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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 years

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Possessive Lucifer {2}

Chapter Summary; Lucifer makes do with his promise. One thing leads to another, and you’re stuck in an alcove with a jealous Lucifer and his new promise. He’s going to ruin you.

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: 2/2

Word; 6.000

Warnings; character death, smut (please no minors only 18+), dirty talk, possessive Lucifer, slight exhibitionist kink, unprotected sex (remember to be safe), rough sex, semi-public sex

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Tihi, who asked for possessive and hot sex with the devil in a closet?

MAIN MASTERLIST

The night was long. Fancy champagne, fancy dresses and fancy people. The small talk, the fake smiles and laughs. It was dreadful, but if you thought finding an opportunity to get the monster of the night alone couldn't come sooner, Dean was getting desperate.

You don't know how often you'd found him pleadingly looking in your direction during the night, silently asking for you to save him from another conversation he didn't want to engage in from the beginning. Although you aided him when you could, it was impossible to do it all the time, concerning you needed to entertain your own occasional company.

Thankfully, the initial mingle session seemed to be over soon as people gradually moved towards the stage where the orchestra had been playing until now. Albeit following the group gathering there, you searched for Sam or Dean.

Spotting a tall brunette glancing around the room -off to the side but without a doubt having followed the crowd assembling by the stage- you headed towards the person you recognised all too well.

Not until the people not far from him started to part as you excused yourself did Sam finally see you. He caught your gaze and nodded in a silent greeting before you were close enough to join him.

"Finally, a familiar face", he said on an exhale once you joined his side. You noted how his shoulders dropped in relief, and concerning you barely had been able to have a word with him since you entered the venue, you believed him.

"Though happy to finally see you, I can't say the same here. I've acted as Dean's saving grace a few times", you replied, eyes scanning the crowd for the older Winchester.

"He probably needed it more. It looked like he would rather go back to purgatory than stay here a minute longer". You chuckled at his comment, somehow feeling it was partly true.

"So, how should we tackle this then?" You lowered your voice and took a step closer to the brunette to not attract the attention of the people around you, motioning with a nod to the man you were here for as he entered the stage.

"After the speech, the party will open up, much like before", Sam began as the man of the evening tapped the microphone, earning most of the audience's attention. Causing the taller man to bend down slightly and lower his voice even further. "Mr Chan will rejoin the party after a change of outfit, a more fitting one for the later evening".

You threw him a glance, the edge of your mouth ticking upwards. "Look at you, could almost think you're a shapeshifter from how you blend in with these folks". Sam, however, only shook his head at your comment, a low laugh escaping beneath his breath.

"Only doing my best to get as much information as possible because how much it ever looks like it, I more than a little anxious to get out of here".

"Good that I'm not the only one". You looked to your right, finding Dean having appeared out of nowhere.

"Nice of you to join us", Sam greeted his brother, earning a look from the older hunter.

"Have tried for the past five minutes to find you", he said without any humour in his voice. It was only then you noticed how Dean still had his shoulders rolled back, perfecting his posture even further by having his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "My next goal is to leave this place", he muttered.

"We'll... see if we can meet up with the man of honour after his speech". Sam chose his words carefully as he informed his brother, whose gaze was fixed straight ahead.

"Good enough, you'll go with Sam".

"No way, ain't letting you roam around on your own when you barely can hold a conversation", you argued.

"She has a point, Dean. We'll take those two corridors that wrap around, and they aren't deserted until further into the house". The younger Winchester gestured discreetly to the openings on the left respectively right side in your line of vision.

"Fine".

"Go with Sam. He can do the talking". You tilted your head towards the tall man to your left.

"You can't go on your own". You were met by Dean's furrowed brows as he turned to face you.

"I'll be fine. We'll meet up before we face our main man anyways". You looked to Sam, who nodded in agreement before looking forwards.

If he would've liked to argue, the older Winchester was cut off as Mr Chan finally greeted his guests.

***

A clicking sound echoes in the empty hall as you walk away from the crowd.

After everyone applauded, you and the boys gave a final nod to each other and split up as the crowd dispersed. It would’ve felt disrespectful to not listen to the speech, only counting down until it would end if you’d been any other person tonight. But the truth was, you really hadn’t cared about what the man said, so neither could you recall anything. But if you had to guess, it would be similar to everyone's thank-you speech. Grateful for you, they and us, excited to continue towards further greatness.

Your feet were aching as you neared the end of the corridor, or so they’d done from the night's second half and onwards. Blisters were forming where the stiff material of your heels rubbed against your skin, and you couldn’t wait until you could take them off.

"Whoa there!" You were startled at the voice, even more so by the hands suddenly gripping your upper arms. Then, snapping to look upwards, you found a pair of brown eyes looking down at you, surprise pinning a dark-haired man's eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Sorry", you mumbled, offering the man you accidentally ran into when cutting the corner an apology as you stepped out of his hold.

"No worries", he smiled, and you offered one back, about to step around him when he moved to the side, halting your action. "Can I offer the lady company back to the party?"

"I have to decline. I'm on the way to powder my nose, but thank you", you smile, hoping your quick fabricated lie passed as more than the commonly worst quick-escape excuse.

"Yes, of course", he dipped his head when a chuckle left him. "Makes sense since you're heading the opposite way". His dark eyes found yours again as he lifts his gaze.

"Yeah, but have a good evening, enjoy the party", you smile, about to move, but yet again, he blocks your path by following your step to the side.

"I would much rather enjoy something else".

"What?" Your eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden comment.

"You're a real beauty, you know". The brunette steps closer, eyes adverting from yours. As the brown-eyed man rakes his gaze over your body, you can practically feel the trail they leave behind. When they finally settled on yours again, it felt like his eyes had turned even darker. "And I would much rather enjoy something like you than those dummies in there". His smile is ominous as he jerks his head towards the room you just left, and your nose scrunch in disgust.

"Absolutely not". You take a step away, looking over your shoulder, but the main room isn't in sight. You’d somehow forgotten you just turned the corner.

Rather than thinking your averted attention was because you tried working out whether or not it was possible to make a hasty retreat from a situation steadily making you more uncomfortable, the man must've thought you looked for someone.

"Why? Are you here with someone tonight?" You whipped around to face the dark-haired man once more when his voice suddenly sounded closer.

"I-", you began but cut yourself off when he grabbed your upper arm. "Let go of me!"

"Not until I get an answer". The man's voice was calm, but at the same time, there was a dangerous edge to it.

"How about just fucking no", you gritted out, clenching your fist, ready to send it straight into his jaw. But you didn’t get the opportunity.

His hand had slipped downwards, circling your elbow to tug you close with surprising strength.

Shock forces you to concentrate on not losing your balance rather than breaking free. As you look up -coming too close for comfort to his face- you're greeted with a sneering smile. It sends a shrill down your spine, driving you to jerk back, attempting to distance yourself from the man, but he only digs his finger further into your arm.

"Come on now, pretty one, don't be so difficult-". The man's sentence is abruptly stopped as his mouth remains open, face falling.

Something disappears from his features, then his eyes. You stumble backwards when his hold slackens, hand shooting to rub away the sting in your elbow.

And it's then when your eyes follow his arm falling to his side, you find the bloody fist sticking out of his chest.

You choke on your breath, witnessing the owner pulling their hand back, causing the body to slump to the side. And as the dark-haired man falls to the floor, your eyes instantly flicker to the person behind him.

Whatever part of your hindbrain still in fight or flight had imagined a monster awaiting you, but any kind of adrenaline-induced fear evaporated when you were met by Lucifer.

The devil was looking at his red fist, almost in disgust, as he twisted his hand and flicked it to get the excess blood from it, a few droplets joining the slowly widening red circle on the floor.

"Lucifer!" You hissed, reality finally catching up with you when your eyes remained on the man sprawled on the ground. "You can't just-". Before you finish the sentence, you're cut off as your gaze is pulled up by a hand gripping your chin. The last thing you see before your eyes meet the devil is him stepping over the body and the pool of blood.

"Yes, I can", he spoke slowly, leaning in closer when he resumed. "I said I wasn't scared of killing for you".

Your heart warmed, almost an uncomfortable amount, at what the devil suggested and proved. With the feeling came a pang of guilt urging you to push down the reaction you'd had to his words. "But-"

"But what?" There's a bite in his voice, a dark flame igniting in his now red eyes. "What he would’ve done to you?” He snarls, voice raising. “I can tell you he would’ve forced himself on you, probably used you without you able to do anything". You feel a twitch in his fingers before he moves to hold the side of your neck, his thumb lodging in the hinge of your jaw as his other digits curl beneath your ear.

"If you insist on asking, then please, answer my questions: If I would've played by your human norms, what would he have done? If I had not cared about coming when I felt you... what would have happened then?" You made no further attempt at finishing your earlier sentence when he continued in a similar resentful manner.

The archangel staring down at you was correct, even if you hadn't -or been unable to during the moment- realised any of the points he made was true. You had felt unsafe, unconsciously knowing the situation hadn't looked all too favourable. Despite being a hunter, to fight off a six-foot-plus man without anything but your fists isn't easy. And if anything, Lucifer would've been the first to know how you felt about such a situation, and it was for the same reason he must've come.

"That's what I thought". At Lucifer's voice, you return to the present, eyes flickering between the angel's red ones.

"Still, you can't kill someone innocent". You don't know why you pleaded the man's case. You would've liked nothing more than to knock him unconscious. But dead? And for your sake? No matter how the man behaved, it didn't feel right.

However, Lucifer didn't budge on the matter. As a matter of fact, he froze, not uttering a word.

His thumb that had been nudging the hinge of your jaw pressed into that hollow between neck and throat. Without a doubt sensing your pulse jump just beneath your skin.

And then, Lucifer pressed his lips to yours. But it wasn’t gentle. Instead, it's heated, possessive, his tongue moving past your lips to swipe back and forth.

The force almost rocks you off your feet, and the devil notices as his hands slide down to your throat and he pushes you backwards.

You stumble, mind reeling when his body steps into yours, not as much for support as for simply forcing you backwards faster. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're dumbstruck, panting against his lips as you watch him with wide eyes.

"If I would've been able to read his thoughts, I know very well he wouldn't have been innocent", he growls as you can't do anything but follow his lead, legs still shaky and mind not grasping the situation yet. Nevertheless, you have enough brain capacity to glance at the dead man on the floor.

"The body Lucifer, we can't just-". A snap of his fingers was all it took for the body to turn into dust. Then Lucifer's hand slid up until his thumb pushed against the underside of your chin, angling your face upward and forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I am here". The authority in the devil's voice would’ve made your eyes stick to him no matter if you could’ve escaped his hold on you. That's why you barely noticed how his arm stretched around you, at least not until you heard a doorknob turn and your surroundings changed.

You entered something akin to a small scrub. At the edge of your vision, you notice how shelves line the walls, a cluttered mess of different cleaning supplies stacked on top.

Just as you wondered how deep it was, you caught something sounding close to a lock clicking in place, and for a second, it became dark. Then, a yellow light flickered to life above your head, showing you how Lucifer closed the space between the two of you.

He pressed close to you, welding you against something at your back, causing a hard surface to dig into your lower ass. Lucifer’s bloodied hand perches on a shelf above your head while he practically leans over you, caging you against whatever you'd backed into.

You feel small as he towers over you. The wings obscuring the rest of the room behind Lucifer don't help to ease the sensation. Something in your body squirms, and you nearly want to sink further away to escape his heavy red gaze.

"Lucifer". His name was a shaky whisper, spoken unsteadily because you still feel what you now have coined as boiling rage through the bond. Even so, he put his finger against your lips, pursing his so a silencing sound escapes them before he speaks.

"I'm gonna fucking rail you until that man is the last thing on your mind, little one", he speaks lowly as his finger slips down to play with your lower lip, his gaze falling to watch the action before he shocks you by leaning down for a kiss.

He slots his mouth over yours, tongue not waiting nor begging for entrance before it slides against yours, urging you to move against him as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. And you do, a warm sensation flushing through your body as his lips passionately slip over yours. Soothing his nerves as something else enters not only the air but your bond.

It's swift, like a switch flipping, the sensation changing enough for you to feel it immediately.

Although there's no need to dissect it, the devil makes clear what it is as he makes your breath catch when one of his palms settles on your thigh, parting the slit and exposing your skin even further as his hand slides upwards.

The green fabric cascading down your lower body collects at his wrist. But Lucifer doesn't stop with a cradle of your thigh. Instead, he continues upwards until his fingers reach your clothed pussy, where he wastes no time waiting to play with you through the thin material of your panties.

You keen into the kiss, shock and a tremble forcing the sound out of you, but it's simply swallowed and muffled by the devil's passionate lips moving against yours.

"Did he hurt you?" Lucifer husks when he breaks the kiss but doesn't stay far away as he noses down your neck, getting a mumbled 'no' before he continues. "Did he leave a mark on you?"

Eyes still closed, you tilt your head backwards, giving him more space to work with. "No". The man's grip may have been firm, but it wouldn't bruise.

"Good", he reaches a familiar spot on your chest, the same one he'd paid particular attention to before you left for the hunt. "Because only I can do that", Lucifer mumbles against you before pressing a kiss over the material where the already formed hickey was hidden.

"What about all the monsters then?" You gasp when Lucifer suddenly press his finger against your clit.

"Those you kill". You feel the devil's teasing kisses along your throat, senses still cranked to a thousand since earlier. That's why electricity shoots through you when Lucifer reaches your mouth and nibbles at your lower lip. "I take care of the humans". He grins against you before he leans away.

"That's reassuring to hear". You attempt for the breathed reply to sound anything but just that, but any form of verbal response is getting more challenging to conjure.

"Those ideals of yours are too bothersome. Someone must have some sense", the devil mused before cocking his head. "And you should know you're my favourite plaything anyways, so you don't need to worry".

The bastard smirks down at you. You can feel it but not see it clearly. You see his outline, how it's blue and not red staring down at you, but still hazy like you'd gotten something in your eye and no matter how much you blink, it doesn't clear. And somewhere along the way, your eyelids get stuck halfway as you attempt to hold what you assumed was Lucifer's gaze as he so effortlessly circles your clit.

