#on top of running circles around them my teammate damaged them enough for me to roll them over... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

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

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“Look! An owl!”

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I made the roster for worlds.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼

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

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

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter One

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 1 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Trope: ‘Enemies to Lovers’; mainly angst, mutual pining, fluff, and eventual smut

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Word Count: 4000+

A/N: Ooo, let’s hope this does numbers! I love myself some ‘enemies to lovers’ tropes. It’s been a while since I’ve written Steve fanfics. :)

Wakanda, 2018, 4:04 pm.

The flash of bright white light temporarily blinded you, sending you back to the ground and cupping your face in self-defense. But as quickly as the initial crack, it was over. Eerily silent and loud at the same time. The birds whistled their same tune, some higher-pitched than others. The wind seemed to blow louder, rustling the leaves from the trees and landing all around you and your teammates.

“Thor?”

You lifted your head at the sound of Steve’s voice and checked if the coast was clear. All that remained of the evil was a new blood-stained hammer - a hammer that Thor was watching intensely, as if the answer lay hidden there. It was the only remnant left and your mind was already wondering how to use it to bring that evil back to finish a fair fight.

“Where’d he go?”

The birds stopped singing.

“Steve?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of Bucky’s confused voice, watching as one of your best friends dropped his gun and looked up at Steve as his hands began to disappear. In a matter of seconds, Bucky - or what became of him - fell to the dirt below. No one spoke, and you watched as Steve tried to control his breathing as he took a knee to place his shaking hand over his best friend’s ashes. A life and mind brought out of the darkness to finally amend those knots he had twisted, now ceasing to exist. In the distance you could hear Okoye shout in turmoil and Rocket begin begging.

“What’s happening?” you finally choked out, turning just in time to see Wanda lift her head to the sky, defeated and out of will, and succumb to the same fate. “No!”

You ran and fell beside Vision’s now gray and decaying body, reaching over and palming through Wanda’s ashes. You rubbed them between your fingers, inspecting them, and brought your hand to your chest. The pit of your stomach churned as you sat there, immobile and numb.

“Sam!”

So many names were being called but soon everyone who remained fell silent. The trees were still guiding the wind, leaves falling into the ashes of your friends, a sign of a new and unwanted chapter. You felt Steve drop beside you, turning Vision around to see the damage to his body. You winced when you saw the gaping hole in his forehead.

“What is this? What’s happening?”

Natasha ran to where you were seated, hand over her stomach as if she was ready to vomit. And once she took one look at Vision, that’s exactly what she did.

You removed your hands from your chest to look at them, the ashes still there and practically mocking you into finally believing this as reality. “Did we just lose?”

Steve was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. He simply looked up at the trees, watching the way the sunlight still burst through with no disruption. “Oh god.”

You caught Steve as he tipped his upper body toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding onto something real. He had to believe you were real. Anyone. And you were the closest person to him. You shut your eyes and held him, running your hands through his hair, wincing when you realized Wanda’s ashes were now on him.

You held him tight, praying to any God you chose to believe in at that moment, that Steve wouldn’t disappear too.

Unknown Location, 2025, 1:07 pm.

The air was incredibly musty, as if each person who struggled for breath in this room at one point or another left a piece of their soul floating in search of last minute penance for their sins. And the man in front of you was no different, choking on the purple blood that dripped down his neck and onto his now unbuttoned, white dress shirt. His chest was rising and falling, his breathing becoming less labored with each blink of the eye. His hands were tied behind his back and to the chair he sat on, a flickering light in the corner of the dark, concrete room somehow mocking this man’s last remaining seconds of life.

“I’m not an evil person,” you started, kicking one of the legs of the chair to startle the poor man. But your guilt was minimal - it’s not like you wanted to do this - but knowing this man did exactly what everyone said he did, hands red and dripping with young blood, you selfishly took pleasure knowing this man would look at you when he died. “It’s just my job as third in command.”

You gave the man a small smile as you bent down to his level, head hanging in shame, slow breaths now pausing in between each intake. You looked to the other party in the room, handing them the gun in your holster, and walked out the room as the sound of two gunshots rang out.

Left twist. Sting. Breathe.

You washed away any smell from that godforsaken room, giving extra attention to the roots of your hair and under your fingertips.

Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The crack of your neck frightened even you, and you stood under the burning shower for a few more minutes before deciding the sting was enough. You changed into the most comfortable sweats you owned, surprisingly calm for such a gruesome morning you had, and took your time with your skin care routine.

Circle. Wash. Dry.

Soft music played in the overhead speakers, the classical sounds vibrating from one wall to another and surrounding you with something tranquil - something still. There was nothing to expect from such a sound, only the next repeated chorus, no words or drops - just tranquility. You could barely hear yourself breathe but you were at peace - or mostly - and ready to sooth your growing headache behind the eyeballs with more than just music. You slipped on a pair of comfy, forest green socks and bent them at the ankle to achieve an even fluffier look. You applied your favorite perfume, lotioned up your hands, and donned your tacky friendship bracelet.

One for you. One for Bucky. One for Peter. And one for Wanda.

You hummed the whole way to the common room, waving at the morning staff as they fixed lightbulbs, covered holes in the walls, and swept the floors. One muffin and a cup of coffee later, you were resting with your head in Wanda’s lap as she filled your thoughts with your chosen sceneries.

“I can make you see anything you have already seen, so yes.”

“A miniature golf course, Peter’s high school graduation, a field of all kinds of flowers, and Natasha.”

Wanda stilled her floating hand, smile faltering for a moment before she nodded. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”

They were images well-drawn out, slow and steady to make the atmosphere similar to when you were actually there. They seemed to float across your vision, comfortable in their positions and radiating the same warmth you had felt the first time around. A moving picture. Wanda really had excellent control of this.

“I won!” Sam leapt into the air, pointing at a disgruntled Bucky, who stepped off to the side to not throw Sam over his own head. “I won!”

“How is it possible for you to get a hole-in-one each fucking turn?” Bucky groaned, moping in Wanda’s shoulder as she held him and struggled to keep herself standing from her own intense laughs.

“I think we got a cheater on the loose,” Steve grinned, pointing at the ring Sam was trying to discreetly tuck back into his pocket. A friendly gift from T’Challa, no doubt.

“Nuh-uh, give me the fucking proof, Wilson!” Bucky roared, wrapping his arm around Sam’s neck and tugging him forward. “I will not admit defeat if there was foul play involved!”

Sam escaped the hold, climbing onto the rock located to the side of the flag and a sign that read ‘do not climb on rocks’.

