#trying to convince myself this kind of shit is growing pains but man. man. i can't stop being what i am and it really | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justagirlsearchingforamuse · 3 years

Note

Could you write a reunion fic as a sequel to the Heisenberg 'alone time' that you wrote? While smut would be wonderful, I'd just be grateful for apologetic Karl forced to be humble for once in his life.

(Also im DYING to know what he did, did OC/Reader discover his Soldats or about Rose? Im so curious and itching for more)

Your writing is awesome and I hope to get to read more Heisenberg goodness from you!

A/N: Thanks so much and I'm glad you guys are enjoying what I'm writing, sorry if it took so long and I'll be happy to answer more asks (including angst and fluff) for RE8. Sorry if this is so damn long but hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Also decided to make it gender neutral as I didn't want anyone to be left out.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, The reader riding Karl, The reader not afraid to talk back to Karl, Stitching, Cursing/Inappropriate Language, Oral, Kissing, Arguing, power bottom' Karl, fluffy smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Fluff, and nearly 8000 words.

It's been far too long since you have seen that man and you hoped not to see him for as long as you both may live, for a time you thought it was just 2 people with different paths that force them apart but in a way you couldn't be more wrong. You understood and still understand his need to get rid of his troubling and frankly corrupt family, you both shared a dream to run away from the Village and to live somewhere with beautiful sights. To have some form of happiness even if it doesn't last, sure normal life may seem boring but it's all that you both wanted, happiness away from reminders of Miranda and the rest of his seemingly fucked up family. But what it took to for him to get it, his plan that he seemingly thought was so brilliant only made you boil with rage and painful reminders of your past is brought from the dark corners of your memories and into the light of your mind. Children. They're so innocent, good, and pure ... they bring out everything in people, children are something that you hold near and dear to your heart. Children are everything that the world isn't, at least until they're forced to grow up and deal with the cruelty of the world. This wasn't the first time that you had disagreed or fought with Karl in your mind, but what really caused you to boil over was his plans.

A heavy huff slips from your lips as your heavy steps full of anger echoed throughout the factory, your hands are balled into tight fists and your fingers trembled along with your body, you just couldn't fucking take it. You weren't going to stand by and turn a blind eye to sacrificing an innocent child for your happiness, you weren't going to and Karl as usual tried to convince you into it. Make it seem like it'll be worth it in the end. He's stomping after you, following after you like a dog and you can hear him desperately trying to get you to stay, you keep your eyes forward and keep making your way towards the exit. Just as the door is in sight, he reaches out to grab your wrist causing you to gasp before trying to pull out of his grasp, he pulls you firmly towards him and makes you meet his eyes. His green eyes are clouded with ... desperation, they're soft and vulnerable but it didn't phase you. Not one bit. "Come on, (Y/N) ... you know that I'd do anything for you. ... You know I love you ... that's why I have to do this, kitten. You have to fucking understand ...!" He pleads with you, you turn away from his face, that bitter taste still remains on your tongue and his words fall deaf to your ears. "You don't understand! You don't understand at all! You're in your own fucking bubble ...! I can't do this! I can't live with the fact that the man I'm in love with is willing to sacrifice an innocent child for a chance at happiness." You growl at him, your words are breathless and harsh and it stings like poison to his soul, his expression begins to slowly fade into resentment. A look you had never seen before, especially towards you. "Listen to me! ... The fruits of our labor shall come ... but it all comes with a little sacrifice." He barks, his grip on your wrist slightly tightening with his anger rising as he tries to plead with you, get you to understand but you could care less. "Then I don't want to share that kind of happiness or freedom with you at all ...!" You bark back, your words are dripping in poison and there isn't much care behind them, a huff leaves your nostrils and you once again try to get out of his painfully tight grasp but he wants you to hear him. Fuck. "I thought ... fuck ... I thought you fucking loved me. All those nights, all those late-night talks, the passionate love we made ... I guess it meant fuck-all to you, huh? I guess you never gave a fuck about me ... I wanted you to ... I wanted you to understand." Karl seethes, his words are in a low growl and his green eyes are clouded with bubbling rage and fury. Fuck.

"I did love you, Karl. I still do but you have to leave or do something, I don't fuckin' know but there should be a limit to the price you're willing to pay for a chance at freedom. ... I'm not willing to. This ... this brings back too many painful memories, I would never let myself live if I let her die." You almost sob, your anger that was once boiling and alive was now being put out by the melancholy that rested deep within your soul. That baby reminds you so much of ... your history. You never told him about your past and the trauma you somewhat suffer from it that makes you long and ache for freedom. But now wasn't the time. At all. "I can't do that ...! You know I can't ...! You can't leave me, (Y/N) ...!" He shouts at you, desperately clinging to his relationship that is burning, crumbling right in front of his very eyes, he's trying so hard to save it but the thought quickly floods in what if he can't save what you have? His jaw clenches and his throat begins to tighten, breaths become hard to even get out and you can hear his low growl of rage and sorrow echo through your ears. Your throat had tightened the moment he reached out for your hand and now the tears were swelling in your eyes, leaving them uncontrollably. "I love you, Karl. But this is the end of us. The end of our story together." You managed to choke out as his expression softens yet he's stiff, a frown is plastered on his lips, and doesn't seem like it's leaving anytime soon. Regrets plague his mind, "I regret ever opening up to you. Fuck, I never should've let you into my life especially if you were gonna fuck me over and leave me alone." He thinks to himself and immediately lets go of your wrist, he forces on a blank expression and forces his tears to be hidden away, he pushes away his heartache and goes back to the only way he knows how to not fall apart, to not lose himself and to become weak.

"I never wanna see your fuckin' face again. Leave. Don't even think of coming back. You fuckin' ... you fuckin' hurt me ..." He grunts and growls at you, even lightly pushing you towards the door before turning his back on you as he crosses his arms. Fuck. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused." You manage to say in a whisper, wiping away your tears and sniffling to yourself before leaving out that door and never looking back, it was hard leaving him behind to wallow and experience his pain alone that you caused. But you stand by your choice that you couldn't stay if he had to use Rose for his plans. Still, he plagued your dreams, still had nightmares about that man, about losing him in so many graphic ways. You tried to live your life, going to work and just trying to find a way to live without seeing Karl ever again at least you thought. You never forgot him. It was around 2 in the morning and you managed to sleep for just a few minutes until your phone rang obnoxiously loud, ringing and vibrating against your nightstand. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and an annoyed groan left your lips before you picked up your phone, though you had lost his number you knew it was in that village and it meant that he was the only one calling you. You almost want to toss your phone across the room, a familiar bitter taste begins to coat your tongue and you slowly take in a breath staring at the phone in your hand. "God fucking damn it." You curse bitterly, regretfully pressing the answer button on your phone, scratching at your head you answer with a bitter and low "hello" that is answered with heavy ragged breaths. Coughing soon follows after and echoes through the phone. "What the he-" You begin to ask before you're interrupted by his sudden cursing and rage-filled words. "Stupid fucking Ethan Winters ... the bastard ... couldn't even ... finish the job ..." He coughs into the phone, blood pools in his gut, fuck he was ruining one of his favorite shirts and an empty swallowing pain aches through his stomach. But he barely cared.

"The fuck are you rambling about, Karl ...?" You ask harshly, standing up on your feet as you press the phone to your ear, waiting for an explanation. "Oh, fuck off! You wouldn't understand ...! Or care!" He howls back before you can hear him cough once again before a wince soon slips from his parted lips, an agitated expression twists onto your face. "You must've thought I would care if you thought to fuckin' call me. Tell me what's up or I swear I'll fucking hang up." You bark at him, clenching your fists tightly as heavy ragged breaths left your body in the presence of your anger. " ... If you do give a damn ... then your ex is bleeding the fuck out in his factory ... with no knowledge of medicine and shit." He coughs out, he presses his hand firmly onto his large wound, fuck was he in bad shape and Ethan Winters had fucked him up but like a coward left him alive. "I might be there. Keep pressure on the wound and try not to die, dickhead." You huff in a ragged breath before hanging up quickly, in a way you thought it was karma for him wanting to use a baby and possibly murder a baby to get rid of his toxic and frankly not real family.

You sit back down onto your bed with a heavy sigh leaving your lips and a question on your mind. Was it gonna be worth it? He could be trying to trick you, you thought to yourself and really questioned if you should drive there and help him supposedly. As much as you wanted to be bitter, to hold onto that resentment but your heart and soul ached to see that filthy man, it called out to him desperately. Your heart sang to see him, to hear him despite your mind's warnings and reasonable viewing of the situation. Like a dumbass, you listened to your heart and began to get dressed, you threw on some old coat and a pair of washed-up skinny jeans, you grabbed a med-kit and some stitches and quickly rush to drive to the hidden and eerie village. With your foot pressed hard on the gas pedal, you kept wishing and praying that he'd be fine, that the waste of gas and the risk of being pulled over by cops worth it. When you finally make it to the factory, it's grim and dark and seemingly stopped working, the smoke that came from the factory is gone, the noise and the racket that his factory produced every second. You quickly get out of your car, medkit, and tools in your arms as you enter, you can hear his heavy strained breaths echoing through the factory that is now seemingly dead. Lifeless. A series of coughs leave his lips as he sits slumped up against the side of his bed, his blood drips and oozes off his hand, covering his stomach wound as the pain just continued, it still ached and stung like salt on an exposed wound. His head is dizzy with a haze over him, fuck was his head aching like a motherfucker and everything on his body ached and cried out in pain. "Karl ...?!" He hears you shout desperately searching for the man, he could hear the distress in your voice, the panic that came in your hurried and seemingly quick steps. "I-I'm h-here ..." He weakly responds in a low whisper, blood begins to coat his tongue and the unfamiliar taste of iron rests upon his tongue. You hear his cry weakly and you quickly rush to his bedroom, heavy breaths leave your lips in your pursuit to find Karl before he bleeds out or chokes on his own blood. What an idiot ...

He's in seemingly worse shape than when you left, his lips are beginning to become tainted with his own blood, many small wounds were all over him but the most concerning was the one on his stomach. He's coughing and trying to take in oxygen, trying to taste something other than iron on his stomach and he turns to find you, standing there before him. Damn. He forces on a wide toothy grin when he meets your gaze, damn he could feel the tension and could see that dark haze in your eyes, full of disappointment and resentment. "So we f-fuckin' meet again, huh?" Karl coughs out as a short series of chuckles soon follow after, he's trying to keep what little pride he had intact. He couldn't be seen as weak after you broke him, you left him in pieces and chose to leave him because of some stupid sacrifices he had to make in pursuit of the happiness and freedom you deserved. "So we do, asshole ... let me guess, the plan that you were so persistent on working didn't fucking work ... what happened to never come back?" You growl at him, crossing your arms as bitterness seemingly runs through you, you could feel your heart thump in your chest and your hands curled into tight fists. " ... That doesn't m-matter right now. I just n-need your fucking help!" He snaps, his words strained and choked before a series of coughs soon leave his lips. You slowly take in a breath, considering whether to just hand him the medkit and fucking peace out but you know the asshole lacks medical knowledge and would die. You let a deep sigh leave your lips before you kneel beside him, putting one of his arms around your shoulders, and with a loud groan of pain, you set him down on the bed, lying him down on his back and making sure he was comfortable. "I'll only be able to take care of this and stop you from bleeding out. You'll have to be still, Karl otherwise I'll fuck up." You advise him, getting up to go wash your hands and make sure that you don't get him infected whilst you're at it, you come back into his bedroom and open the medkit and begin to get to work on the wound. Karl would've never thought or had the pride to call up his ex, the one person he told himself he'd never need again is forced to put his pride on the side and is forced to let his ex attend to his wounds. All he can do is frown deeply, turning away from you to stare out the window, and all he can think is that Ethan Winters is still out there. He's gonna kill Miranda. That was his job, that was something he spent his life working towards doing, getting rid of that bitch Miranda and stealing her precious power. He's forced out of his thoughts when you begin to rub alcohol onto the wound causing a sharp stinging sensation to shoot through him, he grits his teeth at the stinging and almost burning sensation plaguing his body. "Warn me next time, will ya?" He says before a heavy cough soon follows, you sigh deeply as you continue to rub the alcohol on his wound gently, making sure it doesn't get infected and die from an infected wound.

"Warn you? ... It's just rubbing alcohol not a lighter." You respond, rolling your eyes at the man before you as you set down the towel and begin to pull out your thread and your needle. If he thought the alcohol was painful then he is truly in for a rude awakening. "This is gonna be painful, Karl ... I'll try to be quick with it." You state, somewhat warning him of the pain to come. "Please do ... I can't wait until you fucking leave ..." Karl bitterly spat, still unable to accept the fact that he needed you, that you were right, that he wanted you back into his life because, in his mind, it's better to bottle it up. "I won't treat you if you act like an ignorant dog." You spat back, your eyes meet his for a moment as an expression of anger twists onto your face, he begins to try and speak before a wince fell from his lips at the sensation of the thread going through his skin, he slams his fist down onto the bed and hisses at the pain once more. "Says you, you literally came in here pissed. Maybe just shut up and do ... ah!" He begins to say, his words are filled with anger and irritation before another sharp sensation of pain shoots through him. "Look, my bad alright but it's not every day you want to see your ex who was willing to ..." You begin to retort back at him, giving him a mean glare before he barks back. "You have to make sacrifices for everything! ... Now Ethan is going to get his daughter, probably gonna murder Miranda when I deserved the right to kill her. To watch the bitch suffer and choke on her own fucking blood." He growls, bitterness comes to him like air and he lets out a huff through his nostrils, a bitter and sour expression twists onto his face as he thinks of the fact that Ethan nearly murdered him, he thinks to the fact Ethan is going to steal what he worked so hard to get. "Whether you kill her or he does, she'd still be dead. ... You need to just ... let go of it and be grateful he let you live ... besides can't you finally be free out of that woman's grasp?" You say, less bitterness in your voice than before as another painful wince slips from his parted lips, he sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets out a heavy ragged breath. "That's if that fool can kill her. That's why I needed Rose. I needed her power to help me kill her. I needed it." He growls, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration.

