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pensat-i-fet · 2 years ago

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Wrong player, right time: Part 1 (Pablo Gavi, Pedri x Reader)

Part 2

**Hi! 😊 So...I was asked to write some sort of love triangle and while I liked the idea, I thought I could do something a bit different. Hopefully you like it. And because this ended up being so long, it’s divided in two. The next part will be posted tomorrow so not a lot of waiting 😉 Enjoy!! ❤️**

Word count: 5177

Masterlist

Wattpad

“I got a present for you”.

Your mum’s words made you look up. “Why?”

“For passing your exam. And it kind of is related to that”.

You frowned slightly, smiling at the same time. Last year, you decided to retake a few classes to get a higher grade and study the major you really wanted to study in university. It had been a crazy decision to many but you were sure of it and it paid off. You got the grade you needed and were accepted at the university in Barcelona.

“Ok, tell me!”

“You are going to Barcelona this weekend. I want you to be able to know the city better and to see the area where you’ll be living”.

“Mum! Oh my God!”

Getting up, you ran to hug your mum.

“And…I might have gotten a ticket for the football match too”.

“Stop! You’re the best! Thank you!”

“You’ve worked hard and deserve it. Once you start the uni year, there won’t be time for much fun”.

There was no time to waste. It was Wednesday and your flight was on Friday, so you needed to pack everything and start planning. You had been to Barcelona before but never for too long, so this was a great opportunity to familiarize yourself with the beautiful city.

The weather was supposed to be good, so you packed a lot of cute summery outfits. The sun didn’t bless you with its presence as often in your home city of Santander, so it was also something else you could enjoy during the weekend.

You barely got any sleep the night before your trip and after checking you had your boarding pass and your ID about seventy times, you made your way to the small airport.

The flight was quick and soon you found yourself on your way to the hotel you would stay at the next couple of days. You pretty much threw the suitcase on the floor and went out again to see the city.

And that was how you spent the Friday and Saturday in Barcelona, trying to see as much as you could and visiting the student residence where you were going to live once you moved there.

Sunday was going to be your last full day there but it was also the most exciting. Finally, you were going to visit the Camp Nou. Actually, you visited it as a kid but couldn’t remember being there. But now it was time to fully enjoy the experience.

The atmosphere was incredible. You usually went to watch matches when Racing de Santander played at home but your main team was Barça. And, funnily enough, a former Racing player was now playing for Barça. You had met him a few times but doubted he would remember you. Players met so many people every day.

“First time?”

“Pardon?”, you asked, turning to look at the man on the seat next to yours.

“You look like it’s your first time here. And like a kid in a toy store”.

“Yes”, you laughed. “I’ve been wanting to watch a match here my entire life”.

“Well, let’s hope it’s a good one”.

While it wasn’t the match of the century, it was quite entertaining. Barça went 2-0 up early and got to play a bit more relaxed after a couple of not-so-great results.

The second half meant a few players you didn’t get to see up close before were now playing near the area where you were sitting. One of those players was the famous Gavi. You couldn’t lie and pretend you weren’t one of those girls who thought he was really cute. But the one you liked the most, Pedri, was injured. So it was a bummer you didn’t get to see him play. Oh well, Gavi was a good substitute.

“Gavi! Look at all the space those defenders are leaving near the box. Use it!”

You didn’t even realise you were yelling. You never did. And it’s not as if the rest of the fans were quiet but Gavi was very close to your seat and heard your words.

“Ok, coach!”, he said, looking at you and smiling at your surprised face.

“I…”.

“You’re blushing”, laughed the man that had introduced himself as José. You had been chatting a bit during the match.

“I feel so silly. I never realise they can hear me. I’m too used to screaming at the tv”.

That only made him laugh more.

A couple of minutes later, the ball fell on Gavi’s feet again and the defenders left the same space you had warned him about before. And he took the chance to run to the box and give a pass to Lewandowski that gave Barça their third goal.

Everyone got up to cheer and when you finally sat down, you saw Gavi walking towards you, a big smile on his face.

“Thanks for the heads up!”

“Eh…you’re welcome?”

José’s laugh could probably be heard back at your parent’s house. God, you were so embarrassed.

The match ended with a 3-0 win for Barça and you couldn’t be happier with that result. It was the perfect ending to your weekend. But…there was more that was going to happen before you went back home.

“Someone wants to talk to you”, said José.

“Who?”

You looked at where he was pointing and saw Gavi walking towards you while taking his shirt off. He gestured for you to get closer so he could give you the shirt and you walked almost not believing what was happening.

“For me?”

“Yes. We wouldn’t have scored that third goal without your advice. I’ll tell Xavi that if he needs some help, I know the right person”.

You giggled, blushing. “I’m free for the next match if he needs me”.

“I would love to see you on the bench. You wouldn’t be as far from me then”.

Not knowing what to say, you extended your arm to get the shirt. And once you had it, Gavi left to join his teammates.

“He was flirting with you”, said Jóse, making you blush even more.

You put the shirt on your face, trying to hide. But it was too late. The cameras had seen it all.

Gavi expected you to post something about getting his shirt on Instagram, so he kept checking the photos he was tagged in on social media…but nothing. You were nowhere to be found.

He was used to hearing things yelled at him at the matches. Often insults and usually it was men who did it. So when he heard your voice, it caught his attention a bit more. And what you said actually made sense. He had noticed what you pointed out and was thinking about telling his teammates to try and take advantage of that defensive weakness from the other team. But it was hearing you say it that made him do it before he even told the others. He wanted to impress you.

What he didn’t want was for the entire country to know about the interaction but he should have known better. All eyes were on him at matches and, of course, the cameras had picked up everything that happened.

“El día después”, a football programme that had been created before he was even born was very famous for their section “Lo que el ojo no ve” (What the eye doesn’t see). They usually caught funny moments of the matches and put them together in a video. People loved that. And this time, they found the best clips for it at the Barça match. They filmed all of your interactions with him and subtitled them.

Gavi was rewatching the video in the training ground with some of his teammates, and they all teased him when the guy who was next to you told you that Gavi had been flirting with you and you blushed and hid your face. He hadn’t seen that when it happened and it made him smile knowing you seemed to like him too. But still, no post on social media.

“She’s gorgeous”, said Pedri.

“I know”.

Gavi couldn’t stop smirking and daydreaming about you showing up at the next match.

“What are you all doing?”, asked the other Pablo, Torre, when he got to the dressing room.

“Watching a video of Gavi’s girlfriend”, said Ferrán.

“You have one? I didn’t know”.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Pablo. Don’t listen to them. But come watch the video”.

Gavi played the video again and when the camera showed you, Torre asked him to pause.

“I know her”.

“You do?”, Gavi couldn’t believe that. He might be able to find you after all.

“She’s from Santander, like me. I saw her at all the Racing matches”.

“Do you know her name?”

“No, but….”, he took his phone out and went on Instagram, “I took a lot of photos with her and she tagged me on Instagram when she posted them, so we should be able to find her”.

“I love you, Pablito”, said Gavi, kissing his teammate’s head.

“Save the kisses for her, bro”.

It took longer than they expected but there it was, a post you made on Torre’s final match for Racing. Gavi took a screenshot of it so he could send you a message later. But if you were from Santander…well, that complicated things a bit but it didn’t make anything impossible.

He spent some time looking at your posts and then had to go to training. There was time to keep stalking later. But when he finally got home and went to check your profile, it was private. That was odd.

The last thing you expected after your trip to Barcelona was for a video of you to go viral. When you were sent the youtube clip, you couldn’t believe it. And the comments…they made you want to never check your social media again.

But then you noticed a lot of notifications on your Instagram. How on earth had Gavi’s fans found your profile? It was too much. So you privated your profile and removed all the new followers you got. You were just a normal girl and didn’t want to be involved in any drama.

Your mum found out what had happened and invited you to go out with her to stop overthinking. You turned the wifi and data off and forgot about all of it.

But then you got home and the wifi connected to your phone and one of the notifications caught your eye immediately. Why was Gavi sending you DM’s on Instagram?

[Pablogavi]: Hi! Sorry about all the drama that the video has caused. You ok?

How did he find your Instagram? But it was really nice to see he actually cared.

[You]: Hi! I’m alright, don’t worry. Thanks for asking.

[Pablogavi]: Let me know if you need me to say something on social media or whatever.

[You]: I will, thanks.

[You]: How did you find my Instagram?

[Pablogavi]: Torre recognised you on the video and helped me find you.

[Pablogavi]: Does it sound stalkerish? 😶

[You]: A bit 😂

[You]: But I’m glad you contacted me.

How had your life become so surreal so quickly? All because of a silly comment you couldn’t help but scream.

[Pablogavi]: Feel free to be the one who contacts me if you ever come back to Barcelona.

[You]: I’m moving there soon. For uni.

[Pablogavi]: Best news you could give me 😀

“Who are you talking to?”

Your mum’s voice startled you and made you almost drop the phone. “Nobody”.

“Right. Why were you blushing and smiling then?”

“Just watching some funny videos”.

You didn’t normally keep secrets from your parents but what were they going to think if, after what they saw on that video, you told them Gavi was flirting with you on Instagram?

So you didn’t tell them but kept on speaking with him. And you kept thinking about going to Barcelona before you had to move there…so you could see him. You had seen some comments online about how you had made your account private right before he started to follow you and that worried you. As exciting as talking to a cute football player was, you didn’t want people harassing you because of it. And now it seemed like so many people had already decided you were his girlfriend.

“Will it be ok for me to go to Barcelona this weekend?”, you asked in the middle of dinner three weeks after your previous trip.

“What for?”, asked your dad. “Do you need to do any uni stuff there? I thought you could do it all online”.

“Yes, it’s not uni related. I just wanted to go again and…meet some friends and stuff”.

“You have friends in Barcelona? Since when?”

Your mum was suspicious and for a reason. The way your face got all red while you were lying to them didn’t help.

“Honey, we might not use social media but we aren’t dumb. And when people talk about your daughter, you listen. Is it Gavi that’s invited you to go see him?”

“Yes, but it’s not what you think”, you rushed to say.

“We weren’t born yesterday. Of course it is what we think it is. But…you aren’t a kid anymore. We can’t forbid you from going and you’ll move there soon anyway. But please be careful”.

“I always am”.

“We know”, said your mum, holding your hand. “You are smart and we trust you. Do we trust a football player’s intentions?”

“We don’t”, answered your dad.

“Keep trusting me, then”.

“Someone’s happy…and in a hurry”, said Pedri, sitting down next to an already dressed Gavi. “I’ve never seen you get ready so fast”.

“I’ve got plans”, smiled his friend.

“I can guess which type of plans”.

“My Santander girl is coming to Barcelona again”.

“I still think she’s too pretty for you”.

“Don’t be jealous, Pepi. She’s an only child but we might find a pretty cousin for you or something”.

“Is she staying with you?”

“No, she’s staying at a hotel but we have a couple of dates planned. And she might change her mind about where she stays after that”.

“Or she might run back to Santander after talking to you for more than 10 minutes”.

Gavi laughed and left the training centre to go find you. The taxi was waiting for him already.

Once at the train station, he tried not to be recognized but it was always a lost battle. It was while taking some photos with a kid that he saw you.

“Sorry guys, I have to go”.

You were looking around and smiled when you finally saw him.

“Hi”, you said, hugging him. “So good to finally see you in person”.

“Yeah, same. Should I take you to the hotel so you can leave your suitcase? Then we can go grab some food”.

“Sounds good”.

You did just that and soon found yourself walking around Barcelona, on your way to a restaurant that was great, according to Gavi. Well, at least you were learning about where to eat for when you moved there.

The food was great. The rest of the date…it wasn’t his fault. Or yours. But there was no spark. The excitement you had felt while you texted was gone. And he was feeling the same way. Well, that was disappointing.

Gavi had planned on trying to ask you to go to his place after dinner but what was the point? He wouldn’t be surprised if you actually ran away home like Pedri had said.

And when you got to the hotel, you buried your head in the pillow, feeling so stupid about how wrong it all went.

“Someone isn’t looking so happy today”.

“Stop”, said Gavi, putting his hands on his face.