“It just helped me calculate all things geometry, Barnes. We’re good.”

Bucky looked as if he was going to leap on him again, but before he could even finish that thought, Sam slipped on the wet surface and plummeted into the rushing little river.

Laughter erupted and did not cease until you were escorted out of the fairgrounds by four security guards.

A flick of Wanda’s wrist and a new memory began forming, colors blending like an oil painting, dried and covered with a glossy varnish, ready to hang.

“Don’t trip on your way up, kid.”

Peter swatted Steve in the side as the super soldier left the room, leaving Peter alone in front of the full-length mirror. He adjusted his tie and tried to lay that pesky dangling strand of hair over the top of his head.

You got up from the couch and made your way over, wrapping your arms around Peter and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do great. We’re all so proud.”

“It’s just high school…”

You frowned and turned him to face you. “No, you should already be in your second year of college. This is seven years in the making. We are all so proud.”

Peter could feel the slight burn at the corner of his eyes but he swallowed it down, giving you a small smile and a hug.

“And can you trip? Don’t you stick to all surfaces?”

Peter scoffed and pushed you away, his tiny smile never faltering.

You could feel Wanda shift her legs underneath you, searching for the most comfortable position as she continued her work. You sighed, already feeling the therapeutic effects.

“They’re all so pretty!” you yelled cheerfully, running through the field with your arms extended to the sky. Bucky and Steve followed close behind, leaning down every so often to pluck the flower of their choosing and adding to the bouquet in their hand.

“Which did Tony prefer?” Steve asked, snapping you from your pollen-filled, ecstatic state.

“Aesthetic beauty, Rogers! Natasha was a sucker for anything pink and sunflowers.”

Bucky nodded, seeming to take that information into consideration as he plucked the yellow and pink flowers only. Steve chose the most healthy looking flowers, his hand struggling to hold them together as he reached the two dozen mark.

“I think we’re good. These are good.”

You smiled at both super soldiers and admired their bouquets, leaning over to sniff their masterpieces. “Awesome.”

Wanda sighed as she neared your last vision, debating on showing you your chosen moment instead of another one. This moment always hurt Wanda as she wasn’t there to witness it, but it was special to you. There were so many others to choose from, but you insisted this was the one you always wanted to see. And Wanda was always hesitant at first - but when she lifted her hand slowly and dropped the memory back into the front of your brain, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Are we ready?”

Everyone was practically bouncing on their heels, both excited and terrified. Time travel was new to humanity and you were to be one of the first to experience such a thrill. You were going to get everyone back.

You squeezed Natasha’s hand once more before you walked back over to Thor and Rocket. You all nodded to each other, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck’ with your childlike expressions.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha grinned, her cheeks reddening with a friendly blush as she looked over at Steve. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, a braid you had helped her make, and she was carrying an extra pair of socks in case of a long hike.

Then a blast of color surrounded your body and the smell of peaches as you landed on Asgard filled your overstimulated senses.

You opened your eyes and smiled up at Wanda. You didn’t want to see old memories with your friend, but the most recent. It was like you were grasping onto that last memory of her, not wanting to change anything about her last smile, her last laugh, her last shred of existence. It was oddly calming, and so you hoped Wanda would understand.

You thanked her again and proceeded to the kitchen. It was bigger than the one before, the soft forest green color of the walls a nice contrast from the blue ones before. You laughed to yourself and your conscience as you silently thanked the explosion that obliterated the horrid blue walls, quickly backtracking at your dumb thoughts. Still, you chose to joke about everything that happened before to avoid falling deeper into yourself. The kettle started howling, smoke circling around the tip. You poured your tea, dropped two cubes of sugar in, and added a little milk.

It was quite bizarre how quickly you could bounce back from the morning you had. A very bloody, order-filled morning. When one order was given, you had to come up with a plan on how to not disregard the other. You had to listen to Fury and your father, gaining a few feet on each side without toppling the other. Still, it took a physical toll on you. But with Wanda’s help in easing your mind and the very sweet tea you nursed, your emotional baggage was pretty minimal. It sometimes scared you how easy it all was.

Your morning carried on quietly as you sat on the concrete curb, happily sipping your tea in your sweatpants. You could hear Sam and Scott arguing about something a few feet away from you and Bucky taking his afternoon jog around the track. Quite distracted, the sudden ‘thwip’ and superhero landing of a certain teenager scared you enough to spill a little of your tea.

“Goddamn, dude!” you whined, looking up at Peter as he tried to control his laughter.

“I’m sorry, I thought you saw me!”

“Excuse me for being distracted by the hot super soldier just over there,” you joked, pointing over at Bucky.

Peter rolled his eyes and sat next to you, immediately reaching over to take the tea from you and take a sip himself. You let him, as you had no other choice, rolling your eyes anyway.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had classes today?”

Peter handed back your cup, “Nah, I’ve only got classes every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Ugh, that sounds great. I remember I scheduled my classes for every day of the week just to have more units,” you sighed, taking another sip of tea.

“Stupid.”

You pushed Peter’s shoulder playfully, both your laughter catching the attention of Sam and Scott. But as quickly as you had distracted them, they ignored you and went back to bickering.

“I’m just here to see my friends, sue me!”

“Nope, you’re always welcome,” you smiled, holding out your wrist and bumping your bracelet with his. “How was your week otherwise?”

“Eh, nothing major. Just trying to navigate the world now that they know who's behind the mask.”

You gave Peter a look of sympathy, still mad at the sudden manipulation of the kid after such traumatic events. You had promised him you would protect him by any means possible, as did the rest of the team, but he seemed to be navigating the situation just fine. Staying away from reporters, scheduling his classes during the most isolated gaps of the day, and signing dozens of forms that promised to protect him, give him royalties, etc. After you had brought everyone back, it seemed the least the new management/orders could provide for you all.

“We all have our days,” you muttered, handing your tea back to Peter. You two sat there for a while longer, enjoying the slight breeze and taste of sugar.

An agent rounded the corner and spotted you, jogging up and handing you a yellow folder that was sealed in plastic. “For you, from Fury, from whoever before that.”

“Um, thank you?” you said as the agent walked away. You inspected the folder, turning it over in your hands and playing with the thin plastic.

You lifted it up to Peter’s face, “Here, smell it and tell me if there’s poison.”

Peter scoffed, “I can’t do that!”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Peter muttered to himself as he took the folder from you, sniffing it awkwardly. “Smells like paper, dude.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You ripped the plastic off and unhooked the folder, dropping the single item onto your lap. Peter just sipped your tea and watched you open it.