"Did you ...? If Ethan nearly killed you then you severely underestimated how powerful he is ... probably can rival Miranda's power or maybe it's ... it's because he loves his daughter so much, it drives him to keep going." You say, your once bitter expression faded into something more dreary as you are reminded of your past, you would've done anything for that child. He scoffs to himself, turning away from you as you stop stitching him up as a truly bitter and painful expression twists onto your beautiful face. You force his face towards your own and gaze deeply into his eyes, you want him to feel, to see the pain that you felt and he did feel it. "You act like it's so terrible to be human ... it's so terrible to fall victim to your emotions ... that man loves his child just like how you loved me. He would've sacrificed anything for that child, he was willing to try and kill you, he was willing to kill Lady Dimitrescu, he was willing to do it all. That's what being human is. That's what's strong, so fucking strong." You exclaim, slowly inhaling a breath into your nostrils as silence quickly fills the air between you both, you can see the realization in his eyes flicker before him and how he softens in a way. Licking your lips, you push him back and hide that urge that was a habit you had, leaning to kiss him whenever your eyes met his whenever you saw how he softened before you. You missed that so much. You didn't say anything more, you go back to stitching up his stomach wound with an unreadable expression on your face, it was a mixture of pain and frustration and Karl saw it but most of all he saw your pain. It reminded him of his own. He would do anything for you. If you wanted him he would take you back in a heartbeat and he was afraid to admit that. Afraid to admit that he was still weak to you, still weak under your human ways that he used to relish in with you and he was afraid of being open, being hurt, being vulnerable, and falling victim to you in case you left him again. In a way you were weak to him too, stubborn as well but more willing to open up to him, to be vulnerable in front of him, willing to take the bait if it meant you would get hurt again. You were almost numb. To it. The pain that he had caused you but it was still there, stinging you at whatever moment it got and you let it become what you see Karl as. Another reminder of your pain, another man willing to sacrifice whatever for a taste of freedom and revenge. But despite that you loved him.

"I apologize for acting like a bitch when I came in here. I just ... I never thought you'd call or need me ever again and I didn't think I needed you either." You say in a somewhat soft breath, you meet his eyes for a few moments before turning your attention back to his wound and he turns towards you, licking his lips before he runs his finger over his bottom lip. "Thank you." He says smartly with a prideful smile soon curling onto his lips before you roll your eyes at him, you bite your tongue to stop any laughter from coming out. "Come on, you have manners don't you Karl? You acted like a bit of a dick too. Or is it too low of Mr. Karl Heisenberg to apologize?" You tease, a natural warm smile curls onto your lips for a few moments, Karl's heart feels light once more and it pulsates in his chest at the once familiar sight he used to see all the time, he missed that smile. Chuckling, he looks down and can feel the bitter irony taste on his tongue begin to fade away slowly but surely it is. "I apologize for acting like a dick earlier. There. That make you happy?" He says, rolling his eyes to himself before you nod with a chuckle soon falling from your lips, your hair had changed, your fashion sense had as well but you were still the same with that warm smile that made him nearly have a heart attack. "Alright, I should be done in a moment ... I'll clean your wound once again and make sure it doesn't get infected ..." You say once more, your tone has returned to its initial seriousness and he sighs to himself, just when he thought you were letting the mask fall, just when he thought things might be going back to normal. "It's fine, do what you have to do ..." He responds, waving his hand in a motion to allow you to keep doing what you were doing. You continued for a few moments longer, trying to stay focused on stitching his wound up but suddenly thoughts starting appearing in your head, what if things could go back to normal? What if you can be free together now? What if you can share happiness with him? Maybe you were an optimistic fool but having hope that things might change between you two is something that you happily looked forward to.

"Alright, I'm done. You shouldn't bleed out and die and ... I'd say try not to fuck up your stitches. But I should be going if I am not of any help to you anymore, Karl ..." You say lowly, reaching out to seize your medkit before he suddenly grabs your wrist, just like the last time you saw him causing you to nearly jump at the sudden grasp on your wrist. He realizes what he's doing from your somewhat distressed expression and lets go of your wrist quickly. "I'm sorry for ... that. But ... I'll probably need more medicine or more care to make sure I don't fuck up my stitches." He rambles, allowing himself to be vulnerable for just another moment, licking his lips his eyes meet yours once again and you see that familiar desperation in his eyes. But this time, you thought what if you stayed and so you set your medkit back down and let a deep breath leave your lips, you somewhat missed the familiar sound of his factory working and working tirelessly. "I hope you aren't planning on stopping Ethan. I'm sorry but it's just fucking stupid ... let him take care of Miranda and let him have Rose then you have what you want. Freedom. Happiness." You exclaim, sitting on the opposite end of the bed beside him with legs resting on the mattress. "I ... I want to. ... Miranda has caused so much pain, so much agony to me ... she doesn't see me as her son, nor will I ever see her as a mother. She's just ... she's just a crazy bitch who decided to steal a fucking baby and hope it could be a vessel for her fucking precious little Eva." He growls bitterly, a sour expression twists onto his face as he crosses his arms, still bitter to the core and revenge is still tainting his mind, no thought of freedom or happiness crossed his mind. Just Miranda. "I know. All she cares about is finding a body for Eva ... but you could finally be happy away from that crazy ass woman. Besides ... this plan has already been a huge failure." You exclaim in a gentle sigh, licking your lips before taking in a breath and so many memories flood back to your brain whenever you stare at something. Even this bed has so many memories.

"I ... I haven't failed. Besides blame Ethan for ruining an otherwise amazing plan. So much for working together." He spat, rolling his eyes at the thought that he was possibly bested by a mere human makes his blood boil. "This plan has nearly cost you your life and cost you a chance at even getting a sliver of freedom." You explain, another sigh leaves your lips as you stare down at the mattress beneath you, silence fills the room once more because Karl's pride won't allow him to see that maybe he had failed in his plan. "You even lost me ..." You muttered lowly almost in a whisper but Karl heard it and his expression twisted from bitter to disheartened and remorseful. "Look, I get that I hurt you and I hate it. But I needed to do it ... I needed to try and get rid of her! Get some kinda control over my own fucking life! I am done with being another experiment for her to use for her wishes! I ... I just want to be free ..." He exclaims, all manner of emotion is pouring out of him and seeping through his mask of charm, taking in a slow shaky breath as his throat tightens and memories flicker of his family, his real family. His mother, her warm smile that is reminiscent of yours, her warm comfy hugs and just remembering it had tears traveling down his cheeks as he clenched his jaw firmly. Your expression softened at the sight before you, a saddened and pitiful frown curls onto your lips as you can sense his pain, he really lost his life to being Miranda's experiment, to being her slave. A soft breath leaves your lips and you rest your hand upon his shoulder, expressing comfort as he inhales another shaky breath, pain is what became of him and he tried to fix himself only to become more broken.

"Karl, listen to me ... you're allowed to be happy ... you're allowed to smile, allowed to be angry, you're allowed to be happy." You coo, your words are gentle but powerful and your eyes are sincere, warm, and delicate to his eyes. He turns to you, eyes slightly puffy and an expression of pain is twisted on his face, letting a gentle breath when he looks at you, when he gazes into your eyes for a few moments, he's reminded of happiness, he's reminded of warmth, he's reminded of love and family. He still loves you. His eyebrows furrow before he wraps his arms around you, clinging to you desperately as he buries his face into you, still pain torments him when he can and it destroys his life. It destroyed his relationship with you, it destroyed everything around him and it almost destroyed him, he would've sacrificed everything just for freedom, just to have his life be his own. He sees it now, it comes to him painfully raw and honest and he almost hates it because of how he hurt you, the one damn good thing in his shitty miserable life. "I hurt you. I fucking hurt you and you came back for me? I ... I don't fuckin' deserve you ... at all ..." He exclaims, his words muffled into the fabric of your clothes as he can feel your arms wrap around him, your hands gently massage him and the simple gesture puts him at peace and ease. "I came back because as much as you hurt me ... you don't deserve this, Karl ... despite how I left you, I still care so much about you. Hell, when it's you I listen to my heart rather than my fucking brain. With you, it's different ... with you, I could never forget you. At all." You confessed with a soft sigh leaving your lips at the end of your words, your hands move to his long untamed grey and brown locks, you gently run your fingers through his locks and you nearly chuckle at the unique texture of his hair. "I didn't either, butterfly ... I hurt you and I see how I fucking hurt you, hell I didn't care if you left me I was still going to continue to plan despite how it hurt you. I'm an asshat. I wouldn't want to remember me if I did that." He exclaims, a gentle smile curls onto his lips as he stares up at you with a familiar smile that warms your heart, it leaves it jumping in your chest and leaves your stomach with butterflies.

"It's good that you see that and I hate that hurt you too ... I know that I left feeling so bad, so bitter about this whole fucking plan ... but this plan the only good thing it brought to you was bringing me to find your nearly dead ass." You chuckle, a wide smile curls onto your lips as a peaceful and joyful expression is plastered onto your face, another chuckle leaves your lips as a warm familiar smile remains on your lips. He can't stop himself from smiling as well, savoring these moments you share of nothing but pure joy, and he can't help but cup both sides of your cheeks. His fingers gently caress your cheeks, his smile warms your heart and your soul and the familiar sensation of his hands against your cheeks made you melt before him. Silence fills the room as he admires you, your beautiful features, and everything along with it. "Out of everyone in the world, I could never hate you ..." He chuckles almost like a giggly child at a toy store, a wide smile remains plastered on his face and his soul is singing, calling out for you and his heart thrashes wildly in his ribcage. You let out a gentle breath and suddenly his lips are pressed gently against yours, your stomach is crowed and flooded with butterflies, your heart is pulsating in your chest, and everything is calling out to Karl. Moments after, he pulls away from your lips with a somewhat worried expression on his face, he questions was he moving too fast, did you not want him but his thoughts are put to stop when your lips collide passionately against his. It came to you so naturally and once the thought appeared in your head, your heart followed along with it along with your body, and here you were passionately kissing the man who you hadn't seen in over 6 months. He groans against your lips, savoring and relishing the familiar sensations that came as his eyes flutter close, he was such a fool, such a fool to not see that he was risking the only thing that mattered for a chance at even getting freedom. He was but a child ...

Groaning against his lips as you began to clutch a fistful of his hair, the kiss quickly grew deeper and more heated, heavy breaths left both your lips as you gently devoured each other's lips, greedy for the sensations it brought you both. Groaning into your mouth once more, Karl's hands slip your jacket off of you, he throws it to the floor and buries his lips into your neck, kissing and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin earning a soft gasp from your lips at the sharp sensation. "Karl ..." You say in a ragged breath, hands still entangled in his locks of hair as he continues to kiss and suck on your neck, your body begins to heat up with arousal and your body begins to ache for Karl. "Damn ... I just can't get enough of you, can I?" He chuckles, grinning devilishly at you as his eyes glance at your lips once again, he pulls you into another heated kiss that has his tongue prying your lips apart. His tongue enters your mouth, his tongue grinds against yours and your tongues begin to dance erotically together causing both of you to moan against each other's lips at the tingling sensations that spread across your tongues. Karl's arousal begins to show with the bulge that swells in his pants, he continues to kisses you, moaning and groaning at the overdue sensation of a warm body against his. Pulling away from your lips, heavy ragged breaths leave both of your lips and he can't help but notice your flushed cheeks as a breathless expression remains on your face. "Do you want this ...? Do you want me, (Y/N) ...?" He asks in a ragged breath, his hand cups one of your cheeks, as he gazes intensely into your eyes, lust, and desire, clouded those beautiful eyes of yours and it was one of his favorite expressions on your face. "I want you so much ... I want nothing but you and your naked body to be mine ..." You answer, smirking devilishly at the man before you as a low chuckle soon leaves your lips, grinning widely at you he kisses your lips once again, cherishing the smooth and delicate feeling of your lips.

"Mmh, your lips feel amazing, darling ... I missed all of this, the kisses, the touches, the way you worship me ... I missed it all so much." He purrs lustfully as a chuckle soon follows after, taking in a breath he pushes you onto your back earning a gasp from you before he gets in between your legs. He stares at the tank top you wore, it hugged your body perfectly, and hell it exposed a lot of skin, though it was basic it was enough for him. You'll always be enough for him and more. "Arms up, darling ..." He chirps, you raise your arms, and off comes your tank top and your torso was immediately met with multiple kisses and bright hickeys that decorated your skin. Wrapping your arms around his chest, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, he lightly sucks on one as his other hand explores your torso, caressing your skin gently and with care. Your heart is thrashing, pounding in your ribcage, and heat floods through your being, arousal comes with that and it leaves you aching so terribly with a need for sweet release. Heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, licking your lips as you can only think of Karl, what he was going to do to you, what you were going to do to him. He takes your nipple out of his mouth, trailing kisses down your stomach as he gets lower and lower until he reaches your bothersome pants, letting out a growl he harshly pulls your pants down and throws them somewhere before he immediately buries his face into your crotch. His tongue moves gently, caressing all your sweet spots as the heat begins to boil up deep inside of you, you relished and savored the moist heat that caressed you in such amazing ways. Moaning against you, his hands wrap around your thighs to keep you from moving too much but he thought it was all about making you feel better, tonight was all about what you wanted, whatever you wanted you will have it. "Oh, Karl ...! Hah ... shit ... shit ..." You moan shamelessly, your hands clutch and grasp at his long locks of hair as heavy breaths are pried from your lips along with whispers of his name falling from those beautiful lips of yours. "Enjoying it, darling ... am I being good for you? Am I a good boy? Tell me I'm a good boy, kitten ..." He purrs erotically, his words roll gracefully off his tongue before he buries his tongue back into you, kissing, licking, and sucking on all of your sweet spots. "Good boy ...! Oh, so good ... fuck I missed your mouth so much ..." You whine needily, clutching at the sheets beneath you as you lick your lips, waves, and waves of heated ecstasy washes over you in sharp and powerful waves.