“What happened?”

“The date was a disaster, Pedri. A disaster!”

“What did you do?”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re more likely to mess up”, he shrugged.

“It’s just…there was no connection. And it’s not as if she isn’t an interesting person”.

"Or gorgeous”.

“Yeah, that too. But we just felt so uncomfortable in each other’s company. It was so weird”.

“Are you seeing her today? Maybe things change”.

“Well, I have to see her. She is here because of me, I can’t just leave her alone. But…could you maybe come with us?”

“I don’t want to third wheel”.

“It wouldn’t be that. Just, I don’t know, maybe having someone else there helps”.

Pedri didn’t want to tell his friend but the only reason why he accepted was a very selfish one. He wanted to meet you. Every time Gavi mentioned you or showed the boys a photo of you, he cursed his back luck. Maybe if he hadn’t been injured, it would have been him who talked to you at the match.

You were waiting for your “date” to arrive, checking your phone nervously. Maybe the second date would be better than the first. There was some hope.

But then you saw he wasn’t alone and that confirmed he had a terrible time with you too. You tried to see who it was he was with and then realised it was Pedri. The player you actually had a crush on.

“Hi. Do you mind if Pedri comes with us today?”

“No, not all. Hi!”

You tried not to be too obvious but could tell Gavi was looking at you funny. And when Pedri smiled at you, you just knew you were blushing.

“Nice to finally meet you”.

“Nice to meet you too”.

Soon, it was Gavi that felt like he was third wheeling but he didn’t really mind. It wasn’t as if his friend was trying to steal a girl he had a chance with from him. It was clear you two were not meant for each other, but maybe Pedri could be a bit luckier.

“Sometimes I feel like I just signed for Barça because of the beach. I wouldn’t be able to live in Madrid or somewhere without a beach”.

“Same”, you laughed. “I can’t wait to visit all the beaches here. It’s going to make me feel less homesick”.

“Pedri can show you his favourite one”, said Gavi, making you both look at him. Had you forgotten he was there? Kinda.

“That’d be nice”, you said.

“The one near his house is really pretty. Why don’t you go today? The weather is great”.

Pedri looked at his friend, a bit confused. But when he saw the way he raised his eyebrows, he got it.

You quickly finished your dinner and made your way to Pedri’s house, where he parked his car so you could then walk to the beach.

“Sorry about today”.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Well, Gavi sent you to babysit me and you probably had other plans. It’s just…I guess he could tell it wasn’t working between us or whatever. You didn’t have to look after me. It’s fine”.

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do”.

You looked down, biting your lip. And feeling all the butterflies you expected to feel with Gavi but that never showed up.

The silence that accompanied you while you walked on the beach wasn’t a bad one. It was nice.

“I like to sit there and just look around. It sounds a bit boring, I know”.

“We could do that”, you said quickly, not finding the idea boring at all.

“Come, I’ll let you sit on the comfiest stone”.

That made you laugh.

“It’s a shame you and Gavi didn’t work. He was very excited about seeing you”.

“Yeah. I guess it happens”.

“You could still be friends when you move here, though. He’s a good guy, he’ll be happy to help you with whatever you need”.

“Can I ask for your help too?”

“Of course”.

Sitting there with him was making you feel a bit more bold. Having a crush on someone you didn’t know personally could lead to disappointment when you got to spend some time with that person. But with Pedri…it was the complete opposite.

“You know. I had a crush on a Barça player but it wasn’t Gavi”.

Pedri looked at you after that comment, frowning.

“Torre?”

“What? No, why would you…”.

“Well, he’s the one who recognized you. And he mentioned you asked him for photos a lot. I just guessed”.

“Do you want to guess again?”

“Can I get a little hint? Blonde or brunette? Spaniard or from another country?”

“I’ll give you the best hint. No way you don’t guess right after that”.

He turned to look at you when you didn’t continue talking and you leaned to kiss him. You could tell he was surprised at first, but he responded to the kiss quickly.

“Can you guess now?”

“I might need another one of those hints…”.

You laughed, moving to kiss him again. Yeah, he didn’t disappoint.

"Does this count as stealing my friend's girl?"

"I don't think so".

"Good".

Your final day in Barcelona was spent with Pedri and it was perfect. You kept making promises to each other but you weren’t stupid. The summer holidays were coming and you wouldn’t be with him. So you decided to not try and date until you moved to Barcelona in August. Mostly to save yourself the heartbreak if you opened Instagram one day to see him with another girl while on holiday.

Your parents didn’t buy that nothing had happened with Gavi when they saw the way you looked when you got back home. And after some pestering, you told them what really happened.

The holidays were pretty uneventful for you. And by the time they were almost over, you just spent your days packing your things and getting ready for the big move.

[Pedri ❤️]: will you be in Santander next week?

What an odd message. You had been texting non-stop but you didn’t expect that question now.

[You]: yes, why?

[Pedri ❤️]: I’m coming to see you 😉

He what?

[You]: you don’t have to. We’ll see each other in Barcelona soon.

[Pedri ❤️]: I want to see you. Is that ok?

[You]: of course. I just didn’t expect you to come to see me here.

[Pedri ❤️]: I’ve been dying to see you since the day you left.

And you had been dying to see him since that very same day too. So you planned his little trip, still not believing this was happening.

“Hey!”, you waved at him at the airport, feeling overwhelmed by his presence.

“Don’t go all shy on me now, mi amor”, he said, hugging you and not caring about the looks you were getting from people. “Missed me?”

“Maybe a little”.

“Liar”.

More people started to look at you, recognising Pedri. So you took him to your car to drive him to his hotel.

"My parents want to meet you", you blurted out, afraid of scaring him.

"Ok".

"You're ok with it? I mean, we aren't even dating officially but…you know, they just want to take the opportunity of having you here to talk".

"Yes, it makes sense. And you keep saying we are not dating but that's not how I see it".

You looked at him quickly before looking at the road again. "How do you see it?"

"To me, we started dating the day we met. We are just waiting until we live in the same city to see each other often and I guess do more couple stuff".

"So should I introduce you to my parents as my boyfriend?"

"It'll probably be nicer for them to hear that than calling me the guy you hooked up with once because you actually didn't like my friend".

The laugh that came out of you scared you and you gripped the steering wheel tighter while trying not to laugh more.

But on that first day, you didn't see your parents. You spent the whole day with your boyfriend and if that was an indication of how life was going to be in Barcelona, you couldn't move there fast enough.

Pedri charmed your parents too when he met them and you could tell they were a bit less worried about letting their daughter hang out with a football player.

"I'll see you in…10 days", you told Pedri when you took him to the airport. He started preseason the next day.

"10 loooong days. I might not survive".

"You'll be fine", you hugged him tightly, not ready to let go. "I'm the one who will struggle".

"We facetime every day, ok? I need to see your pretty face".

You nodded, kissing him before walking to the security area with him.

"See you soon".

Your dad was helping you take the last box from the car to your room when you heard screaming in the hallway. Was this going to be a daily occurrence?

"It's Pedri! And Gavi!"

"Oh no…".

You got out of the room and saw your boyfriend walking towards your room. He had promised to help with the moving but ended up having to stay longer for training. But there he was, and Gavi was there too, making every girl in the building go insane.

"What are you doing here?"

Your dad told them to get inside the room and closed the door, so people wouldn't see you.

"No kiss?", he asked and then looked at your dad. "Sorry?"

But your dad just shook his head and Pedri gave you a quick kiss and hugged you.

"Did you bring Gavi here to see if I had changed my mind about who I liked?"

"So funny".

"I was brought here for my muscles", said Gavi, flexing said muscles.

"You are here because I have to drive you around and I didn't want to waste more time going all the way to your house".

"I can help anyway".

When everything was in place, you decided to leave. Your dad wanted to take you to dinner before leaving. And now both Pedri and Gavi were invited to that dinner.

On the way out, you tried to keep your distance from your boyfriend, not wanting to create rumours on your first day there. But the problem was that it was Gavi who walked by your side and that didn't create a rumour. It only made the one that already existed bigger.

Some of the girls took photos of you two walking together and laughing and posted them on Instagram.

"Ok then. You can't visit me if this is what's going to happen".

"You ok?"

You nodded, not feeling sure about being ok. You were dating one person while everyone seemed to think you were dating his best friend. It was…weird.

And it wasn't the last time something like that happened. You started to go to every Barça match at home, wearing your Barça shirt but not showing the back. So, of course, everyone assumed you were wearing Gavi's.

It got to the point where you didn't want to post about the matches. Your account was private but someone was clearly posting your photos with other accounts and you didn't know who it could be. So no posting was the solution. Every time you posted with Pedri, it was stories for your close friends. And those were never leaked, thankfully.

"What happened?", you asked one of the girls that lived with you when you got there and saw all the people on your floor.

"A pipe burst and we have no water. And the water messed something up and half of us have no electricity".

"Huh…we can't stay here, then".

"Where are we supposed to go?", she asked. "Not all of us can go to our rich boyfriend's mansion like you will".

"Whatever", you rolled your eyes and went to your room to pick up some clothes and your books.

"Say hi to Gavi from me!"

You were still shaking your head when you closed your door.

"Hi! You're on speaker. I'm driving to the stadium".

"Sorry. I've got no water or electricity at my place. Can I stay with you until it's back?"

"Of course", said Pedri, not doubting his answer for a second, which made you smile. "And for the record, it wasn't me who did whatever it's that happened just so you stay with me".

"Don't believe him".

"Hi, Pablito! And don't worry, I don't believe him. I'll see you after the match, ok?"

"Looking forward to it".

"Good luck boys!"

After the match, you waited for the boys near Pedri's car. They didn't take long to get there and you hugged both of them to congratulate them for the win. But your boyfriend got a longer hug.

"Sit behind him", said Pedri when you walked to sit behind the driver's seat, his seat.

"Why?"

"So I can see you while I drive".

"Oh my God", Gavi was rolling his eyes and Pedri glared at him.

But you did as he said and he started to drive. You could also see him better like this so you weren't going to complain.

When you were getting out of the stadium, you saw all the fans waiting. You put your hood on and tried to hide from all of them but they were surrounding the car.

Looking up from your phone for two seconds, you saw all the people trying to get a good look at you.

"It's her", you heard them say, "the girl Gavi is dating".

"See? I told you they were together".

You saw Pedri's jaw clenching and Gavi told him to drive so they wouldn't make you uncomfortable. He turned to see if you were ok and dozens of phones were out to film the interaction.

"Oh my God, he's so sweet looking after her", was the last thing you heard before Pedri drove past all the fans.

"Sorry about that", said Gavi.

"It's ok".

But you knew it wasn't ok. Because your boyfriend didn't say a word the whole drive to Gavi's and barely acknowledged him when he said goodbye.

You quickly moved to the passenger's seat and tried to get his attention but he wasn't in the mood.

"Are you ok?", you asked him when you got home.

"No, I'm really tired. Tired of everyone thinking my girlfriend is dating my friend".

"Who cares what they think? It's just because of that video. But you know the truth. We know the truth".

"What truth?", he said, raiding his voice. You had never heard him speak like that.

"What do you mean?"

"The truth about how you two spent weeks flirting and then you came here to be with him?"

"Are you for real?", you couldn't believe him. "You know how that ended. Why are you bringing that up now? I'm here with you, am l not?"

"Maybe you should just go with him. Everyone seems to think that".

"I don't think that".

But no matter what you said, he wouldn't look at you. It was breaking your heart. So you left…and there was only one place you could go to.

#pablo gavi #gavi #pedri #pedri gonzalez #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi one shot #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi angst #pedri imagine #pedri one shot #pedri fluff #pedri angst #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer fluff #footballer angst

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physics-of-one-piece · 8 days ago

Note

Sorry, rant incoming

What are your thoughts on Doflamingo returning to the story? Do you think he will just be kept in Impel Down forever or will he actually get out for whatever reason and be part of the final battle?