You barely believe it wasn’t his grace when he’d been able to speak without the slightest hitch. But you notice his forearm shifting when your head falls forwards to rest against his chest, hands leaving the table top you'd clutched behind you to fist his clothes.

A high-pitched whimper stems from your vocal cords as he speeds up, and not long after, you sense Lucifer beside your head, his voice following suit.

"Better keep it low, little one, or else someone might hear", he husks in your ear, though you barely notice how the archangel isn't as unaffected as you thought when you burrow your head further into his chest, biting your lip as you squirm against him upon his warning. You don't even notice how your thighs clenched around his hand, attempting to further relieve the building ache in-between your legs. But, the devil does. "Or maybe that's what you want? You want to let everyone hear you, hear who makes you feel like this. Is that it, hm? You want to let them know you're mine?"

That's what sends you over the edge.

Your body convulses against Lucifer's, kept up solely by his body pinning you in place and the hand cupping your heat, prolonging your pleasure as good as possible with flicks to your clit.

In an attempt to silence yourself, you bite your tongue, the edge of your teeth digging into the soft flesh, yet it does little to quiet down your heavy panting. Hopefully a little muted by the fabric you're pressing your face against.

The sharp edge of blissfulness fades when Lucifer pulls his hand out from your dress and clutches your waist possessively. However, your eyes flutter when you feel his touch leave you, and your head hangs in the air rather than resting against his chest.

"No", tumbles from your lips as you reach for Lucifer's neck, pulling him into a kiss when he's about to back away. Even though the devil ungracefully clashes against you -teeth knocking against yours as he rattles the things upon the shelves above you when his hand slams into it once more as he hadn't anticipated your action- he quickly falls into the hungry way you press your lips against his. "I need you", you mumble between kisses.

"Thought you had an important hunt?"

Your hands fall to his belt buckle, undoing it and the button of his jeans. "Make it quick then". The devil groans against your lips, likely not expecting you to insist on one risking one of the Winchesters coming to look for you and finding you like this, but he didn't waste a second.

His hand replaces yours after you pull down his zipper, dragging his pants and boxers down far enough to pull himself free.

The confinements of his pants must've been uncomfortable, concerning he's already hard, tip an angry red colour as he swipes his thumb over it, spreading the spend beading there. When he grips his length and fists himself, a fuck is mumbled beneath your breath, a chuckle escaping Lucifer as he watches how intensely you follow his movements.

Not before long, you reach for him, your fingers replacing his, and a repressed groan leaves Lucifer upon your touch. But he wasn't still for long before grabbing the material of your dress, rucking it upwards and to the side until it pools around your right hip. He steps closer, placing himself between your legs to keep the material to the side.

"So ready for me". Lucifer seeks out your pussy again, your juices soaking through your panties, coating the upper part of your thigh and now getting smeared against his knuckles.

"Yes", you stutter out, hand stilling around his length as it gets difficult concentrating on more than him petting you through the lace covering your still sensitive heat.

"You almost sound needy".

"And you're close to getting smacked if you wait any longer, either by me, Sam or Dean", you groan back.

"So violent", Lucifer reply with a tug of his lips. Nonetheless, he tugs your panties to the side and shifts closer.

The head of his cock bumps against you, and you feel him twitch in your palm while a shudder journeys through your body. You direct him towards your weeping entrance, the head of his cock notching against your entry.

A gasp leaves you as he slides into you with repeated rolls of his hips until he's seethed deep within you. Your head tips back, and your fingers knot in his jacket. He stays still, letting you adjust briefly before he begins pumping in and out.

Your breath stutters, and a fog rapidly wraps around your brain, like something addictive drugging you, causing all the tension in your body to melt away. The fingers intertwined in Lucifer's clothes skates upwards, and so does the hand you'd rested against his side, up and up until they circle beneath his arms and grabs his shoulders for support.

He presses closer to you, his clothes rubbing against yours. The duller coloured fabrics encasing him crinkle the vibrant ones wrapped around you. Even so, Lucifer's naked hips are pressed close to yours, kissing your thighs and mound each time he buries himself as deep as possible.

The earlier relief in your body moves through your muscles like vines, sucking out strength only to hoard it in your core. A vibrating, almost tickling sensation builds in your gut, blossoming into something sweet yet dry on your tongue.

Your head drops, and you burrow it against his neck, littering it in kisses and bites to silence yourself. However, it has the opposite effect when you reach the sensitive spot beneath the archangel's ear, and he reacts by rutting harshly into you.

"Fuck, Lucifer, please". The words slip from your mouth and curl along the shell of his ear. His motion falters, but he grinds his pelvic bone against your clit.

"Already begging?" The words were heaved from deep within his lungs, a growl initiating his following sentence. "Forgot that this is your dirty dream".

"Rather, yours!" You press your face further into his skin as a particularly rough thrust makes you moan the last word loud enough that if anyone walked past the scrub, they definitely would've heard.

"Don't think they heard you yet. Give the people another, would you?" He groans lowly, his fingers wrapping around your neck to bring you from your hiding and force you to stare into his eyes instead.

"Fuck off", you spit. But the venom in your voice melts away in an instant as Lucifer punishes you by pulling out almost entirely before slamming into you. Causing your eyes to slip close and your jaw to slacken. Still, you managed to silence yourself by letting out a choked sound rather than a loud moan.

"Don't get cocky now, not when you're the only one caring if I undo the lock behind us". The devil said against your lips, watching how they parted further, yet he didn't lean in to grant you the kiss he knew you wanted, enjoying your struggle to be silent. And when he didn't, Lucifer noticed the creases between your brows deepening, your tongue pushing into your inner cheek as if to divide your attention from your pleasure. The one he didn't even need to feel through your bond to know it thrummed through your body.

You felt the devil smirk by the little twitch of his lips, and you wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. Although, rather than succeeding with quelling his satisfaction, you probably only granted him a further one when your hand snapped to your mouth, teeth digging into the meet at the base of your thumb to silence yourself when Lucifer picks up the pace.

His hands move to clutch your waist, and your dress slips down a little, rubbing in between your and Lucifer's naked skin. The tabletop behind you moves, thudding slightly against the wall with his new pace.

You keen when the archangel presses close to you, grinding his hips rather than pulling in and out after almost slipping out from how soppingly wet you'd become. He's so deep, hitting something inside you that causes your toes to curl uncomfortably in your heels and your thighs press against his hips.

"I can feel that you're close". Lucifer's words are breathed into your ear as his head drops, locks of his hair curling against his forehead. "Let them fucking hear you". His hand grips your wrist and rips it away from your mouth, naturally letting it fall together with his until it hits the edge of the countertop. Your fingers curl along the metal edge. The devil's into your skin.

Despite your attempt at softening your moans, the feeling of climbing a mountain peak with quivering legs and bathed breath beyond the top has you unable to control the sounds you let out. Your pants turn into whines until they reach the deepest part of your lungs and emptiest them by moulding air into a groan.

You topple over the edge when Lucifer makes the tiniest readjustment of his hips, one you don't even know how to describe, but he hits that spot that makes you instinctually cling to him as your head snaps backwards.

Your legs shake, and a high-pitched, wavering whine is squeezed from between your lips.

It's like something sourly-sweet curls in the lower part of your stomach, your muscles spasming as your body does nothing but soak in it. And it doesn't take long before the devil joins you from how you squeeze him, stilling and twitching in the way that makes you consciously clench around him one last time before you lean more of your weight against the table behind you.

Your head lolls forward, and you find Lucifer's neck. You breathe in his musky scent, feeling a softness entering your bones, accompanied by his body's comforting chill.

His breaths fan your hair away from your neck. Each exhale is a hot sweep against your sticky skin. You feel him shuffling, and a noise leaves you when he slides out of you to tuck himself into his boxers. Yet, when Lucifer's palm settles against your cheek and makes you look at him when he stands tall again, you forget the empty feeling when a shudder rushes down your neck and through your body.

His eyes are half-lidded, those blues gazing at you almost lazily. Then, with a slight tilt and pull, he brings you in for a kiss. Yet, despite his appearance and the gentle and warm glow streaming through your bond, his kiss is fevered.

The devil slants his lips against yours, tongue running along the seam of your lower lip before he licks into your mouth, swallowing the sound you make. Your hand presses into his hair, fingers curling into his damp blonde locks to tug him closer. Lucifer grunts, deepening the kiss until he reaches a frenetic pace.

You both are getting carried away, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember you don't have all the time in the world. Breaking the heated kiss, you pant against the archangel's lips as you rest your forehead against his. And it seems the pause not only calms you but Lucifer's as well.

"You better get going". You laugh breathlessly at this.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll just meet up with Sam and Dean looking like this". You lean away to motion at yourself with a flick of your hand, not needing a mirror to know you looked fucked out. His eyes flicker over you at the invitation to do so.

"Just say you stumbled into one of their companions. You have the story, and now-". He lowers the hand he'd held the shelves with and drags it over your shoulder and upper chest. At the edge of your vision, you spot the red stains the partly dried blood leaves behind. "-you look the part even more". As he gives a final swipe over the swell of your breast, your eyes snap downwards.

"I would've slapped you if you destroyed this dress", you huffed in relief as you examined the smeared red lines on your upper body resembling splatter you'd attempted to wipe off but only made it worse. "And don't tell me that the man wasn't a human all along".

Your gaze rose, seeking out Lucifer's. "No, very much human, very much a dick, just trying to come up with excuses for you". The corner of his lip tugged upwards, and no remorse could be found in his eyes concerning his earlier actions.

"You're unbelievable", you chuckled in disbelief as you closed your eyes.

"Hm, no, you and your heroic moral is for liking my little display". The devil runs his clean fingers up your side with the occasional press, mimicking little steps.

Your flex your jaw, eyes opening to stare into his.

Mirth, the same kind always noticeable when he knows he's right, plays in those wisps of blue. You tilt your head upwards, attempting not to give him a reason to be any smugger.

"Need an answer, little one", he smirks, leaning just out of reach for you to be able to kiss him. Concerning he's still pinning you to the desk behind you, there isn't much more you can do than scoff and twist your head away from him, staring at the wall in the opposite direction.

"Don't become prude now", he chuckles. "You're past the point of it being believable when you fucked the devil in a closet, in this pretty dress and with a party going on just down the hall". You swallow. Turning your head just the slightest bit so you can look at him. He cocks a brow, awaiting your confession.

"Fine", you say, but Lucifer only tuts.

"Not good enough. Tell me you liked how I killed that man for you and then showed you who you belong to". Your mouth drops open, but you quickly shut it as you bite your tongue.

Sam and Dean were probably waiting for you, and if you didn't join them any moment now, they wouldn't be able to wait to go after the kitsune, but neither would they want to leave without you. And knowing them, they would probably split up, not taking the chance it could just be a guest holding you up for this long. Sighing, you pinned a grinning Lucifer with your gaze, a finger coming to rest on his chest to accentuate your reformulated agreement.

"I did like how you saved me in... your own devilish fashion, and I can't say I'm complaining about the following event". The archangel's wings fluttered.

"Will do for now", Lucifer hummed, raising his bloody hand to pull you into a kiss. It's a shorter one, your lips moving slowly against one another for a few seconds before he leans away and lets you slide down to stand on the sole of your feet once more.

Concerning the feeling of your mixed spends trickling out of you -your panties not much of a cover- you're thankful you chose a long dress. However, it feels like the sex you just had is sticking to your skin in more than one way, and you can’t wait until you return to the motel to freshen up. Not only to feel like Lucifer didn't cling to your body for the duration of the trip home, but the blood he’d covered you in.

The thought, along with the red you notice in your peripheral at that moment, reminds you he'd smeared a new streak of blood across your skin. Raising one hand, you smudge the crimson on your cheek and upper neck, frowning at your stained fingers as you resist the urge to wipe them on your dress.

Feeling someone staring, your eyes find Lucifer's, noticing how he'd cocked his head.

"What? I would rather not have a bloody handprint with a compromising placement. It wouldn't help me with the whole run into their companion instead of having hot sex with the devil in the closet".

His mouth ticked upwards at that and something about him standing so casually with his jeans still zipped down and belt buckle hanging open was almost too domestic to not be home in the bunker but in a scrub.

Lucifer observes you while your eyes roam over him, a small smile forming on your lips.

Once your gaze meets the archangel’s, you know he noticed. Without thinking, you move towards the door, ready to leave the way too small scrub. However, you didn't consider your legs would be even unsteadier in heels than previously. So you stumble forwards.

The sole reason you don't trip is thanks to Lucifer’s quick reflexes as his arms shoot out to steady you.

"Should watch your step". The devil helps you to stand straight, and you shoot the amused devil a glare.

"Shut up", you mumbled under your breath, slightly embarrassed he saved you from looking like a complete fool right after he caught you checking him out. "And these things can go fuck themselves", you curse your heels, begrudgingly holding onto the archangel's arm still wrapped around your front for further balance as you step out of your heels one by one.

Immediate comfort makes you flex your feet when you feel the wooden floor beneath you. Then, when cracking sound comes from your toes, causing you to close your eyes for a second and sigh in relief. Then, a slight tightening at your waist makes you open them again and nearly reluctantly raise your gaze until it meets Lucifer's.

"Don't let the monkeys wait any longer". The devil steers you towards the door with a slight push after moving his wings out of the way, surprising you as you hadn't thought that was what he was going to say.

"No goodbye kiss?" It’s instinctive, but you put a fake-pout on the end of your question to not let the devil catch on to how you don’t want to part from him without a last goodbye this time.

His cocked brow doesn’t tell you whether he did or not, but it does reveal he considers your question. And, when he leans forwards, grips your chin and presses his lips against yours, it shows he’s much easier persuaded than you'd been earlier tonight.

"Now go before I keep you here for the rest of the night". There it was, you thought, chuckling as you unlocked and slipped out of the door with your heels in one hand and sensing the devil watch you disappear down the hallway.

Taglist: PS, I tagged the same people as in the original series. If any of you don't want to get tagged in the updates for this series (drabbles, one-shots etc.), just give me a heads up!