"That's it ...! Fuck, don't stop ... don't stop fucking me with that tongue of yours ...!" You cry out in a series of moans that are soon followed by ragged breaths, you grind your hips against his mouth eager and aching for some form of release, eager for more of the ecstasy he gives you. But he suddenly stops as he can barely hold himself back from taking you right here and right now, he begins to unzip his pants and fights to get them off. An annoyed expression twists onto your face as you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, grabbing him by his shoulders and turning him around towards the bed as you push him onto the bed with a devilish grin. "It's my turn, love ..." You chuckle as you begin to straddle his lap with your arms pressed into his chest and you begin to take him inside of you as a heavy breathless moan of his name leaves your lips the moment his thick cock fills you. It throbs and twitches inside of you, making you nearly jump at the sensation before you take all of his thick throbbing cock inside of you, the way he fills you is like no other, his cock stretches you and fills you perfectly. The way your walls clung and hugged his thick throbbing cock drove him insane, a heavy groan left his lips at the tight heat that surrounded and embraced his throbbing cock. "Oh, fucking hell ...! Shit ... so damn tight and ... hot ... come on, darling ride me nice and hard. Leave me at your mercy ..." He purrs devilishly as a long chuckle soon follows after, lust clouds his remarkable green eyes, his hands reach up to cup your flushed cheeks as a warm joyful smile curls onto his lips. You smile back at him, joy washing over you like a breeze as you rested your hands upon his shoulders and began to chase eagerly and joyfully after your sweet and euphoric release. Your hips grind and roll against his lap, heavy breaths are pried from your lips as heat begins to build and rise through your body, Karl's heavy ragged breaths can be heard along with yours as he wraps his arms around your neck. A low "fuck" leaves his parted lips as his eyelashes weigh heavy on top of his shut eyelids, sharp electric sensations of bliss shot through him every time your hips went lower. Burying his teeth into his bottom lip, a heavy groan leaves his lips at the blissful heat that envelopes his throbbing eager cock, all he can do is stare in awe at your expressions of bliss and ecstasy. It's so amazing.

"Mmh, baby ... you're so goddamn beautiful ... so exquisite. Come on, tell me how much you love me ... show me how much you've missed me ..." He purrs with a devilish smile on his lips, biting his lips soon afterward he places his hands on your hips gently moving them back and forth just to speed things up a bit. Your cheeks quickly become flushed at his words as you lightly squeeze onto his shoulders, heavy breaths still leaving your parted lips as you begin to throw your hips up and down onto his thick throbbing cock. It presses and drives into you eagerly, lightly hitting your sweet spot causing whines of Karl's name to be pried from your lips, licking your lips you entangle Karl into another heated passionate kiss that is so full of tenderness and consideration. "Karl ...! F-fuck ...!" You whine needily as you pull away from his lips, your eyes flutter at the bliss that courses through you as the heat floods through you. Your teeth grind against your bottom lip gently before you begin to slam your hips down onto his throbbing cock that perfectly curled onto your sweet spot as it repeatedly hits that sweet spot making his name fall from your lips again and again. "Oh! Karl ...! Mmh, Karl ...! It's so fuckin good, Karl ...!" You moan breathlessly, throwing your head back at the ecstasy that washes over you in burning relentless waves, skin hitting against skin echoed through his bedroom as your moans and heavy breaths are Karl's melody. Groaning deeply, his hands move lower onto your ass cheeks, wrapping his fingers around the area he lightly squeezes them with a chuckle following after, it's not a minute before he's nearly arching his back and a long whine is pried from his throat. "Fucking hell, sweetheart ...! Ooh, hah ...!" He whines deeply as waves and waves of ecstasy washed over him, he couldn't be happier and everything in his being felt like it could cry of joy. "Karl ... I'm gonna ... oh fuck ... fuck ... gonna c-cum!" You manage to say, heavy breaths fill your throat and your heart thrashes and pounds erratically in your chest, thighs tremble and shake against his legs, and your entire body throbs and aches. "Kiss me, oh please kiss me ... tell me how much you love me ..." Karl rambles in a series of heavy breaths as he wraps his arms around your torso, leaning in for another heated kiss as you continue to slam your hips down as hard as you can moaning shamelessly against his lips. Your entire body trembles and pulsates erratically as you had boiled over, heat travels through you along with sweet sweet ecstasy that left you nearly screaming his name against his lips. Pulling away from his lips as heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, you gaze intensely, it's not moments before your name falls breathlessly from his parted lips and his expression of joy quickly fades into one of ecstasy and relief. Sharp powerful sensations of ecstasy shot through him relentlessly as began to cling to you, wrapping his arms around you clinging to you and to what for a second feels so much like a damn dream.

Wrapping your arms around him, you find serenity in his cool embrace and you find serenity in the idea that things are gonna be okay, that things are gonna change from today to hopefully years from now. You smile into his embrace before pulling out of his embrace, moments later as you gaze into each other's eyes once more, passion and warmth clouded his green eyes. That look in his eyes like he was just so ... happy and like you're the one thing that matters in his erratic and wild world. "So ... Karl, what's next for us? ... After Miranda is dead and all that bullshit ...?" You question with a curious smile resting upon your lips, you rest in his embrace and he can't help but chuckle at your words. "Whatever it is that is next for you ... whether it's fucking staying here or leaving for better places ... you go and I'll follow." He answers warmly and confidently as a chuckle soon follows after his words. "Oh, so I made you my loyal dog, have I?" You chuckle, beaming at the man before you as he can't help but chuckle once more at your words. "In a way, yes you have ... made me weak for you ... made me unafraid to be myself around you. ... You are incredibly special to me, butterfly ..." He says in a gentle breath, smiling warmly at you as you can't help but flush different shades of red at his words. "You're even more special ... I love you more than you will ever know Karl ... and I've loved you all this time ... I hope I will never stop loving you. That no matter how bad things get that we will get through it together." You exclaim in pure joy as you both end up smiling sheepishly at each other before you rest your head in the nape of his neck and he wraps his arms around, hoping for a more optimistic and brighter future than he could've ever imagined.

#resident evil 8 #karl heisenburg #karl heisenburg x reader #smut #re: village #resident evil #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg smut #karl heisenberg x you #gender neutral y/n

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valwentinefics · 3 years

Text

Instincts - Helmut Zemo x F!Reader (omegaverse) 18+

Plot: Y/n, an unmated omega, forgets to get a refill of her suppressants, sending her into her heat while at work. Luckily for her notorious criminal and alpha Helmut Zemo is hiding out in the backroom. (Takes place after episode 4 of tfatws)

A/n: First of all I’m sorry, second of all I’m sorry, third of all, You’re welcome. This is my first time writing omegaverse so it’s probably not the best and I haven’t read an omegaverse fic in a hot minute. Sorry my smut is always so short, I really gotta work on that.

Warnings: smut, normal a/b/o things, possessive dirty talk, mentions of omegas being harmed, mentions of fear of being assaulted. (if i missed anything please let me know)

As an unmated omega, Y/n knew well of the dangers of the world. Everywhere she looked alphas lurked around looking for their own omega, a rare thing to have in this society. Although omegas were coveted and prized they were still at the bottom of the hierarchy and were expected to be subservient to whatever alpha marked them, a thought that terrified Y/n. Stories of alphas that harmed omegas were sickeningly common, and with everyone plastering on fake kindness in hopes to place their mark on her neck, Y/n was terrified she would end up a statistic.

Suppressants were Y/n’s saving grace, an illegal method to mask her true nature from the world and pose as a beta where she could live her life peacefully, something she could never do as an omega. If she were to get caught she could face serious time in a correctional facility built just for omegas to learn their place in the world, and so every day was filled with caution and fear.

“God I look like shit.” Y/n’s heavy eyes looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the bags under her eyes deep and only looking worse due to the harsh fluorescent light buzzing away above her. The illegal suppressants had many side effects ranging from life threatening to mildly troublesome, but the one that affected Y/n most was the inability to fall asleep. Each night was spent tossing and turning, her body feeling restless.

Sluggishly Y/n grabbed her concealer, dabbing it on beneath her eyes, her hands shaking with exhaustion. She finished with a sigh, running her hands through her hair to remove any major knots. She didn’t have the energy to fully go through her hair, not seeing the point. She was hidden as a beta anyways, no one would give her a second glance. Y/n opened the medicine cabinet, looking for the white box of suppressants, only to not find it anywhere. Her stomach sank as she realized she forgot to get her refill yesterday. It would be fine though, she hoped. She had gone without them before and hadn’t gone in heat, surely it would be the same thing this time, but for some reason there was a nagging feeling in her mind it wouldn’t be.

Y/n grabbed her perfume, spraying it on herself. The scent was cinnamon, similar to her natural scent as an omega, but it had the slight acrid scent of being a perfume. She hoped that would be enough to convince the alphas she passed by that she was just a beta wearing perfume. It wasn’t something she used often, only when her overtired brain didn’t remember to get the refill of her suppressants.

“That's good enough, I hope.” Y/n mumbled to herself. She smoothed out her short sundress, the light flowy fabric ending at her mid thigh. It was her favourite dress, she felt and knew she looked cute in it. Y/n didn’t like to wear things like this often, she didn’t want the attention of anyone, but frankly she felt like shit and needed the joy looking nice brought her.

The walk to the flower shop had Y/n’s body feeling hot, however she assumed it was the warm weather, not wanting her paranoia to make her miss work. The flower shop she owned was Y/n’s only source of income and it wasn’t a bad one at that. It was common for alpha’s to come in and buy bouquets to give to the first omega they see on the streets in an attempt to woo them. That was another reason Y/n refused to accept her status as an omega. Every bit of romance was just disingenuous. Alpha’s only wanted to have the honour of being chosen by an omega, they didn’t care about who that omega was. However, Y/n was happy it paid her bills.

The day went by smoothly until closing time when Y/n turned off the open sign, the neon light no longer lighting up the darkening street outside. As she grabbed her keys to leave a sharp pain went through her abdomen, causing a gasp to escape her throat. She rested a hand on the painful area, eyes wide. She should have listened to her instincts, she should have stayed home, but she didn’t and now she was going into heat in her store. Y/n paced, her mind running at a hundred miles an hour as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn’t go home, walking would be near impossible for her with her heat approaching fast. She would have to wait it through in her shop with no relief.

“Oh fuck…” Y/n groaned in pain, leaning against the wall. She knew she had to find something to eat to get the strength to get through this. With shaky steps she headed to the back, her hand glued to her abdomen as if that would alleviate her pain. As she approached the door to the back room her blood went cold, her nose picking up the faint scent of an alpha through the thick door.

She debated opening it. Her instincts were telling her to open it and get his help with the heat, her brain told her it could be dangerous. Eventually decided to confront him, to ask what he was doing and maybe for his help getting home if he didn’t seem too awful. With her keys clutched between her fingers just in case, she slowly opened the door, her body almost melting at the scent that wafted to her.

A man dressed in a long coat with a fur collar stared back at her with shock, the scent of pine trees wafting off of him. “Omega…?” He spoke with a Sokovian accented voice. It took Y/n a few moments before the identity of the dangerously handsome man registered in her mind. She had seen him on the news. He was Helmut Zemo, the man who almost single handedly destroyed the Avengers.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate. “You’re Helmut Zemo… What- what are you doing here?” She asked, fixing her posture to appear assertive and trying her best to resist the urge to submit right there. A mixture of fear and arousal was filling her body to the point where she thought she might explode.

“So you’ve heard about me?” He tilted his head slightly. “I needed a place to hide for a bit, I’ve been scoping this place out. You’re the owner, Y/n, correct?” Y/n gulped but nodded, worried about why he was hiding out. “That doesn’t matter right now. Why are you here? It’s not safe for an omega in heat to be out in public.” He scolded as if Y/n didn’t know that. It was odd, having the notorious criminal seem to care about her safety. She wondered what he was trying to achieve, if anything.

“It wasn’t my choice okay?” She snapped, a wave of pain washed over her and she slumped against the door frame with a groan. Zemo got up, moving to her quickly but stopping once Y/n had flinched, worried he was going to try something.

“You need to get home, where’s your car? I'll escort you there.” He said, his voice was strained and Y/n’s eyes couldn’t help but land on the growing bulge in his pants. He was going into a rut which explained his current caring and protective nature. Her mouth watered at the thought of having his cock in her mouth but she tore her eyes away, looking to the side to avoid him.

“I don’t have a car… too expensive.” She groaned out, her breaths growing to pants as she started to overheat, fanning herself with her hand.

Zemo let out a staggered exhale, running his hand through his formerly perfectly done hair. “What’s your address? I’ll bring you there myself.” Y/n was impressed at the amount of self control this alpha had. Even as his rut was beginning he managed to stay calm and collected for the most part, but Y/n knew it was hard for him, sweat ran down his forehead as he strained to keep control.

Reluctantly Y/n told him her address knowing he was her best bet at getting home safely. A whimper escaped her throat as she felt her slick begin to drip down her thigh. She clenched her legs together, desire seeping into every part of her. She wanted the alpha’s knot more than anything she had ever wanted before. She could hardly focus on what Zemo was doing, not noticing he had draped his coat over her and picked her up until they were already out the door.

