runner-up | bllk

An Absolutely Worthless Child

I wanted to put a note in the beginning here because this story has heavy topics of gender and gender identity. While the MC of this story was born afab, she doesn't care what she's referred to as.

Also, for plot purposes, the MC doesn't have huge honkers sorry to my ladies out there with big boobs

uhhh the F before someone saying [first] is not a typo, that's supposed to be a fake name for you!!!! so [FFIRST] means fake name sorry if it gets confusing

Now that I'm making the note at the beginning I wanted to say that the MC was half inspired by Hinata Shoyo in some ways. Anyway, if you sat through that yap please enjoy the story!

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"[Last]! You did great out there!"

"Off to nationals again! Your back must hurt from carrying the team so hard!"

"I was gonna offer you this towel... but you didn't break a sweat!"

"Your bodies so flexible! How'd you pull off those shots?!?"

"Are you staying in soccer after nationals, or are you quitting again?"

Becoming popular with the ladies wasn't apart of your list of expectations after sneaking your way onto the boys soccer team. Had there been a girls soccer team, you surely would've joined that instead.

But as it turns out, sports teams weren't a plentiful for girls as there were for boys.

"Thank you, I tried my best." You said to the first girl, a hand on your nape. Most pretty boys with a wave fangirls were indifferent and plain rude—but you'd rather not be rude to girls that didn't do anything wrong. If anything, they deserved to feel noticed by guys they liked, right? Maybe you had it all wrong, you'd never really paid attention to things like that.

The only thing you paid attention to were things that were fun—if something was boring, you'd drop it. What was the point of clinging onto something you didn't like? It was the same with sports. You started off with the dance teams, made it to nationals and failed before the quarterfinals. It was fun to begin with, but quickly got predictable and boring.

However, starting with dance taught you quite a few tricks to use for every sport you tried after. Badminton was fun for the first few weeks, but it wasn't as stimulating as most sports could be. You dropped it before going to nationals, and your team lost.

(They also really didn't like you after you ditched them as such.)

Gymnastics was something you'd done during primary—you thought maybe, it won't be as repetitive as it was when I was a kid! I can do much more, now! But it was just as you remembered it, except you were older now.

It helped you out in the long run, playing volleyball with the skills of a gymnast made it the ideal sport you'd been looking for—scratching at the itch of longing you felt beneath the surface. Unpredictable and enticing—until one of your teammates quit.

Not wanting to wait around longer, you quit. Weeks of nothing to do or no one to play against was the most boring period of your life.

That's where the run of your many game experiences ended.

"No, my back doesn't hurt from 'carrying', my teams quite good." You replied to the second girl—and it was true. The soccer team was the best you'd had, and your back did hurt. But it wasn't for the reason people said. Rather, it was painful to have your chest squished flat while running for 90 minutes. "Honestly, I feel most of my goals were flukes."

It was the middle of the night months ago when you decided to cut and/or style your hair differently. Plenty of guys had longer hair, so it wouldn't be a big problem if you decided to keep it that way.