been kicking my ass lately, and I just can’t stick my landings like I need to to qualify for nationals. And the double back salto? Well, that’s another beast entirely that I can’t quite grasp. Coach Carr would know that, but she apparently didn’t include Joel in that conversation. 

   Go fucking figure.

   How the fuck am I supposed to make it without her by my side? 

   Katelyn raises her hand and practically whips it around with no control. 

   Eager much? 

   “Coach Miller, can I go first? I’d love your help with my dismount.” She bats her long lashes, her icy blue eyes practically shining like stars in the night sky, and it makes me want to vomit. 

   “Sure thing, Katelyn. Jus’ head on over to the vault. I’ll be right there,” he assures her, tucking his plastic clipboard under his arm.

   When he turns to head to the back of the room where the long runway and vault lay, I watch the way his broad shoulders flex against the black t-shirt, and I feel sick when he pushes his long fingers through his tousled curls. It irks me that he’s allowed to look that good. Even more so, flames radiate through my chest just thinking that this is his team now. 

   Nuh-uh. I won’t allow it. This isn’t his team. And I’ll make damn sure of it. 

   Coach Carr may have asked me to be nice, but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. 

   Katelyn shines her perfect smile and poses, saluting that she’s about to begin her routine. Joel nods from the corner of the room, standing a few feet from the vault, eyes locked while he waits and watches with bated breath. She wastes no time and takes off, feet striking the mat and running like her life depends on it. 

   I watch the way Joel carefully assesses her movements, ready to move at a moment’s notice if she falls. And I don’t know why, but it annoys the hell out of me. Probably because Katelyn is used to getting what she wants, and she wants Joel. She can have him for all I care. I don’t even want him here. 

   Katelyn completes her handspring double front and nearly eats the blue mat beneath her. Joel quickly steps in and catches her before her body crashes down, and I know she did it on purpose. She’s never messed up that move before. She’s putting on a fake show, and Joel’s her shiny new doll to mess around with. 

   “Whoa, slow it down there. You overturned your twist. Try to focus on your body mechanics next time. You’ll get it,” he encourages with a light pat to her shoulder.

   “Thanks for catching me, Coach. I’ll try again.” She turns away sweetly, walking all the way back to the end of the seafoam floor, swaying her curvy hips and flashing the sparkly sequins on her peach leotard. 

   “Oops, did I get a little too excited with that flip? Maybe I should do it again just so he’ll catch me.” She flips her highlighted hair and pushes past me, smacking straight into the side of my shoulder with enough force that it makes my stance unsteady.

   Narrowing my eyes, I scowl at her and feel hot lava rising in every joint of my boiling body. I keep my mouth shut tight but only because she’s trying to get a rise out of me. And there’s no fucking way I’m getting heated over a bitch trying to steal a man I couldn’t be less interested in. She can have him. I just wish she'd leave me the hell alone. 

   Before I make any rash decisions and decide to turn and smack her straight across her lip gloss coated mouth, Cassie pulls me back to reality and gives me a concerned look. “Don’t mind her. You know she’s only jealous because Coach Miller took notice of you yesterday.” 

   I sigh and try to relax, uncrossing my arms and easing my mind of any unnecessary distractions. I’m here to practice, not to be involved in some petty drama I want no part in. “Yeah, you’re right. I just wish she’d stop, you know?”

   “I know what you mean, but a bitch is a bitch no matter what. So just focus on the task at hand. You’re better than her at everything; that’s never going to change. Just do you, boo,” she smiles, giving me a friendly bump against the hip while her emerald eyes flash over mine.

   “Thanks for doing this with me, Cas. I couldn’t do it alone,” I smile gently, squeezing her hand in mine as I silently thank her again for being an anchor in the cesspool of snakes. 

   “Always got your back, babe,” she finishes.

   The rest of the squad finishes their turns and return to the navy blue colored spring floor, stretching and watching who’s left to do their routines. Suddenly, I realize I’m the last of the girls, and it’s now my turn to go. Picking my head up and gazing all the way down to the end of the mat lights my nerves on fire. Joel is staring at me, large hands on his hips, chocolate-covered eyes scorching mine even from feet away. It feels like a giant spotlight is shining down on me, signaling to act, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed in time, and I want to run far far away from those deep brown eyes. 

   “C’mon now, don’t be shy. Show me what you got.” His deep voice echoes through the large room, booming through my eardrums like a loud bass, and I want to rip the noise from my rushing ears. His curled smirk and playful eyes make my skin boil and my toes tingle like I’m standing on sharp wires. I puff out a cloud of invisible smoke and clench my hands into tight fists. 