It was another envelope, but this one was white with custom-printed indents that swirled across the front and a big, red blob of wax smushed- with your initials- sealing it. You ripped it open and pulled the invitation from inside. You must have read it a thousand times, eyes rapidly scanning the small page with secret meanings.

“You got invited to a wedding?” Peter asked, taking it from you and reading it himself.

“Yeah, but this is so much more than that,” you said, snatching it back and standing up from the curb. You quickly went back into the compound, searching for the one person who needed to read it also.

You seemed to find everyone before you found the super soldier who wasn’t out for a jog, a line of somewhat concerned superheroes following behind you from room to room. Eager minds and yet, inflexible rib cages full of anxiety and worry, all ready (and quite not) to tackle the new evils of this new world. And whether they followed you blindly or with functioning minds, they were prepared.

With the rest of the team behind you, you burst through the second floor with the invitation held over your head. Steve stopped mid-bite, milk dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at everyone in confusion. “Um…”

“It’s time-” you started, pulling the stool from next to him and sitting down.

“Time for what?” Steve interrupted, his mouth still full of cereal.

“Time for this,” you motioned to the envelope you were handing him. “-to finally end.”

Steve read the invitation word for word, the wrinkles in his forehead becoming deeper as his mind worked. You couldn’t quite discern the feeling in the pit of your stomach, twisting and spinning into a tight coil, seeming to spread to the others as it grew in pressure within you.

“All three?”

“All three,” you confirmed.

Peter pushed through Bruce and Rhodey, “What’s happening? What’s gonna end?”

You looked over at Steve, his bowl of cereal now forgotten and soggy.

His eyes were distant and rather cold, hands extended on his knees as if he was drying the accumulating sweat, shoulders building tension.

“Steve, we can finally end this. We have to tell everyone. It won’t be enough if it’s just you and me.”

He wanted to explode, in both anger and anguish, to stumble over his intact persona and leave it behind - someone he hasn’t known for a long time. It ate away at him each day since Fury notified him of your selfish choice, burrowing into his now tarnished soul in the most sadistic way. But the prospect of finishing this chapter - a chapter that was unexpectedly halted when half the world disappeared - was considerably euphoric. A chance to move on.

“Okay.”

Rhodey already had knowledge of your background, recruitment, and family but Steve’s initial involvement - the start of it - was still a mystery. You sat everyone down in the living room, making room for the others who arrived later, and clapped your hands together. “Story time!”

Steve groaned, face already pressed against a throw pillow. “Just tell them.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“You know whose spawn I’m from,” you began, snickers from your amused friends encouraging you. “To better transport their product, they sent me over to the states to attend college like the good little girl they think I am.”

Sam cracked open a beer and lifted his legs up onto the couch, sitting back with a massive smile on his face as he got comfortable for your story. He handed another beer to Scott.

“Wait, product?” Scott asked, taking a sip from his drink.

You smirked at him and tapped your nose twice, amused by his ‘O’ reaction. “Anyway, by then I already knew that I wanted out of the game. I didn’t like that life, I didn’t like the violence, I didn’t like my family.”

Steve knew that was an understatement, a cruel and restrained statement from your part, and he wanted to tell everyone just how justified you were in your words, how real you were being, and how much help you would certainly need for this. But like always, he remained silent.

“But Fury got to me before I could leave. So, we made a deal. I would train as a field agent and he would promote me every other year to lessen suspicion on this whole ordeal. The deal being I would play both teams.”

By now, your whole team was intrigued.

“I would do what I could for my father and still have my family’s trust, while feeding the information to SHIELD and our lovely star-spangled man over here,” you pointed over at Steve. He gave you a tiny but forced smile.

“But after the collapse of SHIELD, my father only became more violent, more hard-headed, more suspicious. He- uh-” you stuttered, flashbacks suddenly filling your head. Wanda watched your eyes dart rapidly, sensing the rush of blood to your legs and tips of your fingers.

“He was power hungry,” Wanda said, immediately feeling your heart rate lower. Although you never actually said it, she could tell you were grateful for her intrusion.

“Yeah, exactly,” you cleared your throat. “But Steve’s involvement all started when Fury asked me who would be the best front - the most reliable front.”

“So, with only Fury and the bad guys knowing - Y/N named me as her partner in crime,” Steve explained, head hanging low as if it was such a disgrace to do what you openly did. You knew his troubles with coming to terms with such an offensive role were multiplying daily, but you were now this close to stopping every bad force involved.

“So, Captain America is the ultimate drug smuggler,” Scott spoke, somehow trying to comprehend the information all at once. You and Steve both nodded in confirmation and avoided the wide and questioning eyes looking back at you.

“Yeah, he’s essentially the top boss.”

“Y/N-,” Steve interjected, but you beat him to it.

“And here we are! Him and I both invited to the wedding.”

Wanda stretched out her words, “The wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding - where three of the most famous and powerful drug lords south of the border will be attending and ready for our taking - including my father.”

Steve stood from his seat, posture straightening as he spoke to the group. “The invitation reads like a threat. No cameras, no plus-ones besides those listed specifically on the card, no speaking to reporters before or after. The trust Y/N has gained would unknowingly make us the contraband of the party.”

After going through more specifics about the whole situation, Bucky finally raised the question eating away at his mind this whole time. “Whose wedding is it, anyway?”

You grinned that stupid little grin Steve always prepared himself for. It was the grin you would display whenever you were going to make a serious matter a joke, or brush something serious off your shoulder as if it didn’t bother you. The sarcastic grin he always wanted to wipe off your face as you defied orders.

“My lovely little sister’s.”

Rhodey stepped forward to take the invitation for personal inspection, “When is it?”

“A week from tomorrow,” you beamed. “Which means I got to get shopping for a wonderful little, red number!”

“Please, be more excited about this,” Steve groaned, sarcasm dripping off each syllable.

You flicked your right hand up and in position to flash your charming little middle finger at him, a river of fluffed ego and delight flowing to your cheeks as he huffed and left the room in a stumbled march.

“So…” Scott’s voice ripped through the awkward silence. “We’ve been secret drug smugglers this whole time?”