@the-fiery-ghost @ambivertedcroissant @xthefuckerysquaredx@americancowgirl19 @wayward-winsister @itsmeempar @alizayalove @aliceblxck @canyouimaginethatstory@musiclovinchic93 @eyghim18 @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog@emiliasaffron @batavrahamvsara @fanfic-love-show @imagine-inc @randomheart551 @brooklynchrr420 @shippinglover @bun-dpdbny @tardis-world@blonde-in-charge @jokersqueenofchaos @baybeekenzie1@fandomgeekforever @perilous-blue @mistress-sassafrass @book-of-anarchy @nerdettezebracorn333 @herlovetragedy @coolbean121@bagsy-not-it @abbyss @taikawho @sagyunaro @dementedsnowfox @kcam1621 @acaotch @crispycooter @browneyedgirl22 @misstress-sassafrass @bun-dpdbny @imagine-inc @enby-thesbian @stradlingmrstradlin @violetlilites @luciferslittledevil666 @butterflykiisies @antisocial-thing @destinationdesignation @big-bad-batsy @yournightmare-1987 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @brujaporfavor @galaxypox @whitetigerlover17 @loki-is-loved @leeannlips-blog @here4thespice

#lucifer supernatural #lucifer x reader #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader soulmate!au #lucifer x soulmate!reader #lucifer soulmate!au #lucifer x reader soulmate #soulmate!au #lucifer spn #lucifer drabble #lucifer oneshot #Sam Winchester #dean winchester

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worldismyne · 1 year

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Almost Home Ch 5

Summary: Harv takes shelter in a strange castle in the middle of the woods on his way back home. He only planned on staying one night. It’s just, there always seems to be a reason why it’d be a good idea to stay just one more night.

AU - Finn and Harv meet years after graduating.

Rating: M (for later chapters)

Pairing: Harv/Finn

Series: Warrior U

Ao3 link

Finn lay awake in his bed before sunrise. The chill that had settled in the room overnight was making it difficult to crawl out from under the covers. Somehow, he had ended up in a position he had wanted to avoid despite taking no risks and going to bed anxious and uncomfortable. There was very little doubt left in Finn's mind that Harv had at least some idea of his interest. As much as he'd like to believe Harv would consider a more serious pursuit towards a relationship after the snow melted, Finn had his doubts.

He'd seen all too often the men at the pub that would drink themselves into a stupor, professing their aching desires for a life with someone 'like him' only to return to their wives hung over the next morning. The last thing he wanted to hear Harv say was that Finn had caught him during a moment of weakness. Or worse, have his query reacted to with anger. It was best to maintain a veneer of friendship until he had something concrete for assurance. Something other than vague answers and coy phrasing that could be interpreted as flirting if he wanted to.

Finn rolled onto his side and looked at his collections of robes hung up neat on the wall. If he went downstairs in the robe that matched his satin briefs it would certainly hammer home a desire to be admired. But would it get him the response he wanted? Last time Harv had spent a great deal of time looking everywhere else and he had the excuse of not having enough time to choose what he wore. His plush purple robe would be much more comfortable and warmer to wear. He'd probably seem less desperate in it too.

He needed to be logical about this and keep his expectations low. If, and that was a big if, Harv would engage in something more intimate Finn couldn't expect it to last past the blizzard. Just harmless, temporary company, a distraction from the harsh conditions outside. He could attempt to pursue some sort of fling, so long as he didn't put any heavy emotional investment in it. Other men seemed to handle such encounters just fine and not come out the other end feeling rejected; so why couldn't he? He could be... fun.

Things seemed less stressful when he was worried about whether Harv would stab him with a sword.

-v-

That morning, Harv lingered in his room a little longer than necessary. It was one thing to be brimming with confidence in the heat of the moment, with Finn too shy to say exactly what he meant. It was another to consider the implications with a clear head and a good night's rest. He was staying in a witch's house, a witch who was out of practice and didn't consider themselves a witch at all, but still not someone to trifle with. Messing with a witch's heart got people turned into frogs. However, once he'd summoned the courage to come downstairs and caught Finn brewing their morning tea while dripping in royal blue satin; he found it difficult to see Finn as anything other than beautiful.

"Good morning, Harvey." Finn set everything on the table and caught Harv staring, this time Harv didn't turn away. "I hope you slept okay." Finn gently rubbed at his own dark circles under his eyes, it had been difficult to unwind after their game had threatened to take a risqué turn.

"I got into this nasty habit of not needing much sleep." Harv chuckled. "Without any hens or soldiers to coral, I'm not sure what to do with myself in the morning." Typically, on Saint Stephan's Day, the whole town would gather in the town square, dance and sing songs. Stuck inside there were few ways to mimic it, they couldn't even exchange gifts, not really. There was this awkward tension in the air that their usual small talk was unable to fully dissipate. Finn would keep glancing at him, as if his question from last night still hung in the air. He made no move to press further.

"I'm not sure what to do with myself either." Finn said. Though he did seem keen on 'accidentally' pressing his leg up against Harv's under the table and kept it there. "I have enough writing to get me through the winter season. I'd rather not write for the sake of writing. It would be a shame to be working the whole time you're here." Finn glanced at him again. It wasn't a question exactly, but he was definitely looking for a specific response.

"You don't have to entertain me the whole time, I can find something to do." Harv said with a shrug and immediately Finn looked disappointed. "Why? Was there something specific you wanted to do?" Finn had more nervous energy built up in his hands then he knew what to do with. His fingers twisted around each other over and over again in different patterns and formations.

"It's... it's silly." He kept catching glimpses of Harv's face only to look away. "I wouldn't know the first thing to do anyways."

"What is it?" Harv scooted his chair a little closer and leaned toward Finn.

"You keep messing with your scalp. It looks painful." Finn gently tugged on one of Harv's dreads. "I thought maybe I could help." Harv couldn't help but cringe, as annoying as it was to have his hair growing out, it wasn't as painful as fixing everything after months of neglect. Plus, Finn seemed to be changing the subject away from what he really wanted.

"I don't know Finn, I was just going to cut most of it off once I got home." Easier to start from scratch in the comfort of his own home with someone who had practice with fighting with his hair. "My hair's not like your's."

"Well, what if I just redid these thingies so they all match instead of them tangling into each other." Finn let go of Harv's hair, growing self-conscious about how pushy he was sounding. "It'd just be a shame to lose so much length over something you had no control over. I told you it was silly."

"Do you like long hair?" Harv asked, as he noticed Finn's hands start to fidget with his teaspoon once he lost a reasonable excuse to keep touching him. Finn looked at him with this surprised, doe-eyed look, like he hadn't even considered his own tastes might be why he didn't want Harv to cut off the matted dreads. A light rose dusted Finn's cheeks and he immediately went back to examining his spoon.

"Well, I can't pull it off, every time I've tried people mistook me for a woman. I always envied men who could pull it off and still look so..." He trailed off, glancing at Harv's broad shoulders. "That's no reason for me to have a say. It's your head. But, if you wanted to fix them, I could give it a try."

"It'd take all day." Harv said. He saw the way Finn's eyes sparkled and felt like kicking himself. He knew this was going to be painful. Finn had no clue what he was doing and there was quite a bit of matting. "Fine. Just, do exactly as I say and try not to break my hair. I'll trim off the dead ends and find something to whittle while you work."

-v-

Finn had him sitting on the floor of the sitting room between his knees as he worked. A large bowl of water and olive oil sat on something Finn called a warming plate. He was meticulous, slowly easing the hair apart from tip to root with one of his mother's old knitting needles. Every so often he would pause and rub more oil into the hair to keep it from drying out. Harv kept an eye on the wide toothed comb Finn had set next to the bowl. No matter what people said or did, those things pulled and hurt. After he finished combing out one of the locs, Finn would loosely braid the section of hair to keep it from tangling into the rest. By the third loc, Harv didn't have to micromanage how Finn handled his hair as much and was able to focus on the odd chunks of wood he'd brought.

"What's your favorite animal?" Harv asked when he couldn’t come up with an idea for what to carve.

"Do people count?" Finn carefully pulled out some of the shed hairs that had stayed matted in with the locs.

"Can't really carve a person with wood this small. Too many details." Harv rotated the block of wood in his hands. "The most detailed thing I could do would be a horse." He felt Finn tug roughly at a knot, lighting his scalp on fire with pain.

"No horses!"

"OW!" Harv yelped and tried to glare at Finn over his shoulder.

"Sorry." Finn pressed his knees against Harv's sides in an awkward attempt at a hug, his hands still too busy. "I don't have too many strong opinions on animals, but definitely nothing with hooves." Finn shuddered before resuming his work.

"You're scared of horses?" Harv's lips tugged into an incredulous smile. He'd never met anyone who was afraid of a work animal before. "So, no pets then?"

"Nope." Finn hummed and reached for the comb. Harv tensed his shoulders. "Relax." Finn pushed his shoulders down gently and dipped the comb into the warm oil.

"What about the birds in the area?" Harv had seen hopeful ravens perched on the windowsills outside his room in the morning.

"Oh, I'd hardly count those as pets. They live outside." Finn gently pulled at the hair he pinched between his left thumb and palm. "They do seem to like my music though. I think they come here to pick up new sounds to mimic. Quite a few of them have tried learning to laugh or scream from listening to people." He spoke about it with such fondness, but Harv shuddered at the thought of walking in the woods alone and hearing one of those birds try to laugh like a human.

He started carving a rough approximation of what a raven would look like. Every now and then, Finn would direct him with a knee or a gentle hand. The slow methodic work took most of Finn's attention, though he would hum a few stray notes here and there. After a while Finn stopped bothering to pull his knees away, holding Harv's sides with his calves. Harv had wondered if this whole thing had been an excuse just to touch him, but Finn had become deeply consumed by the task. A few hours in, Harv was starting to get hungry.

"Finn, we should probably take a break soon." Harv said. Finn hummed in response and started working on the next loc. It would be another forty minutes before Finn had finished with that one. "You don't have to do this all in one day. You can take a break." He received another hum in response. Harv snaked a hand around one of Finn's ankles and gave a quick squeeze. This time Finn dropped the comb. "We should get something to eat."

"Now? But we just..." Finn looked up at the clock. "I guess we didn't just eat, did we? At least let me finish the one I just started." Harv grabbed Finn's hand before he could reach for the comb again. His hand was soft and warm from working directly with the oils. He pulled the back of Finn's hand close to his lips.

"Really it's fine." He watched Finn's cheeks fade into a brilliant scarlet. The bard forgot how to breathe, staring at Harv with fear and anticipation. Harv smiled and let go of his hand. "Food first." He took advantage of Finn's surprise and pulled himself off the floor. His back gave a gruesome pop as he pulled his shoulders back. "You coming?" He could almost see Finn swallow. "To get the food? I'm still not entirely sure how the kitchen works."

"Right. Food." Finn struggled to form a coherent thought, still rooted on the couch. The blond slowly pulled himself to his feet, lost deep in thought as he stumbled forward and led Harv to the kitchen again. Harv watched him fumble with silverware, it was charming seeing him so disarmed and a little amusing. Since Finn was so intent on entertaining him, it wouldn't hurt to indulge him a little. At least, that's how Harv was able to rationalize taking the tea Finn had just taken a sip of for himself. The bard watched him wide eyed, unable to figure out if Harv was purposefully taking a sip from the same part of the cup. If Harv had work he could do, he wouldn't have had time to come up with this little game of his. See how far he could push the bard until the blond in no uncertain terms blurted out what was churning in his mind since the first morning he'd been here.

Idle hands make for the devil's work after all.

-v-

All sense of nervousness had left Finn the moment they had settled into the sitting room after their second break. No, he was just about ready to throw Harv or himself out into the snow, the victim depending on the moment. Last night had been no accident, this man was unabashedly teasing him in his own home. Every time Finn tried to call him out on it, or thought of something witty to say back, Harv would feign innocence with this mischievous look in his eyes. Even though he knew damn well what he was doing every time he'd let his hand wander.

It just seemed so funny to the warrior every time Finn lost his train of thought mid-sentence because Harv did or said something remotely suggestive. Well, as a single occurrence, maybe Finn could write it off as his overactive imagination again. But no one on earth would casually lick a tea stirrer in that way or slip their thumb up under the cuff of Finn's pant leg like that in the same day, on accident. He was doing it on purpose, and it had to mean something. Especially since Harv found it just so incredibly funny that Finn cared about what he was doing.

Fixing the man's hair was supposed to be a quiet, intimate sort of affair; the kind Finn had read about in books. Not an opportunity for the man to play little jokes on him and wait for Finn's reaction. If he really didn't want Finn to hurt him, he would stop caressing the skin of Finn's ankle only to giggle like a child when Finn so much as changed the pattern of his breathing. This was not at all going how Finn had planned.

Well, two could play at that game.

After Finn finished braiding the last section of hair, slid his fingers up the base of Harv's scalp and down his neck with firm strokes. The warrior was suddenly silent, no more subtle vies for Finn's attention or snickering at him under his breath. The bard smiled a little to himself as he massaged his neck.

"You know," Finn said softly, "this was supposed to be your gift." It was an obvious lie, Finn could have written him a song or something less labor intensive. That didn't stop Finn from using tradition as an excuse to make Harv squirm in his seat. Finn slid his hands under the collar of his shirt to his shoulders. "It's not as nice as your little family of birds." He leaned into the man a little more and allowed his thighs to slide past Harv's sides. "Maybe... you were hoping for something else?" He dipped his head so he could whisper into Harv's ear. "Something I could offer you?"

Harv pulled away, and looked back at Finn, breathing a little too heavy for someone who spent all day sitting on the floor. Finn batted his eyes with a satisfied grin.

"What? Was it something I said?" Finn asked. His grin slowly faded, as his guest didn't speak or look for an excuse to leave. Harv wasn't looking at him like something to be afraid of. Quite the opposite in fact. Finn felt he should say something to diffuse the situation, explain it was a joke. Just a funny little in-joke between friends. Otherwise, if this wasn't how friends behaved, then he could say Harv started it. Outsmart the man at his own little game.

"What did you have in mind?" Harv asked. Finn's hopefulness got the better of him.

"It was pretty cold last night; I can only imagine how uncomfortable it is sleeping in a room without a fireplace." Finn stood up. "You're welcome to stay in my room with me, if you'd prefer." Finn turned and headed toward the door. "I don't mind sharing warmth." He dipped out of the sitting room and dashed up the stairs. There was no turning back now. Each time he played the words in his head they sounded sillier and sillier. He didn't want Harv to see his laundry all over the floor should he accept Finn's offer.