   He thinks I’m shy? That’s cute. I’m not the least bit shy. No. I’m a fierce tiger, and I’ll rip my sharp claws straight through that ridiculous smirk. 

   He gives me a teasing smile, and that does it. I snap. Sprinting as fast as I can down the solid floor, I throw all my raging emotions into my swift movements, letting my stinging feet barely hit the mat, blurring the whispering girls on the mat, only focusing on the vault in front of me.

   Throwing my whole body into the roundoff back handspring, my feet catch the springboard for just a second and then I’m flipping defiantly over the smooth edges of the vault table. I chose the Amanar twist, the harder of my moves, wanting to show Joel just who the best is around here. 

   The air whips across my face, my body humming with every second I’m in the air, completing two-and-a-half twists as if this is as easy as walking a straight line on the balance beam. I stick the landing perfectly and salute, my arms stiff and graceful like I just wowed the judges. My hazel eyes slightly narrow when I see his doe eyes widen just a smidge, his mouth parted and a sickening smile curled up across his plush mouth like he’s in awe. I should smile back, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

   A low whistle leaves his lips and he applauds slowly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Nearly flawless, Shining Star.” I hear the snickering and whispers come from behind, but I block them out. The only thing I’m focused on is making Joel’s life a living hell.

   I drop my stiff stance and cross my arms over my shimmery leotard. “I can go harder than that,” I challenge. 

   Joel’s eyebrows raise in attention, and his tongue slowly slides over his bottom lip like he’s closely assessing my movements. “Oh? You think you can land a triple twist?” The way his warm eyes stare into mine makes a hot fire light in my chest, and that fire is pure rage.

   “I know I can.” I pop my hip out and slit my eyes into thin slots, letting him know I’m not playing games. But he wants to play. Oh, yes. He’s intrigued now. A devilish smirk widens over his mouth and his darkening eyes look like they could eat me alive. 

   Look what you fucking did.

   “Yes,” I snarl out. 

   “That’s a pretty risky move there, sweetheart. You sure you can handle it?” He’s toying with me, edging me on to get under my skin, but it’s too late. He’s already there, prodding at my stings like a damn nuisance.  

   “Don’t call me sweetheart,” I spit with venom shooting across the room, hoping it’ll silence Joel’s taunting words. 

   So, he’s learned I like to play games. Well, I can play them better. 

   “You never heard of Southern hospitality, darlin’?” He accentuates the word darlin’, and the widest smirk I’ve ever seen in my life rests on his tanned face. One hand slowly rakes down his patchy scruff, and his eyes sharpen into mine. It makes me nearly stomp my heel into the gym mat to show how extremely irritating and impossible he’s being.

   Sweetheart? Darlin’? Just what the hell is he trying to prove? That he’s charming? He wishes. 

   “Just stop with the Texas nicknames. I get it. You think you’re slick, but you’re not. And for your information, I can handle anything,” I snap, folding my arms back over my chest to show how much he’s driving my patience. 

   “Alright then. Show me,” he demands, flexing his thick arms tighter against the black material of his shirt, his eyes lit with playful fire. “Let me see you land a triple, and maybe I won’t make you repeat it a third time.”

   I flare my nostrils and storm off, mouthing curse words under my breath like that’ll do any good. I forget that my teammates are gawking and staring at me like I just screamed blasphemy inside a holy temple. I ignore the bite of their stares and carry on. It’s just me and Joel right now for all I can see, and I need to teach him just who he’s dealing with.

   My body hums with electricity, lightning guiding my every movement. Maybe I overestimated by trying to outsmart him, but there’s no backing out now. I’ve made my bed; now I have to sleep in it. 

   Joel’s wide smile flashes under the harsh lights, and his deep brown eyes that antagonize me have me ready to blow steam out of my ears. I decide right then that I hate him and his stupid tousled curls. 

   Why did Coach Carr leave me with him?

   Putting my body into full drive mode, I crash like thunder down the mat, running as if I’m getting chased by a stampede of wildebeests. My body flips through the air, the back handspring pushing my muscles into overdrive, and then I jump. Hard. 

   I hold my breath like I’m underwater, body limbs curling and twisting in the air, and I focus on those three simple rotations I need. I start the count and then my vision blurs, closing my eyes so I can feel the intricate movements cycle through me. Still holding my breath, I count and pray that it’s enough.

   One, two, three. My feet land shakily on the slippery mat, my head reeling at the intense motions, but I land it, fortunately.

   Holy shit. I did it!

   His jaw drops open, and I hear him mutter a curse under his breath, clearly impressed that I was telling the truth. 