Please let me know what you think! I listened “The Archer” by Taylor Swift and I was like... yes, I see this, lmao. Tell me if you would like to be tagged in later updates! xxMoni

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pangzi · 4 years

Note

Hiiiiii I'm here for the nielan prompts (BECAUSE NIELAN IS BEAUTIFUL ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆) so you can choose any of those ones 11-13(like a video game thing ofc that's only an idea) - 16- 17- 21-28-29 I ship nielan so much that I couldn't make up my mind to choose only one prompt XDDDDDDDDDD (so you will have to decide one ≖‿≖)

11. You owe me a kiss & 13. for starters, that’s impossible (I will probably do a few of the others as well! Thank you for requesting! And I apologise in advance for this, i’ll explain some shit abt the game at the bottom)

Mingjue doesn’t like admitting it, but he loves playing fortnite. Huaisang introduced him to it when he came back home for the winter holidays and now he just couldn’t stop playing it. Every free moment he had he’d message Huaisang to play with him, as playing alone is extremely boring. But now Huaisang had exams, so he had to find a new squadmate.

That is way harder than it sounds, as Mingjue doesn’t have many friends. Zonghui refused to even try, so the only person left to ask was Lan Xichen, and Xichen didn’t seem like the person to enjoy games like fortnite. But still, he could only ask.

So he sent Xichen a message, and if he’s honest he kind of wants Xichen to say he doesn’t want to play. Mingjue can get quite competitive, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for Xichen to see that side of him. It’s not quite the seduction strategy to invite over the guy you like only to end up yelling at him.

His phone buzzed. A message from Xichen. I’d love to play. I’ll come over now if you want, do I bring my switch?

Twenty minutes later, Xichen is on Mingjue’s couch and they’re ready to play their first game together. Xichen had admitted to playing the game every now and then when he was bored. He said he even enjoyed it. Mingjue had learned that most people who hated the game, just hated the game because they were bad at it, so Xichen had to be at least decent, right?

The first few games went well, they ended top 10 every time and they seemed to work well together. Mingjue noticed, though, that Xichen always seemed to have place for whatever healing item Mingjue marked, but he never took any weapon. All the good weapons went to Mingjue.

The fifth game was when things started to get a bit more intense. They kept getting attacked by several duos at once and Mingjue was going to lose his mind. Xichen kept using this stupid pump shotgun and once even threw a small shield potion at someone instead of shooting them, still refusing to drop any of his healing items nor his shotgun for a decent weapon no matter how much Mingjue urged him to. The only reason they usually made it out alive was because Mingjue was a quick builder and had a good aim.

Then it happened. Mingjue died and Xichen didn’t have enough time to grab his card* before the storm* hit and he had to run to the circle to stay alive. Mingjue’s screen changed to Xichen’s and just seeing Xichen’s inventory nearly gave Mingjue a stroke. He had a gray* pump shotgun, six small shield potions, three big shield potions* and a healing gun. Not even an assault rifle to shoot anyone from afar.

“Xichen, just go grab my card, please! There are still seventy people left, you’re not going to get far with only healing and a pump without me!”

Xichen huffed. “Oh, are you so sure about that? I can win with my gray pump shotgun alone and I’ll prove it to you!”

“For starters, that’s impossible! It’s the worst gun in the game!” Mingjue said. “And you can’t even build, I’ve never seen you build except when we were just being idiots pressing all the buttons at once.”

“I can win without building too! I don’t need to build!” Xichen mumbled with a frown, “I’m going to prove it to you. I’m going to win this game without you! What do I get when I do?”

“Anything you want” Mingjue said with a smirk. “But no hiding like a coward until only one person is left”

“Anything I want?” Xichen asked, “absolutely anything?” Mingjue nodded and a bit of a blush appeared on Xichen’s cheeks. “All right.” Mingjue wondered what Xichen was going to ask for that made him blush like that. Mingjue knows what he’d ask for if it was him. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it thought, as someone started shooting Xichen.

Their full attention was on the game again. Forty-six people left, including Xichen. Xichen didn’t shy away from a battle, even after nearly dying from that person who attacked him just now. Whenever he saw someone walking anywhere or heard shots, he went for it. Somehow he was amazing at sneaking up on people until he could shoot them with his shotgun.

“126 damage?” Mingjue roared, “126 damage with a gray pump shotgun?! That’s impossible Xichen! Did you rig the game?”

“No, if anything the game rigged itself”, Xichen laughed, “I noticed people kept killing me with gray guns so I decided to try it myself.” Xichen explained with a soft smile on his face that made Mingjue’s annoyance melt away immediately.

Ten people left and Mingjue felt his competitiveness rise. He needed Xichen to win because that would still mean he won the game too. He’d lose their bet then, but he didn’t care. He was curious to know what Xichen would ask for. Whatever it would be, Mingjue would give it to him. But then again, he doesn’t need to lose a bet to give Xichen whatever he wants.

The survivor count was dropping fast and suddenly two duos were attacking Xichen at the same time and Mingjue couldn’t help but order him around.

“Grab the gold shotgun Xichen!” He ordered, “Grab the purple assault rifle, come on Xichen you can win this! Grab the gun!”

“No then I’d lose the bet” Xichen bit back, “I can do this!”

And he did. He killed the last person with two shots while only having 20 health left himself.

“VICTORY ROYALE” Xichen yelled, jumping up to shove his switch in Mingjue’s face as if Mingjue couldn’t see it on his own screen. Mingjue just looked at him with a fond smile. God he was so in love with this man.

When Xichen was done with his victory dance, he sat down close to Mingjue and grinned widely.

“I think you owe me a kiss” He said sweetly, as if asking your best friend to kiss you was the most normal thing ever.

Mingjue choked on his own spit for a second. “Y-you want me to kiss you?” Mingjue asked, making sure his ears heard that right. He felt his entire face burn.

Xichen’s face coloured bright red as well. “Only if you want to.” He stuttered, earlier confidence completely gone. “But you said I could ask for anything I wanted and I really want you to kiss me.”

Who was Mingjue to deny Xichen anything he wanted? So he dropped his switch next to him on the couch and grabbed Xichen’s face with both hands before pressing their lips together softly.

“I also really wanted to kiss you” Mingjue murmured against Xichen’s lips after breaking the kiss.

“Mn” Xichen whined, “kiss me more please” So Mingjue did.

*colours of weapons from worst to best: gray - green - blue - purple - orange/gold *two types of shield potions, small can give you up to 50%, big up to 100 *card: if you play with a team/teammate, you first get knocked they can revive you on the spot. if the other player keeps shooting you/you don’t get revived on time, you die and your card can be collected by your teammate to be rebooted at a reboot van *storm: to make sure players find each other, there’s a storm that closes in on a certain spot on the map (the circle), the storm does damage and can kill you if oyu are in it too long

#nielan #nie mingjue #lan xichen #mirf writes #nie mingjue/lan xichen #tw: fortnite #i hate myself jgkldjgdks #long post #woolastuff #this is the worst thing i've EVER written

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hazymultiverse · 5 years

Note

13. With Prosciutto 😳

I… Got a bit excited with this one. Ham Man isn’t even my fav, (tho he is top tier) but damn is he fun and hot to write for.