I've been thinking over what I think is likely to happen, and the fact that he's still alive, even though 15+ people kept talking about how they wanted to kill him in Dressrosa, makes me think there is still something that he needs to do in the story. His potentially knowing of Imu's existence, but then never actually becoming part of the current plot would feel like a waste. Generally, people seem to think if he's coming back it's going to be with Cross Guild. Personally, I think it is likely that he will die if he does actually come back in the story because otherwise, we'd just be sending him to prison twice lmao??? Also, Oda has said he doesn't really like having sad endings where a character dies since the banquet afterwards would not be cheerful, but if it's a villain like Doflamingo I don't think that would make any of the protagonists feel too sad.

The most interesting route for me would be if he pulled a Crocodile and ended up helping the Straw Hats or probably even less likely, Law. It would feel repetitive seeing him fight them again, and now that he lost his kingdom, his family is in jail, and the emperor he was betting on to cause chaos in the world has been defeated, the only players left on the board are pretty much pirates or the World Government. I suspect it would probably bruise his ego if the people who cost him everything were defeated anyway by the Celestial Dragons because then all his losses happened for nothing. I doubt he would ever do anything out of the goodness of his heart, but just as a final middle finger to the Celestial Dragons.

Also, the idea of him sacrificing himself for Law purely as a manipulative move is kinda funny to me because it parallels Cora-san's sacrifice and now makes Law's grudge against him 100% more complicated. Like as a final "good luck moving on now," to Law before exploding in front of him. And if he still harbours any sliver of affection for Rocinante, making sure Law survives would be keeping his legacy alive. (this is 100% just what I think would be cool, but I doubt it would happen at all. Also if he ever takes off his glasses and we see his eyes, it would probably be right before he died. I imagine that would be a pretty badass scene too).

sorry for rambling, I've just been having thoughts about this nightmare of a man

Hi, anon!

He is definitely getting out of Impel Down, hopefully as a part of the Cross Guild (poor Buggy). I'm excited for it!

Ah, see dear anon, you should not think of like "roles" for characters. That's how you fall into the "kill him off after his role is done" trap. Which isn't really fun. Oda understands this and I was delighted by him not killing off his villains. There is still that "weapon" Doflamingo talks about, but he also implies that "power rots with time" so he could suspect the weapon isn't able to be used anymore? Who knows...

Oh, okay, my Obito Dying For Naruto PTSD has been activated with you mentioning the idea of Doflamingo dying for Law + exploding in front of him???

That is strangely too much like Obito's Death Scene (I'm not yelling at you or arguing or anything, I just have genuine PTSD from that and I avoid it like the plague just thinking about it makes my head hurt) That shit has traumatised me. I don't even want to think of having to experience that twice, I have trust issues and Kishimoto is the reason for all of them, I regret watching & reading Naruto sooo much. Oda has PLEASANTLY SURPRISED me time and time again bcs my expectations were below zero regarding like being nice to characters? He lets them suffer. But he doesn't kill them. And that's the sign of a great writer. Hopefully, highly doubtful Oda kills off any Warlords. He values his creations - his characters - a lot, at least that's my take on him as a writer. The only big deaths we had were of the good guys, Ace & Rosinante.

My only comfort is that Doflamingo values his life WAAAAAAAAAAAY too much to ever help Law. He & Law are done with being buddy-buddy, hey I got your back. Haha. No. Do I like thinking about them having each other's back? Yes. Will it happen based on their personalities, history & relationship? Nope. Not ever. They might fight together against the WG, but no way will they be JUMPING in front of an attack for each other. Like... Never gonna happen. Not even for a "fuck you, I get the last laugh" type of thing. They would be sassing each other like "what, you didn't hit him yet?" "How did you not dodge that, that's so easy to dodge." type of stuff

They. Are. Very much. Alike.

Law has accepted this and confirmed it. He might not be as BAD as Doffy, but Law genuinely didn't give a damn about Dressrosa. He just wanted to take Doflamingo down, not save Dressrosa, saving Dressrosa was a consequence of taking Doflamingo down. Think of it that if Law wouldn't do an action bcs of Doflamingo, then Doflamingo the same way wouldn't do an action bcs of Law.

They. Loathe. Each. Other.

Doflamingo wouldn't even die for Rosinante. He expected Law to die for him. In Doflamingo's mind, he has had his brother "stolen" from him by Law. Idk how to put it, but idk how else to word it. Rosinante loved Law enough to die for him.

Rosinante didn't love Doflamingo enough to die for Doflamingo - his actual brother. (And of course Rosinante should not, but that's not how Doflamingo is thinking)

Rosinante saw his kid older brother in kid Law and he, now as an adult, could do sth about it when he couldn't as an 8-year-old for Doflamingo.

Doflamingo, a Celestial Dragon, would not die for Law. It's out of character for him. I mean, we see warlords going around freely out of Impel Down, and if you think Luffy would put them back in prison, I think you're wrong. There's not gonna BE a World Government after the Straw Hats go to Mariejois. You think the marines will be able to catch Doflamingo, who can FLY all across the sea? The first time he gets out, he gets out for good. He'll either keep himself away or join the Cross Guild and then partake in the war - maybe.

Doflamingo's always been non-direct agression with the Celestial Dragons. He wants to fuck up everything they rule over so they have nothing to rule over. A clean slate. He's gonna let Luffy handle Mariejois. No way is he going against some of the monster freak thingies. He knows his own limits.

Nobody is getting Doflamingo back to Impel Down a second time. Once he gets out, he's OUT. Idk Law's current status in the manga and am caught up completely with the anime and honestly it's questionable if Law will even partake in the Mariejois War after the loss of his crew. Then again, Law is a one-man army, so who knows. Idk why he'd want to get into that mess, though? He'd want to go after Blackbeard or sth.

If Doflamingo ever does do anything for Law, it would be going after Blackbeard. Because nobody gets to kill Law except Doflamingo himself. Law is Doflamingo's ex-subordinate, Doflamingo's failed Corazón, Doflamingo's responsibility.

Funnily, that's a sibling-like thing of Doflamingo to do. The siblings beat each other up at home but someone messes with their little sibling outside - hell hath no fury like the older sibling about to fckn throw you into the ground and murder you.

I think he can take Blackbeard if it's 1 vs 1. Idk, I just think swordsmen with no DF are a better match for Blackbeard. But yeh, if Doflamingo does anything "nice" for Law... It will be either to attack Blackbeard (indirectly or directly.

None of that dying stuff.

Doflamingo is a Celestial Dragon. His life to him is worth ten billion times more than Law's, and more than getting a "one up" on Law and then dying? Not Doflamingo's style. Doflamingo's true middle finger to the Celestial Dragons is destroying them. Not doing sth small. He's "go big or stay home" kinda guy. He will be happy when all the Celestial Dragons in Mariejois are dead and I think that genuinely WILL happen.

I just want Doffy out of Impel Down already. I. Am. Fucking. BORED. WANO WAS BORING TO ME. I WAS YAWNING for Luffy vs Kaido. It only got fun for G5. (Thankfully Egghead is fun!)

Doflamingo spoiled me. 😌

Serious talk, I was pissed we didn't get to see his eyes after he was knocked out. For Oda, from what I saw of him doing an SBS where Doffy takes off his sunglasses only to reveal another pair 🤣 I think Oda just is saying that his sunglasses are meant to represent his eyes.

Very nice ask, anon! Thank you for sending it! We love this nightmare of a man!

#asks #anon

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r6shippingdelivery · 3 years ago

Text

A high-res image of Harry’s new board just dropped, and I’m gonna analyse and transcribe as many of the notes as I can. There are parts I couldn’t decypher, so if you want to zoom in the image yourself and help me fill out the blank, I’d me more than grateful!

Under a cut cause it’s going to be a really long post.

The yellow post it above everything else says: The most practical application of my skills is to determine who works best with who. I eliminated interpersonal friction as best as I could so we can move forward efficiently.

We see that some of the names in the teams are circled in red, probably the ones who cause interpersonal friction... with the team leader, I assume? Below, I’m gonna detail the operators in each team, followed by the text on the first note (written by Harry, presumably), and at the end the text of the note under the picture of each team leader (this one signed by Zero).

Thermite’s team

Kaid Gridlock Tachanka Fuze Kapkan Buck Sledge Ash Oryx Thorn Goyo Amaru

Harry’s note: Some profiles are best suited for high-risk missions, and I’m not one to keep people from their calling. [REDACTED] is the cavalry - caution thrown to the wind get the job done at any cost

Zero’s note: Trace is motivated, and he’s seen more explosions than most, the years have been good to him despite going through hell and back. This squad needs to be led by a bad motherfucker

Hibana’s team

Thatcher Alibi Blackbeard (in red) Mute Dokkaebi Jäger Echo Jackal Blitz Maestro Kana/Flubber (hint of a new operator?) Mira Rook

Harry’s note: Members of [REDACTED] are the careers. A wide range of skill sets can be adapted to any scenario. They can lead their own missions or they can assist one of the other squads as required

Zero’s note: Imagawa is a (??) soldier and a fantastic leader. She’s been a reliable player in the past. I think it’s time we put her connections to good use and I’m sure she’d agree

Doc’s team

Lion (in red) Clash Montagne Twitch Nomad Bandit Frost Ying Castle (in red) Thunderbird Melusi

Harry’s note: A humanitarian unit was an idea I had a long time ago and I’m glad to have found a (??) that fits the bill. [REDACTED] will be perfect for sensitive operations where collateral is not an option.

Zero’s note: Illegible

Caveira’s team

Maverick Vigil Zofia (in red) Lesion Valkyrie Glaz Nokk Warden Iana Mozzie Zero Flores

Harry’s note: Every good organization needs a covert espionage unit and for us it’s [REDACTED]. Caveira’s team is the best in the world at infiltration, surveillance, intelligence and elimination.

Zero’s note: Illegible

We have confirmation that all these ops joined Nighthaven traitors. I numbered the notes so you can follow better what Harry is talking about. Let’s begin with the missing image, then IQ, Finka, Smoke, Kali, and last Pulse.

1) I should have known something was up with Ela. I hoped that serving together would remind the sisters of their better years but I guess some wounds don’t heal with time…

2) IQ has been enamored with Nighthaven’s technology since she returned from Singapore. Kali no doubt knows how to dazzle her (??) prospect.

3) I can only assume that during her time on Kali’s team Finka formed some bonds with Nighthaven’s agents. She had everything she needed here but maybe she saw something more there.

*Doesn’t Harry know about her illness? Or didn’t even cross his mind that she’s desperate to find a cure, and the lure of high tech resources might have swayed her?

4) I don’t think Smoke was unhappy with us, but I think his philosophies might have aligned better with his new home. Thatcher is not so hopeful. He won’t say it, but he is torn up over this.

5) Cohen is taking this loss heavy, saying she saw this coming. She doesn’t want to question your judgement, but she’s worried that letting Nighthaven tamper with the Program will affect not just our organization, but the world out there - Zero

*Actually, I think Ash has every right to question Harry’s judgement since he dismissed her worries multiple times, and lo and behold, she was right. I bet she’s also right this time and NH are bad news being out there freely

6) Pulse is one I did not see coming but I understand. He’d lost his sense of wonder and he saw that (??) in Nighthaven. I’ll have to see how Hibana is doing.

We see a spread of newspaper cut-outs, indicating unrest and crime are on the rise.

Yellow note: Zero’s pet project is slowly enlisting the aid of (??) specialists. The associations that he’s making aren’t self-evident. I’m not supposed to ask too many questions… that’s the deal he keeps reminding me of. I just hope he won’t exploit R6 resources for this work (??)…

Report under the note: With your permission, Harry, I would like to send Flores out on a (covered part) suggests white collar crime is on the rise worldwide, and he’s confident there’s a syndicate (covered part). I’ll be monitoring his activity Specialist Ryad “Jackal” Ramirez Al-Hassar

Note: If we want to connect with the world, we should find suitable partners in different fields.Yakate Date Security is a candidate that comes to mind, with everything being online these days. I know someone close to Yakate himself. Let me know if you want to make contact Specialist Yumiko “Hibana” Imagawa

Given the content of the note, the redacted passport from a Japanese woman has to be Azami, confirmed to be the new operator for Season 1. No further references about that Kana/Flubber, but since that operator is placed in Hibana’s team, and some leaks talked about a hole-blocker operator named flubber, I wonder if that was Azami’s work-in-progress name and they just forgot to change it?