   I flash him a generous smile and end it with a slight scowl. “Look at that, Coach,” I stammer, imitating his Texas drawl from earlier. “I landed a triple.”

   He shakes his tousled curls and nods his head in disbelief. “So you did, Shining Star. So you did…” His eyes roam over my body, giving me a quick once over and again, he smiles. 

   “Told you I could,” I huff.

   I stand there glaring, challenging him to a duel I just might lose, but I hold my ground steadily.

    As I start to turn away, he stops me with his deep voice that tears through my unsettled mind. “Next time, don’t hold back the first time.”

   My eyes slit like snake eyes, and my head whips back around to him. “I wasn’t holding back.”

   “‘Course you weren’t, sweetheart. Keep bringing that heat to the floor,” he smirks, letting his shoulder brush against mine as he makes his way back to the rest of the squad.

   “Hey,” I snap, making his head turn back around toward me. “Don’t pretend like you know me.”

   He arches an eyebrow and challenges me with his gravelly tone. “Oh, I think I already got a good readin’ on you. Yeah, think I got you figured out jus’ fine,” he chuckles, flicking his dark eyes once more over mine.

   I scoff and dig my heel hard into the mat. “If you really knew me, you’d know that my floor and balance beam routines need the most work. My vault routine is near perfect. But apparently, you don’t know me at all.” 

   He lifts an eyebrow quizzically, letting the gears grind in his jumbled head like he’s trying to figure me out, but I don’t give him the chance. I storm off toward the uneven bars and wait with my arms crossed over my chest, fuming, just wanting to get this day over with. And I feel his eyes burn hot like a match running painfully slow through my body. 

   I’ll show him I’m not a pretty, dainty flower. I’m a tiger, and I’m out for blood. His blood.

   Joel’s POV

   The laptop screen flickers on, the Google tab already pulled up in front of my face. Using the smooth black mouse to control my thick fingers, YouTube is the link I pull up first. I quickly type out the name Madison Summers and instantly, dozens of gymnastics videos pop up on the glowing screen. Clicking on the first one, the video comes to life like a movie.  

   It’s last year’s fall competition in Orlando, Florida. The floor routine. The one she said needed to work on. 

   Sitting back comfortably into the leather office chair with my legs splayed wide, thumb tapping against the mahogany table, I scan and assess like I’m just a viewer in the audience.

   The crowd goes wild when her name is called, chanting her name and clapping like a wave of thunder. She doesn’t even flinch, her hazel eyes bright and alight with a hint of confidence glowing in the fluorescent lights that shine down on her. And when the music comes to life, so does she.

   She takes to the floor like a graceful swan, her movements as smooth as butter. She has an essence about her that screams confidence, her pretty eyes sharp and narrowed each time she flips or performs a split jump. 

   I let my fingertips scratch down my patchy scruff, eyes locked intensely when she takes a deep breath and braces for her big move. I don’t know what’s coming, but I find myself on the edge of my office chair, palms sweating as I wait with bated breath. 

   Why I’m nervous, I don’t know. But I keep my wide eyes glued to the screen, as if I’m there with her, standing on the sidelines cheering her on with clenched fists.

   She snaps, running like a prowling lion, ready to attack a pack of wild gazelles. She has fire in her eyes with every breath she takes, and I can see right there she has a heart of a winner.

   Flipping into her jump, she performs a Double Arabian, building momentum with every twist her body constructs. And when she lands, shakily, she has the crowd standing to their feet, screaming their lungs out as if she’s already won the gold. 

   She’s powerful, nearly flawless, a beautiful lioness that claws her way through the spring floor, daring anyone to take the title away from her. And I see why Coach Carr called her Shining Star now. She’s absolutely sparkling like a thousand galaxies in that room, and she’s got the entire crowd’s eyes locked on her, including mine. 

   I sit there for over an hour glued to the screen, watching every single competition video I can get my hands on. One hand digs into the leather arm, the other anxiously taps away at the side of the sleek mouse. I make little notes in my mind, things she needs to work on and moves that make her stand out amongst the rest of the gymnasts. This girl is a fucking powerhouse, and she’s got immense talent that’ll take her far.

   But there’s one tiny thing I notice. There’s an entire year missing from the videos. No trace of anything but a speck of dust. Coach Carr told me one of the girls had taken a year off, but she didn’t specify who or why. And now all I can wonder is what made this special girl lose an entire year of training? I’ll find out. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but I will figure it out one way or another. Even if I have to rip it out of her stubborn mind. 