Heavens, what would he do if Harv accepted his offer?

He gathered everything potentially embarrassing and shoved it under the bed. He pulled open a drawer digging for something lilac or a rich purple. If he was going to go to bed with his ego and heart crushed in one night, he might as well look to die for while doing it. He lit a few candles and stoked the hearth before crawling into bed. He needed something to distract himself from waiting before he fidgeted apart every decoration he'd just adorned his body with.

#warrior u #harvfinn #little finnharv things #flying back home tomorrow so everything gets updated today #new good intent ch is up on ao3 too

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 years

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Omg 14k words thats such a gift for us. It took me like 2 hours to read this chapter not just because its long but I wanted to read it slowly cause i dont want it to end 😭

Oh that beach scene was so wholesome I love it very much :( I'm glad they were both having a good time cause i was also anxious abt her plan to escape. The part where beomgyu gave her the heirloom ring made me feel soo bad for him omg oc knew she wasn't going to stay with him it was too huge for her to accept it ☹️ is it really the case that beomgyu's mother accept and cheer for their relatationship, maybe she do want her son to be with someone he truly loves and for that she supports them?

And I didn't know that things would happen so quickly at the beach like all of a sudden taehyun and his men come through I was so surprised :o and felt really bad for gyu.... he was holding onto her the entire time and then she was ripped off of him by force.......imagine how he felt.

I kept saying that ruthless taehyun is sexy and etc but it feels a bit scary actually 😬 idk he's definitely a strong man lol

I think oc is still very much fragilized after what happened to her and the things she found out about her family and it's very good that she's out the castle and the escape would be the best thing for her, even if she regret it in the future (idk) then at least she would've have formed more opinion and have some realizations because it's like she was really living as a prisoner and also feeling scared and depressed. I think she might feel scared now to have escaped with taehyun (someone she doesn't know that much) but it's also for her freedom and I hope that taehyun will help her find her confidence and strength back while also fighting for her and defending her honour because she also feels ashamed of some things (for things that happened that she couldn't help it) that's admirable of him.

I'm really curious about what will beomgyu do next because now oc really left him, so will he pretend to be ok and accept the loss on the surface while quietly plotting something or maybe just straight up going batshit crazy and threatening taehyun of a war or something and then trying everything to get oc back to him by force idk

But hey what do you mean beomgyu and oc smut scene next chapter? 😭 i wonder how its gonna happen.

Does beomgyu think that their escape action was taehyun kidnapping oc because if he's really going fight to take her back it would be really shitty of him if she doesn't even like him anymore. I know they have history so beomgyu believes they're bound to be together no matter what but he also is very on the ofensive towards taehyun so maybe he could blame it all on him or something to act like oc still very much wants to be with him and taehyun is just manipulating her.

I don't really go for royal style stories but I love this fic! Very engaging and emotional, so well written and the characters are all very charming ❤️ really makes us want more! I'm excited for the next part 😊

it was truly a labor of love 😪

the beach scene is oc and gyu in a perfect world where they can be allowed to be together 😭 it's too generous to say she accepts but yeah she just wants her son to be happy. the women really are the angels in this story

and yeah that's why the oc got gyu drunk and part of the reason why she also kissed him. so when tyun shows up, gyu would be distracted.

yeah tyun is strong alright 😂

yeah she is pretty vulnerable rn but maybe she'll toughen up and learn to be strong under the tutelage of someone like tyun who won't shelter her in the same way gyu did. only problem is what if she decides it's the wrong decision after all?

however gyu will react on the surface, he's definitely not taking this lying down. there will be hell to pay and he won't rest until he has oc back in his arms somehow. but it will be fun to hear what you guys think he'll do 🤔

beomgyu knows she is part of the escape plan because she told him she has to leave, but he's delusional and might find a way to rationalize that she doesn't really wanna leave and is acting out or something because he KNOWS she loves him still (even if she won't say it) so to him it won't be shitty to try to get her back against her will, especially that he thinks tyun is dangerous

#thank you so much babe #i love huge asks lol #❤️#mort talks #yamqn

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owlmylove · 3 years

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Just had the very distressing thought that if I ever want to have a girlfriend I'm gonna have to TALK to a girl?!?!??!?!?!?

I'd have to talk to a girl that I LIKE and HAVE A CRUSH ON?!?!? Impossible! Please help a distressed lesbian if you have any advice

okay so: in my personal experience 90% of all lesbian flirting is eyeing up fellow women to discreetly try to determine if they, too, are wlw. then you compliment each others button downs and never speak to each other again

BUT if you would like to painstakingly attempt to challenge the starfish fallacy then read on for my comprehensive guide on flirting w/ women! (credentials: i have accidentally flirted with So Many Women oh my god)

first up: start with the art of compliments! if you're too shy to tell a girl they're gorg out of nowhere, then focus on their clothing, their haircuts, their cool shoes, the patches on their denim jackets, etc. opening a convo with a compliment is one of the easiest shortcuts, as it neatly prevents you from having to come up w/ a witty rejoinder right off the bat (save those for later)

physical proximity makes it easy to do this to someone standing or sitting next to you. if, however, they're on the other side of the room/otherwise engaged, it gets trickier. if ur confident enough to walk up to a girl in a coffeeshop + compliment her, GO FOR IT. but if you're too anxious to just coldcall her, approach with a question.

you can warp the compliment to fit the question, i.e. "Hey! Sorry to interrupt [your reading], but your book looks super interesting/I've seen it around & am debating whether to buy it. Would you recommend it?" or, re: outfits/haircuts "Hey! Your ____ is super cute, can I ask where you got it [done]?" if they're a classmate/coworker, you can make it even less direct: "Hey! Do you know when we're scheduled to do ____?" (<- this one comes w/ the perk of, pending her response, immediately asking for her # to swap shifts or trade notes, which can quickly allow for inviting her to a study group/after work drinks with coworkers. speedrun!!)

once Conversation is Initiated, maintain eye contact, listen attentively to their replies, and keep smiling/smizing. if they're reticent, follow up with more questions unless you're getting fuck off vibes ("I'm trying to get more into reading lately, would you have any other reccs?" or, "I haven't found a hairstylist yet since I moved here from _____, are there any other local spots you'd recommend?")

BUT if they're returning eye contact, smiling, and keeping open body language towards you, make it a full-on convo! offer some personal details in return, don't be afraid to make (non-risky!!!!) jokes, and (if you can control when & where you're moving, i.e. not during a job or class) have a built-in exit.

even if convos are going good, it's polite (+ leaves them wanting more via scarcity principle, etc. etc.) to end a brief first-time convo after a few minutes, ideally before the energy winds down & you're left feeling awkward. "it's been so lovely meeting you! [insert name here], right? I've got to get going, but thanks for the ___!" if you wanna play the long game/are in a coffeeshop/aren't confident enough yet (no shame!) ask if she comes here regularly and say you hope to see her around sometime soon.

if you've managed to get a good enough energy going: ask if she has an insta/social media you could get for _____ purpose, i.e. letting her know if you like the book/music/media she recc'd or asking for more local spots. IF, however, you don't wanna put yourself at the whim of her generosity: give yourself a cheat code during the initial conversation.

namely; reference something you'd recommend, think she'd find funny, or can't believe she hasn't seen yet, etc. etc. then, at the end of the convo, you can naturally offer "Oh! Lemme send you that X I mentioned--do you have an insta/social?" et voila. asking for social is always less awk/direct than asking for phone numbers, AND it lets the flirtee decide whether she wants to offer that level of trust just yet

if you're not coldcall flirting a girl in public, but rather have an object of your affections at work or school: this formula works p. much the same, but on a slower scale (if you don't use my speedrun ofc) start building a rapport via compliments/questions, progress to chatting briefly whenever you see each other, and third step: say "I saw something yesterday that totally reminded me of you/I just have to send to you!! Here-do I have your insta yet?"

once you have someone's insta: continue chatting when you see them irl/replying to their stories over social, and see if you can pay close enough attention to what she likes to do. judging by the number of accidental lesbian dates i've been on, it's probably

art museum

botanical gardens, or

burlesque shows

however, hikes, used bookstores, underground shows, and grocery shopping together for a subsequent picnic also feature prominently. invite her to do whatever activity you think you'd both enjoy most (over social or irl, whichever you're comfortable with [tho irl gives you a better judge of facial expressions/body language]) and boom. if she says yes, shoot back "it's a date!" after setting the day/time, bc if she's anywhere near as clueless as i am (i'm so sorry wlw) they may honestly think you're still just friends.

if, over the course of your irl convos or DMs, you have the chance to casually mention your sexuality (patches, pride is coming up, mention "my teenage crush/my ex-girlfriend") and ask for hers, go for it. if you can be direct: ask directly. it will save you time, trouble, and mild heartbreak. but if you suffer from the conflict avoidance that plagues lo so many of us: just lean into the subtext.

offer your celebrity crushes and ask what hers are. mention an ex (BRIEFLY, in connection to another topic entirely [she recc'd this cool band to me!] and always in a positive context). wear birkenstocks or docs and say Portrait of a Lady on Fire is the best film of all time, say you listen to girl in red or w/e those charming youths do. just lay the foundation in barely-subtext and keep an eye on her responses, while accepting the risk of wooing what may or may not be a fellow wlw

once you are, in point of fact, ON the date: standard rules and rates apply. relax! be urself!! enjoy spending time with a cool person, regardless of what may or may not come of it!!!! if she seems into it lean into physical proximity, do the whole Tarzan hand-comparison wlw are addicted to, offer to feed her bites of food or swap sips of each other's drinks, and casually set intentions for future plans ("I've never heard of X cafe--we'll have to do that next time!" or, the infamous buy-her-smth-secretly and then offer "You can get mine next time c:")

again, the most important thing is to be sincere. it's good not to place too many expectations on the other person, but don't force yourself to be overly "chill" if you are not, in point of fact, a chill person. dating is always a process of getting to know one another, and it's important to be polite but pls don't feel like you have to follow a script or be someone you're not. just be you babe: you're already plenty lovable. godspeed + good luck!!<33

#long post #lesbian #wlw #how to flirt #lesbian dating advice #dating advice #sorry for the stereotypes but sometimes they're useful!!!#anonymous #reply

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ijustwant2write · 3 years

Text

A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic) (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @elenawinchstr)

Part 1

Masterlist

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @myficplace @yelenas-lova @lavxnder @s-unflowxr

Summary: Benedict and Eloise both anticipate Lady (Y/N)’s social event, as does their mother, causing tensions to rise and panic to ensue. Benedict doesn’t want his mother ruining what he may have with (Y/N), asking Eloise for her help, who gladly plays the role of a good sister.

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic), mentions of Anthony Bridgerton and Violet Bridgerton

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benedict hastily moved around the house, avoiding his mama at all costs. She called out his name repeatedly, growing frustrated at his childish manner. He was supposed to discuss a plan with her about how he should prepare to court Lady (Y/N), but he knew better; his mama knew nothing of (Y/N) (he admitted, he still had much to learn about her too), and he didn’t want his chance to slip away. Although he was confident at her house when he called upon her, there was a sickening doubt looming in his mind that if he did anything wrong, another suitor could easily take his place.

“You have no where else to hide brother.” Anthony smirked, his eyes skimming over the top of his newspaper.

Benedict sighed, accepting defeat. She would find him in a matter of minutes, especially since Anthony’s office was the last place she would look.

“Please, just let me stay her for a few moments.” Benedict begged.

Anthony chuckled, putting down the papers as he reclined in his chair.“Oh dear, I see things are turning serious quite quickly.”

“Yes, which wouldn’t be a problem if mama wasn’t making this such a big ordeal.”

“But it is to her.”

Benedict knew this.“I know that, because someone hasn’t found a woman to marry, so it then falls onto my shoulders.”

“I haven’t seen you so anxious before. Sit down, try to relax.”

Benedict took his offer, practically collapsing into the chair on the other side of the desk. Anthony stood, pouring out a drink each and handing one to Benedict. Though not one to drink in the early afternoon, he gladly sipped at it, wishing he would just calm down.

“Besides mama, what is going on in that head of yours?” Anthony asked.

He genuinely wanted to help. He felt a slight guilt knowing that his mama was more excited about this possible partnership, seeing as he never gave her the satisfaction of even socialising with women.

“I worry that I may not be enough for (Y/N).” he said.“Of course, I have talked to women, I know the right things to say, but I also know that I will not want to engage in further conversation. Whereas with (Y/N), she intrigues me, so much that even after we danced and talked for hours, I still felt like I hardly spent any time with her. I thought about every word I said, listened intently to everything that poured out of her mouth. There are no other women like her.”

Anthony didn’t speak for a few seconds.“You should write poems alongside your art work.”

Benedict groaned, about to stand when Anthony stopped him.

“I am teasing you brother. Look, it’s extremely obvious that you have fallen for this woman. Putting feelings aside for a moment, she also comes from a well off family with a respectable background, so you’ve done very well in that department. This art exhibition will allow me to also see what Lady (Y/N) and her family are like, as well as keep mama away from you both as much as I can.”

“You would do that for me?”

“You seem shocked. I will pretend not to be offended.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know that you too do not like to be....bothered by mama at these events. No doubt she’ll talk to you about my potential courtship all night.”

The door opened as he finished speaking, Violet popping her head in. Her smile widened when she saw both her sons in the same room, now able to speak with them both about Lady (Y/N). Anthony and Benedict shared a look, knowing they would be there for some time.

Elsewhere in the house, Eloise was suffering through a conversation with Hyacinth. As Daphne had to endure, Hyacinth was questioning her older sister, wanting to know everything there was to know about the balls they attended. She wanted to make sure she had all the knowledge she needed when it was her turn to debut. They never spoke of these things in front of her or Gregory and she wanted all the answers. However, Eloise was not revealing anything, and making it seems that everything to do with debuting was awful.

“Go away and pester somebody else.” Eloise huffed as she descended the stairs away from her sister.

“Why are you always so mean to me? I’m just asking questions!” Hyacinth protested.

Eloise felt guilty, especially since Hyacinth was still young and didn’t understand many things about the world yet.“I’m sorry, but I’m not the best person to ask these questions.”

“Why don’t you want to get married?”