I’m very curious about the tank schematic, but since it’s placed next to that robot thing that is Osa’s trademark, I think it’s related to this next report:

Note: Harry, you asked me to dig and I did. Here is what I have on Nighthaven’s base. Schematics, location, aerial, vehicles… It’s not perfect but it’s all I could obtain - legally Specialist Meghan “Valkyrie” Castellano

It seems Harry is worried enough about NH that he wants intel about everything possible. More hints about them being a problem Rainbow will have to face and neutralize, imo.

The picture seems to be a teaser of the upcoming map, the Emerald Plains club/lounge. Confirmed by Kaid’s note:

In all my years I’ve seen many countries, but few felt like home. It’s not my Fortress, but this destination in Ireland has proven reliable in the past. It’s a nice place to unwind. Jalal “Kaid” El Fassi

We have a lot of tech stuff here! Thorn’s razorblooms up top, then a heavy mechanized armor with GIGN on the chest - so we can safely assume it’s a sneak peek of Montagne’s upcoming elite. Then there’s the Kóna stations and the “healing pods” they carry, plus a yellow note with some chemical compound. We also have Flore’s ratero drone, and a schematic of Azami’s knives. The round green gadget eludes me; at first I thought it could be Wamai’s magnets, but he’s not part of Rainbow, and Mira would have no reason to tinker on that gadget?

The note pinned between Monty’s suit and the not-Wamai’s gadget reads: I enjoyed the games but I’m taking a break from the field. There’s a lot of work ahead and I need to make sure our gear is still top of the line. If we ever encounter something like Nighthaven out there, I don’t want our specialist to worry they’ll be outgunned. (Covered) need me I’ll be in my lab Dr. Elena “Mira” Alvarez, director of R&D

And this is all I could get, if I missed anyting, or you have decyphered some of Zero’s notes, or have any other info, please add onto this post!!

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #rainbow 6 #lore analysis & rants

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

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

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“Look! An owl!”

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I made the roster for worlds.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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sunflowerdarlingx · 4 years ago

Text

Fred Weasley - “Fred doesnt date” 2

Hi everyone, I hope you’re all okay <3

Here is part two to “Fred doesn’t date”, please let me know what you think, I do have a part three idea ready but wont post it unless some of you want it.

PART ONE

Female Reader

Warnings: none

------------------------

Some might say Fred Weasley was scared to commit, some would say he enjoyed the player lifestyle and others would say he was some sort of sex addict who just enjoyed multiple partners but not all at once.

The truth was, Fred was indeed scared. He felt that the people close to him were he only ones he could trust, the only ones he could truly open up to. He was very happy with his life and his relationships, those he chose to build were stronger than most. He never expected to be drawn to Y/N, he also never expected to develop the feeling he did.

He was utterly shocked at the way their relationship progressed, he had never felt this before, the butterflies he would get when he saw her or the way his heart fluttered when their skin made the slightest contact or the undeniable feeling of love he had when she fell asleep in the common room all cuddled up into Fred’s chest after a night of her homework and him planning pranks.

This is why Fred Weasley didn’t date. It always got complicated. Feelings of anger, hatred, sadness filled him up and he couldn’t take his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Cedric placed a kiss on Y/N’s jawline before placing one on the corner of her lips. Soon enough his lips were on hers as his hand moved down to her waist whilst the other supported the back of her neck so he could pull her closer.

Fred knew he should look away, he knew he was torturing himself watching the scene in front of him unfold.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to go over there and pull Cedric as far away from Y/N as he could. An overwhelming need to break his hands for even touching Y/N in such away creeped inside his body and his fists clenched at his side.

How dare he.

How dare he stand there and touch her, kiss her, do all the things that Fred should be doing with her.

Surely he had heard the rumours. He knows how close they had been getting. How dare he interrupt that and take her away from him.

Tears pricked at the corner of Freds eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He knew he couldn’t stay there, so he didn’t. He forced himself to look away form the two and turned to head back to his dorm.

He thought Y/N liked him, he thought she felt the same way he did. Why did she kiss Cedric if she knew?

He was angry with himself, he was so stupid to let himself get attached to her in the first place, he knew it was a bad idea but she was so bloody addictive. Every little thing about her drove him mad but in the best way possible.

As Fred walked down the corridor the tears started to fall freely from his eyes, scared someone would see him he ran as fast as he could up to his dorm. A few girls saw him and tried to stop and speak to him but his feet carried him straight past them. His top teeth were embedded in his bottom lip to stop the sound of heartbreak escaping his mouth.

Even after what he just saw, no other girl could take his attention away from Y/N. He made it to his dorm, he was greeted by a smiling George who soon had a look of fear paint his face.

“What’s wrong Freddie?” his voice was laced with concern as he walked over to his brother. He had never seen Fred in such a state. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks were wet with tears and his lip was bleeding slightly. It was obvious this wasn’t from a fight so what had gotten Fred so worked up?

Fred stood still in front of his brother, he looked around the room before a broken sob left his mouth, George’s heart broke at the sound. George wrapped his arms around Fred and pulled him close. “Mate what is it? You know you can tell me anything”

Loud broken cry’s left Freds mouth as all his emotions bubbled over, chocked sobs and snotty sniffles filled the room as he collapsed against George. Though Fred and George loved each other dearly, they never really hugged, it wasn’t uncommon but it wasn’t something they did regularly. They usually hugged when something good happened, like when they got the money for the shop that they planned on opening over the summer or when it was their birthday. George couldn’t believe that the reason they were hugging was because Fred was, well heart broken.

“Digger kissed her, he actually fucking kissed her” Fred shouted as he pulled away from George. “How fucking dare he, who does he think he is” he pulled his shirt over his head and wiped his face with it before putting it in the wash basket.

“Fuck...Fred I’m so sorry” George had never seen Fred so angry, even loosing quidditch to Slytherin never had him this mad. His hands were in fists by his sides whilst his chest heaved with anger, jaw clenched.

“I should have asked her sooner Georgie, why the fuck didn’t I ask her sooner” soon the anger was replaced by sadness, which consumed Freds body as he lay in his bed. He’s never been so emotional before, his heart literally felt like it had been broken in two, he felt weak… hopeless

“Cmon mate, why don’t we go down to dinner, food will help and I’m sure we could see if the elf’s could get you ice cream, like what mum does when you’re upset”

Fred buried himself in his duvet, “nah I think I’m gonna stay here, don’t really want to have to sit and watch her and perfect Diggory be all over each other again”

“I’ll take you something back then, just please come and find me if you need me, even send one of the first years down and I’ll be here as soon as I can okay?”

Fred nodded “turn off the lights please on your way out”, George left the room and anger flooded his body. He hated seeing any of his family sad but the fact it was Fred, it was prankster Fred who was always laughing but now broken, angered him even more. He wanted Fred to be happy but after seeing the state he was in, it felt like it would be a while before laughing Fred returned.

“Ced, I really think we should go and find Fred, what if he’s looking for us” Y/N pulled Cedric by the hand towards the staircase leading to the Gryffindor common rooms.

Cedric pulled her back toward him, wrapping his arm around her waist “cmon you agreed to a snack first” he looked down at Y/N with his best pleading eyes. She rolled her eyes before grinning at the boy beside her “fine, only because I’m hungry”

They made their way down the corridor, “he’s probably off shagging some girl in our year, doubt he’s looking for you”. Y/N felt angry hearing that, she knew Fred had a reputation but they had been getting closer and going on dates and stuff, surely he wouldn’t be off seeing other girls when he was suppose to be spending the day with her George and Lee.

“I don’t think so Ced, he was suppose to be spending the day with us” her voice was quiet as she looked ahead of her.

“Oh cmon Y/N you can’t be serious, Fred doesn’t care about that, as long as he’s getting a shag then he’s happy” Cedric laughed. “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

“Fred and Me? Nothing...we are just friends” Y/N looked down at the ground, the thought of Fred with another girl upset her, Y/N had always hoped that the rumours going around school just now were secretly true. That Fred was finally settling down with someone. With her.

Cedric turned them so Y/N rested against the wall, “are we friends Y/N” he asked as he rested his elbow above her.

“Of course Cedric, why would you ask that?” she looked up at him, forcing a smile.

“Well if I’m honest, I’ve always liked you Y/N, obviously I figured it’s better to tell you now before it’s too late. Especially since I’m leaving at the end of the year.”

“Oh Cedric...I’m not sure what to say, I’m flattered really” suddenly her shoes looked very interesting.

“Cmon Y/N, I’m so much better for you than Weasley, he can’t give you the things I can, plus you know his reputation just as well as I do. Remember that time Lucy is my year came into the common room crying her eyes out because Fred said he didn’t want her? What makes you think you’d be different?”

Y/N couldn’t help but frown. Cedric was right, Fred did have a reputation for hurting girls, she never thought he would really mean to hurt them but what if he did? He’d led her on and now he was no where to be seen.

Why would Fred change for her? She was nothing special. Plenty girls at school were prettier than she was, smarter than she was. She was a fool for thinking Fred would want something more.

“We would be good together Y/N and you know it. Summers in Italy or at yours, your brother loves me already so we know he’d be on board with it us. Plus, look” he gestured down to his body “who could say no to all this”.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at Cedric, she had always found him quite attractive, though they really only started speaking last year, Y/N had lost all her puppy fat over the summer, her boobs had gotten a bit bigger and her arse and curves were more defined.

“Hmm summers in Italy do sound good” she teased

“I’d hope I’d get your attention more than just through the summer” he leaned down placing a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m sure we could arrange that if it’s your deepest desire” he smirked against her before placing another kiss on her cheek.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted” he teased, placing another kiss on her jaw, “can I kiss you?” His voice was a low whisper in her ear. Y/N wasn’t sure what to say, on one hand she would like to kiss Cedric, she did use to have a crush on him, but the other part of her wanted to say no, hopeful that Fred would maybe want her.

Her body reacted before she could, nodding at Cedric. He grinned down at her, he ran his hand across her cheek pushing her baby hairs back form her face, she giggled at the contact. Cedric placed a soft delicate kiss on her jaw and then her lips, soon enough their lips where moving in sync but something felt off.

She pulled away before smiling up at Cedric “cmon we better go and get ready for supper” she places her hand in his and pulled him towards the common room.

When she got to dinner she sat with Cedric, laughing with him and his friends, her attention was drown to the flash of ginger hair walking into the hall. It was George, she looked over and smiled at him, shock consumed her when he glared at her. If looks could kill she’d have been dead.

His eyes trailed down to the table where Cedric has his hand rested on top of hers. George looked angry, his face turned slightly red and his nostrils flared. He walked over to the Gryffindor table, immediately meeting with lots of “you okay George?” “Where’s Fred?” “What’s got you so angry?”.

He was sat with Lee, Angie, Alicia and Katie, once he told them all what happened they were fuming. None of them really liked Diggory in all honesty, from the way he acted during quidditch to his show off personality, they all thought he was a bit of a tool.

To say there were all shocked was an understatement, they had all seen Y/N and Fred together and even they knew they were more than friends.

“Well I won’t be saying hi to her again any time soon” Alicia said in a bitchy tone, “how could she do that to Fred?”.

Fred eventually got hungry, and honestly he hoped food would comfort him. He pulled on a hoodie with his grey joggers and made his way down to the great hall. As he entered he avoided looking over at the Hufflepuff table, usually he would look for Y/N and send her a wave or a wink or a goofy grin but not today. Not ever again, he thought to himself when he reached his friends. He was sat in between Lee and George, both of them giving him a pat on the back as he sat down.

They tried to distract Fred by talking about new pranks and quidditch plays but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was desperate to turn around and look at her, to go over and pull her away from perfect Diggory and convince her that she should be with him instead but he knew he had to be strong. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against Diggory, after all, he he was the better option, he would give her the things Fred couldn’t, like luxury holidays to Italy.

Ginny came over to them and sat in-between Fred and Lee, giving her brother a comforting hug once he explained what happened. A few little sobs leaving his mouth which he covered with a cough. Fred had spoken to Ginny loads about Y/N, she was the only one who wouldn’t slag him off for being all lovey dovey about her.