Zemo didn’t breathe as often as he needed while he walked, trying not to inhale Y/n’s scent as he moved at a quick pace, shooting piercing glares at every passerby that dared look their way. He felt protective over the little omega. His cock strained uncomfortably against his pants as his mind filled with thoughts of mating with her, but he pushed them back, not wanting to take advantage of her. Arriving at the apartment building he used her keys to unlock the door to the humble apartment, locating her room and placing her down on her bed. Y/n took off his coat and offered it back.

“You can keep the jacket for now, I’ll come back for it once you’re done with your heat.” He said, quickly turning around. Y/n’s hand shot out, grabbing his gloved hand.

“Please alpha, don't leave, help me.” She whimpered. Y/n didn’t know where that had come from, but she didn’t regret it, knowing it wasn’t just her heat talking. He was powerful, respectful, not to mention handsome. Everything a good mate should be, even though Y/n knew mating with a dangerous man like him was out of the question. Y/n found herself liking the man despite knowing what he had done and not knowing him long. She knew he would treat her well during her heat, if he accepted.

“Are you sure omega?” He asked, not facing her in fear that he would pounce on her as soon as he saw the desire in her eyes.

“Yes alpha, please…” Y/n whimpered again, giving his hand a small tug. “I need you”

That was all he needed to lose control. Zemo turned around to face her, stalking to the bed as he removed his shirt, straddling Y/n’s warm needy body. Her smaller hands reached out, undoing his belt and palming Zemo’s cock through his pants. Y/n couldn’t help the filthy thoughts that flooded her mind, desire for the dangerous man’s knot consuming her.

Zemo let out a groan, taking off his pants and boxers, letting his painfully hard cock free. Y/n’s eyes were clouded with lust as she leaned forward, mouth open and ready to suck it. He tapped the side of her cheek with his cock, running his hand through her hair and gripping it.

“No liebling, this is about you. I can wait for another time.” He let go of her hair and Y/n laid down, watching the alpha as he took off her panties and put her legs over his shoulders, running his cock slowly up and down her folds and coating itself in her slick, the tip teasing her as it came so close to going in. Y/n let out a little whine, letting him know she was growing impatient. “I apologize omega, it’s rude of me to tease.” He smirked before shoving himself all the way in easily.

Y/n’s toes curled as she let out a loud gasping moan, throwing her head back in pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of her, the position they were in allowing him to reach every part of her with ease. His hands ran up and down her waist as he let out a deep moan. Y/n’s eyes were locked on him as he fucked her deeply, causing her to let out a whimper of pleasure with every thrust.

“Look at you little omega, taking my cock so well.” He reached over to cup her cheek in his hand, rubbing circles into the soft flesh with his thumb. “Does it feel good?” His hand dropped from her cheek and began to rub her clit with just enough roughness to send her over the edge, a loud moan escaping her as she came.

“Yes, fuck! harder, please!” She said between moans, her hands tangling themselves in Zemo’s hair and gripping it as she panted.

Zemo moaned as he re-adjusted her legs on his shoulders, picking up the pace. “This pussy of yours, it’s mine now. I’ll fuck you through this heat and every heat you have next.” He growled, hitting Y/n’s sweet spot, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Y/n felt warm inside at his words. Her pussy clenched around his cock as the stimulation from him rubbing her clit and pounding into her sent her over the edge again, panting as she came hard. He was good at making her feel good, and for once Y/n was glad she was an omega.

“Fuck, you feel so good clenched around me. Do you want my knot in you, little omega? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum?” He asked cockily, receiving a desperate whine from Y/n.

“Please, please, please!” She begged, the only thoughts filling her mind were those of need for his knot buried deep into her.

“How can I refuse... when you’re asking so nicely, liebling.” He spoke between grunts. His thrusts slowly became more sloppy and deep and Y/n knew he was about to cum.

With one last deep thrust Zemo buried his cock all the way into Y/n’s pussy, his knot trapping the two together as he emptied his cum into Y/n. She felt so full in a good way, her breaths heavy with exhaustion as she internally frowned at the thought of Zemo pulling out of her. His knot alleviated the worst of her heat and as she laid there sore and sweaty, her now clearer mind had no regrets about what had happened.

Zemo pulled out after a while, his knot going away. A smile danced on his lips as he saw the cum dripping out of her as he pulled out his cock. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed as she moved to a more comfortable position on the bed. Zemo grabbed his jacket from the floor, dusting it off and draping it over the omega’s tired form. Hesitantly he hovered over her before pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head, deeply inhaling her scent.

Not wanting to intrude any more, he got dressed and walked over to the couch, exhaustion filling his body as he slumped down onto it, closing his eyes with a smile. He could tell he would need all the rest he could get while he rode out the omega’s heat with her. He was so happy he decided to hide out at that flower shop.

Tags: @peculiar-monstar @lovelyzabrak-meadow @captainsherlockwinchester110283

#a/b/o #omegaverse #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #zemo #zemo smut

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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

388 notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 305: Worst Intervention Ever

Previously on BnHA: Shinomori, whose name took me an entire week to memorize, was all, “nice to meet you Deku, I’m ten feet tall, do you want to know how I died?” and without waiting for an answer explained that he kicked it from old age at forty thanks to good ol’ OFA. Deku was all “wait a minute, then how come All Might, who’s fifty-five and is definitely dyeing his gray hair, is still alive?” First and Shino were all, “we really have no fucking clue but we think it’s cuz he’s quirkless, JUST LIKE YOU!” So basically, since quirkless people don’t exactly grow on trees these days, Deku is probably going to be the last user of OFA. The chapter ended with Nana being all, “psst, Deku, about my grandson. Uh, can you kill him?” which is sure to lead to a very interesting conversation this week.

Today on BnHA: Nana And The Gang are all “so, Deku, how can we put this delicately. The thing is, we’re pretty sure that AFO really fucked my grandson up, so on the off chance you can’t save him, how would you feel about, you know... [throat slitting gesture].” Deku is all “idk you guys, I kinda feel like he’s really just a traumatized child at heart and he’s in a lot of pain and stuff and so I should try to help him.” The Vestiges are all “BUT WHAT IF YOU CAN’T” and Deku is all “BUT I WANT TO TRY, DAMMIT” and the Vestiges are all “well when you put it that way, we, uh, were just testing you, so congrats, you passed!” The chapter ends with First being all, “ANYWAY SO WHY DON’T YOU TWO SHY BOYS STANDING OVER THERE IN THE SHADOWS COME SAY HELLO” before we CUT AWAY FOR ANOTHER WEEK, goddammit.

seriously, Nana

just... have you met Deku?? look, if you really want Tomura dead, just sic him on the U.A. first years and tell Shouto and Honenuki that it’s a training exercise

oh my god lmao

we’re too far away to see Nana’s face here so I will just assume that she turned and is staring DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA for this one line lmao. “I just wanted to clarify in case anyone felt inclined to take my dialogue out of context and spend an entire week complaining about it”

oh my god?! are you all purposely trying to make me sad??

someone stop me before I launch into an impromptu rant about all my Tomura feels. WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING ME. oh my god but yes, exactly. he’s just in pain all the time. this is exactly why I think Tomura has such high redemption potential even though so far he seems to lack so many of the redemption arc essentials such as feeling remorse, wanting to change, and taking responsibility for his actions. the reason why I’m willing to overlook all that in his case is because Tomura has essentially had zero agency his entire life. AFO molded him into a killer by making sure he was in constant mental agony, and making it so that the only thing that even slightly relieved that agony was killing peeps. like, please don’t think I’m making excuses for him or anything, but if you take a child and manipulate their existence to make it virtually impossible for that child to grow up as anything other than a killer, and basically never give him the chance to be anything else, then no shit he’s gonna be a killer?? he’s basically never had the choice not to be. it’s never been an option for him. anyways I feel like I am EXPLAINING MYSELF SO BADLY but nonetheless I am prepared to die on this hill

anyway so now Nana is all “that’s a rhetorical question btw because Our Hearts And Minds Are One so we can feel everything you feel bro.” so yeah, that’s interesting

now Banjou is getting started on the “let’s try and talk Deku out of wanting to save Tomura because it’s insane” part of their OFA Mystical Space Void Reunion agenda

look, Banjou, I feel you, I really do. you guys don’t think it’s realistic that Deku can defeat Tomura without killing him. so if it’s a choice between killing Tomura vs letting Deku and everyone else in the entire world die, then duh, you think Deku should kill him. I get it! and if this were a real life mass murderer I’d totally agree with you. but the problem is that this isn’t real life, this is a sympathetic shounen villain with a tragic past who might as well have FUTURE REDEMPTION ARC RECEIPIENT stamped on his forehead at this point

so First is all “look, there’s absolutely no doubt my brother has fucked this kid up good and proper by now”, which, again, fair

though, that’s kind of exactly my point though. everything that Tomura is, everything he’s done, he’s done because of AFO. AFO has so effectively shaped his personality and his worldview by this point that it’s all but impossible to penetrate that. he’s AFO’s puppet. but the problem is that rather than treating him like a victim, you all are treating him like a casualty. like he’s already a lost cause. but good luck trying to convince Deku of that

WHOA WHAT, RANDOM SUPER-IMPORTANT AND BIZARRELY UNRELATED EXPOSITION DROPPED IN JUST LIKE THAT??

way to still not reveal Sixth’s name, btw. THE PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT. but also so this confirms something we basically already knew already, which is that not even AFO can steal OFA. it literally can’t be taken away by anyone unless the owner wills it. SO SUCK ON THAT AFO YOU EGG

(ETA: so I have no idea why this was omitted from this translation, but apparently the Sixth’s name was revealed as “En”, which is obviously not his full name but at least it’s something. also he most likely has a fire or smoke-related quirk based on the kanji used, 煙.)

so Banjou is saying that Deku’s “lack of an iron will” could be a disadvantage against AFO. hahaha what?? Midoriya “I’ll break all of my bones without blinking an eye just to protect someone” Izuku lacks an iron will? do tell

he says this is going to be a test of Deku’s determination. well yeah, no shit. but just not in the way you guys think

OH HELLO AGAIN

darker hair again here! but I don’t trust the contrast in these scans at all after last week. his coveralls are way darker than they looked before too, and you can clearly see he’s standing in the shadows now

(ETA: yep, once again the raw shows that his hair is considerably lighter than what’s shown in these scans here. although there’s no mistaking now that his hair is consistently being colored in this slightly darker shade, and it’s not just the lighting.)

anyways lol First was saying something about how AFO can’t steal OFA, and they’ve spent all this time cultivating it as the ultimate weapon against AFO, and blah blah blah. go on then, keep lecturing

NANA GODDAMMIT NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

girl what?? you did everything in your power to protect your family, and AFO, fucked up man that he is, targeted them anyway. there is one person and one person only to blame for what’s happened to Tomura, and that potato-faced asshole needs a good kick in the balls

NANA GODDAMMIT DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE

SO HELP ME GOD!! I WILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG YOU’VE EVER HAD!! THAT IS A THREAT

so now Nana is all “I’m just going to call my grandson a Thing to ensure that fandom has only the freshest, grass-fed no-hormones-added discourse this week”

I don’t even need to drop into the tags to know exactly which specific people are going to respond to this, and what kind of posts they are going to write lmao. everyone’s all caught up in the “that thing”, and meanwhile I’m over here completely hung up on this “nay” that’s appeared out of NOWHERE you guys. look at that. she really said “NAY”

Nana, my love, my dearest, I feel you girl I really do. but he’s not an unforgivable manifestation of pure evil, Deku is exactly right actually, he’s a boy in pain. you guys need to stop questioning Deku’s shounen protagonist instincts here and just let him work his sparkly magic. “let’s try and convince Midoriya Fucking Izuku that he can’t save someone” is a plan that is NEVER going to turn out well you guys

“DEKU GODDAMMIT WHAT IF WE CAN’T SAVE HIM” lmao it’s like an intervention

“DAMMIT DEKU JUST ADMIT YOU HAVE A SAVING PEOPLE PROBLEM!”

RED ALERT IT’S ANOTHER CLOSE-UP OF THE BACK OF MISTER TWO BON CLAY’S HEAD OMG

(ETA: I was too distracted with freaking out about Two and Three to really appreciate how ridiculously handsome First looks in this panel. but on my second readthrough it stood out so much that I had to go back and add an extra bullet point just to talk about how hot he is. look at him. wtf.)

THAT IS DEFINITELY AN UNDERCUT. THE PLOT THICKENSSSS. also those are fucking exhaust vents on Mister Three’s neck. MISTER THREE COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE RELATED TO THE IIDAS, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR SECRETS I’M DYING OVER HERE

so now Deku is launching into what will undoubtedly be a “saving people problems require SAVING PEOPLE SOLUTIONS” heroic counter-speech!

I mean, they can already feel the “lol nah I’m gonna try and save him” feelings running through him lol. ~OuR hEaRtS aNd MiNdS aRe CoNnEcTeD~ and all that. this is just a formality, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good shounen protag speech

oh wait hold up, do you mean to tell me that the whole “hearts and minds are connected” thing I was just mocking just a paragraph ago actually allowed Deku to feel what Tomura was feeling?? like literally feel it??

YET AGAIN these Tomura feels are pounding on my front door you guys?? they just will not quit?? people my house is already full of feels, does it look like I need you to sell me any more of them?? -- what do you mean, they’re free??