“If I explain, you won’t understand.”

“Yes I will!”

“You won’t Hyacinth.”

“You’re so mean!”

The young girl stomped off, having a tantrum to herself. Eloise did feel bad for being so snappy with her sister, but she really didn’t like talking about these things, doing all she could to avoid it where possible. It just made her feel miserable. And who wants to dote on a topic that eliminates all happiness from them?

However, Eloise did find that she was excited about the art exhibition. She was curious as to how (Y/N) and her brother’s encounter would go. For a moment, she felt like her mama. It sent shudders down her spine. It was nice to have the pressure and attention off of her, and to see her brothers in the spotlight. She knew too many friends with brothers who had it easier than the women of the family. Of course they had certain expectations, but Eloise did not see any men parading around in uncomfortable, tight dresses, with over the top embellishments and feathers.

The remaining days leading up to the art exhibition were filled with dress and suit fittings, lessons on the (Y/L/N) family, and making sure everyone knew how important this day could be. Benedict grew more and more nervous as it approached, his mama making him realise that this could be a turning point in his life. Before this was all about him being excited to see (Y/N), to be in her company again, now it was as if he was proposing to her.

Eloise stepped out into the garden, welcoming the warmth that was still lingering at this time of night. She couldn’t sleep, knowing what was on her mind, but not wanting to admit it. She wasn’t surprised to see Benedict already on the swing set, secretly smoking as they had both done before. A small smile appeared on her face as she approached him, making sure to create some sort of noise as to not startle him.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one being kept awake.” she said as she sat down.

“I haven’t even tried to sleep yet.” Benedict said before inhaling through his cigarette again.

“Is someone nervous?” she wasn’t teasing him, she was concerned.

“Yes.” he surprisingly said.“I’m nervous because mother has made me believe everything is depending on this next meeting. Yet she forgets how long Daphne took to decide who she was marrying.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Because (Y/N) likes you.”

Benedict chuckled."Ah, I forgot you were the expert on such topics."

"I may not know a lot about...feelings and love, but I am not a fool. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you first saw her. (Y/N) was practically speechless too. But not like the other women who fawn over the Bridgerton name, she actually liked you for your face, for some reason. I don't know, it just seemed that there was something natural between you."

"Eloise Bridgerton, what a doting thing to say."

"I am trying to be nice to you brother."

"I know. And I appreciate it, but...I feel at ease with (Y/N), and I don't like the thought of mother's eyes burning into the back of my head. Anthony has said that he will do what he can to help, but I fear that mother will not be totally distracted by him. She’ll know his sudden interest will be fake.”

Eloise had an idea, and even if she didn’t want to go through with it, she knew it would help Benedict.“I will regret saying this, but I shall help too. I will make sure mama is paying attention to me, I’ll let her drag me around and indulge in hideously, dull conversations.”

Benedict had been shocked for the second time that day. Two of his siblings, both detesting the thought of marriage, had offered to suffer through this social event in order to give him time with (Y/N).

“What has happened to you two today?” Benedict asked.

“We are merely being charitable. Hopefully you return the favour in future. God knows I’ll be in need of saving soon.”

(Y/N) was all a flutter on the morning of the exhibition. Her mother had bought a new dress just for this, wanting to impress the Bridgerton family, prepping their halls and rooms for the exhibition for the last week. (Y/N)’s father was proud of what he had created, and that his daughter may be on her way to marrying a family who were held highly in their society. (Y/N) couldn’t focus at all, relieved that her maids were the ones in charge of getting her dressed and ready for the day; if left to her own devices, she surely would have put her dress on backwards.

Guests streamed in, but (Y/N) was only on the lookout for one person. She remained polite, trying to stay in the moment as more and more people arrived. However, she still kept an eye out for Benedict, also staying on her toes. She had many things in mind to say to him, and she wanted to keep them in her mind. There was no way she was going to humiliate herself.

Her heart started beating a thousand times faster when she saw Benedict enter the main hall, the one holding the biggest and most expensive pieces of art. She smiled, and somehow it grew even bigger when he made eye contact with him. His smile was so sweet, it made you fall for his charms even more. Benedict felt his stomach twist in anticipation, desperate to have just a few moments with (Y/N). Alas, that did not come when his mama latched onto his arm, steering him in (Y/N)’s direction. Although he wanted to speak with her, he found it all rather forceful, especially when (Y/N)’s parents suddenly appeared behind her.

Formal introductions were made, each set of parents making small talk about the last time they were in each others company. (Y/N) and Benedict were silent, nodding along with what was being said as they sneaked glances at each other. The conversation was dragging for them, they knew their parents wanted to figure out if this could be a potential arrangement. It didn’t seem that they were going to stop talking at any point, neither child wanting to be rude, until Eloise intruded.

“Pardon me,” she started, sending a subtle smile to Benedict,“mama, I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Ah, another Bridgerton. The next daughter to find a suitor, I presume?” (Y/N)’s mother beamed.

Eloise hid the urge to frown. Luckily her mother stepped in.“Yes, this is Eloise. I’m sorry darling, I did not mean to leave you stranded.”

“Yes, well, shall we?” Eloise tugged at her mother’s arm.

“Alright dear. It was lovely to see you both again.”

As Violet eagerly followed Eloise, (Y/N)’s parents also dispersed. Benedict and (Y/N) were now finally together, just as they had wished; so why did it suddenly feel awkward?

“Well, that seemed to easy.” Benedict cleared his throat.

“What was?” (Y/N) asked.

“Getting rid of them.” he grinned, holding out his arm.

(Y/N) smiled back, happy to hold onto him.“I was trying to come up with something to say that would not be rude, but would also mean we could leave. I hope that it wasn’t obvious I wanted to leave.”

“Even if it was, I doubt they would care too much. We both know they are over excited.”

“Oh how right you are. I’m assuming your mother has been acting the same as mine this whole week?”

“Overbearing? Overthinking? Over-”

(Y/N) giggled.“Yes, yes, I do not wish to dote on the memory. I am happy that you are here though Benedict.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

The pair’s arms stayed linked as (Y/N) guided Benedict around the art work. Sometimes they joined other conversations, though liked to keep to themselves. It was easy to bond over artwork, especially since it was a passion both of them had. There were no pauses or silences after a few minutes of talking, conversation flowed naturally between them. Men and women also searching for suitors were jealous; a Bridgerton boy had been swept up all too quickly and (Y/N) had been a popular choice amongst the men. However, people could not deny they made a fitting pair.

"Come, let me show you something." (Y/N) muttered to Benedict, easily slipping away from the crowds and leaving the room.

"We really shouldn't be alone (Y/N)." Benedict said, even though this was all he had been wanting.

(Y/N) had a cheeky smile on her face as she tugged on his arm, her steps gradually getting quicker. Benedict didn't even take in her elaborate house, only looking at her beautiful face every time she glanced up at him. They stopped before two grand doors, which (Y/N) cautiously opened, slipping inside with Benedict close behind her.

In the middle of the room was a huge painting covered by a fine piece of cloth. Benedict was confused why (Y/N) brought him to this, until she let go of his hand (him instantly missing the feeling), and theatrically pulled the piece of fabric down. Benedict's jaw dropped as the piece was revealed. He had never seen a painting like it.

It was a large, landscape painting of a ballroom. It captured dancing pairs in the middle of some sort of waltz, musicians huddled in the corner whilst the other guests stood watching; and it was so intricate, Benedict guessed it must have taken the artist months to complete it. All the colours, the detail, it almost looked real.

"This is amazing." he breathed out.

(Y/N) was happy when she saw Benedict's shock."Isn't it? It's supposed to be revealed later, but I wanted to see your expression properly."

"Who painted it?"

"I don't know. Father said he is going to inform everyone later, but it is a new artist. I just think they're work is dazzling to look at. I become mesmerised."

Benedict's focus changed back to (Y/N)."Yes, that does tend to happen."

She didn't notice that he was referring to her, nodding along in agreement. Her smile faltered slightly, which Benedict was able to see immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he neared her, hating the gap that was created

(Y/N) covered her slip up, as her mother had told her."I'm sorry, it's really nothing..." she started, but found herself relaxed, and wanting to tell Benedict all her problems."It's only that...I used to paint frequently, well, I sketched more, though I enjoyed both. Like all girls, my mother told me to stop that and focus on becoming the most desired lady in society. I shouldn't have even told you about that when we first met."

"That's what made me desire you (Y/N)."

She blushed, realising how intense his gaze was."Oh, Lord Bridgerton-"

"What's with all the formalities all of a sudden?"

"I-I don't know. I don't want to ruin anything and it's only our second meeting. Third if you count when you called upon me."

"And I called upon you for a very good reason."

"I was wishing that everyone else would leave, so I could spend more time with you."

Benedict loved hearing her say that."As did I."

Subconsciously they had moved closer, though they both knew what they were doing. Benedict reached down to tenderly hold her hands, causing her heart to beat erratically. (Y/N) had no idea what to do, she only had experience from the books she read. It seemed simple enough to kiss someone, but also the hardest thing in the world. How much pressure should she apply? How long should they kiss for? Where would she put her hands? Where would he put his hands? She didn't have anytime to think as he was already leaning in towards her.

Eloise and Anthony were finding it extremely hard to keep the fake smiles plastered on their faces. Benedict was really in for it once this was all over. Their mama had kept a tight grip on them both, because as soon as they saw their chance to flee, they would. Both had to suffer through extremely long, boring and repetitive conversations, listening to parents boast about their children's achievements. Everyone knew how this worked, yet they all had to pretend to be happy about it.

"Where is Benedict? He's been away for a long time." their mama pondered as they took a break for refreshments.

"He's probably wooing Lady (Y/N), just as you wanted." Eloise slurped on her drink.

"Do not fret mother, he knows what he's doing. He truly likes her and will be doing all he can to...well, yes, woo her." Anthony said.

"I suppose you are right. It feels strange that one of my children are making an effort for once."

Eloise huffed."Oh, do not chastise us mama. We've been doing this all afternoon, haven't we?"

Violet squinted her eyes at them, suspicious that they were up to something. She was about to question it, but stopped herself. They were doing what she always wanted, finding someone to spend their future with. She wouldn't jeopardise that. Lucky for them, a servant announced that Lord (Y/L/N) requested for everyone's presence inside. The guests were intrigued, following orders and grabbing full glasses of whatever quenched their thirst. Eloise and Anthony had got away with their plan for now, they just hoped Benedict and (Y/N) had had enough time together.

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence.

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something.

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place.

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more.

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy.

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain.

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over.

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at.

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why.

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck.

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste.

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness.

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault.

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize.

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals.

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things.

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting.

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person.

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe.

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better.

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water.

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands.

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats.

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program.

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating.

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack.

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you.

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked.

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything.

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home.

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days.

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice.

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs.

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts.

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly.

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight.

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat.

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment.

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode.

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.”

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself.

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting.

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble.

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.”

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed.

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to.

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home.

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate.

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year.

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters.

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask.

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping.

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat.

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches.

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors.

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates.

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score.

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended.

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him.

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah.

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head.

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel.

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up.

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom.

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair.

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump.

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip.

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps.

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey.

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you.

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake.

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye.

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep.

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel.

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you.

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before.

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice.

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves.

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates.

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet.

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone.

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd.

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals.

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features.

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda.

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point.

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase.

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him.

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months.

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received.

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper.

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about.

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list.

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship.

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them.

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights.

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop.

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.”

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience.

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door.

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles.

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years.

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut.

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?”

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall.

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?”

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is.

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete.

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly.

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction.

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well.

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much.

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal.

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror.

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger.

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates.

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch.

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city.

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile.

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift.

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible.

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable.

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities.

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off.

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals.

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine.

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep.

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front.

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly.

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay.

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse.

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you.

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself.

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms.

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot.

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down.

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help.

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there.

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater.

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain.

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength.

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again.

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink.

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#this right here is my baby #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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trashcanfills · 3 years

Text

Hero Killer Stain | Akaguro Chizome Relationship Headcanons

Yes I’m here to deliver.

The kind of person to only have very few friends. This guy ain’t the socialising type. I mean look at him he practically oozes lone wolf vibes. Not a people person for sure. He’s definitely socially awkward as fuck though thanks to his poker face that part of him isn’t obvious.

If you do manage to be friends with him though, oh boi where do I even begin?

He is an independent guy so expect like long ass periods of non-contact. He would occasionally check in on you to make sure that you are alive and doing well, sometimes with a text saying hes coming over. If you are lucky he might hang around for a while but apart from that he’s not gon do much (totally not because he’s socially awkward cough cough).

Really thoughtful as hecc. He’s not such an asshole to make any demands for you and your time. With how disillusioned he is with the current state of society, he’s going to cherish all the shit you have done for him, especially when you are one of the only ones who stayed with him despite the bloody path he has chosen.

Mention offhandedly about needing or wanting something? So long as he can afford it, it’s definitely going to appear on your table the next day without a trace of him left in your house. The kind to help around the house when he possibly can. Even if you try to deny his aid he’s not gonna budge at all cus he is one stubborn ass motherfucker. After some time you just give up and let him do what he wants. Though it is kinda funny to see the Hero Killer doing domestic stuff around your house.

However he can be a bit of an insensitive jerk at times. He judges a bit too hastily and makes wrongful assumptions. He also tends to believe that the fault lies within the person themselves whenever theres a problem, and will point it out if you asked for it.

This can result in arguments when you make mistakes or anything cus he will unintentionally make a comment that directly attacks you and your character. I can see that eventually you would reach a breaking point where you cry and/or scream at him about these hurtful comments. Yelling would of course devolve into an argument until you explain your feelings and situation to him such that he understands. Crying would just really hit in the realisation on how shitty his actions were and he would rectify that immediately by comforting you.

Hangouts typically consist of you guys sitting there in silence doing your own thing or watching a movie, or both of you engaging in philosophical discussion about today’s society. Yes because this is Stain we are talking about, expect the topic of False Heroes to come about. Once that happens, you would end up listening through his entire rant on False Heroes and their Unworthiness for the Hero title.