“Fred, don’t look now but Y/N is coming over” Alicia said as she kept looking over to where Y/N walked over towards the table. Fred groaned and felt his eyes start to water.

Ginny turned around and glared at the girl coming towards her, “bitch” she mumbled before turning to Fred. “Want me to tell her you don’t wanna talk?”

“Fuck” he rubbed his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb, “it’s okay gin, I can’t exactly avoid her”. Y/N came over and wrapped her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling down his hood “what’s up with you Freddie?” her voice whispered in his ear. Fred tensed at the contact, before relaxing at her voice.

Y/N was worried about Fred, he was never usually late to dinner and she didn’t even get her usual goofy smile off him.

Her voice was one of his favourite sounds, he often fell asleep to her voice in the common room late at night when he’d sneak her in. His head would rest on her lap as she read muggle tales to him, the way her voice soothes him sent him into deep slumbers. He couldn’t help but melt in her arms and at her words, she’s always so caring.

He looked at his friends who were all sending glares her way. He sucked in a breath before pulling her hands away from his neck, he turned around and looked at her. She frowned at his current state, his hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot and face red.

“Nothing I’m good” Fred stood up and, made his way out of the hall.

“What’s up with him Georgie?” She turned to look at Fred make his way out the hall.

Ginny scoffed and rolled his eyes at her, “hmm I wonder” sarcasm laced her voice as she tapped her chin. Ginny learned at a young age to look after herself and then she very quickly realised she had to look after her family. They always came first and no one said anything bad about them.

She’d had her fair share of arguments with boys and girls over the years, boys trying to slag off her brothers out of jealousy and girls complaining about rejection. Knowing how much Fred liked and cared for Y/N only made Ginny angrier, Fred actually allowed himself to get close to someone and she broke him. She stood up to face Y/N, eyes staring her down, “why don’t you go ask your new boyfriend Diggory? Maybe you two can recreate some of the dates my brother took you on”, her voice was cold as ice as she spoke. She shoved past Y/N and went to look for Fred.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked down at George, he just looked at her before a “she’s right” left his mouth and him and the rest of the people he was sitting with left the hall.

Y/N was shocked, she was an idiot for underestimating what she and Fred had. She stood for a moment trying to think about everything that had happened. She majorly regretted kissing Cedric now, she should have spoken to Fred, asked how he felt but she was an idiot. She let her insecurities get the better of her.

She decided to go to her dorm and call it a night, at about 2 am she woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, her mind in overdrive. She decided to go for a wander out to the gardens to look at the stars.

Fred was in and out of sleep, if he wasn’t having dreams about him and Y/N, he was dreaming about her and Cedric.

He woke up after dreaming about walking in on Y/N and Cedric, Cedric was above her, hands running down her body, they were laughing at Fred as he stood at the door watching.

“Oh Freddie, you didn’t actually think you had a chance with me, did you?” Y/N’s giggle flooded the room but it wasn’t her normal laugh, it was laced with mockery and hate. “Why would I settle for you, poor little Fred Weasley, can’t even commit to a girl. You honestly think I’d settle for that? Cedric treats me so much better”. Cedric leaned down kissing her roughly..

Fred shot up from his bed, chest heaving as he tried to calm down. He was an idiot for thinking he stood a chance, why would she be his when he’d been with so many other girls? When Cedric could offer her the world and he could offer her a summer at the burrow?

He got up and chucked on shorts and a hoodie, making his way out his dorm and out the portrait. He made his way around the castle avoiding the prefects and Filtch. He reached the gardens and was sat on the grass looking up at the stars above him.

He was staring up at the moon, all he could think about was Y/N, the way she laughed, the way she listened to everything Fred had to say, the way she could brighten up even the darkest days and the way she made everything better.

He thought about Christmas, he’d asked her to stay with them over the festive period. He was looking forward to spending all his free time with her, playing in the snow and showing her all his favourite places around the burrow. He knew she’d love their garden, the stars were even clearer there. He was to engrossed in thought that he hadn’t heard Y/N walk up behind him,

He was even looking forward to having her meet his mum and dad. Molly was shocked when she saw the letter from Fred asking for his new friend-girl to stay over at Christmas. Molly had a feeling another sweater may be needed.

“Freddie….” Her voice was a whisper but still managed to make him jump “can I join you?”……..

Part Three

Tagged

@manuosorioh @itsbebeyyy @britishspidey @supermassiveblackhope @impossibelle @jenniweaslee

#Fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader

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kyouxa · 3 years ago

Text

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Shin Tsukinami (Story 12)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! If you enjoy these translations, please consider supporting me on ko-fi.

Place: Abandoned house — Outside

Yui: (Yesterday I was apparently the first one to fall asleep. Was I really that tired though?)

Kino: How nice. C’mon, it’s hot now.

It’s some food I’ve been stealing beforehand, so please eat it as carefully as you can.

Yui: Kino-kun, thank you.

Shin: Did you steal things like this before us knowing about it too?

Kino: I might’ve taken some while you two were resting a bit.

For once, I wasn’t just playing around as you see.

Shin: No, that’s an extension of playing around, don’t you think?

Kino: Meanie. I only brought it with me because I thought that girl might be hungry to begin with.

Yui: Really? Thank you for your concern then.

Kino: Ah, yeah! I also found something really interesting while I was searching for food!

I want to show it to Shin, so wait here for a hot minute. I’ll go get it.

*Kino leaves*

Shin: What could be so interesting? Well, whatever. I shouldn’t be surprised about anything that guy pulls up anymore.

Go on, you can eat without holding back now. You’re hungry, aren’t you?

Yui: Yep, after everything that happened, I really am. Thanks for the food!

Ah, it’s hot… !

(The meat is really hot because it was freshly roasted… !)

Shin: You’re not a child anymore, so eat more calmly than that. Nobody’s taking it away from you after all.

Yui: Yes, you’re right.

...Nn, it hurts… it looks like I burnt my tongue

Shin: Haa. Your clumsiness is showing, seriously.

*Shin gets closer*

Shin: Alright, show me your tongue. I have to check on it before it might get even worse.

Yui: Eh!? I’m fine, really! It’s not that big of a deal.

Shin: If it gets worse you’ll suffer deterioration. It’s better to show me yourself before I’m forced to pull your tongue out myself, right?

Yui: (Uhh… it’s no use, but I still hate it… let’s see)

Fine, I get it. I’ll show you myself.

Shin: What? I would’ve been fine with pulling it out myself as well.

Yui: No, thanks… ! Alright, Nn…

*Yui shows tongue*

Shin: Ah, it’s getting really red.

Should I take care of it? It would heal way faster like that, don’t you think?

Yui: Eh!? No! You don’t have to go that far, I’m fine.

Shin: You shouldn’t decline. I would be glad to help you out for the sake of it healing faster.

Yui: T-That’s not...

Shin: Perhaps you would rather want to be bitten by my fangs than simply being treated? Well, if that’s so you could’ve told me earlier.

Yui: That’s not what I asked for… !

Shin: Looks as if the third wheel’s about to come back. I’ll settle this now or never then.

Nn…

*Shin kisses Yui*

Yui: Nn…

Shin: Kuku, your face is bright red. You’re still shy even if it’s just kissing.

If you don’t get used to it, there might be some difficulties in the future.

Yui: It’s embarrassing to me, therefore I can’t help it, okay… !?

Kino: ...Ahem, Ahem!

Yui: Ah, Kino-kun! You’re back!

Kino: Yep, I’m back. Ah, don’t worry about me, just keep going.

*Shin backs off*

Shin: We can’t easily continue now. There’s nothing more we’re gonna show you either.

Kino: How lewd. Well, whatever. Apart from that, I want you to look at this.

*Kino gets closer*

Yui: Ah, talking about it, you wanted to show us something interesting, right… ?

Kino: Hm, yep! Tada, look at this! It’s a caricature of Shin!

Yui: Eh? Of Shin-kun?

Shin: Uwah! Where did you get this from!?

Kino: I found it when exploring the Orange mansion. I brought it reflexively with me because it was kinda an amazing sketch, in my opinion.

Hey, did you draw this? I found it in Shin-kun’s room, but...

Shin: T-That’s...

Yui: But it looks really good. Did Shin-kun draw this all by himself?

Shin: It’s not like that. Because I had no time to do it myself, I let a familiar draw it for me instead.

Kino: Hmm, so it’s a portrait? As expected from a founder, they really act differently.

But even so, do you really like yourself that much? This portrait is way prettier than you actually are though.

Shin: Shut up! I mean, you’re not beautifaction yourself in person either! I at least let them draw me faithfully.

I’m totally fine with how this turned out. We have to talk about way more important things than that anyway.

Kino: Yep, Yep. Let’s talk seriously about this matter from now on. Does any of you got something?

Shin: I… I want to regain my brother’s memory.

After I first got to observe the situation, I immediately felt as if it’s an impossible task. We met each other face to face several times, yet I haven’t noticed any change in him.

Yui: Shin-kun…

Kino: Well, guess so.

Shin: So I think it’s best to find a way to get out of here first, before trying anything with him again.

Kino: Don’t you think that this is also difficult? We’ve just been looking around the mansions for now, that’s it. And even there were no clues.

Shin: I know that. I just want to get out of this ridiculous place if possible. Maybe his memory would come back naturally then.

...I thought that if I can’t somehow shake his memory, they might be able to come back themselves by any chance.

Kino: By chance, huh? Does that mean you actually cared about what I said yesterday?

Shin: ...Not really.

Yui: Yesterday?

(I wonder what happened while I was asleep?)

Shin: So, what’s it? Do you think it’s the opposite?

Kino: No. As you said it yourself, I think it would be quicker to get out of here first.

Shin: Thought so. What do you think?

Choices

1) What about Carla-san then? (black)

2) I want to know how to escape (white)♡ ♡ ♡

— What about Carla-san then?

Yui: What about Carla-san then? You’re the one who wants him to remember the most after all.

Shin: It can’t be helped. I’m worried about my brother, yes, but I can’t let this be a constant priority that weighs on my mind.

Yui: You’re right. As long as Shin-kun’s fine, I think it would be better to find an escape route first too.

Kino: Aight, it’s unanimous.

— I want to know how to escape♡

Yui: I think it would be best to find a way to escape from here first as well. Maybe Carla-san’s memory will come back once we escape.

Shin: Right? It wouldn’t make sense if we meaninglessly return home without all of their memories coming back to them. We, Kino and everyone else.

Yes, that would be a reason to postpone my brother. This is what we should aim for in the future...

Yui: (He’s speaking to us as if he’s entirely trying to convince himself about this)

(Maybe Shin-kun really wants to go and actually see Carla-san as soon as possible)

(I can’t get this feeling of them wanting to desperately kill us off either though…)

It’ll be fine, Shin-kun. I’m sure this won’t last too long anymore.

Shin: Yes, it’ll be fine. I know that.

Alright, unanimity agreed to it then.

Yui: Yes.

Kino: Okey-doke.

end Choices

Shin: That’s settled then.

Kino: I guess he’ll be able to manage his memory somehow or another. If I could go back to my original house, Yuri would probably help me for sure.

Yui: Yuri-san?

Kino: He’s my loyal servant. As soon as I get home from here, I’ll let him do some research in order to restore your brother's memory.

Shin: Yes, that would help a lot.

Kino: But, y’know… Even if we’re looking for an escape route, we have to first of all figure out how we were brought to this place

Shin: It’s worse, especially since we know nothing about this place. If there are at least any hints somewhere...

Yui: That’s true. It was also one of the reasons we went into each of the mansions...

Shin: Seriously, did you notice anything?

Yui: What I noticed—

*flashbacks*

Yui: Ah! Speaking of that—

Shin: What?

Yui: Each of the mansions had the exact amounts of chess pieces on their chess boards

Shin: Now that you mention it, I do think I noticed one standing in the living room of the Orange mansion once...

Kino: Ah, there was also one in Scarlet’s mansion.