AW YISS THAT’S IT DEKU. THAT’S SOME GOOD SPEECH RIGHT THERE

I appreciate the contrast here between the Douchebag Triumvirate of Overhaul, Muscular, and Stain versus the Misguided Twosome of Gentle and La Brava. never let it be said that Deku doesn’t know the difference between a redeemable villain and an unredeemable one

OH NO -- OH MY GOD

someone please help me I need directions to the OFA Spooky Galactic Nebula Realm in this fictional Japanese manga land. it’s not on google maps. I need to give these two babies a big hug and wrap them up in a blanket and treat them to some McDonalds Happy Meals please help

other things: (1) ENDEAVOR CHILLING OUT IN DEKU’S “PEOPLE I HOLD DEAR” PANEL LMAO NEON DISCOURSE EXTRAVAGANZA, (2) “ONE FOR ALL IS A POWER TO SAVE, NOT TO KILL” I’M ABOUT TO CRY DEKU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE TO FEEL ALL THIS LOVE, (3) [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING IRON WILL!!!!!!!! -- I’m sorry, please don’t call security, I’ll be good

I just randomly remembered that Deku is still saying all of this in his muffled “FMMPHHMMPHMM” voice and I’m somehow cracking up lol. so actually it’s a very good thing Their Hearts And Minds Are Connected, otherwise they’d no doubt be all, “...what?”

(ETA: so I completely missed this on account of it literally not being visible in the scan at all, but in the raw you can clearly see Baby Kacchan and Baby Shouto fanboying over All Might in two of these panels, and excuse me, ma’am??

thank you very much Deku for including them in your montage, particularly since you’ve never seen Baby Shouto before lol. amazingly accurate image you managed to conjure up, all things considered.)

SDKFJLSKHG -- AS IF ON CUE???

HE’S SO ADORABLE HELP?? Trippy Space All Might looks like he’s about to cry, and First is all “don’t crack a smile... you have to be Firm and Serious here... dammit, don’t smile” omg

anyways! YOU GO DEKU. “MY QUIRK MY RULES, BITCHES” damn, son

KLJLKKHLG TRIPPY SPACE ALL MIGHT LITERALLY ACTUALLY IS CRYING ALL MIGHT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

“I JUST... [CLENCHES FIST] REALLY LOVE SAVING PEOPLE” FUCKING HELL LMAO THIS IS THE WORST INTERVENTION OF ALL TIME

Deku is literally all “sure, maybe I’ll have to kill him, but have you guys also considered, MAYBE NOT??” it’s no use Nana he’s too powerful

LMAO FIRST

“like I’ve been saying this whole time, you should definitely try saving Shigaraki Tomura.” “but, uh... First, didn’t you just -- ” “shut up”

(ETA: clearly it’s not just his brother who inherited those smooth-talking genes.)

so now Deku has turned back into a sixteen year old and his clothes have gone missing again. just OFA things

dskljdlsklgk

yes... sure... “testing” you...

HEY

FIRST OF ALL, DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI YOU MADE NANA CRY. even if I’m pretty sure they’re actually tears of happiness/relief. and SECOND OF ALL, “TELL MY BOYFRIEND I SAID HI” DJSKDLKJJL ANYWAY MAYBE GRAN, NANA, AND MR. SHIMURA WERE IN A THROUPLE

[SCREAMS]

WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE?? WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE!!!!!

(ETA: and two-to-one odds that we cut away to some other scene once they finally start to turn around next week. I’M CALLING IT NOW. giving myself a week to brace myself for the rage.)

fucking hell. well if anyone needs me I will be adding Horikoshi fucking Kouhei to the list of irredeemable villains, peace

#bnha 305 #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #shimura nana #ofa the first #banjou daigorou #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #'deku. sweetheart. your other vestiges and I just want what's best for you'#'have you tried... *not* saving people?'#only to backpedal SPECTACULARLY when he was all 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT SAVING THEM'#yeah okay guys #you're not fooling anyone #but it's okay I still love you

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

Head canons for mafia boss levi being interested in Starbucks barista reader please

note :: this idea is so cute i wrote a scenario i hope you don’t mind. i can still post some headcanons for it too if you really want me to! i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted me to write anon :-( ALSO this is super casual writing it’s not like the way i usually write it’s just bullet points i mean idk i wanted to try something different and more relaxed lmk if this style is okay for some requests :D

if anyone would like any more requests with this levi please lmk!! i could go in more detail tbh maybe the pacing of this isn’t too good bc it is a short request but yeahhh

+ idk why the formatting looks so odd i tried my best to fix it myself ?!.!/!:£:& but yeah sorry again!!

levi has always been one to keep his business meetings lowkey

i mean, realistically who is going to suspect mafia boss levi is lingering in a starbucks???

the place is well-suited for his hushed meetings, he finds it to be quiet enough and clean enough

but then one winter everything changes

you start working there

he’s waiting in the queue texting erwin asking when he’ll be able to get there

it’s been a RUSH and the traffic is crazy as expected from the bustling city so he doesn’t expect to see erwin for a while

that’s when he hears you for the first time

“HEY!! Mister in the fancy suit it’s your turn to order”

your hands are placed on the counter and you lean forward eagerly waiting for what he has to say

levi rolls his eyes because he thinks you have to be ogling his designer watch and shoes (you really aren’t)

“black tea, no sugar and... a cinnamon swirl” he’ll order for erwin later. “i’ll be eating in.”

“ooohhh you’re a tea guy? name?” you’re smiling at him radiantly and it irks him because you have nothing to be smiling about really

eyes narrowing he responds “no shit, i just ordered tea.”

“and why the hell do you want my name?” he snaps on reflex

he then remembers he’s at a starbucks and you are not interrogating him, you’re doing your job

“sir... this is starbucks?? is this your first time here?”

you blink in confusion but then your face lights up “oh my, would you like to sign up for a starbucks card?? you can collect stars and get rewards and it’s so muc–“

“do i look like i need a starbucks card?”

“everyone looks like they need a starbucks card”

he doesn’t carry on that part of your conversation instead he looks you dead in the eyes “levi, is my name.”

his glare intimidates you and you awkwardly laugh

you think he’s probably having a super bad day and choose to not bother him that much

as he’s waiting he sees the way you clumsily navigate behind the counter, you’re juggling a number of things in your arms

automatically his face sours

he’s not expecting the tea you produce to be any good

he doesn’t care how nice you are if you can’t do what he wants he won’t be leaving a tip

he’s stingy like that

a clatter is heard and all the noise you’re making just makes you all the more aggravating

he’s been coming here for years and never has encountered a barista as bothersome as yourself

at some point you call out the name “SCROOGE!” from behind the counter, levi finds it embarrassing that anyone would ever call their child that

like... out of all the names this is what they choose??

damn they have to hate parenthood

“scrooge i’m begging you collect your drink.”

he looks up pissed that whoever this scrooge is has the audacity to hold you up because that by default means they are holding him up

then he sees you staring directly at him with that warm smile again

yeah, that smile, it could thaw ice

then it settles.

he’s scrooge?

turning around he notices no one is behind him then he sees that no one else is waiting apart from him

jaw clenching he heads towards you and makes it a point to “tsk” in frustration

he takes his cup and his cinnamon roll and you wave him goodbye

usually levi prefers to silently sit in the booth furthest from the action, he wants no attention drawn to him at all

but that day he finds himself sitting closer to the counter

he’s kind of stunned when he does that because he’s just sat there thinking why the hell did i just do that?? why did i sit here??

but he convinces himself it’s because he wants to see erwin when he’s about to walk in so he can prepare to scold him for not arriving on time

he takes a sip of his beverage expecting nothing above mediocirty but weirdly, your brew, it tastes perfect

levi’s eyes linger on you and he notices the way your behaviour is consistent

you’re helping an old woman pick what she’d like from the menu

you compliment her jumper, says it really makes her blue eyes stand out

you don’t have to be as nice as you are and it’s ticking him off

it ticks him off seeing someone so pure and sweet for no reason

when did people decide to not have ulterior motives anymore? did you decide those were too old school for you?

tongue poking at the inside of his cheek he activates his poker face and looks away

you, are a random person. a random, annoying person. he is going to stop thinking about you.

turning his attention to erwin instead he calls him and when he picks up levi makes his point very clear

“i was just called scrooge. get the hell here so i can order for you.”

erwin chuckles, his throaty laugh makes levi’s mouth twitch downwards in irritation

“and who exactly called you scrooge?”

“is that relevant?”

“very much so if you’ve mentioned it yourself”

levi is silent and erwin laughs once again at his colleagues anti social way of interacting

“i’ll be there in five, feel free to order.”

grunting a sound of approval levi hangs up

“you’re back! how may i help?”

the way you treat being a barista so seriously, he finds it oddly endearing

“one doubleshot iced coffee.”

nodding to yourself you hum a tune happily and get to work

ever since that day levi finds himself frequenting that specific starbucks more

at first it’s a whole lot of “i’m pissed and i don’t have a reason so i’ll go down there and have her annoy me, then i’ll have a real reason”

then you talk to him more and you both engage in small talk

then it develops when he doesn’t mean for it to

you tell him about what you study, where you’re from, how your mother has recently developed arthritis but she’s still so determined to cook to the best of her abilities despite the pain

that reminds him of you

each visit he learns something new about you

sometimes he’ll let you in on his life

“what do you work as, i’ve always wondered?“

“accountant.“ no way in hell is he going to scare you away, telling you isn’t an option

you burst out in laughter holding your knees

“accountancy is well paying what is your point...?”

“do you not know what that means” your laugh is muffled as you press the sleeve of your jumper against your mouth

he shakes his head completely clueless

“people say their accountants when they’re actually strippers. it’s a tiktok thing.”

you pause for a second staring at his face

he feels the way his ears grow red under your gaze but he ignores it looking as bored as ever

“ah well. i did not know that.”

“clearly not you are an old man.”

then you turn away to brew his tea and he lets the ghost of a smile sneak its way onto his face

you aren’t looking, it’s okay

but he knows it’s dangerous getting attached to you

it’s stupid relaxing

and it’s even worse loosening up

so he doesn’t.

he’s always cold, bitter and frigid in his responses as he’s always been with you

but that doesn’t stop you from kindly smiling

or absentmindedly brushing the surface of his skin on rare occasions

it doesn’t stop you from calling him scrooge

and it certainly doesn’t stop you from slowly thawing the frosty exterior of his heart

then one day you let the words “my scrooge” slip out of your mouth

he doesn’t know why he let’s it happen or even how it happens exactly but he can’t help the smile that makes itself evident on his face

“HEY YOU JUST SMILED HELLO?????? you can do THAT????”

he smiled in front of you, that’s it he’s fucked

he quickly drops it and is back to his normal narrowed glare

“i did no such thing”

you give him a knowing look but sigh airily there’s no point in getting the man to admit it

“what would you like today, a frappe?”

you ask the sarcastic question even though you know he hates change. his usual order is already ingrained in your mind. you know it off by heart

he sighs in exasperation

“is your memory really that bad?”

“nope. cinnamon rolls and black tea it is!”

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan levi #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #levi headcanons #mafia levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi fluff #levifanfiction #leviiattacks #sorry for getting carried away again T___T #levi scenario

617 notes · View notes

violetnotez · 3 years

Note

I just read your headcanons about treating Mirio,shouto and bakugou's hounds and it was soooo cuuuute kafkksfbksgkbs I wonder if you can do the same headcanons for Izuko, Hitoshi and maybe Tokoyami? OwO ♡♡♡♡♡

Hey bb! So unfortunately I don’t write for Tokoyami 👉🏼👈🏼 but I totally got ya on Izuku and Shinso! ❤️

Original post

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Izuku

Please be aware you will have to be this dude’s nurse 24/7

He is just always getting hurt

No matter what, he can promise you as much as he wants that he won’t get hurt or he’ll try his best to be safe...

Lmao that doesn’t happen

You don’t know how many times you’ll be hanging out with him, and you’ll notice he has a limp he won’t tell you about

Or he’ll be at your door, covered in scraps and trying to convince you “it’s nothing, really!”

You and Recovery Girl are like besties at this point

Worst part is unless he’s like at deaths door he REFUSES to act like it’s a big thing

Like “oh my fingers are purple and look like burnt chicken-it’s chill”

NO SIR IT IS NOT FUCKING CHILL

He takes pain like a champ tho, like he will grimace here and there but he’ll never do anything but that

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

“Izuku-for the love of-“ you huffed our with exasperation as you struggled with the hem of his shirt. “-just take off your shirt!”

Poor Midoriya’s cheeks were on fire, his face very much resembling a red strawberry as his bruised digits wrapped around yours, trying desperately to keep his shirt down over his chest.

It wasn’t as if you’d ever seen him shirtless, you had seen him like that countless of times....he just didn’t want to worry you. Yeah his last patrol was a little-rougher-than the rest...but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle!

But deep down he knew it looked pretty bad, the bruises blossoming under his skin, deepening with each hour as they were still pretty fresh. And even though they stung, and made it hard to move in certain positions, and-yeah it was kinda hard to breathe in certain ways....he was fine, he swears!

You stopped your tug of war against Izuku, hands falling limp against his thighs, your body hovering over his legs.

“Izuku please,” you pleaded, eyebrows furrowing in sympathy, “I know there’s something wrong...I just want to make sure your okay!”

“I know, I-I just-“ he stuttered our, green orbs full of guilt, “I don’t want to worry you!”

You huffed, feeling defeat flood your body, as you softly caressed the hem of Izuku’s shirt, his favorite one....

His favorite shirt.

It was cruel to do this to him, and you knew it was wrong, but of course you wouldnt actually do it...but that overwhelmingly cruel light bulb idea was now stuck in your brain and wasn’t letting go.

You sighed yet again, this time with an over exaggeration and devilish grin on your face.

“Oh, that’s okay then...” you stated, your words sickly sweet and understanding.

Izuku perked up, unaware by your drastic change in demeanor.

“R-really?!? It is?”