You definitely have engaged in debates with him on dealing with false heroes. He would be respectful of your views so long as they are well supported AND well-rounded arguments. Being one-sided esp towards the heroes would make him dismiss your views since it’s the same opinions adopted by the masses. Acknowledging and accepting that his views and ideals are valid would be a big deal for him, even if you disagree.

Sadly I’m not really sure if it would change much on his hero killing ways. To him, it’s the only solution he feels he could implement to best deal with false heroes, and it’s a necessary evil. Plus, he’s more of the take action guy. He can’t really just sit around, wait and think on what to do when there’s so much at stake. I find that it would be good for him to have a partner to hold him back and properly think through some stuff because of this, if he were to get into a romantic relationship. And speaking of that…

If you are in a romantic relationship with him, it’s just the above friendship qualities multiplied by 10 plus the couple things.

He WILL be a mother hen for his s/o. Regarding his friends, he tends to trust their ability to take care of themselves, only stepping in when needed to. Regarding his partner? He takes responsibility for their wellbeing. If their condition is less than perfect, he’s going to do something about it.

Accidentally cut yourself? He’s already grabbing the first aid kit. Sees you aren’t getting enough sleep? Prepared to be whooshed away and dumped on your bed. Stressed and anxious? He asks you to confide in him about your worries, and if you can’t, at least tell him how he can make you feel better.

God forbid someone lay a hand on you intending harm cus if Stain knows about it, he will straight up gut them. He will interrogate you if he sees an injury on you that’s unlikely to be an accident. He’s not going to budge until you tell him who did it to you, and even if you don’t, he WILL find out on his own. He might end up hurting someone innocent so it’s best if you tell him who did it to save him the trouble. And if they mysteriously disappear from your life, that’s only for the two of you to know :^)

He’s definitely not used to physical affection being the loner he is, so if you initiate and like give him a hug or a kiss he will get flustered and blue screen for a short while. He would also be tense when cuddling for the first few times, then relaxing a little bit afterwards. Uh don’t surprise tackle him out of nowhere unless you want to get slashed or chucked at a wall. As much as he loves to indulge in your affections, he still needs to keep his instincts honed for fighting. You never know when someone might decide to attack the both of you. (You tried to surprise hug him once. It ended up with you getting injured and him attending to your injuries while lecturing you a little about doing that AROUND A SERIAL KILLER WHO KILL HEROES for a LIVING)

But otherwise he doesn’t mind physical affection. He would grow to love it, and would gradually take initiative to touch you at any opportunity if you tell him you are open to it. This does become funny with his brilliant poker face, when you guys are doing your own thing and all of sudden he gets close to you to hug, smooch or cuddle. He gives absolutely no warning whatsoever. It never gets old. Your reactions to him doing this amuses him a lot.

Expect occasional heartfelt speeches on how much he loves you or how much you mean to him. Might not realise this himself but gOd he can be a sMOOTH motherfucker. He is good with words, and gENUINE about what he says about. He will pull off the how I saw the world as a dark ugly place until you came along speech shtick and there will be this Moment of you guys beholding each others presence. THATS how good he is. (I mean you heard him monologing while fighting Izuku, Tenya and Shouto like daamn)

He’s a very practical person and isn’t one to be sentimental. He can’t afford to be sentimental if it can jeopardise him and his loved ones in any way. He’s adamant on not keeping anything of his around in your house cus he doesn’t want you implicated or associated with his murders at all.

Somehow, if you both are really really deep into the relationship, I can see him letting both of you carrying rings from each other. Not worn around the ring finger of course cus that can attract unwanted attention, but rather it being attached to a chain necklace that both of you would have at all times.

It’s kind of a promise and dedication to you, in the sense that, if he could or if he had the chance to, he would have formally proposed to you. He hopes that he can if somehow he fulfils his personal mission, and if both of you can find somewhere peaceful and safe together.

Edit: Realised I forgot to add some stuff in lol, so dont mind that I add more points to this already long ass post. Im on mobile so apologies if formatting is weird.

#hero killer stain #stain x reader #akaguro chizome x reader #akaguro chizome #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hnnnnnngh fuck can u tell how much I love this man

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zackcollins · 3 years

Text

speechless || bo bichette

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hello! Everyone gets a treat of a second fic today because I was in a mood to write. Hope that’s okay. Idk man. When you’re in the mood to write, you write. And sometimes, you just wanna post right away because you’re too impatient to wait. Ya know? Anyways. GIF credit to glasnow!

Warnings: An anxiety attack. That’s probably it??? I don’t think there’s anything else. Feel free to let me know otherwise and I’ll fix this warnings section for you.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Title: Speechless by Dan + Shay

Additional: The reader should be gender neutral again! I don’t think I used any identifying language or pronouns or anything. If I did, it was accidental because I was hella distracted watching my dog while my grandparents went grocery shopping. As always, let me know how I did because constructive criticism is always welcomed!

Tagging: @whimsical-daydreams @donttelltheelf-x

You had suffered from severe anxiety; it had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. At this point, it had totally consumed you. You could hardly do anything anymore without your anxiety trying to take over in some form or another. It was the worst feeling in the world.

That's why it was like all your prayers had been answered when Bo waltzed into your life. For the first time in your life, you were able to open up about your anxiety with someone. There was just something about Bo that made you feel safe, secure, and like nothing would ever hurt you again.

You had been dating for about two and a half years before your relationship changed. It changed on what had otherwise been a quiet day in the middle of February. Snow was falling outside of your house, blowing around peacefully in the evening breeze. You were sitting on the window seat of the living room window, staring out onto the street while idly sipping on a mug of hot chocolate.

Somewhere outside, you heard a dog distantly barking. You found it odd because to the best of your knowledge, nobody in the housing community you and Bo lived in had a dog. Most of them had cats because they were easier for their housekeepers to look after when they were away on business trips or vacation. You quickly shook it out of your mind, though, thinking it only to be a dog that had wandered in from somewhere nearby. It wasn't entirely unlikely for that to happen because some of the people in the housing communities on either side had been known to let their dogs roam freely from time to time.

A couple of minutes later, you heard the front door to the house open. That snapped you out of thinking about the barking dog because you needed to know who walked in. Turning around, you heaved a relieved sign when you saw Bo standing in the entryway. You felt a little anxious, however, when you saw that he had placed a rather large box at his feet. Placing your hot chocolate on the windowsill, you walked over to Bo.

"What's this, sweetie?" You asked, walking all the way around the box. You wanted to see if it had some sort of label or marking on it that would hint at what was inside; it did not. All it had was a pink ribbon embossed with white hearts tied around it.

Bo smiled as he was undressing from his winter apparel. He tossed his hat into the closet. He unzipped his coat and carefully placed it on one of the coat hooks beside the door. Lastly came his boots. He slipped out of those and tossed them haphazardly onto the plastic boot mat you had bought specifically for the winter so snow wouldn’t be tracked all over your house. He ended up bowling over your boots and a spare pair of boots you kept in case of emergencies. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Bo raised his arms in surrender as he stepped forward and gave you a quick kiss. You relaxed, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his back. When you pulled apart, Bo stepped aside and motioned to the box.

"If you wanna know what’s inside,” Bo produced a pocket knife seemingly out of nowhere because you didn’t know him to carry one. He handed it to you and motioned to the box a second time. “All you have to do is open it.”

You walked forward and leaned over, carefully cutting the ribbon a couple of times so that it was easier to untangle from the box. Once you had all of the ribbon untangled and balled up, you placed it along with the knife on the console table next to you. When you looked back at Bo, he gave you an encouraging nod and a soft smile. You bit your lip nervously as you carefully lifted the lid off of the box. What was inside made you blink in surprise. Staring back at you was a beagle puppy. You had to blink a couple of more times, just to make sure that truly weren't imagining this. When you surmised that this was, in fact, a real dog sitting in the box, you lifted them out, cradling them in your arms. They even kissed you on the chin a couple of times. That was also all it took for you to be absolutely smitten with this puppy.

Just as you went to put the puppy down, the light from the chandelier made something on their collar glisten. At first, you thought it was name tags or the city registration tags. But, when you examined it, you discovered that it was an engagement ring. You turned to ask Bo about it. Much to your surprise, he was down on one knee, holding his hands out. You handed him the dog (who you could now see was a boy), thinking that was what he wanted. Bo chuckled as he scritched the dog behind the ears. The dog sighed, jackrabbitting his back foot in satisfaction. You huffed an amused breath, rolling your eyes and chuckling.

Bo carefully put the dog down and took the ring off of his collar. He gave him a few more ear scritches which made the dog flop on the floor and curl in a ball. Bo rolled his eyes before he looked up at you, holding the ring in your direction.

"Since I know I'm the best thing to happen to you and you're the best thing to happen to me," Bo paused, wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes, "I was wondering if you'd marry me?"

You clammed up. You felt your anxiety wash over you like a giant wave crashing into the surf. You fell to the floor, chanting a bunch of incoherent nonsense as you curled into a ball and clutched your knees tightly to your chest. You rocked back and forth, tears streaming down your face as you continued to death-grip your knees. It was then that you felt Bo wrap you in his arms. He cradled you, rocking you in time with how you were rocking yourself. Only, he was doing it softer, gentler. He was also mumbling some of his stats from last season, the stats from the hockey game you watched yesterday. Hell, he even started mumbling what you needed to buy when you went grocery shopping the next time. Anything mundane and boring because he knew that was what generally helped you out of anxiety episodes. The more boring the better. It gave a sense of normalcy and order that helped your brain to focus on the everyday parts of life as opposed to the falsehoods of meaningless compliments that people only said to you when you were in the middle of an anxiety episode.

Hearing about baseball and hockey stats as well as what groceries you needed to buy helped remarkably well. You calmed down relatively quickly given how badly this attack had started. You tilted your head, looking Bo in the eyes. Your eyes were full of a question that didn’t need to be asked but probably should be anyways. Bo, knowing how to read you by now, simply nodded. He met you halfway as you connected your lips. You shared a brief, albeit meaningful kiss.

When you broke your lips apart, you held your hand out. "Of course I'll marry you."

You smiled, though it was a little awkward because you were still recovering from your anxiety attack, as Bo placed the ring on your finger. You moved your hand around, looking at the ring from every angle. It was a gorgeous ring. It was also simple and not very flashy. Which is something you had told Bo you wanted when the time came for him to finally propose. You weren’t a flashy or extravagant person so there was no need to have a flashy or extravagant ring. The thought of having an expensive or flashy ring made you really anxious. You were afraid that somebody would break in and steal it from you. And you didn’t want to live the entire rest of your life in fear that someone was going to break into your house to steal something from you. You had told Bo that that was no way to live. That’s why you were content with a small, simple ring. You didn’t have to live in a constant state of anxiety that some schmuck off the street was going to get the wise idea to break in one night and rob you of it. And the ring Bo had picked was exactly the ring you had been eyeing the last time you were in a jewellery store. So, it worked out even better.

Bo snapped you out of your thought by grabbing you by the chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilted your face up so that you were looking at each other directly. Bo’s eyes flitted down to your lips and then quickly back up to look at you. You nodded as best you could with Bo holding onto your chin, a soft smile breaking out across your lips. Bo smiled back, dropping his hand away from your chin. He, instead, grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers. You huffed softly before you leaned forward and connected your lips with Bo’s. Bo smirked into the kiss, bringing his other hand up and resting it against your shoulder. The kiss was far more passionate than the first and you swore it could’ve gone on forever and ever. The only reason you stopped was because the puppy weaseled his way in between you and licked both of your noses. Bo laughed and booped the puppy on his nose. You made an amused noise and scritched the puppy's chest.

Bo turned back to you after you both spent a few moments playing with the puppy. "Sorry for surprising you. I know how you hate surprises."

"It's alright, Bo. It would've defeated the whole purpose if you told me," you responded, moving in closer to Bo.

At that moment, the puppy plopped himself down in between the two of you. You both scratched him behind either ear. He made a soft groan of appreciation, before falling fast asleep. He was snoring softly after a few moments which made both you and Bo chuckle bemusedly.

"What do we name him?" Bo asked, picking him up and placing him in your lap.

"Biscuit!" You replied with excitement. The dog responded to that, briefly opening his eyes and snuffling before he went back to sleep. "See! He likes that name."

Your smile grew wider as your leaned down and gave Biscuit a kiss on the head. He snuffled again, his tail wagging against your knee. You lit up significantly, almost forgetting that you had had an anxiety attack a few minutes ago.

“Scratch that,” you said, a smile beaming on your face. “He loves that name.”

Bo just shook his head, chuckled, and waved a dismissive hand at you. "You're such a huge dork. You know that, right?"

"But I’m your huge dork," you replied, pointing to the ring on your finger as proof of that claim.

"Yes, yes you are."

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

ain't it fun? | part 4

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: chronic illness, hurt/comfort, drug use**! spencer and reader smoke weed together; talks of relapse and recovery. Also, a case involving child abductions, getting engaged, love confessions

word count: 2.4k

a/n: not sure how long this is going to keep getting but I am enjoying adding to it

P1 P2 P3

Days like today suck.

She can’t get out of bed, she’s so hungry her stomach is swirling and screaming and there’s a pain in her intestines that feels like someone is eating her from the inside out but she can’t move… and she has to pee but her legs hurt and her head is pounding from the light. It’s 6 am according to the alarm clock, Spencer hasn’t left for work yet and she’s already missing him.

She manages to make it to the bathroom, sitting there for too long after because she can’t find the courage to stand back up.

“Why?” She whispers to herself before the tears start.

Covering her face as she cries, she’s still sitting on the toilet with her underwear around her ankles, sobbing as Spencer walks in.

He helps her up without asking, he’s seen too many bad mornings now to ask if she needs help, he just knows she wants to go back to bed, so he fixes her underwear and picks her up.

When he finally lays her down with all her pillows, he lowers the temperature in the room to relax her bones and gets her a ginger ale to help with the nausea from the pain she’s in. It is a regular occurrence for her to wake up and feel like she’s dying, but Spencer was wonderful when dealing with it.

He’s in the kitchen for a while, she’s worried he’s making something for her to eat that she’ll have to lovingly turn away because she can’t do it right now. Her throat is too tight and it hurts to swallow or talk.

She can hear him talking… he’s on the phone with someone.