   Madison was made to be a champion. I can see it in the way she commands a room, fighting for her chance at the gold. She’s incredible, nothing less. And dare I say, I even think she could make it to the Olympics. I will take her to the Olympics, if only she’ll accept me as her coach. 

   That stunt she pulled in practice today? She obviously hates my guts. The way she talked back to me and made it a statement to show off she could land a triple? Well, if she wants attention then she’s got my full attention now. If she wants to play with fire, I’ll give her the whole damn inferno. 

[strawberrus0da]

Listens to literally any song that exists at all “omg this is just like (X Favorite Character)”

[allsouls-emma]

hey! love your leon writing, it’s really great to read. thank you for your work, keep it up!

i was also hoping you could write a something with a gymnast!reader where she’s seen him compete and vise versa. thanks <3

✧Partners in Performance ✧

─ Léon Marchand x OC, Léon Marchand x Reader

Hi Anon, Thank you lots and lots for your ask, super cool idea to mix gymnastics into the mix with Léon !

Warnings: Established relationship, I haven't been to the village nor events in the Olympics (Paris '24), not fluent in French, Fluff!

---

Y/N tightened the straps on their gymnastics grips, their focus sharp as they prepared for their next routine. The gym was filled with the familiar sounds of chalky hands clapping and the rhythmic pounding of feet on the mats. It was competition day, and the energy was palpable.

But Y/N’s thoughts weren’t entirely on the upcoming performance. Instead, their mind kept drifting to the tall, curly-haired swimmer who was probably wrapping up his own practice at the pool. Léon Marchand, the rising star of French swimming, had been a constant presence in Y/N’s life, both as a competitor and as something more.

They had met at a sports camp two years ago, each working tirelessly to refine their craft. What started as a friendship rooted in mutual respect quickly blossomed into something deeper. They understood each other in a way few others could—how the pressure of competition could weigh heavily, how victories were both exhilarating and fleeting, and how the grind never really stopped.

“Ready?” Their coach’s voice pulled Y/N out of their thoughts.

“Ready,” Y/N replied with a nod, rolling their shoulders back and taking a deep breath. This was their moment.

The announcer called their name, and Y/N stepped onto the floor, the apparatus shining under the bright lights. The music started, and with it, Y/N’s routine—a carefully choreographed blend of strength, grace, and precision.

They flowed through the movements, each leap, turn, and flip executed with a combination of power and elegance. As they completed their final tumbling pass, landing with a controlled but firm stance, the crowd erupted into applause. Y/N smiled, their heart racing with the thrill of nailing the routine.

After saluting the judges, Y/N jogged off the floor, a sense of accomplishment washing over them. As they grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from their brow, their phone buzzed in their gym bag. They fished it out and saw a message from Léon.

**Léon**: *J’ai vu ta performance en direct. Incroyable, comme toujours.*

(I watched your performance live. Incredible, as always.)

Y/N’s smile widened, warmth spreading through them. Léon had always been their biggest fan, even when he couldn’t be there in person. They quickly typed back.

**Y/N**: *Merci, mon amour. J’aurais aimé que tu sois ici, mais savoir que tu regardes, c’est presque aussi bien.*

(Thank you, my love. I wish you were here, but knowing you’re watching is almost as good.)

There wasn’t much time to bask in the moment, though. The rest of the competition still loomed, but Y/N felt a renewed sense of determination. They weren’t just performing for themselves; they were doing it for Léon too.

---

Later that evening, after the competition had wrapped up and Y/N had collected their medal—a hard-earned silver—they finally had a chance to unwind. The hotel room was quiet, and as they settled into bed, their phone buzzed again. It was a video call from Léon.

Y/N answered immediately, and there he was—his handsome face filling the screen, eyes bright with pride.

“Salut, championne,” Léon greeted, his voice warm and full of affection.

“Salut, champion,” Y/N replied, feeling a flutter in their chest. “How was practice?”

“Tough,” Léon admitted, running a hand through his damp curls. “But nothing compared to what you just did. I watched your entire routine, Y/N. You were amazing.”

Y/N blushed slightly, still getting used to the way Léon’s compliments made their heart race. “Thank you. I wish you could have been there.”

“Me too,” he said, his expression softening. “But soon, we’ll both be competing in the same city. I can’t wait for that.”

“Neither can I,” Y/N agreed. “I miss watching you swim in person. Videos don’t do it justice.”

Léon chuckled. “Well, I’ve got a big meet coming up. Maybe you could come watch?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that. What’s the meet?”

“It’s in a few weeks, actually,” Léon said. “The nationals. I’ve been training hard for it.”

“I’ll be there,” Y/N promised. “Front row, cheering you on.”