You looked at his slightly relieved face, smile still on your lips. “Yeah of course! If you don’t want to take off your shirt, I can always just cut it off of you-“

Izuku audibly gulped, wise eyes growing even larger.

You-you wouldn’t right? You knew well that this was one of his favorite tshirts, as it had his favorite hero on it plus it was the comfiest one he owned...he wouldn’t ever find a tshirt he loved as much as this one.

Izuku stared at your face, trying to see pass a bluff...but you were good at hiding your true emotions, eyes glinting mischievously in the hazy warm lights.

“So whats it gonna be ‘Zuku?” you asked softly, slowly trailing under the cloth of his shirt, leaving a lowing hum of electricity on his skin. “The scissors are right there after all-“

“I-I’ll take off the shirt,” he said sheepishly, cheeks glowing a shade of red.

You giggled at his expression, thankful he took the bait as you took his face in your hands, your thumbs trailing his infinite freckles.

He could be stubborn, but he always gave in...eventually.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shinso

Really doesn’t like being “taken care of”

Like don’t get me wrong, you dotting over him makes him all warm and fuzzy inside,,,

But, idk, he just doesn’t like the feeling of being weak

Kind of like Izuku, tried to deny the fact he’s hurting

But he is much easier to persuade

Usually just takes a kiss or two and he gives in to your efforts

If you have to bandage him up, he likes to be a big flirt to cover up his grimaces

Gives you a bunch of blush worthy compliments,,,,,

Calls you his “Nurse Babe”

Whatever the hell that means

Honestly, after an hour of having your whole attention on him he is hooked

He will never be the same again...he is a hoe for that attention for eternity now 💀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

Your finger were feeling as if they were being tugged out their sockets, the huge bucket of soft soppy warm water sloshing dangerously in its container.

You stepped into the room where a bruised up Shinso lay on the floor, hand lazily scrolling on his phone.

Hearing you enter the room, his head tilted towards you, his once bored expression peeking up into curiousty. His violet eyes watched you intently as you set down the bucket with a huff, kneeling next to his body as you submerged some towels in the luke warm water.

“Whatcha doin’ doll?” He asked, voice still gruff from a nap he had taken a few minutes prior.

You simply continued your work, small smile on your lips as you placed a few towels in the floor.

“Well, since the doctors said you weren’t clear for a shower or bath for the night,” you stated softly, “I thought I’d give one myself.”

“So a sponge bath?” Shinso said plainly. “I’m not some old man, kitten, I’m perfectly fine to take a bath-hell, I can take a shower just fine.”

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head at him.

“When your bruises aren’t the color of your hair, maybe I’ll believe you-“ you gave him a small grin, swallowing down a ball of saliva. “-now take off your shirt.”

Shinso simply chuckled, an exasperate sigh leaving his lips. He knew too well that you were determined to nursing him back to health (even though he felt he was perfectly fine)....so really, there was no point in trying to believe him. And at this point...he wasn’t to sure he even wanted you to.

Having all your undivided attention on him was...nice-even if he hated admitting it.

“Doll, if you just wanted me to strip down...” he said cheekily, that shit eating grin plastered on his pale skin. “All you had to was ask.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, helping hin slowly peel his shirt off his skin-thank god it was a button down, or this would have been a hell of a lot harder.

But sitting in his lap, hands trailing gently against the soft skin of his abdomen and those piercing eyes watching your every move...it wa snaking your body feel particularly too hot for an otherwise cool room.

“Aw, you poor thing,” Shinso cooed with an air of arrogance, “are you flustered?”

“N-no,” you stuttered, kicking yourself internally for your obvious slip up, “I’m just wondering how the hell you lost so hard to get so many bruises.”

Shinso chuckled at your feeble attempt at a comeback, loving how you were so affected by this change in the atmosphere.

He deifnitely wnated to capitalize on this moment, his digits cradling your face as he forced you to look at him.

He grinned yet again, teeth biting his bottom lips as he gazed at you with a hungry look.

“Aw, but you are-” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

“-It’s okay doll, you don’t have to hide it from me...I like seeing you like this,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Text

What Is There To Celebrate About the Darkling? (Part 4)

1 2 3 4

He’s calculating but impulsive. Gentle yet firm. Stubborn and adaptive. Just a real mess of contradictions that makes him all the more interesting.

He loves nature. He loves the forest.

Fond of luxuries and nice things. After growing up as he did, I think he deserves them.

Very socially awkward. Introvert just trying his best. Anything that isn’t manipulation and therefore something he’s planned in his head is just a social train wreck waiting to happen.

The way he pushes up Alina’s sleeve when they first meet. This man had zero compunctions about acting completely unprofessionally in front of his soldiers and I think that’s very sexy of him.

He’s constantly tired and exasperated with the people around him.

The way he says “quiet” with the softest voice imaginable and a room full of laughter instantly goes silent.

He had no interest in Elizaveta even though she was utterly obsessed with him and I think that’s hilarious.

Elizaveta: I have a plan to resurrect the Darkling Everybody Else: Oh the Darkling is so evil for trying to come back! The Darkling, who just wants a nap and is sick of this mortal bullshit: Why am I even here? This is such a pain in the ass. I should have killed Elizaveta when I had the chance.

How he asks if Alina “will have” his name like a man proposing.

Has his bedroom attached to the war room.

Constantly checking up on Alina just to know how she’s doing. Never pushing her beyond her limits as she’s training.

Very creative with his shadows and the extent of their abilities. So many of the ways he uses his powers are genius.

His ending in RoW is a tragedy and an injustice. He deserves better.

This old man pouting at Alina in episode seven as he says “please, I just want to talk to you 🥺”

There is a black kefta made for Alina after like two days in the Little Palace. He really was already planning their entire immortal futures together as Mr. and Mrs. Starkov wasn’t he?

His bed is covered in maps and notes when he’s plotting how to find Alina. Also before that, the way he’s poring over the notes at his desk and giving orders is 👌🥵

Him acting like a real General at all is simply amazing.

The fact that he trusts Luda with his life. That they have a whole intimidation routine set up around him purposefully getting himself fatally injured knowing she’ll heal him.

He looks like a vampire in the show and a fae in the books.

His favorite ABBA song is probably “Lay All Your Love On Me.”

Looks composed but that’s only a façade. Is actually an unhinged feral terror of pain and misery.

That scene where he tells the king she will remain in the Little Palace to train undisturbed and he puts his foot down. ON THE RED CARPET. the king’s carpet. and uses a commanding voice that’s just on the edge of an order…I’m surprised he didn’t get flogged for that. IMO nothing conveys the fine line he walks with those in power while wielding his own like this scene. Literally he should just be celebrated for this alone.

“‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ I whispered one night as he hovered behind me while I tried to work at my desk. Long minutes passed. I didn’t think he would answer. I even had time to hope he might have gone, until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Then I’d be alone, too,” he said, and he stayed the whole night through, till the lamps burned down to nothing.

Trapped a bunch of Saints in the Shadow Fold like a true amoral disaster villain. What an icon.

His barely concealed amusement and half hidden smile when Alina comes to put his kefta on. The way he finds Alina utterly hilarious and tries so hard to act like he doesn’t.

That small amused smile when Alina jokes about finding Volcra hilarious. Please he’s so adorable 😭

“‘I know what you feel when you’re with the tracker,’ he said. ‘I doubt that’ He gave a dismissive wave.” - My Malarklina obsessed self, vibrating at the edge of my seat: but what does it mean?!?

Mal and the Darkling’s entire fight in the Fold: dumbass on dumbass violence.

The way he stands with his back turned to Alina when she enters his tent the first time they meet and then does the slowest Godfather turn in history. 1999/10 - points removed for a criminal lack of cat petting.

“I may lead the second army, but the king is still the king.” - the delivery of that line. the implications, the history behind it and also the foreshadowing for his plans.

That slow turn face reveal in episode one though. Like okay we get it you’re pretty alkjsdflkj

Confused Old Man Face™ whenever Mal or Alina do anything remotely defiant in his presence.

How he tells Alina to come closer and she only takes the tiniest step and he doesn’t even react.

His little head cock whenever someone says or does something that just doesn’t vibe with him.

Darklina tumblr has now convinced me that the Darkling is a cat in human form.

“You’re an amplifier,” she said. He glanced at where Sylvi was pouncing on another helpless tree, oblivious, and gave a single, frightened nod. How could he have been so stupid? He would have to tell his mother now, and she would insist that they leave right away. If word got out, they’d both be in danger. Amplifiers were rare, hard to find, harder to hunt. Their lives would be forfeit. Even if they got away, word would spread. He could already hear his mother’s voice: Foolish, careless, callous. If you don’t value your own life, show some concern for mine. Annika touched his sleeve. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell.” Panic crowded in. He shook his head. She slid her hand into his. It was hard not to pull away. He should. He was breaking his mother’s fundamental rule for keeping them both alive. Never let them touch you, she’d warned him. - 😥 I just want to give him a hug all the time.

His strangled shout when Mal tackles him off of the skiff.

His smile when he’s summoning the sun. The expression on his face when he does so. Like I know I’ve mentioned this before but damn. If you ever needed a reason to celebrate him, this would be it.

“Shame, I’ll have to give that speech again now.”

The way he flips Mal over his shoulder in the Fold after Mal attempts to strangle him.

His little lecture on the Small Science to Alina when they’re going to meet the King. Info dump.

“You make it sound so easy.” “A bird makes flight look easy. But it was born to do so.”

When Alina looks at him for guidance on whether or not to remove her veil and he gives her a small nod.

The handhold in the throne room after Alina’s demonstration is absolutely precious, but it’s in a room full of people he should be keeping up a façade for and it’s so unwarranted and yet he does it anyway, I’m-

The way he says “welcome home, Ms. Starkov,” in the most tender voice I’ve ever heard and then goes “ok that’s enough emotions for one day” and then just straight up leaves without even a goodbye.

He has his symbol?? Sewn into Alina’s kefta??? bRo???!?!

Disaster Simp never gets tired of introducing Alina to other people or talking about how she’s the best thing that ever walked this earth.

The Darkling lying: honestly

“I have devoted my life to undoing the great sin of my forebearer, but I am never seen as the solution. Only as a reminder of the problem.” Sasha you were literally the problem. What a manipulative little shit. We love to see it.

The way he closes his eyes and kisses the coin before he makes a wish at the wishing well.

“I think the Grand Palace is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.” - I love him your honor.

This man has the most intense lines for Alina. Like straight up I would have booked it when he said “you and I are going to change the world”. But then the head grab?! “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” He’s so intense like sir can you tone it down a bit please I am begging you.

“I shall be right by your side.” / “We can do anything. Together.” / “For us.” / “You cannot do this on your own. And neither can I” / “I want you to know my name. The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?” - WEDDING VOWS

That scene in the war room when Alina comes to find him and he instantly drops his guard and lowers his arms and welcomes her with a soft voice.

“Am I bothering you?” “Not at all.” - girl you could be stabbing him in the chest and you still wouldn’t be bothering him.

This whipped disaster sounds like the proudest man on the planet when he talks about how much more his enemies fear Alina over him.

His shadows react to his emotions.

“YoUr’E nOt IvAn.” asjlkdfjs god he’s so embarrassing.

Local Dark Lord Sasha offering Alina the throne after she literally tries to kill him.

He gets so jealous of Mal.

Has a great relationship with his soldiers and his men. His men trust him implicitly and believe him to be an amazing general.

When he turns around after Alina puts the kefta on him and looks flustered/has to take a breath because she’s a lot closer than he expected. The way he’s breathless and literally can’t string a sentence together because he’s so distracted by her closeness.

His jokes are absolutely terrible.

GF: *jokes about throwing herself down the stairs to get out of an event* Sasha “no thoughts head empty only Alina” Morozova: haha I’d just have my healers heal you right back up again.

How genuinely touched he is by Alina admitting to wanting to help Grisha and Ravkans.

That scene in Demon in the Woods when he notices the intricate details of the politics in the Grisha camp after one meeting with the Elders. He has the Ulle pegged almost instantly.

Born to be a leader. Born to take care of others. Born to protect. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s protecting people. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s leading them and caring for them.

The way he cups his hands around Alina’s face when they’re kissing.

This man gets so starstruck by Alina walking into the Fete that he doesn’t even excuse himself from the King’s side to go to her.

Long haired Aleksander rights!

Ok I know the wig was kind of ugly but he looks pretty with long hair and I think it would look very good on him naturally.

The way he slams his hands together in the Winter Fete scene and instantly turns the room pitch black.

Literally any times he summons shadows is a blessing and we should all celebrate him for it. They are so beautiful. On god if I ever saw his shadows in real life I would be awestruck.

He asks Mal if he’s okay when they first meet.

The pure, barely contained fury directed at the Conductor for daring to harm Alina and kidnap his Grisha.

He always has to make a grand entrance.

This man is like a bloodhound when it comes to Nina. He is very invested in finding her and I feel like that’s never really talked about.

“I know exactly how she felt. The King’s soldiers treated me the same way. Because they knew- they knew that I was more important than any of them.” - the way he says it, like it’s something he has to remind himself of in his head constantly. a justification for the way he’s been treated, the fear he evokes in others. a way to protect himself from the hurt of being ostracized and reviled. arrogance and conceit as a defense against emotional harm.

Also the way his face instantly changes after that, like he’s said too much. vulnerability. lowering his eyes. shifting his eyes. literally just everything about this scene makes me love him all the more.

Dark carriage rides up to the Crows’ hiding place. Grisha circle the area as Aleksander steps from the carriage slowly, dressed all in black, floofy cloak high on his shoulders. Villain Entrance™

Him slowly pulling a knife out of his chest like it shouldn’t have killed him is hot as fuck and also totally badass. Big dick energy.