Yui: I remember there was also one in the Violet mansion. Besides, the floor of the church also has a checkered pattern of black and white marble—

Kino: Like a chessboard.

Yui: Yes!

Shin: I see. But what exactly does this have to do with this? Both are probably just there as decorations.

Kino: No, I doubt that it’s just for decoration… I see now.

Yui: Kino-kun, did you figure something out?

Kino: I wouldn’t call it “figure”. It’s just that I thought of something...

We were forcibly dumbed off in this unknown place and also got a fake memory. In my opinion, this all seems as if it’s definitely someone’s work.

Shin: So you’re saying there’s a mastermind?

Kino: Exactly. If there’s an ongoing game, there also has to be a mastermind behind it.

Us, as the players, were given those hints to probably keep this as interesting as we can.

Shin: Hah? In other words— ...Nn!

Yui: Shin-kun? What’s wrong? Why did you suddenly stand up?

*Shin sniffs air*

Shin: Hnff

Damn it! We’re surrounded!

Yui: Eh… !?

Ayato: Guess we finally found you, traitors!

Kanato: You did terrible things to us, remember? There is no way we would let you kidnap Eve and then join hands with the enemy—

Yui: (Ayato-kun! Kanato-kun! And—)

Ruki: —Shin, I get it now…

I would’ve never expected for my most trusted person to end up betraying me as simple as that.

Shin: Ru… Brother…

Ruki: A traitor, such as yourself, has no right to call me his brother any longer!

Yui: ...Nn!

Shin: It’s useless even if I’ll try to explain. But I never intended to look as if I was about to betray you or anything, I swear.

I know you were a good brother, even if you’ve never been my real older brother in the end...

Ruki: I’ve got no idea about what strange things you’re blabbering, yet the confirmation of you being here is fact enough.

It doesn’t change the situation, even if you start coming up with excuses.

Ayato: Hey, Ruki! Let’s take these guys out quickly!

Kanato: That’s right. Let’s rightfully punish them. I’ll tear them into pieces once I get my hands around them.

Yui: (What should we do now? If we’re doing nothing, they’ll start a battle—! Am I really not able to somehow avoid this?)

Kino: Shin, what do we do?

Shin: The only ones with fighting skills are you and me. It would be 3 vs 2...

Kino: Besides, it would be a battle while we’d also have to try to protect the girl from being taken away from us.

Yui: (What should I do… I’m holding them back from what they have to do because I’m with them)

Shin: We have no choice, seems as if we really have to confront our problems head-on and fight them.

Kino: Eh? That’s not true. If you transform yourself into a wolf, you could carry her and easily run away.

Shin: Hah? I can’t just do that!

Kino: ...Why not? Do you really have to complain about my strategy now?

Shin: My back is limited to only giving one of you a ride! I don’t know if you’d be able to get away without me helping you!

Kino: ...Nn!! What… why would you say something like that…

*Kino mumbles*

Kino: Ahh… I guess I have no choice but to save you as a repayment now too.

Yui: ….. ?

Shin: So instead of running away, I’d like to break through this in our own ways...

Kino: No, we’re gonna avoid confronting them head-on and not fight them. We’re changing strategies.

Shin: Hah? Why change them so late...

Kino: Ready? When I’ll give you the signal, you have to run.

Shin: Eh? What do you mean?

Kino: With this, we’ll easily be able to get away right in front of them… you guys, close your eyes and noses!

*Kino throws something*

Ayato: What the!? What did he throw!?

Kanato: A pouch… ?

Ruki: ...Nn! That’s not just a mere pouch. Close your eyes and hold your breath!

*pouch explodes*

Kanato: Ahem, Ahem, Ahem

Ayato: Ngh! What’s going on here!? I can’t see shit anymore! Ahem, Ahem.

Ruki: Kch… Ayato, Kanato can you see the enemy?

Ayato: Don’t bullshit me! I can’t see anything!

Shin: Damn, that guy’s really something. But he saved us! We only have to run away now!

Yui: (Shin-kun’s voice!)

Where? Where are you? I can’t see anything!

Shin: Over here!

*Shin grabs Yui*

Yui: (The one holding my hand right now… it’s Shin-kun!)

Kino: Hurry, both of you!

Yui: (I also heard Kino-kun’s voice. I’m sure I’ll be fine as long as I follow the sound of their voices— !)

Place: Outside — Forest

Yui: Haa… Haa… Haa—

Shin: Haa… Haa…

Kino: Haa, Haa…

Shin: Kino, what was that about?

Kino: It was a wheat bomb.

Yui: Huh!?

Kino: I secretly made it when we were in the Violet mansion back then. All I did was wrap the smoldering wheat in a cloth, get it?

Shin: And you really made that yourself? You’re an unexpectedly shrewd guy.

Yui: Thanks to that, we were saved! Thank you, Kino-kun!

Kino: I have to admit… I’d love to hear you praise me more, but we have to worry about running away first!

Yui: (Seriously, it’s all thanks to Kino-kun that we’re safe right now. He’s a really good person after all)

#Diabolik Lovers #diabolik lovers translation #chaos lineage translation #chaos lineage #diabolik lovers chaos lineage translation #diabolik lovers chaos lineage #shin tsukinami #tsukinami shin #kino sakamaki #kino diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers kino #Komori Yui #shin tsukinami chaos lineage translation #diabolik lovers shin tsukinami #Diabolik Lovers game

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catrose13 · 2 years ago

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Chapter Six The First Rule Of Any TTRPG is NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY, I think that my favourite of this chapters "Brought to you By"s is 2021, You Were One Of The Most Years Ever. Because it certainly was. Also remember there are SPOILERS

Oh no, now we're seeing things from the Parasites perspective, this is not a thing I ever wanted

Go Bakura! Trick that MoFo!!

...Rabbit...

Eugh Math and Sand two of the worst things

...Ammit's wearing a tiny hat?

Mokuba in what way does that resemble a dog?

Well at least Shadi's aware of where he ranks in this situation.

"White haired thief".... Mokuba I don't think he's talking about Pegasus

Ammit, Devourer of the Wicked

Is Mokuba talking about Tristan's nephews dog?

Shadi...you are so old

...Joey how do you know how much cocaine costs?

Joey's Dad is seriously in the Bad Parent Box with his Mom and Yugi's Parents

Tristan is such a Mom Friend

Téa when in doubt always guess a lower number

Oof Burgerville, I actually read some of the manga so I've read that bit. Big yikes

Well at least Yugi is aware about the Parasite

They really have had a day haven't they?

....Yugi you really need to phrase things a bit more delicately, you may give poor Yami a heart attack at this rate. Goddamn "Shadow Game Cherry"

"Knives up our sleeves" because cards would be cheating but stabbing your opponent clearly isn't

Oh Damn, Tristan's right guys! There's even a song and everything! It's catchy! I feel like he may need to start singing to them "Don't you know you never split the party? Clerics in the back keep those fighters hale and hearty. The wizard in the middle, where he can shed some light. And you never let that damn thief out of sight" Two of the fighters have bugged off to find, I guess, the cleric, the wizards have gone off to battle for the thief leaving possibly the other cleric behind

"Glaring furiously, like a cat forced to go to the vet" I can envision it perfectly

Shadi now is not the time for your dubious sense of humour to make an appearance

"With a sword. Right down the middle"...This will be important information to remember children

"Thanksgiving at the Wayne House" THE WAYNES!! 🤩

...Shadi those dudes were seriously screwed in the head, despite being a "Created" human you were still a person and they should definitely not have shopped you in half like some sort of sad pizza

...Technologically adept... this should have been another clue

"Dino-obsessed weirdo"... I know who that is

Op Ishizu has now got an Idea

How the heck did she keep all those questions straight?! Actually no she knows the Waynes, nevermind

"Dinosaur Blood Guy" Wow Rex

Despite everything Marik can be surprisingly sneaky

Poor Weevil freaking out in the background "Blood stuff?! What Blood Stuff?!"

"Less crazy Face tattoo brother" and "Blonde. Probably in a crop top and half of Fort Knox in jewelry" These are the best descriptions

HODGEKISS... is it the same one?

lol Wilburforce, that is certainly a name

Oh yeah I doubt there's two incredibly dumb Hodgekiss in the world. Or at least I hope not

...Do the Ishtar brothers know that Hodgekiss could potentially claim Blood Brother status from Ishizu giving him blood?

Ahh Relationships, the only person whose allowed to be mean to you is me

The Heart of the Cards loves Yugi

Lol Seto's Blue Eyes White Dragon is not a fan of you Parasite, prepare to lose your face

...Celtic Guardians are wild. "Just shoot me across the Board Bro!"

Who are you Red Coated Graverobber Goblin?

Lol God Complex Kuriboh

Oh man that Blue Eyes is really determined to get rid of the Parasite

I kind of love the Duel Monsters, they're so spirited

MAHAD, you have a Name! You Remember Things! I mean apparently you also have Amnesia but you still remember more than Yami does

Ah Bakura is ready for his Revenge

Heh Parasite has no idea how to command his Chess pieces

Graverobber Goblin Pawns are on Strike, Blue Eyes White Dragon Queen is looking to kill the player and the only one on their side of the board who know how to play won't help. Nice

Joey freaking a little about the "Romantic Foxes" sounding like the voices of the damned

...We're still talking about the Chupacabra?

Lol yeah Golden Retrievers aren't just cute and friend-shaped, they are also dogs you take hunting

Oh no the Clown done fucked up

Téa's so strong and fierce. She's going to absolutely destroy that clown

"Loud and Attractive is what I do best" Aw Joey

Ballerinas man, they're terrifying...kinda like hippos now that I think about it

"Mr-With-A-K"

Joey's notebook is gonna be so full by the time he actually gets to Pegasus

Oh man I just noticed Pega-SUS....his name tells you he's Sus

Téa's Yugi and Yami's Queen

Aww cute little Mousetrap. Such a good snek

More aww, brotherly snuggles!!

...I'm feeling deep concern for Marik "Future Pharoah and Ruler Of The World" that is a deeply concerning statement, especially the Caps

...Odion are you plotting Hodgekiss' demise?

Little Brother getting the snuggles!! I just want to wrap him in blankets, but I fear that if I tried I'd lose a limb. Sadness

"Karnak Blood Lady" and the "Karnak Dinosaur Blood Guy" those are certainly names

Odions like Hopeful feeling...text message...less hopeful feeling

#fanfiction #rereading #review-ish #tpofatgif #The Power of Friendship (And This Gun I Found!)#gallusrostromegalus #spoilers #YuGiOh #ygo #Chapter Six

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megasoniczx · 4 years ago

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Hey, so, this was an idea I had. Fate/Grand Order is one of the few other gacha games I constantly play aside from FEH, and that ultimately led me to the idea of “What would a collaboration between the two games look like?”, and that’s what led to this, a full on Fate/Grand Order themed banner in Fire Emblem Heroes with SIX possible units they could add, including two legendary heroes and a mythic hero. Unlikely? Yes, this is incredibly unlikely in many ways. But the idea still seems fun, so let’s stretch our suspension of disbelief and have fun with this idea.

Now, I’m in no way a hardcore player, so the explinations of what exclusive skills these heroes have won’t be super in-depth. I’m just going to explain what kind of role I’d think they could play and give a general idea of what their skills would do.

So, let’s start with the poster child of Fate-

Artoria - King of Knights:

The Legendary King Arthur, Artoria Pendragon, who is in fact a woman in the Fate Series. As a Saber Class Servant, Artoria had to be the Sword Infantry of the banner, there was no other option. Her PRF Weapon would of course be Excalibur, the legendary sword of light. I imagine Artoria would be a fairy balanced across the board unit, only really excelling in her attack stat with her flaw being low speed.

Her Exclusive Skills:

Excalibur - Raises ATK/DEF by +4, would have Distant Counter built in.

Sword of Light - Exclusive Special Skill, has a charge of 4 and boosts her ATK damage by 75%

Avalon - PRF B Skill, Raises DEF by 25%, doubles to 50% when Special Skill is used for 2 turns

EMIYA - Nameless Hero:

A Nameless Heroic Spirit who formed a contract with The World, he has seen many battles, enduring pain to create weapons. As an Archer Class Servant, EMIYA would be a grey archer unit, excelling in his ATK with his personal bow with high SPD, but having low DEF/RES.