Putting it under the cut for length!

—

It hadn’t been a good day for your boyfriend.

Anyone in Passione was guaranteed a few bad days, and a few bad gigs. Usually the main worry in a bad mission for the execution squad was someone coming home in a bodybag, or not at all, and anything else was minor inconveniences, cause hey, you lived, and you did your job.

You’d learned early on that few members of the squad put up with excessive complaining, and even a stray comment would drag a dramatic groan of “Yeah, but did you die???” From Gelato.

Prosciutto was one that somehow lay on both sides of the spectrum.

If anyone else complained? It was weakness. How dare they call themselves assassins if they can’t even deal with a few scrapes? Pathetic.

But if he had problems, there was hell to pay.

He usually wouldn’t complain in front of everyone, but you were an exception, being in a far more intimate relationship with him.

You had learned his tells, and the small tics that gave away his anger, even when he kept a straight face, you could tell how he felt. And right now? He was pissed.

The two of you had near literally been thrown in the backseat of the car you were in by Formaggio, the main driving force behind your boyfriends fury.

The three of you were on the same mission, multiple targets all at the same party. While they thought themselves safe enough to drink and let their guard down, you and Prosciutto would be there, invitations were easy to forge, and no one would notice an extra face or two in the crowd. You would use your stand to ensure the targets were all in the same room, and Prosciutto would take them out. Formaggio was there as an escape plan, using Little Feet to shrink both of you, get out of town, then drop you off at a motel to rest for a night until your next job while he kept driving.

The plan went off without any real hitch, the only complaint being that Formaggio could be a bit… excitable. Or, perhaps, he found it a hilarious opportunity to get back at Prosciutto for all the comments the blond had made about his appearance, stand, potential, and general state of being.

Once effected by Little Feet, the two of you had been unceremoniously shoved in Formaggios pocket, and by the time you were in the car, all the effort the two of you had made to dress up for the event had been nearly undone.

Pulling you out of his pocket, Formaggio began to recall his ability, tossing you toward the backseat, by the time you hit the seat, you were full size again, slightly tangled in each other as you hadn’t been prepared for the cramped space of the car that, in all honesty, wasn’t the best they could have done, a particular someone had just dubbed it ‘inconspicuous, but cool looking’ and insisted that since he was the driver, he got to pick the car.

“What the hell was that?” Prosciutto snapped, struggling to sit up straight.

“I got you both out -no need to thank me, you’re welcome- and no one saw us! No one that mattered, anyways.”

You could feel Prosciuttos hands balling into fists, so you quickly grabbed his wrist, shaking your head, it wasn’t worth starting a fight for the next hour drive.

With a huff, he settled back on the seat, grabbing his phone to call Risotto, informing him of the plans success, and how we would proceed.

It was an hour to get to the motel, then Formaggio would keep driving, and you and Prosciutto would stay the night, and then head to your next job in the morning, the job wouldn’t take all three of you, and of the three, you two worked the best together.

So it was a full hour that Formaggio spent listening to music, Pros spent fuming, and you spent staring.

You had realized early on in his phone call that while your outfit and hair were mussed, and your stockings torn, your boyfriend had fared a bit worse.

There was the beginning of a bruise on his forehead, his suit was wrinkled, and his hair had completely come undone from its meticulous style.

If your teammates plan was to make him look ridiculous, it had backfired, because right now he looked absolutely irresistible.

You shifted closer to him, leaning on his shoulder, thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand. Definitely only because you wanted to help him calm down, and absolutely not because you suddenly just wanted to get as close as possible.

There was a certain rush in seeing him like this, usually so put together, but now so wrecked. You could picture those loose strands of hair sticking to his skin, slick with sweat as he held you down, fucking you relentlessly. He probably wouldn’t even take off the suit for the first round, deeming it dirty enough already that you couldn’t make it worse. If you were good enough, maybe he’d let you run your hands through his hair, messing it up even more. Would he take off your stockings? Or leave them on? He liked seeing you in them, and how they felt against his shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress. God, if you didn’t rein it in soon, you were gonna start riding him in the backseat.

Thankfully, Formaggios vocal talents were the audio equivalent to a cold shower, and hearing him sing along to the radio helped curb your fantasies, though, it did make calming your lover down far harder.

Finally, when you had pulled into the motel, ignoring the teasing call of “don’t have too much fun!” As you slammed the car door shut, you were met with silence in the dark parking lot. By the time you got in the room, you wanted nothing more than to be out of the heels you were wearing, and into something more comfortable, or nothing. That would also work.

As the door closed, Prosciuttos mouth opened, and he finally let loose with everything that had been building up in the car.

You half listened, pitching in small hums of agreement as you began to get undressed, breathing a sigh of relief as your dress crumpled to the floor. You didn’t bother hanging it up, the mission had already done enough damage, a motel floor wouldn’t kill it.

“-Just because he’s never worn a decent outfit in his life, look at this, I think he ripped the jacket. I liked this suit.” He grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed, now just in an open dress shirt and slacks.

“Mmhm” you responded, now clad only in your underwear and stockings, laying on the bed with a content sigh as your muscles relaxed for the first time that night.

“You aren’t even listening to me.”

“Babe, you wanna know the brutal truth?” You sat up, draping your arms around him and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, “I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now”

He snorted, “Really? That’s all you’re thinking about right now?”

“What can I say? I like your hair when it’s down.”

You began to run your fingers through it, detangling any mussed strands, lightly scratching his scalp. He let out a low grown, head falling back into your touch. Allowing you to press kisses to his neck.

Reaching around, you began to unzip his slacks, freeing his cock as you murmured in his ear.

“I saw you in the car, looking so handsome, I nearly jumped you right then. There’s something about you when you get like this- you look so rugged and strong.”

You began to pump his hardening cock in your hand, not missing the breathy groan that left his body as the tension finally started to lessen in his shoulders.

“But, we weren’t exactly alone, and we wouldn’t want someone like him seeing us like this.”

Pausing your motions, you slid off the bed and onto the floor, pressing a kiss to his shaft.