“I’ve had enough of your lies.” “And what lies are those?” - Alina, pulling out a fifty mile long scroll of grievances: Well, for starters-

This man is literally just an Alina Starkov compliments machine.

He cares so much about the Grisha and their protection. He loves Ravka and his people so much.

He had an entire cult dedicated to him.

“They would approach him. They always did. But he felt more anxious than usual. He’d stopped trying to make friends in the places he and his mother visited—there was no point when they moved on so quickly. Now he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.”

Save a Villain. Murder the King.

Openly admits to staging a coup like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He speaks so slowly. He moves so slowly. Everything he does has to have Purpose and Gravitas.

Theater Nerd™

He knew Nikolai for years and yet couldn’t recognize him as Sturmhond. We do stan an oblivious icon 💕

The Darkling after he gets his ass whooped in Siege and Storm: Mom can you please come pick me up? I’m scared!

He’s here to manipulate sun summoners and murder cities. And unfortunately he’s all out of sun summoners.

Would absolutely get drunk on real alcohol. This man thinks kvas is strong liquor.

Has his wrists exposed exactly one time in the most skin he’s shown all season and it’s when Alina visits him at night in the war room. WHORE!

Was too emotionally slutty and fell for Alina. RIP.

He’s passionate and cold and beautiful and hurt and twisted up in ways nobody could ever hope to understand and he’s stunning.

I would literally kill for this man 🖤✨

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wanderingwomanwondering · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on The Buddie Talk from 502

Other folks have looked at this conversation, but I wanted to get on my bullshit about it too. LOL.

So imho this whole conversation is about love and heart, specifically Eddie’s but with Buck’s heart added in. Line by line analysis and commentary. Let the BS begin. Here we go…

Buck: Hey are you sleeping, or just pretending?

Day and night/light and dark are strong themes throughout the episode. @benka79 did a meta on this theme. I think that by extension, awake vs asleep is meaningful in this scene. In matters of the heart, Eddie is trying to sleep or turn a blind eye, doing what he thinks is best for Chris rather than himself. This is exactly what Carla warned him against. But he knows. He knows that Carla is right but he’s ignoring her and trying to ignore Buck. He’s only pretending to be in the dark about his heart and his desires, at least to a degree.

Eddie: I was actually trying to until you interrupted.

Enter Buck, shaking shit up. Interrupting Eddie’s well-intentioned lie. Eddie knows there’s more than meets the eye and Buck is forcing him to open his eyes, wake up and see what’s really going on and reckon with himself and his true desires.

Buck: I’m exhausted. Uh, how are you feeling?

This line has been rattling around in my brain for what feels like a thousand years. Buck is NOT asleep, he’s not able to turn a blind eye. And being the only one willing to look directly at matters of the heart is wearing him out. Dude’s exhausted! He SEES that something is up with Eddie’s heart and he wants Eddie to tell him all about it.

Eddie: Hot. I’m sweating out of places I didn’t know I could.

During the blackout, AC isn’t working so everyone is sweating. Buck even has a thin layer of sweat in the scene. Sweating from the heat is normal and completely reasonable, but is that what’s being invoked here? We know that sweating is also a symptom of health issues (panic and heart problems not the least among them, and definitely symbolically relevant here). Eddie looks like he’s sweating for normal reasons but in the next line Buck questions that.

Buck: No uh like a cold sweat though, right? Uh, any chest pains?

Again, Buck is wide awake. He KNOWS something is wrong with Eddie’s heart/feelings and that Eddie is hiding it from him. He jumps to cold sweats, the kind that are most connected to health problems and are not about the actual temperature in the room. Then follows up with asking about chest pains. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Buck is paralleled with the cardiologist. She’s about Eddie’s literal heart but Eddie’s figurative heart is in Buck’s hands and Buck’s hands only. And my dude is assertively assessing the situation.

Eddie: You don’t give up, do you? I’m fine, Buck.

Good ol’ Eddie, perfecting his avoidance and denial game. But he knows Buck. He does NOT ever give up and he especially doesn’t give up on the people he loves. Eddie recognized this and thanked Buck for it in 303. Buck didn’t give up on Christopher during the tsunami, or on Eddie in Eddie Begins or in Survivors. But that was about Chris and Eddie’s life. This scene in 502 is new in a way. Buck is refusing to give up on Eddie’s heart, his feelings. Now Buck is fighting for Eddie’s quality of life, for his happiness.

Buck: People who are fine don’t go and see cardiologists. You need to tell me if something is wrong.

Buck was so worried about Eddie in 501. Of course Eddie denied that anything was wrong but Buck isn’t stupid. In 501 he asked about the situation clearly and openly because he cares about Eddie and wants to help in any way he can, and Eddie pushed him away. So here in 502 he implicitly invokes the Will. He’s like fine if you won’t tell me as your friend who gives a shit about you, then tell me for Chris’s sake because thanks to the will, I actually fucking need to know if you’re going to drop dead.

Eddie: Alright, it was a panic attack, not a heart attack. A panic attack.

Eddie’s frustrated confession was solid gold. It laid my edges and raised my credit score. He knows that Buck’s persistence is harmless and comes from a genuine place of respect and care. Still, that doesn’t make it any less annoying for a man who’s trying to sleep, pretending his own heart isn’t breaking under the weight of his sense of duty to his son.

Buck: Since when do you panic?

My God, he knows him so well.

Eddie: That’s what I said. I don’t panic. Except I did.

Eddie accepting that this was absolutely a panic attack was huge. Before he had been pushing against the reality of it, but here in Buck’s loving care he could be honest with himself and with Buck that it was indeed panic.

Buck: Ok, well, what triggered it? I mean you did just get shot and almost killed by a sniper. I guess that could be considered an anxiety inducing-

Buck’s in full “cardiologist” mode. He’s paying forward all those years of therapy! What he’s doing here isn’t a replacement for my dude getting some real therapy but here’s Buck with his clipboard efficiently helping Eddie figure his emotional shit out. It’s perfection. It’s also good that he acknowledged the shooting. I think it’s super important that when Buck mentions it, he looks down and away from Eddie.

Buck, my dude, you are not over being covered in the blood of the love of your life. You can still feel his weight in your hands, muscle memory from lifting him above the spray of gasoline and bullets. Eddie may still be asleep on that front but, Buck, you are wide awake and exhausted by the heavy love you’re carrying.

Eddie: That wasn’t it. Ok, if I’m being honest with myself, I think it was Ana.

Oh this is fun. So you are capable of being real, you just choose not to be. Good to know.

Buck: Uh, I thought things were great with her.

Stop. Lying. You saw Eddie get squirrely when talking about the Christening. You saw Eddie get awkward af when A*a and Christopher came to the firehouse. You’ve seen these issues with your own eyeballs. Great? Really? Yeah, this just makes me think muh boy is oblivious and/or he really was expecting Eddie to come clean about issues related to the shooting, not his love life. This reiterates my point that Buck himself is not nearly done with processing the shooting.

Eddie: She’s been a godsend through all this - staying with Christopher - but I think that’s what’s causing the panic. Somehow it become a ready-made family and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

This portion of the conversation has been analyzed to bits by many brilliant others. I don’t have anything to add. I’m like, look dude, you already have a family with Buck and Christopher. A*a’s effin’ up your happy healthy family flow. It’s ok, just turn her loose.

Buck: So what are you gonna do?

Buck’s wisdom grows every frickin’ day. He knows this isn’t sustainable for Eddie. He knows that the heart matters. He knows that feelings are real and help us navigate toward a happy life. Action is needed and he’s nudging Eddie in that direction.

Eddie: I think I’m just gonna stick it out. Ana’s been the first woman I’ve wanted to spend this much time with since Shannon.

Oh dear, Eddie’s overblown sense of duty to everyone but himself strikes again. He can…tolerate… A*a. How romantic!

Buck: Stick it out? That’s not the way you talk about someone you’re in love with.

Um, no. Buck calls shenanigans. He’s not A*a’s bestie but he doesn’t feel any desire whatsoever to have her condemned to a loveless relationship.

Eddie: My kid loves her!

Always putting Christopher first but not realizing that if he isn’t truly happy, Christopher will know because he’s perceptive af. Plus the two haven’t discussed A*a on screen so I’m not convinced Chris loves her as much as Eddie wants to believe.

Buck: Is that enough? Eddie I have been Ana. I know what it’s like to be in love with someone who is not all the way in. Deep down you know it and it hurts. It hurts worse than the truth, so if you don’t want to hurt Ana, you owe it to her to be honest.

Buck is doing A LOT of work here to help Eddie see that his plan of inaction is not good. He centers Eddie asking him if staying for Chris is enough. When that doesn’t work, he realizes that Eddie doesn’t care about his own heart enough to leave so he changes strategies and puts himself in A*a’s place to invoke some empathy for A*a from Eddie. It’s super…interesting that Eddie doesn’t care enough for A*a to come to this conclusion on his own!!

Eddie: You know it just feels like a lot man.

Why, my dude?? Explain. Could it be that A*a is serving a purpose beyond Chris? Could it be that staying with her helps you avoid, allows you to pretend and be oblivious to deeper truths within your battered but still beating heart? Does she obscure the Buck shaped hole in your ticker?

Buck: Well, go to sleep. You don’t need to decide right now. It’s not like we’re going home anytime soon.

Buck is disappointed, exhausted, and frustrated and it has my dude slinging shade like morning hash. He’s like fine turn a blind eye, ignore your heart it’s cool *all the sarcasm* Then we get the reference to home and the fact that the two of them are far from it at this point and we all know how important home is as a Buddie theme. I wrote a little about it here.

Bonus: Eddie closed his eyes after Buck walked away, the he OPENED them again. He fully saw what Buck was saying. He can’t avoid the truth of his heart for much longer.

Y’all this has GOT to be the season that one or both of these idiots realize their feelings. Excuse me while I end.

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #christopher diaz #ana flores #GO HOME ALREADY #episode 502 #911 meta

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Text

Home: Chapter Seven

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing,

word count: 3.9k

a/n: I’m entirely writing this to distract myself from the real world but honesty I’m having a great time, I think there will be one more chapter after this one and maybe an epilogue but asides from that, also feel free to message or ask if you want to be tagged :)) anyway enjoy and pls comment and shiz :)

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Azriel had once joked that you were like an actual flower, needing water and sunlight to use your powers. At the time you had laughed but now as you stood in front of the mirror, wiping the tears from under your eyes, and preparing to walk into the world of all things dead, you understood. The dress you wore was one of the few fancy ones you reserved for the dinners you were often dragged to before your fall. It was lavender, with tulle cascading down your legs from the waist, paired with a tight corset top and tulle off-the-shoulder sleeves. As you sat with a ‘humph’ and started applying your makeup, your stepbrother walked in.

“Well you look cheery,” Nico said, sitting on your bed.

“I look like an evil power puff girl,”

“You look like you are a princess, which you are so my dad is going to be pleased.”

“I really don’t care what he thinks,” you snapped, and Nico help up his hands. He was wearing all black as usual, simple dress pants and a loose black shirt tucked in, his belt matched his rings, and his dark hair and even darker eye bags made him look every bit the Underworld prince. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you,” you said turning back around to carry on with your makeup.

“I know, it’s stressful for you,” he moved to sit next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and you applied eyeliner.

“I don’t wanna get sick again, I have things to do. Plus I’ve got to convince your dad to let me ask for this favour. I just feel like it’s all going to go to shit.”

“I get it, you’ll be fine though. Also I’m pretty sure your mum is going to do anything for you if it means you’ll speak to her again, so she’ll be on your side at least. That’s three vs one.” He nudged you as you put down the eyeliner.

“That’s true.” You bit the inside of your lip and Nico, sensing your worry, changed topic.

“Tell me about Azriel,” He said, and you caught his eye in the mirror.

“Huh?”

“Well I gotta make sure that when you become his problem it will be permanent, I don’t want you coming back,” he joked.

“Fuck you,” you laughed shoving his shoulder and he giggled, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t want to do thisssss,” Nico said in a sing-song voice lying flat on the floor.

“Me neither but I’m not going in alone bitch,” you laughed, starting to feel slightly better. It was moments like this that made you regret pushing your friends away, the thought of seeing them was always scary but when you were with your brother again you remembered why you loved them so much. You assessed your outfit in the mirror and sighed.

“What?” Nico asked, sitting back up.

“This would look really nice with a dark red lip,” you said, biting your lip.

“Do you have one?” he asked, and you nodded. He was quiet for a second before reaching out and ruffling through your makeup, finding your favourite red lipstick. “Do you wanna try?”

“Yeah, but if I cry it’ll mess up my eyeliner.” You said with a shaky laugh. He laughed quietly handing you the lipstick and you looked at him in the mirror, taking in a shuddering breath. You were stronger than this and you could handle it. You closed your eyes for a minute, counting your breaths, before opening the lipstick.

Once it was applied you lifted your chin, staring down the girl in the mirror. Nico grabbed your hand softly and you tore your eyes away, standing and pulling on your shoes.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Azriel was in a shit mood. He was 90% sure that you had cast some sort of spell on him when he was with you, something that made him happy and relaxed, because now that you weren’t here he pretty much wanted to throttle everyone.

Amren had been helping him look for a way to get back to you. The first thing they had tried was winnowing, he pictured your face; your smile, the way your hands felt in his, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t reach you. So they had been scanning books since then, reading up on every theory and myth. Nesta had brought him to speak to Gwyn who had told him about the theory that there could be up to at least 20 other worlds. Amren had also made him talk through every detail about this world he could remember, writing diligent notes as Cassian gave him weird looks when he spoke about Bucky Barnes.

“He’s a character, it’s a simple concept.”

“Yeah but how do you get an emotional connection to a character?”

“Shut up both of you.”