Léon’s smile was radiant. “Knowing you’ll be there makes it even better.”

They talked for a while longer, sharing details about their training and upcoming competitions, each finding comfort in the other’s voice despite the miles between them.

---

When the day of Léon’s big meet finally arrived, Y/N was in the stands, heart pounding with anticipation. The aquatic center was buzzing with excitement as swimmers warmed up and spectators filled the seats.

When Léon’s event was called, Y/N’s breath caught in their throat. They had seen him swim countless times before, but it never ceased to amaze them. The way he moved through the water was almost otherworldly, each stroke powerful and fluid.

As the race began, Y/N leaned forward in their seat, eyes glued to the pool. Léon surged ahead, his movements precise and controlled, and Y/N’s heart swelled with pride. When he touched the wall and the scoreboard flashed his time—first place—Y/N jumped to their feet, cheering loudly.

Léon looked up into the stands, and when his eyes found Y/N, his face broke into a wide grin. He pointed up at them, a silent acknowledgment that this victory, like so many others, was shared.

After the medals were awarded, Léon found Y/N in the crowd, pulling them into a tight embrace despite the fact that he was still dripping wet.

“You were incredible,” Y/N said, their voice muffled against his chest.

“Only because you were here,” Léon replied, pressing a kiss to their temple. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re better together.”

Y/N laughed softly, looking up at him. “Yeah, we are.”

As they walked out of the aquatic center hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that, no matter where their sports took them, as long as they had each other, they would always find a way to shine.

[hungergameshyperfixation]

Slight “musings” on an older nonspecific Haymitch relationship. Not proper fanfiction, more like scenario prompts. (“Edit”: IDK why I wrote it like this. This is basically like a oneshot…I just forgot the word ‘oneshot’ I guess LMAO) Kinda fluff…??? Idk???

(Also second edit: maybe I’ll explain a bit more in the comments or a reblog but I used They/them pronouns for the other character. I did this both a placeholder but also so that the gender was ambiguous. Idk, I know it seems wonky because I capitalized it sometimes and sometimes didn’t, bear with me. I had like a hard time finally posting this; it’s been “finished” in my drafts since July 💀)

They bring him a cup of warm coffee as he sits out on the porch. He’s staring out into the view from his house; the same house he’s had since he won the Hunger Games at sixteen. He’s seen it a million times, and he’s zoned out now. Haymitch looks over at his person, not making too much of an effort to smile their way; it wasn’t that kind of night. His health had been declining, naturally of course.

He takes the mug of coffee, acknowledging the act. He feels their hand travel to his shoulder, the touch light and familiar. Soon, his head is inched closer in Their direction; he doesn’t acknowledge it when he receives a gentle kiss on his head.

He didn’t like to be babied. But, he had known Them for decades now, and he’d rather be “babied” by them than by anyone else. He doesn’t grumble anymore, not too often at least. Sometimes, if he does it randomly enough, it’ll get a light laugh from Them. He still got that slight sense of pride and an ego boost whenever They laughed.

He looks back out to the shadow covered trees, taking that first sip of coffee…

As he tastes that familiar, comforting drug that was caffeine, they start to brush through his hair. Haymitch didn’t say anything; he still wasn’t sure if he liked it. He knew he didn’t hate it, and as cynical as he was, he didn’t want to ruin these kinds of domestic things for Them. His hair, now gray with the occasional flecks of its original color, was still thick despite the age. Thankfully though, before he can dwell on it too much, They stop. Their hands go to his shoulders, no words being exchanged still. Yet, it’s worked before and it works now. They lean down from behind Haymitch, gently pecking his cheek.

Alright, now they were going too far. His brows furrow and he shoots them a silent look, one they’ve apparently seen before because they just silently look back. Their hands on his shoulders, easing down lightly to ease all the typical aches Haymitch now feels. They lean back in to lightly brush their lips to his cheek again, and Haymitch lets them, brows still furrowed as he takes it in.

“Mm,” they lightly murmur, a tiny upturn of their lips as they glance back at his face. Their eyes held years of memories yet the fondness of novelty. Well, now he might as well give them a kiss back! He doesn’t act happy about it, but Haymitch does begrudgingly lean in to meet their lips for a brief moment. The peck was a little bit firmer than the previous kisses; this was the one Haymitch noticed himself dealing out a lot more with age. It was just easier, that’s what he told himself.

Haymitch watches as they walk back inside the house, presumably to make themselves a drink or to grab a proper jacket.

He liked when they sat to watch the sunset. The sun was already gone tonight, but the sky wasn’t dark enough where the bugs will get them. It was their routine to go in by the time the bugs get out.