“You’re the only one to see me like this, you’re the only one who makes me this needy, like a desperate little slut.”

You were choosing your words and tone carefully, you knew exactly what buttons to push to get what you wanted. He was frustrated, mad at Formaggio with lingering adrenaline from the mission, and if being a good girl and laying on the praise meant he took out that frustration on your aching pussy? Then you would lay it on thicker and sweeter than honey on toast.

A hand came to rest in your hair, the other resting at the base of his cock, tapping it lightly against your face.

“Well, we’re alone now baby, you know what to do.”

You hopped to the task eagerly, his cock quickly sinking to the back of your throat and hoping you didn’t look too smug.

You’d have to thank Formaggio later.

#Asks #smut prompts #prosciutto #jjba #not sfw

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jacksgreysays · 4 years

Note

Could Should Actually + A softer world 31 or Things you Said 22?

A/N: Are you the same anon who mix and matches other ask box events? Because let me just say, I enjoy the puzzle.

Anyway I went with the things you said 22, but I may also do the a softer world 31 later.

Here’s some Counterclockwise!

22) things you said after it was over

it could have gone like this:

"Imagine the glory," Joy exclaims in a breathy sort of voice as if in awe of the very idea. She slings an arm around Leanne's shoulders, drawing her close, comfortable and warm. The couch they're on could easily fit four, but the two of them are squished up against one arm so that the boys and even Alvin in his massive wolf form could fit, too.

"We wouldn't be able to tell anyone," Leanne argues even as she leans in, matching Joy's volume.

"The riches?" Joy tries again, grinning, more playful than earnest.

"Exactly how would we profit off this plan?" Leanne asks in return.

Thwarted, Joy goes for a different tactic. "Imagine... the drama," she says, leaning even closer, conspiratorially.

Leanne hums, considering. When the lack of disagreement becomes more and more apparent, time stretching wider, Joy's grin does the same. She swings her other arm around Leanne, squeezing, jostling, trying to bodily contain the happiness of the moment before nuzzling their faces together. Not quite a kiss, Joy's bared teeth pressed to the skin of Leanne's cheek, but not so far off.

Shrieking with laughter, Leanne doesn't push her away. "That's not fair! You know my weakness!"

"Of course," Joy says, words trapped between them, "I don't need to be fair, I just need you to say yes."

And Leanne, settling into her hold, can do nothing but nod and say yes.

...

Over two decades later, a fifteen year old Leanne follows the rest of her classmates through the art gallery, tired eyes glancing over the displays but not really taking them in. Yesterday was rough--school, training, a newly hatched cluster of giant sea serpents by the docks while trying not to lose too much face in front of her teammates--and she had been grateful for upcoming the field trip though now she regrets not being able to appreciate the art.

She finds a seat and takes it, her legs almost buckling in relief, and stares blindly forward.

"Do you like it?" someone asks next to her. Leanne, surprised but too exhausted to startle, turns to the voice. An older woman, maybe in her forties, brown hair tied back into a bun, sharp clothes. Maybe a staff member of the art gallery? They didn't have a tour guide, did they?

"I'm sorry," Leanne says, reflexively.

A sad sort of smile graces the woman's face, she shakes her head slightly. "Do you like it?" she repeats, gesturing to the painting on the wall in front of them. The one that Leanne had stared at but hadn't really seen. A little ashamed, she focuses.

It's a closeup of two hands, different skin tones and shapes, their fingers intertwined. There are matching rings, softly glinting in the light. Everything about the painting is soft, dreamy, more memory and imagination than photorealism.

Not the most amazing picture, Leanne thinks, but she can certainly see why it would be compelling. "Yes," she answers, finally, simply, though she doesn't know why it matters.

The woman's small smile twitches into something bigger, but no less sad.

Not that it was up for argument, but it's obvious that Leanne's not a very good hero: she doesn't know how to make things better. So she fidgets awkwardly instead.

Now the woman's smile turns into something amused. "I'm glad you like it. It's my favorite," she says before getting to her feet. She reaches a hand toward Leanne, as if to pat her on the shoulder, but pulls back.

"Take care of yourself, Leanne," she says, before walking away, disappearing into the labyrinth of the art gallery.

And because Leanne is not a very good hero, it takes her a few hours to realize that they never exchanged introductions. How did she know her name?

---

it should have gone like this:

"She's a liability," Tetsuki says, scowling at the doctor.

They are in the observation room of the testing chambers, a wide near-indestructible room where Doctor Kaiza's clients can use their meta-human abilities without fear of collateral damage.

Or where would-be vigilantes can train without the public catching on. Not that Henry particularly needs it. He is, despite all the media speculation, entirely baseline human. Most of Starling's tricks are gadgets and whatever he learned from his mentor Firefly.

But it's good to see what his potential teammates are capable of, and so here he is:

Caleb he knows the best, as much raised in the lifestyle as Henry had been. More so, maybe, practically born into it. Zenith, son of Apex.

Tetsuki he's met before, Doctor Kaiza's... niece? Maybe? The actual connection is vague. But he's seen some of the reports of her prior activities and her abilities. Electric manipulation, martial arts training, and a fierce protectiveness for all that she isn't the nicest of people.

Hari he only knows by word of mouth, the lone lion shapeshifter amongst a pack of wolves. Goldenheart, recommended by former hero Silverfang.

Right now, Hari is in lion form, a huge shape easily loping around in the testing chambers, big playful circles around the other figure below. At least, Henry is pretty sure it's playful. Although, considering the nervous posture of Goldenheart's chosen playmate, perhaps she doesn't understand the same.

Leanne Peridot. A civilian as of two weeks ago. Where and how Doctor Kaiza found her is a mystery. Why the doctor thought she'd make a good addition to the team is an even bigger mystery.

No martial arts training, no particular talent with any weapons, practically baseline human. The only thing that makes her stand out is that strange pocket watch and the one minute of time stopping it gives her, but if she can't do anything with that one minute then it's all just a waste. She's back to being a normal civilian out on the field.

"Tetsuki's right," Henry says, watching as Goldenheart bats a huge paw gently at Leanne, watches the green-haired girl fall to the ground, unable to brace herself against even an expected, friendly push. "She's a liability."

He doesn't say it to be mean, he says it to save lives. If she's just another civilian they have to keep an eye out for on the field, then they may as well tie a weight to themselves. They need teammates who can keep up, who can be trusted to handle themselves and more.

"Then help her," Doctor Kaiza says, "Train her. Give her the tools she needs to survive. The tools all of you had since you were children." Her voice is dispassionate, but her words give her away. "She is behind, yes, but the rest of you have a head start. She has the potential, help her access it."