The pain in his chest was only growing as well, and he came to the daunting realisation that if he failed this; if he couldn’t get back to you, or get you back to him, he would probably have to deal with it for the rest of his long, long life.

He felt bad for taking his frustrations out on his family who were just worried about him, but he had never felt this way before. All he could think of was the way your eyes cleared when the realisation dawned on you. The way you had gone from sobs to a different, all-consuming kind of pain, just for a second, your eyes clearing as you realised you might never see him again. He hated himself for not being strong enough to put up a fight, he knew he wasn’t a match for a god, but he should’ve tried, he was too shocked at the time, too heartbroken, but now he was terrified that you might think he gave up on you. He had to get back to you, he was afraid what you might do if you were alone again. If you were alone after having the bond dangled in front of you, only to have it ripped away moments later.

It was almost 3am and everyone else in the house had gone to bed, but Azriel didn’t sleep well normally, and he especially wouldn’t while he was apart from you. He looked up from his book when he heard someone clear their throat, his head whipped up an incredulous smile gracing his features when he saw you sitting there.

“Baby,” he started moving forward but you held your hand up, stopping him.

“Oh that’s just too sweet, you kids are giving me so much content,” you dabbed at your eyes, and Azriel frowned.

“(y/n)? what’s going on?”

“Oh I’m not (y/n) sweetie, but that’s just adorable. My name is Aphrodite, Goddess of love and beauty, I often appear as whoever you find most beautiful.” Azriel’s heart dropped, the brief happiness he felt seeing your face gone as the lady spoke.

“Aphrodite? Hermes mentioned you.” He said, tensing as he realised he was dealing with another god. “In fact he said it was your fault this all happened.”

“Oh Hermes, always blaming someone else. You should be thanking me.”

“And why would I do that.” Azriel knew the look on his face was deadly, but something about seeing a god cower under his gaze was feeding his ego.

“Haven’t you worked out why you can’t travel back to her.” She raised her eyebrows at him, her expressions may be on your face, but as he paid more attention she seemed like a completely different person. “I have the power to move through world’s, you do not. I just thought that poor, sweet girl had been through enough that she should get to meet her soulmate. I waited for you after your mission and then just made you forget and let the two of you fall in love naturally, I mean I get teary eyed thinking about it, you’re just too cute!”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, “So why are you here? Are you going to bring her to me?”

“Hmm I could, but I’d get in so much trouble, plus she’s very smart and I want to see if her plan works. You people are so very entertaining.” Her face rippled for a second as she turned, and she briefly looked like Mor, then Elain, then back to you. “But you, poor boy,” He chose to ignore the condescending tone, “You were dealt a very bad hand love wise, so maybe if she doesn’t succeed I could pull a few strings, but I do have a holiday planned so it may be a few decades.”

Her laugh made him feel sick and he glared at her, “What did you say about her plan?”

“Oh yes! She’s going down to the underworld to try find a solution,” Aphrodite was moving around the room gracefully as Azriel sat back down, the weight of Aphrodite’s easy words hitting him. She picked up one of the books laying on the desk and made an unimpressed noise, throwing it back down carelessly.

“That’s where the dead go right?” he asked, silently praying he was wrong,

“Yup! Don’t worry though, her mother lives there too,” she said ‘mother’ with a slight snarl, but Azriel ignored her. “You know I get why she likes you, you’re very pretty aren’t you?” She walked over to him, swaying your hips and he had to remind himself it wasn’t you as she sat down in his lap, forcing his hands to stay clenched at his side. She ran your hand along his jaw, tilting her head with a smile as she stroked his face. Her thumb rested on his bottom lip as he glared at her with murderous rage, trying to reel it in as he remembered she was possibly the only one that could help him.

“Well I guess I better go,” She sighed dramatically then pressed a perfectly polished gold coin into his hand, “Flip this if you need me, emergencies and sex only.” She winked at him, before kissing his cheek and standing, waving seductively before vanishing. Azriel sat for a few minutes, reeling from the interaction he just had. Is this the world I’ve entered now? Gods who can do whatever they want? He wondered if that’s why you avoided talking about the Gods, if maybe growing up with this had made you bitter to them. He wanted to ask you and talk to you about it, or anything for that matter but instead he just pocketed the coin and stood, winnowing to his room, and collapsing on his bed.

“Sweetie, you look beautiful,” Your mother cried out as you and Nico arrived, you were leaning heavily on his arm, while surrounded by death, the coldness of a lifeless place seeped into your bones and weakened you, you had learnt as much the first time you visited. You gave your mother a tight-lipped smile and hugged her awkwardly.

“Oh I missed you so much dear,” she stroked your hair, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“You could’ve visited.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of your voice, after all you had gone through and she hadn’t visited once. A look of shock passed over her face but before she could reply Hades thundered in, his usual outfit, ‘the robes of death and despair’ as you fondly called them, were replaced by a dark suit, his hair slicked back from his face. He came to Persephone’s side and rested a hand around her waist pulling her in slightly, and despite yourself you felt a little jealous of their closeness as your mother looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Nico, my son, how are you?” Hades deep voice silenced the room, the very air seeming to stand still, and Nico flushed red as he was put on the spot. The four of you exchanged pleasantries as you made your way to the ridiculously long table, Hades sat at the head on one side, Persephone on the other, with Nico and you facing each other in the centre. The wood was dark, but the table was covered in all sorts of colourful food and you all helped yourselves while making small talk, only managing to hear your parents due to the eery silence of the room, dead guards not needing to make any noise.

After the first few courses and once you had consumed enough white wine to gain some courage you turned to face your mother.

“Mum, I think I need a favour if that’s okay?” you asked with great caution, extremely aware of the powerful forces surrounding you.

“Well that depends dear. What is it?”

“After the battle and the… fall, I never got my reward remember, I instead asked to be able to come get it when I needed it.”

“Yes of course, I thought that was very smart!” your mother spoke cheerfully but you could feel Hades’ gaze on your back, burning through your skin and bones to the very essence of your soul. “Let me guess, you need it now?”

“If that’s okay, some things have changed recently and I now know what I need,” you smiled at her, “I met a man, well actually he’s a faerie. Aphrodite wanted us to meet because we’re soulmates and after my fall she thought I deserved to see him, but since he’s from another world he had to go back, and we can’t be together.” You wiped away a few stray tears you forced out; this was your game. Your mother didn’t visit you often so she had never seen this side of you, the side that could manipulate even a god into giving you what you wanted. “So I thought, maybe for my reward I could become Fae and be permitted to live with Azriel in his world, and maybe come and visit my friends occasionally?”

“Oh that sounds lovely dear! That’s so alike me, I had to beg my mother and even then she didn’t let me stay here,” your mother rattled on and you smiled at her, but your shoulders were still tense as you knew you hadn’t won yet. You turned to where Hades sat, rubbing his temples.

“I get it. I do. But I really don’t think my brother would allow that, it’s too much.”

“Too much?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping.

“I understand you went through a lot,”

“Do you?” you couldn’t stop the biting words, “Because the last I checked you both sat and did nothing while I was tortured down there. You could’ve done something, but you didn’t, you made a choice not to, and now I ask for ONE thing, and it’s too much?” Hades’ glare was murderous, but you weren’t going to back down.

“I mean if you really think about it, I’ll be out of your hair if you agree. One less demi-god always seems to be a win for you guys.” Nico said your name in warning, but you slowly stood. “I am not asking for much, I am asking to be allowed to live a life with the man I love and after all I have been through, fighting YOUR battles, I think it’s the least I deserve.”

You held Hades’ gaze for a few more seconds until he spoke. “Are you sure your not a child of Nyx?” he asked, and you grinned, cocking your head to the side.

“Why would that be?”

“You have a pure evil streak in you girl and uncharted power. You better learn to control it, before someone catches on.”

“We won’t have a problem I’m presuming?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said gruffly, going back to his meal and you relaxed, moving to hug your mother goodbye, whispering thanks to her, before linking arms with Nico and leaving.

The next day you awoke to a golden invitation to Olympus, and you smiled, soon. You’d be with him soon.

Olympus looked much nicer since Annabeth had gotten involved. You may have been biased but it seemed to hold a sense of home it never had before, the clinical cleanliness now feeling purer and more loving. The throne room however had remained much the same.

You stood alone in the middle surrounded by the arc of thrones, but you refused to take your eyes of Zeus. You had received a wink from Apollo and a smile from Aphrodite as you walked in but beside that it had been eye contact for at least five minutes. You knew better to speak before you were spoken to but the way they surrounded you and stared down on you was bringing up bad memories and you were really fighting a panic attack.

Seemingly sensing this Apollo cleared his throat, “Perhaps we should start father?” While you were grateful a part of you hated how well the flirtatious god knew you, he was the first to tend to your wounds when you first escaped, healing them enough so you wouldn’t die from blood loss but not enough for anyone to suggest he was picking favourites. His warm hands had provided a sense of comfort you thought you had lost entirely.

Zeus nodded slowly, a letter appearing in his hand, “So these are your terms? Transformation into high Fae, permission to live in a new world with visits back to this one twice a year?” you presumed Hades, or your mother had written the letter, neither of them present currently. You nodded clearly, not entirely trusting your voice.

“I guess it’s only fair, but a full transformation will hurt,”

“I’m sure I can take it.” you lifted your chin, holding your shaking hands tightly in an attempt to conceal them.

Zeus laughed, not taking his eyes of you, “I’m sure you can. Does anyone have any major oppositions?”

Aphrodite raised her hand, “I’d like to add that during her transformation, her womb changes shape so she may birth Illyrian children.” You shot her a grateful look, still not entirely sure why she was suddenly so invested in ensuring your happiness, but you wouldn’t complain.

Hera was the next to speak and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “Why is she getting special treatment again? What did she do that was so different?”

“She was tortured for days!” Athena exclaimed,

“So?” Ares now.

“She was a child, it was brutal.” Apollo jumped to your aid and soon the chamber was filled with shouting voices as they argued over your fate.

“SILENCE.” Zeus quieted the room instantly and every eye turned to him, but he remained focused on you, “Well then? Answer the question girl, what makes you so special?”

You thought for a second before answering, “I don’t consider it special treatment. After the battles I’ve fought and the pain I’ve endured to help your causes, I’d consider it a form of retirement.” You kept Zeus’ gaze and let a streak of the evil Hades had warned you off show, smiling when his smug smile disappeared. He waved his hand, “Very well then, High Fae with altered womb and permission to live in their world and visit our occasionally, that is all?”

You nodded and he assessed you before holding out his hand, his gaze darkening. You furrowed your eyebrows as your limbs started to tingle before pain took over your entire body.

You had felt pain so many times before, pain that left more than just physical trauma, but this was different. You felt as if your blood had become fire and every bone was breaking as new ones reformed. You didn’t have any sense of time or place, all you could feel was pain. At one point you thought it was over only to open your eyes, feeling impossibly soft sheets beneath you, and see Apollo hovering over you, sweat dripping from his brow as he took some of the pain away, even for just a moment.

When you finally awoke you were on the ground. You stood up quickly, almost knocking yourself over as your movement were much faster than usual. You were outside a glowing city, it didn’t have skyscrapers like New York, but it was so comforting to look at you felt yourself being drawn in. As you crossed the border however, a beautiful man with dark hair appeared, his eyes narrowing.

“Who are you and why are you trying to get in here?” A shot of fear went through you as you felt his magic, it was thick in the air and powerful.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone, I’m just looking for someone,” you explained, swallowing down the lump in your throat. The handsome man’s gaze turned vacant before softening after a moment.

“I apologise, I’m Rhysand. Let me help you find whoever it is, what’s their name?”

“That’s okay, really. His name is Azriel, but I don’t think he’s expecting me.” Rhysand stopped, his head turning towards you, “what is it?” you asked.

“(y/n)?”

“How do you know my name?” you stepped back but he held out his hands,

“No, no I’m Az’s brother, let me take you to him.” he grabbed your arm softly and suddenly you were standing in a warm room facing Azriel. You felt tears fill your eyes as you stared at him, he uttered your name in question and you nodded running into his arms, completely engulfed by his scent, tears of joy running down your face when you suddenly realised something, pulling away.

“Did you say brother?” you turned to Rhysand, feeling all the plants in the air respond to your calls, when Azriel tugged you back to him.

“Not biological don’t worry.” He whispered and Rhysand laughed.

“I like her.”

“Hmm I was two seconds away from castrating you,” His eyes widened slightly and you laughed, turning back to Azriel as he looked over you.

“How- you, you’re Fae?” His eyes were filled with worry again, afraid he was being tricked.

“I never got my reward remember, I knew I would need it in the future,” you smiled at him as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you. You pulled apart, Azriel growling when you heard catcalls, turning, and seeing the room had practically filled. A shot of fear went through you as your eyes landed on another man who had red siphons, and Azriel followed your gaze, a hand stroking your face in reassurance.

“So this must be (y/n), welcome to our home, I’m Feyre,” A beautiful woman stepped forward and clasped your hand in hers, which you noted were stained from paint. Everyone else soon made introductions and they urged you to sit as you found out about this makeshift family Azriel was in.

“Oh! That’ll be Nyx, I’ll go,” Feyre said when a baby started crying in the distance,

“Wait what did she say the babies name was?” You asked, holding in a laugh.

“Nyx?” Rhys said,

“Oh, course, cool cool cool,”

“What?” Azriel asked, looking at you strangely.

“I’ve kind of met her,”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s like the evilest deity there is, and she did not like me,” Rhysand stared at you with a look of shock on his face, but before anyone said anything else, Amren was laughing loudly.

“You must tell me all about these Gods girl.”

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tags: @tastedlikedamnation

#acotar #acowar #acofs #acomaf #acofas #Azriel #azriel x reader #percyjackson #Heroes of Olympus

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