When he comes back in, he cuddles into her the way he knows she likes. Soothing his hands over her back in a way that helps the pain while also helping her feel like she’s not alone in all of this. He’ll never understand; but he loves her, so a part of him feels it too.

“You called out?” She whispers against his chest.

He nods, his cheek resting on the top of her head as she feels the friction. “I don’t feel good when you don’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry you had to help.”

He’s told her time and time again that he doesn’t mind.

He would kill for her, he’d clean up the mess if she killed someone. He’d even dig the fucking grave if she needed him too… he wasn’t opposed to being there for her no matter what that entailed.

She just hated the fact he had to, he knew her apology came from her hatred of herself and not the fact she felt sorry for him. She loved the help, it made her feel loved until she felt disappointed in herself for needing it.

“Do you want your medicine?”

She smiles finally, “if you mean my secret joint stash— yes, but if you can’t handle being around me like that, then I don’t need it today.”

“I think I’d like to try it,” Spencer whispers. “If you can smoke weed and not relapse then I think I can too?”

“Probably, but if you can’t, I’ll support you however you need me to?” She smiles up at him, he kisses the tip of her nose as she kisses his chin.

Getting high with Spencer is… interesting to say the least. He doesn’t want a full hit, he just wants a taste and so she takes a drag and blows the smoke from her lungs to his. Sharing a part of themselves in a way they never expected before, this is his most vulnerable moment and he was trusting her with it.

The sunshine hits his face in such a perfect way that as they lay side by side, she can watch his pupil devour his iris as he gets high. Their breathing is steady and their fingers are interlocked. They’re content just blinking together, in the sunshine, quiet. In love.

Her body is so calm, and her mind is slow as she takes it all in and he looks so relaxed. He’s not jittery or caffeine-deprived like most mornings; he’s not anxious or stressed or trying to find a way to pretend he’s fine before leaving for work again, only to come home sad.

He’s okay.

She’s okay.

“It's nice,” he whispers, “but it’s not as good as you.”

She smiles, trying not to laugh at how his thoughts are going to be all jumbled for the next few hours. He’s going to be smart yet stupid at the same time and she couldn’t fucking wait to hear all the things he thinks of.

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“This is like a tidal wave..." his ramble starts and she is so excited to see where it takes them. "A tsunami that rushes and relieves just as quickly." His eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy.

"You’re like a volcano; there are so many stages before mass destruction, and even then there’s still the ash cloud and the debris and the lava dries like rocks… the destruction is total and the cleanup will be brutal.”

“I’m addicted to you," his eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy. "Drugs are boring and you’re not,” Simplifying his meaning as his eyes open again.

“I love you,” he says with the same certainty as the first time.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she didn’t think they’d go down this path when she was blowing into his mouth, she expected him to panic or get horny.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how much.”

He shakes his head lightly, “I wouldn’t be opposed to knowing.”

If she thinks it over, she’ll abandon ship before she can tell him, so she just jumps into it.

“I was a little scared to ask you to help me lock my door that first day because I thought you’d think I was just some junky who couldn’t get their shit together. But the second you asked if I had a local group and you helped me; that was the moment I knew I wanted you in my life for forever.”

He smiles, silent so she can keep going. He’ll take his turn when she’s really done.

“And then when we got to talking it was like I knew you already. Like I had your memories in my mind and as you told me things I was like well duh! Yeah, that’s my Spencer! I don’t know how it happened so fast. One minute you’re a stranger and the next you’re the only person I ever want to see for the rest of my entire fucking life,” it’s more passionate than she expected as she rambles on.

“I can’t get married on paper without losing my disability, but I don’t give a fuck about a piece of paper or someone officially giving us that title one day, I’m content just staying in this bed with you for the rest of time and never moving again.”

He looks like he’s about to explode with love as he presses his lips together in the softest smile. He can’t keep quiet any longer, “are you asking me to spend the rest of my life with you but not marry you?”

She laughs at the realization, “I think so?”

They’re trying to kiss but it ends up more like laughing with their mouths touching and teeth occasionally clashing. It’s hysterical because of the marijuana, sure, but they’re high on each other. It’s everything they’ve ever wanted.

To find something better than drugs; that little purpose in life comes back, that drive to see tomorrow because there are good memories to be made with their favourite person. She’s not afraid of the darkness or the unknowing anymore, Spencer’s her guiding light.

He's holding her close to his chest after a while, "are you feeling better?"

"Of course," she smiles, "I've got my weed and my reid."

His laugh is everything as it fills their space again. This was how the rest of her life was going to feel, and it made her excited for tomorrow.

—

She’s feeling a lot better later and they need Spencer to help Penelope back at work, but he doesn’t want to leave her. She’s in sweats with a blanket on her lap in the corner of Penelope’s office, a book in her hand and a coffee on the table beside her as she listens to them bicker back and forth.

“If you hack the NSA we can no longer use all this as evidence if he’s brought in alive, Penelope!” Spencer whisper shouts at her, afraid to raise his voice at her but wanting to get his point across.

“Hotch needs the aerial shots like yesterday, and the NSA won't get them to us in time for this kid!” She yells back.

“Call google…” Y/N suggests, flipping through her book.

“What?” Spencer looks at her like she just said the dumbest thing ever.

“They’re taking photos constantly for their maps program, my mom was saying our new roof is now on the updated map. They might have all the photos saved up, if the FBI asks nicely they might work with you…” she explains, pressing her lips together in a tight smile.

“You’re a genius!” Penelope shouts, dialling the phone and getting JJ to work his media magic for contact at google.

Spencer's smile is one she hasn’t seen before, he’s not only proud of her; he looks a little turned on. She just cracked the case by knowing all the little hacks about the internet as part of her day job. She lived online, and now she was saving lives because of it.

It was a good case to help on, she got to see 3 kids go home to their parents and know a terrible man was going to rot in prison for the rest of his sad and pathetic life. The hard part was seeing them go through months of footage of this guy's yard, seeing the child-sized holes he dug up. The disrupted earth and the knowledge of what happened when there wasn’t picture proof.

—

They go to a meeting after work.

They sit side by side, her leg is crossed and resting over his knee as their arms are linked and fingers interlocked. They really couldn’t be any closer if they tried. They just wanted to listen today, to know they were in a room of people who were trying, people who understood and battled every bad feeling they did.

“Y/N,” the group leader calls her out just before the end of the meeting, “it’s nice to see you back here with Spencer, we heard you found another group but it’s nice to see you here for the support.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but as you can see he is distracting.” She gestured to how they were sitting with a small giggle. “I like coming here if you guys don’t mind me occasionally dropping by?”

“By all means,” another member, carol, spoke up. “Spencer is a great sponsor, it’s nice to see him happy.”

She didn’t know he was a sponsor but he thanks her for the compliment, it turns out almost everyone in his group turned to Spencer for support. It was comforting to everyone there to know the real, chemical and biological reasoning behind their addictions. Spencer provided a sense of calm for all of them, like a younger brother; they all loved him dearly.

They’re still holding hands as they walk home, the sun is still setting and it's barely even 7 pm. All the lights on the street are on, shops are closing and the sidewalks are bare. One store is still open however, across the street, she can see the big storefront window, illuminated with the brightest lights to show off a new collection of rings.

“Do you want one?” He notices her eyes darting to the light like a moth to a flame.

“What?” She zones back in when he stops walking.

“A ring, do you want to get one?” He clarifies with the softest voice.

She nods softly, “you should get one too though, seeing as I asked you and everything.”

He grips her hand tighter and they dart across the street. Giggling like children running to the playground, they’re almost out of breath from laughing as they open the shop door with a ding. Smiles on their faces, joy in their hearts, it makes the shop owner swoon as she sees them.

“Did you just get engaged?” She pries with a knowing smile.

They nod, “we just need some rings,” Y/N adds.

She waves them over, “well I’m going to need our sizes first, here try these on.” She hands them what looks like a thin ruler with holes spaces out.

Y/N attempts to find the right one, fitting the best into the 9 and a half. Spencer fits into the 11 on the first try like he knew already and the woman just laughs at the way Y/N glares at him with love.

“What kind of rings are we thinking? Do you have a preferred cut, style, size, or colour?”

It’s a lot all at once and she’s never really thought about it, “I love my grandma's ring, do you have any vintage styles?”

“I have vintage-style rings as well as some restored rings from the '20s and '30s,” she brings out a jewellery box from under the counter. “These are all appraised and unique.”

When she takes the lid off, Y/N’s eyes widen at the view. There are at least 50 rings in their velvet beds as they wait patiently to be tried on; all different shapes sizes and colours like she said. It feels a little overwhelming at first but then her eyes land on a green one. She takes it out slowly and slides it over her ring finger.

It’s perfect.

Spencer picks out a nice gold band to match, he pays and the lady is so happy to watch them leave hand in hand with their new rings. Dedicated to each other forever and ever, he was her person for the rest of time because he said so and that’s as good as a piece of paper.

She’s a completely different person from who she was when she woke up; twirling down the street with the love of her life, high on loving him as he makes her laugh and holds her hand. He stops in the middle of the street and places his hands on her cheeks, drawing her in closer.

“Loving you is so much fun.”

“Ain’t it fun?” She agrees with a smile before pressing their lips together.

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun #drug tw

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volturiwolf · 3 years

Text

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 5)

A/N: That is the second part I'm uploading at the same time as part 4 because it will probably take me a lot more time to upload the next parts.

No of Words: 4300+

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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“The Volturi Princess ” Tag List (reply if you want to be tagged or removed):

@felixvolturisprincess @singerj2002 @mrtony-stank1 @ikissedthescarsonherskin @alecvolturiswifeforever @hshehdyhd @kpopgirlbtssvt @eunoia-kth @iilsenewman

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Felix’s POV:

It’s been about seven months since I woke up and (Y/N) fell asleep - I refused to acknowledge that she may not wake up. I preferred to tell myself that she was taking a long nap, just as she used to do before she left Volterra. I was telling myself again and again that she was sleeping, so much so that I almost started believing it.

When (Y/N) sacrificed her blood to save me, I couldn’t stop myself from almost draining her before Chelsea finally managed to take her away from me. When I realized that it was (Y/N)’s blood the one I consumed, I staggered back and forth as if I was trying to wake up from a bad dream. Her blood always “spoke” to me - la mia cantante - and when I got the chance to taste her, I couldn’t stop myself.

Now, she was in a comatose state, pale and weakened. She was still held in the dungeons, although she was taken care of, due to her current state. Chelsea informed me regarding what happened when I was unconscious.

(Y/N) was the one who carried me all the way back to Volterra, and she was forced to spend her time in the dungeons as a punishment for her “recklessness”, and Afton and Chelsea were guarding her. She was only allowed human food, which, of course, would have weakened her body!

Even as a part-vampire, part-human, she still needed blood to survive, to keep her strong. But, I guessed that was exactly what Aro would want to avoid; he wanted to keep her weak and powerless.

I tried once to force her to drink blood that I collected from some humans but she wouldn’t keep the blood in her mouth, let alone swallow it down. So, that plan was aborted and I couldn’t think of any other way to help her.

It had been a few days since I had last seen her. Aro forbade me from seeing her until Carlisle arrived, and even then, there was only a slight possibility I would be allowed to visit her. All I could do was wait.

Yet again, I thought it was unfair for (Y/N) to get punished. It wasn’t her who attacked me, it was her father. But it was only clear that Aro didn’t care as much about my physical state, as he cared about punishing (Y/N) for leaving Volterra, traveling the world, and finding her parents.

If it wasn’t for Aro and the obligation I felt towards him and the rest of the Volturi for taking me in and turning me into a vampire, I swear I would gladly take (Y/N) away from here. I couldn’t abandon my friends though, and I knew none of them would be willing to come with me. They had all built their loyalty towards the Kings due to Chelsea’s gifts, and Chelsea was pleased with this life due to Corin’s gift.

It was basically a cycle, where they all depended on the two of them to keep the balance and the bonds within the members of the coven. And, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, though my mate bond with (Y/N) was strong and powerful, I felt my bond with the coven and the Kings being reinforced day after day.

Days and nights were passing with no news from (Y/N) or the Twins. I was spending most of my time in my room, as there was nothing to do in particular - there was no new mission and everyone else seemed to be engaged in their own thing. Apart from Chelsea and Demetri who took care of (Y/N) or visited me to make sure I was okay, nothing seemed to have changed for everyone else.

A knock on the door broke the silence. Demetri. He came into my room without waiting for a response, which was not always something he did. His face seemed anxious, and I knew something was going on.

“They are here” was the only thing he managed to say before I jumped out of the bed and passed by him quickly, running out of the door, towards the dungeons. I was met with the Twins standing outside of (Y/N)’s temporary room. Carlisle was in the room with (Y/N) and Chelsea. I wanted to go in, to make sure he took care of my love, but the Twins stopped me in my tracks.

“We don’t know what will happen yet. Don’t go in there.” Jane spoke first. “We talked to Carlisle about her situation. He’ll try to do whatever he can.”

“You know that’s not enough.” I growled at her.

“It’s the best we have. Now, Felix, stay back or I will take away all of your senses until Carlisle leaves.” Alec warned me and the only thing I could do at the moment was to be quiet and wait for the doctor to inform us of (Y/N)’s situation. I could clearly hear them from the inside of her room.

“She has lost a lot of blood. How long has she been like this?” Carlisle asked Chelsea.

“About seven months now. We waited almost a month, just to see if she would wake up before Aro sent the Twins to come to find you.” Chelsea informed him.

“I see. Well, her heart is quite weakened. Was she..you know..physically capable before..the incident? Did she feed?” I knew Carlisle was implying if she was able to consume blood before she gave hers for me.

“No.” Chelsea sounded saddened. “She was “serving” her penalty. Aro would only allow us to serve her human food. She was already getting weak before that, and when Felix was unconscious, she was getting worse. I could feel their bond getting all over the place, and I consulted Marcus. He said that for (Y/N), knowing Felix wasn’t okay, was probably why she was draining, mentally and physically.”

I knew the bond was strong between mates, but I didn’t know it could have such an effect on (Y/N). I knew that Marcus was a total wreck from the moment he lost Didyme, but I had no idea how much it would affect (Y/N) in such a short period of time.