"Why?" Caleb asks and while Tetsuki lights up in triumph, the doctor turns to him with a look of disappointment on her face. Henry also turns to look at him, confused. For all that Caleb is practically a living tank, he's usually the more diplomatic of them.

"I mean," he continues, "Why her? Why do you care? We're a functional enough team wth just the four of us. We don't need a fifth."

"Certainly not a fifth we need to bring up to our level," Tetsuki adds snidely.

The doctor turns back to the observation window, where Leanne has gotten back to her feet and begun to hesitantly run her hands through Hari's fur. The sound doesn't exactly travel, but from the satisfied closed eyes, Henry thinks perhaps there might be purring.

"Heroism," Doctor Kaiza says, followed by a silence long and drawn out. "It's not about being good at fighting," she says, "it's about saving people.

"And sometimes even the best need help."

...

When Leanne disappears, Henry investigates. Of course he does. That's his teammate. For all that she had a rocky beginning, Leanne proved herself as a hero and Henry isn't disloyal.

Tetsuki, ever the pessimist, thinks she ran. Finally giving in to Bastian, the absolute bastard, and his constant attempts to sway her to his cause. Whatever that cause may be. He's pretty sure Tetsuki only thinks that because two of Bastian's lieutenants are former classmates of hers, supervillains brewing right under her nose.

Caleb, more emotionally in tune, has been the contact for the Peridot family. Collaborating with them on their search, if she may have said anythign to them, left any hints or clues behind.

Unsurprisingly, Doctor Kaiza is calm.

Surprisingly, so is Hari.

"Why aren't you worried? What do you know?" Henry asks, finally, after all avenues of tracking have been exhausted. It would be more intimidating if he didn't have dark bags under his eyes, if Hari weren't capable of turning into a massive lion in the blink of an eye.

"I am worried," Hari says, "but it won't help her." Then the shapeshifter shrugs, "And I know the same as you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hm," Hari eyes drift away from his, "You remember the codename she came up with last year? Before you, Caleb, and Tetsuki shot it down."

Henry frowns. "What about it?" He remembers, of course. Leanne had wanted to be called Anachron. Thematically, it made sense, and it was witty enough. But it was a name that had already been used.

"Leanne isn't like us. She didn't grow up hearing stories about heroes, from heroes. The only context she had for names was us."

"So?"

Hari sighs, meets Henry's eyes, and says, "She was, is, Anachron. You shouldn't be looking for where she is. You should be looking for when."

---

but it actually went like this:

"They sent me through time and cursed me with immortality on top of that, so I'd appreciate it if you would bring me home, time witch." Bastian, the absolute bastard, says across the table from Leanne. A beautiful tea service is set up, delicate finger foods and porcelain, shining silverware gleaming against a rich tablecloth. It is a mockery; as Bastian sips from his teacup, Leanne struggles against the ties keeping her bound to the chair.

"I'm not a time witch," Leanne says, exasperated. At him and herself. Him because this is not the first, or second, or even third time this has happened. Herself because... well... this is not the first, second, or event third time this has happened. A part of her is glad her team is on the way to get her out of this. A far larger, more frustrated part of her hates that she needs her team to get her out of this yet again.

"Sorcerer, warlock, wizard, I don't care what terms you people use nowadays. Time magic, you use it, therefore you are a time witch." Bastian waves away her words, equally dismissive in his tone. He, it seems, is as bored of this conversation as she is.

"I don't use time magic," Leanne protests, because even if just sends them down the same patterns, she doesn't know what else to do but be honest.

"Not well, certainly," Bastian agrees, sort of, "but time witches were rare even in my kingdom. Here, you're apparently the only one, so you'll have to do."

Leanne, insulted and irritated, sighs.

"Is this a problem of payment? Because if its a reward you need, I can cover that. What do you want, money? Fame? Power?" Bastian lists out, resting his chin on one hand, a king in repose.

Leanne shakes her head.

"Something more than that, hm? Or a combination of the three?" Bastian meets her eyes and smirks, a sharp and hungry thing. "I'll make you my queen, time witch. Bring me home and the world could be yours."

Leanne just shakes her head again.

Annoyed, Bastian's face turns into a thunderous scowl. He stands, slamming his hand on the table, the tea set rattling with the force of it.

"You will not refuse me again, time witch," he says, low with rage and barely contained violence.

Having witnessed the scope of his abilities, it is a miracle Leanne's voice doesn't shake when she responds, "Then stop asking."

A reverberating boom sounds, the tea set once more rattling, and Leanne resist the urge to close her eyes in relief. Her team is here to rescue her, but she refuses to take her eyes off Bastian.

He bares his teeth, displeased at her, the situation, but quickly composes himself. "Until next time," he says, and almost laughs at his own play on words.

...

The restraints they've put on her are tight, though thankfully not painful, the chair is far from comfortable, she has a bit of a headache, and the interrogation room is a little cold: it's not the best set of circumstances she's ever found herself in, but they're certainly not the worst.

When the grumpy officer who brought her here returns, he finds her lightly dozing, trying to catch up on the years and years of sleep debt she's accrued. It's not likely to succeed but, again, she's been in worse places.

"Leanne Peridot?" the officer says. It's not really a question, they took her a picture, her fingerprints, and DNA. They should know who she is.

"Yep."

"Also known as Anachron?"

"Sure."

"Also known as the Time Witch?"

"Ye--no, actually," Leanne says, catching herself, "I do not claim that one."

Officer Grumpyface looks up at her, "You don't?"

"No," she says, "Nobody calls me that." Or, at least, not in a way that would make it into her official file.

Grumpyface shrugs, uncaring. "You've done quite a bit of unauthorized time traveling, haven't you?"

Leanne can feel her brow furrow, "Who has authority over time travel?"

Grumpyface looks behind him at the observation window before turning back to her. He doesn't say anything.

Instead, the door to the interrogation room opens, a man in a similar, if far fancier and impressive, uniform to Officer Grumpyface enters the room. Grumpyface stands up at attention, saluting the newcomer.

It's an older face than the one she remembers. No more false boyish sweetness, but a chiseled sort of handsomeness instead. There are a few age lines, some grey in his hair. But considering it's several centuries since they last spoke, Bastian, the absolute bastard, has barely changed.

She sighs, resigned. "Bastian."

"Hello, Time Witch."

A/N: Making Leanne miserable since... uh... I don’t know, it’s time travel. :D

For the Could/Should/Actually Fic Ask Box Event!