His Exclusive Skills:

Mystic Bow - Effective against flying units Raises ATK by +5, has Desperation 2 & Quick Riposte 3 built into it.

Caladbolg - Exclusive Special Skill, has a charge of 3 and boosts his ATK damage by 50%

Projection - Boosts ATK by 10% after every turn not spent in combat (only activates after player phase)

Cú Chulainn - Beast of Culann:

The original Lancer infamous for dying in the original Fate/Stay Night visual novel, Cú Chulainn is Irland’s child of light and famous for his absurd endurance. He excels in high ATK & SPD with moderate HP and RES, low DEF being his main weakness.

His single Exclusive Skill is:

Gáe Bolg: Raises ATK & SPD by 5, Accelerates Special trigger (cooldown count-1).

Gilgamesh - King of Heroes:

The first Heroic Spirit and King of Babylon, Gilgamesh is among the most powerful heroes in Fate, so no doubt he’d be powerful here. He excels effectively in every stat, save speed due to being an armor unit. He’s also an armor tome unit, something we don’t see a whole lot of.

His Exclusive Skills are:

Gate of Babylon - Raised ATK/SPD/DEF/RES by 5, has Close Counter built in, and is effective against Dragon/Beast units.

Enuma Elish - Exclusive Special Skill, has a charge of 5 and boosts his ATK damage by 150%.

Golden Rule: Raised ATK by 4, grants him Vantage 3, Desperation 2, & Quick Riposte 3.

Yes, I know, this man is broken as shit. What are you gonna do, throw F!Edelgard at me?

Mash Kyrielight - Chaldea’s Shield:

A Demi-Servant with the powers of Sir Galahad from Fate/Grand Order, Mash is best described as a complete fucking tank. As the sole member of the Shielder Class, Mash’s entire job is to soak up damage like a sponge and then beat the shit out of you.

Her Exclusive Skill is:

Lord Camelot - Raises ATK/DEF by +5 and has Obstruct 3 built into it.

Jeanne d’Arc - Saint of Orleans:

Our mythic hero for this banner is Jeanne d’Arc as a staff unit (do we even have a mythic staff?). She excels as an offensive healer, poor resistance being her only fault. Her Exclusive Skills are:

Flag of Orleans - Raises ATK by +5 and foes cannot counterattack. Has Close Counter & Time’s Pulse 3 built into it.

Luminosité Éternelle - Grants +5 DEF to unit and all allies within 3 tiles of unit. Saint’s Blessing (A Skill) - Boosts healing equal to that of unit’s attack

So, funny thing. I'm a dumbass who forgot to give Jeanne an actual recovery skill, so pretend she has one as well. What's funnier is that I gave her Distant Counter, remembered she couldn't inherit one, then remembered she's supposed to have CLOSE COUNTER!

I'm sorry Jeanne, you deserved better.

...

And that’s the general idea I had for this “FEH X FGO” banner. Maybe I’ll make another one of these, maybe I’ll spin it the other way around and design some Fire Emblem characters as Fate/Grand Order units.

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onecanonlife · 3 years ago

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In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,391)

--------------------

Part Eight: Fundy

The easy part is deciding to run.

It’s all a pretty clear-cut process. The rules were stated at the outset, though he’s got no idea what was Wilbur’s idea and what was Tommy’s, considering how much Tommy seems to care about this whole thing. But none of them are unreasonable or anything like that, nothing that he’d find objectionable. He just has to declare his party’s intention before election night, not rig the vote, not join his vote with any other parties, and not seek endorsements from people who are banned from the server. And be a citizen of L’Manberg.

There’s nothing wrong with any of those, or at least, not that Fundy can see. And—he wants to run. He wants to look all the rest of the players on this server in the eyes and make them see him, respect him, listen to him. For himself, because he is awesome and capable, and not because they think he’s an extension of someone else.

So deciding to run is pretty easy. It’s not like he’ll even be the first; Quackity’s already declared his intentions, though he’s running solo, and doesn’t seem to be taking it too seriously. He considered trying to become his running mate, but Niki, when he explained his idea to her, seemed pretty on board to run with him. Niki’s really cool like that, and honestly, he’d rather team with her than with anyone else. So he’s running. He’s going to do it. He’s going to.

The difficult part is going to be telling Wilbur.

So he’s not procrastinating. He’s definitely not procrastinating. It’s just—there’s other people to talk to about it, right? Other people to tell? And it’s not like it matters what order he goes in. So that’s why he’s here, at the base of one of those big towers that Eret is building, hoping to find them here. It’s getting late, but the sun only set a little while ago, so they’re probably still around.

This can be like a practice run. A trial, for telling people about it. And Eret’s always listened to him, and they’re not even running themself, he’s pretty sure, so this will be good, to ease him into it. Not that this is something that needs easing. But it’s good to practice things, even if it’s not something that necessarily requires it. He’s just being responsible, which is a trait that anyone would value in a president.

The tower’s still a work in progress, but it’s pretty easy to get to the highest level. He’s almost certain that Eret is still here, and he’s right about that, but on a second glance, it turns out that Eret is asleep. They’re sitting upright, their back to the most completed section of wall, but their head has lolled to the side, their glasses close to slipping from their nose. He can even see their eyes—closed, of course. They’re definitely asleep. Definitely a little weird, since it’s not even that late, but he has noticed that they’ve been looking a little tired lately. Probably because they’ve sort of been responsible for a lot of L’Manberg’s development, build-wise.

He should come back later, probably. Except, that can’t be comfortable at all, and it’s really not that late, and the tower’s not finished yet, so the whole place is kind of exposed. Not the safest area to be taking a nap in after dark. Mobs might be able to get in, and then where would Eret be?

And also, he’s been psyching himself up this whole time, and if he doesn’t tell Eret here and now, he thinks that he might end up waiting until tomorrow to tell anyone at all. Not because he’s nervous! It’s just—late, and he’s spent time getting up here already, so he wants to do what he came here to do. That’s it.

So he creeps forward, not too loud but not trying to be too quiet, either, and crouches by Eret’s side. As he moves, something glimmers, and he squints, but—no, it’s just Eret’s jewelry reflecting the torchlight. They’ve taken to wearing a good bit of gold, lately.

“Hey, Eret?” he says. “Eret? It’s your pal Fundy. Maybe wake up?”

Eret doesn’t wake up. But their brow has creased, so, encouraged, he continues.

“Not a great place to go to sleep, probably,” he says, and he reaches out to give their shoulder a tap. “I mean, I know you’ve seemed pretty tired lately, but yikes. Maybe not good. C’mon, wake up.”

Eret still doesn’t wake, but they start to breathe quicker, which is probably not because of him at all. Are they having a nightmare? If they’re having a nightmare, he should definitely wake them up, because friends don’t let friends have nightmares.

“Hey,” he says, and shakes their shoulder more vigorously. “C’mon, man, I wanna tell you something.” He glances at the sky; the tower doesn’t have a roof yet. “And it’s getting just a little bit late, so you should probably go sleep in your house and not here, and I still need to go by the office so I can tell Wilbur—”

Eret gasps, lurching forward, jamming their sunglasses back over their eyes in the same motion, and Fundy jerks back a bit on instinct. He has no idea why they wear those all the time. Maybe it’s a light sensitivity thing. Or maybe they just want to look cool. But now’s probably not the time to focus on that, because Eret’s breathing is still way too fast, and they were definitely having a nightmare, from that reaction, so he inches forward again.

“Hey, Eret,” he says. “Sorry about that. Are you good?”

For a moment, Eret doesn’t reply. And when they do, their voice is—kind of weird. He’s not sure how to describe it, except as off.

“He failed,” they say, between gasps. “He tried, and he failed. That has consequences.”

“Uh,” he says. “Who failed?”

“But I wasn’t there,” they say. “I wasn’t there, so how did I—but the universe itself shudders, with a thing like that. What were the consequences? Something like that shouldn’t be interrupted.”

This must have been some dream.

“Something like what?” he asks.

Eret looks directly at him for the first time, though he has the strangest feeling that they’re not seeing him at all. He can’t see directly behind their glasses, but around the edges, there’s something like a pale glow. But he must be seeing things, some kind of weird reflection. Of the moon, maybe, or the stars.

“Dream tried to resurrect him,” they say. “But he couldn’t finish. That’s a dangerous magic to tamper with. You never, ever start a spell that you can’t see through to the end. And it had its blood.”

“Uh,” he says. “Sure thing. What exactly are you talking about?”

Eret falls silent. And then, they say, “Fundy?” Their voice is normal again, though he still can’t quite put his finger on what the difference was.

“Yep, that’s me,” he says. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I’m—fine,” Eret says, and then again, “I’m fine.” They sound far more confident the second time. “Sorry, I was—dreaming. I’ve been having a lot of strange ones of late. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Dreams can be weird,” he agrees.

Eret laughs. “Quite.” They stretch, tilting their head to side to side, wincing when something cracks. “Thank you for waking me. I’m not quite sure why I decided that was a good position to sleep in.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he says, and Eret smiles, bringing their knees closer to their chest and laying an arm across them, twisting their torso to turn toward him more. It makes something burn in his chest, a comfortable warmth, at being given their full attention.

“Was there something you’d like to talk about?” they ask, and that warmth grows. “I can’t imagine you came up here just to prevent me from getting a crick in my neck.”

“I mean, that was part of it,” he protests. “I wanted to be a good friend! But um, yeah, actually, there was something I really wanted to tell you.” He hesitates, and Eret nods at him, encouragingly. Now that he’s here, about to say it out loud, he feels like his whole body is buzzing. It is kind of a big deal, actually, doing something like this. But he lets himself blurt it out. “I’m going to run for president!”

There’s a beat, and then, Eret’s face breaks into a wide grin.

“Really?” they say. “That’s awesome! I’m really happy for you, man.”

His tail starts wagging. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Of course!” Eret says. “That’s a big deal. I’m really proud you’re going for it. Do you have a running mate? And a name?”

He grins. “Niki’s running with me,” he says. “We’re going to be Coconut2020.”

Eret laughs again. “Coconut?” they ask. “Any particular reason?”

“Coconuts are good,” he says. “We both like coconut. We’ve bonded over coconuts.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t mock our coconuts.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Coconuts are good. Fair enough.” Eret tilts their head. “What did Wilbur say, if I might ask?”

And just like that, his euphoria dies down.

“Oh,” he says. “Right, um. Actually, you’re the first person I’ve told! Other than Niki, of course.”

“Oh!” He can hear the surprise in their tone, and he cringes away from it, a bit; he knows very well, of course, that Wilbur probably should’ve been the first to hear it. But it’s not like what he doesn’t know will hurt him, and he—he just wanted to practice. That’s all. “Well, in that case, I’m honored.” A pause, and then, “You’re not worrying about it, are you?”

“What?” He laughs, and he definitely sounds nervous. “No. No, why would I be nervous?”

“I think you don’t need to be,” Eret agrees, leaning toward him a bit. “I know Wilbur’s been busy these days, but he cares for you a lot. I think he’ll be quite proud that you’ve decided to take the initiative.”

“You think so?”

“I do. I wouldn’t say you have anything to worry about.”

“Okay.”

He feels a bit better, hearing that, and he knows that Eret is right. He’s never doubted his dad’s love for him, after all, even if he’s doubted Wilbur’s faith in him in a lot of other respects, and this is exactly the kind of thing he needs to do to make him stop doing that second thing. To make him see that he’s a man now, able to take care of himself, to do great things. If he goes far in this election, if he manages to beat him, even, then he’ll have to acknowledge how grown up he’s become. Will have to look at him with pride in his eyes.

“Okay,” he says again. “Thank you, Eret.”

“Of course,” Eret says. “I wish you the best of luck.”

It’s time for him to go, then. This practice went pretty great, actually. He feels like he can do this now. He feels good. Pumped. Hyped up.

“Thanks,” he says. “Are you gonna go get some actual sleep now?”