“We’ll have to fill her with blood. Have you tried feeding her somehow?”

“Felix has tried quite a few times to force her to feed but she couldn’t swallow the blood. It would fall right out of her mouth.”

“Right.” Carlisle sighed. “I’ll try to do something else, though I don’t know if it will work for her. As much as I don’t agree, I will need you to find me some humans. I will try to transfuse their blood to her. I will need some alcohol to sterile everything, some cotton, some needles, and some tubes. Could you find me some, Chelsea?”

“Yes, I will inform the Kings and the others as well.” Chelsea exited the room. “Demetri, can you stay with (Y/N)? Help Carlisle with whatever he needs. Jane, Alec, will you come with me, please? We have to inform Heidi as well.” The Twins nodded and they all ran upstairs, while Demetri entered (Y/N)’s room and closed the door behind him, leaving me outside, waiting.

It took some time, though not too long in vampire standards, for Chelsea and the Twins to come back with everything Carlisle needed. Santiago and Afton followed close behind, each one of them carrying two unconscious humans on their shoulders. They all entered (Y/N)’s room and then Santiago and Afton left.

I heard the alcohol rubbing against (Y/N)’s skin and then a human’s. I heard the needles piercing through their skin and then I smelled the blood. It was warm and welcoming, and I heard the vampires in their room trying to control their thirst; all except Carlisle, who had been training himself for years to abstain from human blood. He wanted to help people, something which I never quite understood, until now. Now, he was the only one who could help (Y/N).

A few moments passed in total silence.

“She seems to be reacting well enough to it. If it was any other human, they may have been dead by now.” I felt the general confusion in the room, just as much as Carlisle did.

“If it was any other human, we would have to test their blood type and the donor’s blood type, to see if they match. Unfortunately, there is no such method yet, to efficiently test this. So, it is a 50-50 chance that the patient receiving the blood may or may not die because of being the wrong match with the donor. However, (Y/N)’s body may be treating the blood solely as food, so it may not affect her in that way. However, she should be well-fed. The fact that she’s becoming better now cannot guarantee that she will wake up, but, at least, it will give her a boost of energy. Then, it all depends on her. I may have to stay a few days with her to see her progress if you don’t mind”.

“Of course, Carlisle, you’re welcome to stay as long as needed.” Jane took it upon her to reply. “I will inform the Masters but I think they’ll have no issue with that.”

“Thank you, Jane. I’ll now have to switch needles for the next transfusion. Let me know when the next..supplies will arrive.”

Carlisle certainly didn’t like the way we saw humans, as mere food, disposable, but that was our nature and we couldn’t go against it. Although Carlisle, feeding exclusively on animal blood, still seemed strong, capable, with a clear mind, and way better self-control than any of us did. Though, by now, we could control our thirst pretty well and only fed when we wanted, though it still wasn’t as easy to stand close to humans, as it was for him.

In my whole life, I have never craved a human’s blood as much as I have (Y/N)’s, but our bond would not let me feed off of her; I felt sick at the mere thought of hurting her. And yet, here we were, not knowing if (Y/N) will wake up or not. I only blamed myself and my nature, though I couldn’t change what I was, what I was turned into. I could only hope that (Y/N) would eventually wake up.

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Days were passing by, excruciatingly slow. I had nothing to do to keep my mind off of her, so I tried to spend most of my time outside of Volterra, in the woods, hunting or just running around to make the time pass as quickly as possible. Yet, it did not seem effective at all; I was left alone with my own thoughts, and (Y/N) was in all of them.

I struggled to remember my time in Greece when I saw her after all this time; my head was pounding every time I attempted to figure out what happened then. I could only vaguely remember when I asked her to go back home and then I passed out. Other than that, nothing but a blur. As if my memories were wiped or my brain was messed up with.

Carlisle stayed by (Y/N)’s side the majority of the time he was spending here, except for the few times he had to hunt or when he was invited by the Masters to discuss - we assumed their conversations included (Y/N)’s state, as well as his life and how he has been all these years, living as a “vegetarian” vampire, a term he used when comparing his diet to a vampire’s “regular” human blood-based one.

I still don’t know how he managed to survive and actually thrive on it, but I knew (Y/N) also started practicing this type of diet during and after Carlisle’s departure from Volterra all these years ago. She wouldn’t feed with us; if she was in the castle, she would eat human food, claiming she had “already satisfied her blood needs”. In reality, I did catch her hunting animals once or twice before, when I went out hunting humans, but I didn’t care about her diet; I wouldn’t judge her, as long as she was happy and healthy.

The absence of blood from her diet in general - courtesy of Aro, as her punishment - has deeply affected and weakened her. Thankfully, Carlisle’s presence forced Aro to follow his orders and allow (Y/N) to access blood. Carlisle must have gone through over 30 or 40 people during the period of a week, constantly transfusing blood to (Y/N), only leaving about 2 to 3 hours between each transfusion, to ensure her body acted positively and effectively to the blood fed to her.

I was helping along with Santiago and Afton to transfer the unconscious humans down to the dungeons; Heidi was attracting them as per usual, and sometimes, Demetri and I would go hunt them down at night, where most humans would be asleep.

It wasn’t an easy job - many humans had been infected by many different diseases, so their blood was also infected. Carlisle instructed us that the humans should be as “clean” and healthy as possible, as (Y/N)’s body would most likely not be able to fight a disease at that point. Usually, as vampires, we wouldn’t be affected by that; sure, the blood tasted pretty bad, but we could still consume it.

In (Y/N)’s case, Carlisle was treating her body like a human’s - fragile, mortal, disposable. The simplest bacteria could be fatal for her life at this point, so we could only hunt for humans where we knew the living conditions were a bit better than the general consensus.

I was currently sitting on a chair, at the furthest point of the library, going through some books (Y/N) used to love reading. Among others, it was Aristotle’s De Animalibus; Lascaris’ Grammatica Graeca, sive compendium octo orationis partium; Petrarcha’s Il Canzoniere; and Shakespeare's “First Folio”.

I always had trouble studying in Greek - or any other language, if I’m being honest, but both Demetri and (Y/N) attempted to help me multiple times. I had trouble studying with Demetri because he wasn’t (Y/N), and I had trouble studying with (Y/N) because she was herself; I couldn’t concentrate on studying when she was near me.

I missed that feeling. I just wished I could relive these moments when she was so close to me, I could practically feel her warmth. Truth be told, I always attempted to flirt with her, to come closer, to see if she could feel our bond, but she always dismissed my attempts.

“How are you holding on, my boy?” I didn’t realize someone was standing behind me, so I was startled. I turned around to see Marcus, his constantly sad face replaced by a worried look. “I know that you feel lost right now, I can sense it.” I couldn’t open my mouth to reply, I just looked down at my feet.

“I know how you feel. I, too, have been feeling like this for a long time now; lost, desperate, unable to do anything. When I lost my Didyme, I basically lost my whole world, my mind, my heart, my will to live. I’ve been wandering this planet aimlessly. Without her, nothing in this world ever made sense to me; she was the one who gave meaning to everything. I joined Aro because of her, and after she was gone, I was trapped in his ambitious plans and was never able to escape him. He wants me alive to help him in his causes, but all I want is my Didyme back.”

Marcus never spoke of his and Didyme’s relationship to anyone - it just hurt him too much to remember her.

“I should have saved her. We shouldn’t have told anyone we wanted to leave the Volturi. Sometimes, I can’t help but think that it was Aro behind everything, behind her death, behind me getting trapped here. I cannot prove it though, and I also don’t even want to think that he could do something so evil, so abominable as to kill his own sister because she...we wouldn’t agree with his plans.” Marcus looked skeptical and desperate; saying all these things that he had buried deep inside him for so long must have been painful for him.

I couldn’t help but think what could happen if (Y/N) never actually recovered. I would never recover from it either. I have already created an “unofficial” plan - I would actually abandon Volterra forever, I would try to take my own life, and if that didn’t work, I already knew plenty of enemies the Volturi have made over the years. They would “take care” of me, and I wouldn’t resist - I wouldn’t have a reason to exist, a reason to fight for.

“When the time comes for her to wake up, don’t waste any time. Nothing would matter without her, so don’t waste any time away from her. You both wasted a lot of time, not admitting your feelings to each other. Better start now, before it’s too late.”

And with that, Marcus turned and ran out of the library, leaving me in my own thoughts. I had to see her, right now. Without really thinking about it, I ran out of the library and towards the dungeons. I saw Afton guarding her door, and I heard Chelsea and Carlisle inside her room. Her heartbeat was a bit stronger compared to a few months ago, but still weaker than her usual heartbeat, which used to echo in a castle full of vampires.

I went towards the door, but Afton stopped me. “She just had her last transfusion for the day. Let her rest. You shouldn’t be here anyway.”

“I have to see my mate. You all have been keeping me in the dark all this time. I HAVE TO SEE HER NOW!” I demanded and pushed the door open, Afton not being able to stop me. Chelsea and Carlisle turned towards me. “I have to see her. Please.” They looked at each other and nodded at me.

“We will leave you two alone. Just be careful and gentle. Her body is still weak and fragile, so no screams from now on, okay?” Carlisle acted like the father she never really had. I whispered a small “okay”, and Chelsea and Carlisle left the room quietly.

I was finally left alone with her. I haven’t seen her in over a month, since Carlisle came to Volterra, and I haven’t been alone with her once, since before she left Volterra. I actually missed her so much, seeing her, talking with her. She had a brilliant mind, the result of eons of studying and reading books. I couldn’t bear seeing her like that, comatose, emotionless, weak - she wasn’t the (Y/N) I knew. She was what her parents and Aro made her be - weak, helpless, a pawn to their plans. I wanted to talk to her, even if she couldn’t hear me.

“Hey, amore mio, it’s me, Felix.” My voice was trembling. “I came to see you, I missed you so much, Principessa (princess). I wish I could hold you in my arms right now, but I’m afraid I would break you. I wish you would wake up, I wish I could see your beautiful eyes again. I wish I had told you how much I love you, how I have been loving you all these centuries that I’ve been here.”

I paused a bit. “I wish I could tell you that all I remember from my human life is when you found me and brought me here and that all I ever think about is about you. I don’t want to lose you. I wasted too much time away from you. When I had so many chances to be with you, I was afraid, I was scared I was never good enough for you. You deserve better than me, you deserve the world. You are full of potential and I never wanted you to waste your life away with me. I wanted you to be happy and free because I love you. I would never think of restricting you, of forcing you to stay here with me, if that wasn’t what you wanted, so I let you go. I wanted you to see the world that fascinated you so much. I wanted you to experience everything. Even if that meant you were away from me; even if that meant you would never come back.”

I took an unnecessary breath. “I wish you would protect yourself first; I didn’t want you to sacrifice your life for me. You are too precious for me to lose you. And I’m afraid I may be too late, but..I wanted you to know that it’s always been you, everything I did was for you. It wasn’t Chelsea’s gift or my devotion to the Kings that kept me here. It was you, I wanted to be with you, stay with you, protect you. You gave meaning to my meaningless, cold life. You made me see life from a different perspective, you made me see that life it’s worth living and fighting for if I have you by my side. Please, come back to me.”

My eyes were stinking with venom at this point; (Y/N)’s heart beat a bit faster than before; her skin shined a bit more than before. I smiled at her peaceful figure before I captured her face within my palms. I leaned forwards and placed a tender and passionate kiss on her lips.

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(Y/N)’s POV:

I’ve felt like I’ve been living in the dark for quite some time now. I had no sense of where I was or how long I’ve been here - I stopped hearing voices, it was just the ultimate silence; a darkness I couldn’t see through, and a silence I couldn’t scream to. I didn’t even know how much time passed before I started hearing voices again. Was that Carlisle? And Chelsea? Chelsea actually stayed with me? After some time, I started feeling warmth and I could hear faint heartbeats, apart from my own.

Then, one day, Felix came to see me. I couldn’t see him or talk to him yet, but I could recognize him by his scent - to me, he always smelled like pinewood, sandalwood, cinnamon, and amber; his scent intoxicating and welcoming, it always gave me a sense of comfort and belonging.

He didn’t sit beside me on the bed. I could feel him standing beside the bed. His voice was trembling, though it sounded soft and caring. He told me all the things that I waited for centuries for him to say; to tell me that he loved me, just as I loved him all this time.

I felt something inside me break, something that kept me trapped here, and I felt my soul being lifted. I felt my heart beating faster, I felt like I could breathe, the weights that held me down being lifted off of me.

And then, he kissed me. It wasn’t like the small kiss he gave me last time; this kiss was full of passion and love, a kiss that could tell more than any word could ever do. I felt my soul reaching the surface, as I kissed him back, cupping his cheek with my hand. He stopped kissing me, and I opened my eyes, shedding tears that I kept inside for so long.

Felix was in shock, his face a few centimeters away from mine. I looked at him lovingly, as I stretched my hands to kiss him once again. He kissed me back, his hands settling on my waist, slowly lifting me off the bed and twirling me around, the bedsheets falling off of me. My heart beat faster than before, faster than it had ever had.

We were lost in our own world, his hands tightly hugging me, keeping me close to him. I finally was where my heart belonged. Our lips parted and I couldn’t stop staring deep into his black eyes, eyes full of love and lust. We stayed like this for a few minutes; Felix didn’t set me down just yet.

We heard the door open. There stood a shocked Demetri and an even more shocked Chelsea, followed by a shocked Jane and a shocked Alec. Felix finally set me down, and we turned to look at the four shocked vampires. I didn’t know it was possible for vampires to go into shock mode until I saw five in a span of a few minutes apart.

Chelsea was the first to come up to me and hug me tightly, followed by an even more enthusiastic Jane. Demetri and Alec waited for their turn and hugged me tightly, never letting me go. Thank Dia, I was partially a vampire, otherwise, they would literally crush my bones. Finally, they let me go but couldn’t keep their eyes off me, as if I would disappear in front of them if they didn’t. They pretty much couldn’t keep that thought off their minds.

“Guys, I’m not going anywhere. You can be sure about that.” I reassured each of them, smiling widely. “I understand you are all really concerned, but I'm okay now and I’m not going anywhere. I will not leave you.” I turned, looking up at Felix and smiling at him, him smiling back at me. I knew where my heart was now, and I would never let go of him.

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