“I might stay up a while longer,” Eret says. They stretch, and then rise to their feet, and he follows their example. “I’d like to get a little more done with this tonight. And I’ll admit, my dreams haven’t been very kind to me lately.” They pause, and he’s not sure what to say to them; it always sucks, of course, to have nightmares, but he can’t offer much more than a basic commiseration. “I can’t help but feel like something’s missing.”

“From the tower?” he asks.

Eret smiles. “That too,” they agree. “I like it so far, but it feels a bit plain.”

He considers this for a moment. Eret’s not looking at him, is staring out at the lands beyond, visible past the incomplete wall. They’re absentmindedly twisting one of the bracelets around their wrist, and that gives him an idea.

“If you wanted to spice it up a little, you could always try some gold accents,” he suggests, and Eret jerks, turning their head toward him. “I noticed you’ve been liking gold a lot lately.”

He’s not sure why that makes them go pale.

“Maybe,” they say, softly. “Maybe.” They smile again, but this one’s a bit shaky. “I’ll bid you good night, Fundy. And really, good luck. But don’t get too worked up about it. You’ve got this.”

He nods, grinning. “I’ve got this! Goodnight, Eret!”

He leaves Eret to their tower. It’s to the office from here, and it’s definitely well into the night by now, but he knows his way around this nation like the back of his hand, even in the dark, and there’s plenty of torches to see by anyway. He considers, for a moment, that Wilbur might have already turned in for the night, but he casts that thought aside. Wilbur’s always working, even long past when a reasonable person would have hit the hay.

Tommy accosts him just outside the building that’s been serving for L’Manberg’s headquarters, sliding out of the darkness with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. Fundy regards him warily. Not that he doesn’t like Tommy. He does, even if he’s been a little weird lately. But that’s an expression that screams trouble. And what is he doing out and about at this time of night anyway?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, and Tommy raises an eyebrow.

“What, can’t a boy look?” he says. “Do you need me to avert my gaze? Are you perhaps up to some crime and wrongdoing?”

“What? No,” he says. Trying to decipher Tommy is, on occasion, like attempting to navigate a parkour course blindfolded. “I’m just—” He bolsters himself. Stands straighter, puffs his chest out. “I’m running for president. So I’m going to go tell Wilbur.”

He speaks it like the challenge that it is. As much as he likes Tommy, he’s competition in this case, as Wilbur’s running mate. Tommy’s mouth forms an ‘o’, and something flickers in his eyes.

“Really?” he says. “Well, good on you, getting in on it early. Before election night.”

He frowns. “Yeah? Aren’t those the rules?”

Tommy nods, and then doesn’t say anything else, and this, this is why Fundy thinks he’s weird. It’s like sometimes, he just says weird things without elaborating, or even without realizing that it’s something that should require elaboration. Tommy’s just a weird guy overall, really.

“Okay,” he says, more to fill the silence than anything else. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about? Or can I just go in? And I’m not moving out of my house, before you start that again,” he tacks on.

“I’m telling you, the real estate in that area is not good. Rather not poggers,” Tommy says. “It’s a dodgy part of the SMP, it is.”

“The only one anywhere near there is Punz,” he says, exasperated, and immediately berates himself for letting himself be drawn into this conversation again. That’s another weird thing; apparently, Tommy has recently taken offense to the location of his house, and has made persuading him to move somewhere else a priority. He can’t tell whether he’s serious, or whether it’s a long and involved bit.

Tommy nods sagely. “Dodgy,” he says. “But nah, you go on in. Wilbur’s still there, far as I know. Good luck.” Tommy steps away, and then stops, frowning, and turns back. “But maybe make sure Wilbur knows that you running against him isn’t, like, you disowning him or some shit. He wouldn’t take that well.”

“Why would that mean I was disowning him?” he demands. Wilbur wouldn’t think that, would he? Surely, even he wouldn’t jump to so drastic a conclusion. Unless he would, and him doing this is going to ruin their relationship, and he’s making a terrible mistake. But no, he’s not going to think like that. If Wilbur does have that attitude, that’s on Wilbur. Not him.

“It wouldn’t,” Tommy says seriously. “But, y’know, one thing leads to another.”

“How would that lead to me disowning him?”

“It shouldn’t,” Tommy says, and then grins again. There’s less light in this one, less levity. It’s actually a little unsettling. “Don’t mind me. Go talk to Wil. See you later, Fundy.”

“Okay,” he says. “Bye, Tommy.” He watches as Tommy walks away, and realizes, with some frustration, that he forgot to ask why, exactly, Tommy was hanging around here. Oh, well. He can’t let himself get worried about what Tommy’s doing, even if it’s always best to have half an eye on the guy. Trouble follows him.

But then, trouble kind of follows all of them.

He goes inside, and finds his way to Wilbur’s office. It’s not difficult; he’s been here before, though not often. The door is closed, and he hesitates in front of it, his nerves flagging. But then, he inhales, remembers Eret’s excitement and encouraging words, the way that Tommy didn’t make any disparaging remarks, and—he can’t expect a completely positive reaction, probably. He’s declaring himself as a political rival to his own father.

But he doesn’t need the reaction to be entirely positive. He just wants to look Wilbur in the eyes and see respect there.

He knocks.

Waits a beat.

“Come in,” comes the voice, and he slides the door open.

Wilbur’s at his desk, chin propped up on his hand, glasses slipping down his nose. His eyes are focused on whatever paper’s in front of him, narrow and squinting as they dart across the words, and his other hand grips a pen tightly, though he doesn’t seem to be doing anything with it at the moment. After a second, he glances up, and his gaze locks on Fundy, and Fundy suddenly feels very, very unprepared.

“Hello Fundy,” Wilbur says, and he sounds a little unsure, like he has no idea what he could possibly be doing here. He feels a little bitterness start to well up. “Is something the matter?”

Of course that’s his first instinct. That something has to be wrong. Because he thinks of Fundy as a child, always getting into scrapes, always needing help.

“No,” he says. “Nothing’s wrong. But can I talk to you for a second?”

Wilbur sets the pen down, sits up a little straighter. “Of course,” he says. “I’ve always got time for you.”

Then where have you been? he doesn’t say. Why are you always working? How come you almost never do anything else these days? And even when you’re around, why do you act like I’m still a little kid, like I didn’t fight in your revolution, like I haven’t been here the whole time?

“Great,” he says. “That’s great. Listen, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Alright,” Wilbur says, slowly. “Go on.”

He takes in a deep breath.

“I’m running for president,” he says.

For a moment, there is silence.

“I see,” Wilbur says, still slowly, like he’s working through it in real time, and he continues, feeling an odd burst of panic, like he needs to get all of it out now, before Wilbur can reply, can say anything, can shut him down or question him or anything like that.

“I haven’t marked my name down yet, but that’s my next stop,” he says. “Me and Niki, we’re going to be Coconut2020.”

“You and Niki,” Wilbur repeats, and he nods.

“Me and Niki,” he says, and then pauses. It’s out there now. He’s said it. And Wilbur’s just staring at him. He’s got no idea what that expression’s supposed to be. It just kind of looks—blank. Which, frankly, is not the reaction he was hoping for, and he shifts uncomfortably. “So, yeah. That’s what I was here to say.”

Wilbur is quiet for a long, long moment.

“Have you thought this through all the way?” he asks, voice quiet.

“What? Yeah, of course I have.” He crosses his arms. “This is what I want to do. You’re not gonna be able to change my mind.”

“But—why, then?” Wilbur asks. The blankness is finally fading, replaced by—Fundy’s not even sure what, but he is sure that it’s not anything good. Which makes anger rise up in him; honestly, who is Wilbur to deny him, at this point? Why does Wilbur think he gets a say in this when he’s barely spoken to him at all, these past weeks? “Why do you feel the need to—do you think I’m not suitable? Is that it?”

“Not everything’s about you, Wil,” he says. Even though this kind of is. But not in the way he’s thinking. “I think I’d be a good president, so I’m running. That’s all it is. It’s not that complicated.”

“I think it is a bit complicated,” Wilbur says, “considering you’re my son. I—I didn’t expect this from you.”

That’s the whole point, he doesn’t say. You never expect anything from me.

“It’s not,” he insists. “It’s not complicated. Don’t make it into something it’s not. I’m running. That’s all. This isn’t—my being your son doesn’t come into it.”

“I disagree,” Wilbur says. “I—you do realize what you’re doing, don’t you? I’ve never wanted us to be enemies, Fundy. But this—we’ll be opponents. I won’t hold back just because you’re my son. An election’s an election. Even if—and that’s a side of me you’ve never had to deal with. That I’ve never wanted you to deal with.”

Despite himself, doubts flit across his mind. Did he think this through? But then, he hardens his resolve. This is what he wants. To challenge Wilbur. To make him back down, if he can manage it. To force him to acknowledge him as someone to be reckoned with. And if that comes in the form of taking his country from him, then all the better, right? Wilbur won’t be able to ignore him then.

“I can hold my own,” he says, and before he can stop himself, he continues, “And why does this even matter so much to you, anyway? Why do you need to be the one in charge?”

If he’s not mistaken, he thinks Wilbur rears back a bit, at that question. But it’s difficult to tell. Wilbur never lets anything show that he doesn’t want to, making him frustratingly difficult to read.

“I founded this country, didn’t I?” Wilbur says. “Didn’t I lead us? I just want to continue to protect this nation. I want to be able to do what’s best for it. I want to see it flourish, and be strong, and—if it’s the people’s will that that happens under someone else’s hand, I’ll accept that. But if I can continue to guide L’Manberg, then I want to do so.”

“I mean,” he says, “it kind of felt like Tommy was the one who won it for us.”

Wilbur stills. And then, inclines his head, lips twitching up. It’s a smile, though for some reason, Fundy has a hard time seeing any joy in it, any happiness at all. But then, he’s probably reading too much into things, putting emotions into an expression that simply aren’t there. Because when Wil’s not being overbearing, he’s being distant. There’s really no inbetween.

“That’s true,” he says. “Tommy did.”

Silence falls again, thick and stifling.

“Um,” he says, after a second, “that was all I had to say. I think I’ll just go, now.”

“Alright,” Wilbur says, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything else, so Fundy turns to the door, an odd emotion settling into his stomach. It might be disappointment—he’s not sure that he got what he wanted from it, though the fact that he was able to rile Wilbur up at all is an accomplishment. And he managed to hold his ground, and he thinks that says something.

Except then, Wilbur says something else, and it gives him pause.

“I am proud of you, though,” Wilbur tells him, and he stops before his hand closes around the door handle, fireworks going off across his skin.

“Yeah?” he says, and turns around again. Wilbur’s still looking at him, meeting his gaze evenly, though there is something tight about it, something off. But he’s smiling, and Fundy decides not to examine any of it too closely. Because the words rattle around in his brain, in his heart, and then settle.

“Of course,” Wilbur says. “I suppose I don’t say that to you enough, but I always am. And in this—I’d be lying if I said I liked the decision. I don’t want this to—” He stops, and swallows, an oddly audible break in the flow of his words. “But that’s me, isn’t it? Good on you for—for having the balls, I guess. For going after what you want. Just be sure that you can handle it.”

A double-edged sword, then. How many times does he have to say that he can handle something before Wilbur finally believes it? But still, he said he’s proud. That he always is. And that has to mean something. Has to mean everything, in the end.

“I can,” he says. “Thanks, dad.”

Wilbur smiles again. Oddly, it still doesn’t look happy. But it’s very likely that he’s stressed and tired anyway. He didn’t consider that before. Maybe he really should’ve waited for another time to bring this up, another time that wasn’t late at night. But what’s done is done, and he’s said his piece, and Wilbur wasn’t quite enthusiastic but he did say that he was proud of him, which all in all, is much better than it probably could have gone. His chest is buzzing, still.

So he smiles back at Wilbur, and exits his office.

And later, after he’s made everything all official and he’s meeting with Niki in her bakery, going over their plans and forming his own in the back of his mind—a last resort, just in case it looks hopeless—she asks him, “How did it go? Telling him?”

And he considers that for a moment.

“Honestly,” he says, “I think it went pretty well.”

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #fundy #eret #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dsmp fic #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #everything's fine :D

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