#jacksgreyson #anonymous #prompt response #writing #original fiction #could should actually fic #counterclockwise #leanne peridot #joy guerrero #tetsuki kaiza #ellen tsukiko kaiza #henry falcone #hari samson #caleb ives #bastian

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waltzofthewifi · 4 years

Text

Kota Chapter 31: Team Building

Table of Contents | Beginning

The details were the hardest part to work out, but somehow Marinette managed it.

Figuring out where to hold the meeting was the biggest obstacle. They ended up in a super-fancy dining room at the hotel. Ladybug asked Martok to do a security sweep of the room (from a distance, of course, since most of the heroes would recognize the robot), and then had Chat Noir do another one on his baton just in case. Chloe ordered complete privacy, and she and Ladybug worked to find discreet entrances so no one would know the heroes were there.

The final issue was figuring out how to get Fu into the room without anyone seeing him. In the end, Marinette convinced him to use the tiger miraculous and turn invisible.

"I don't think the miraculous should be used for such trivial matters," Fu had argued.

"This is important," Marinette countered.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were the first to arrive in the back dining room, as planned.

"I'm surprised Fu agreed to this," Chat Noir said. "He isn't very forthcoming with information. I haven't even seen him since he gave me the transformation potions."

That was news to Ladybug. She was aware Chat Noir didn't know where Fu lived - it was too dangerous if he did, since they might run into each other unstransformed. But since Chat Noir had received the potions, she had assumed they figured some other way of meeting up.

She didn't get a chance to respond, because Fu arrived.

He had already detransformed, and the tiger kwami, Roarr, immediately ducked behind the two heroes.

"Ladybug, Chat Noir," Fu greeted.

"Master Fu," Ladybug replied. "Glad you could make it."

The heroes started trickling in and sitting around the table. Actually, "sitting" might be a strong word - Chat Noir balanced on the top of his seat, Kota kneeled on hers, and Roi Singe sat backwards with his back on the seat and legs on the back. Queen Bee put her feet up on the table, Ryuko sat rim-rod straight, Rena Rouge pulled one leg up on the chair with her, Viperion sat criss-cross, and Pegasus sat with his hands crossed like an old lady. Carapace remained the only normal-sitting person besides Ladybug and Fu.

"This is so cool!" Rena Rouge started. "I have so many questions." She unfurled herself and leaned forward, holding up her notebook.

"She's been talking my ear off all night," Carapace contributed. "Hope you're prepared, dude."

Queen Bee scoffed. "You can't call Ladybug 'dude'."

"She said I could!"

"It's okay," Ladybug confirmed. "I know you all are used to me and Chat being held up as celebrities or idols, but even though we are the leaders here, this is a team and we're your teammates. And the point of this is to grow as a team."

"Where's Souris Rose?" Pegasus questioned.

"She decided she didn't want to come," Ladybug answered.

"That's a shame," Pegasus answered. "Her powers were useful, and she was talented at using them."

"How do you decide who to use?" Kota asked.

"It depends," Ladybug said. "Since I began studying the miraculouses, I had started to connect certain people to certain miraculous. Rena was - and still is - my first choice, and when the time came to call on you, I knew the exact miraculous for you.

"Carapace was a little different. I picked the right miraculous for that akuma, and I knew you would be the right choice as well for that akuma, but I didn't necessarily pick that miraculous for you. And then for Queen Bee - I had actually intended to give the bee miraculous to Rena."

"And I stole it," Queen Bee finished. "That was selfish of me, and I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

Ladybug smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. But don't be too hard on yourself - you could only steal it because I lost it to begin with."

"Wait, you lost a miraculous?" Rena Rouge asked.

She didn't mean it maliciously, but Ladybug still shifted in her seat nervously.

"Uh, kinda?"

"Ladybug was under a lot of pressure from Style Queen," Chat Noir intervened. "And, in a way, that only happened because I also made a mistake, and wasn't able to help."

"Ryuko, when I picked the dragon Miraculous for that akuma, I realized you would be a perfect fit," Ladybug continued.

"Yet I also messed up my first time," Ryuko added.

"You learned, and that's what makes a good hero," Ladybug responded. "Pegasus, your situation was unique. I only had the one extra miraculous. As for you, Kota - I knew we needed the rooster miraculous to fight that akuma, and when I thought about it, I realized you were the best fit."

"What about Roi Singe and Viperion?" Rena Rouge questioned.

"Ladybug didn't choose me, actually." Viperion glanced at Ladybug for permission to tell the whole story, and Ladybug gave him a nod. "She originally gave the miraculous to someone else, but it wasn't a good fit for him. He decided to give it to me."

"Ooh, interesting," Rena Rouge replied.

"I didn't choose Roi Singe either," Ladybug added.

"I was wondering about that," Roi Singe said, still upside down. "Both you and Chat Noir had been disco-balled by the time I got mine, so who gave it to me?"

"That would be me," Fu said.

Rena Rouge did a double take. "Wait - who are you?"

"I'm the guardian of the miraculous," Fu answered. "I keep them safe when not in use."

"How many miraculouses are there?" Alya asked.

"Many," Fu said. "But most have been lost. I only have the one miracle box, which when full contains nineteen miraculouses."

"When full?" Rena Rouge repeated.

"The butterfly and peacock miraculous were lost," Fu said. "Only now they have reappeared. And the ladybug and black cat miraculous are no longer in the box as well."

"So what are the other animals in the box?" Rena Rouge asked. "I have a few theories myself. Some people believe it's the Chinese zodiac, but I've also seen some historical proof of a lion miraculous, and foxes aren't part of the zodiac, are they?"

"Our miracle box, like most, is divided into three groups," Fu explained. "The top circle is the two most powerful miraculouses - the ladybug and black cat - which balance each other out and have safeguards for the other miraculous. Then there's the inner circle - the turtle, fox, bee, butterfly, and peacock. Then there's the outer circle, which contains the animals in the Chinese zodiac. The lion is actually part of the outer circle of another box."

"What powers do the other animals have?" Rena Rouge asked.

"The ox miraculous can give it's wielder super strength," Ladybug said.

"I thought all the miraculouses did," Pegasus said.

"Extra super strength," Ladybug explained. "The tiger's power is invisibility. The goat creates a surface to climb on, the dog can track, and the pig calms down a person."

"If the dog can track, why don't we track the butterfly miraculous?" Ryuko questioned.

"The dog is an outer circle miraculous," Fu said. "It can track almost everything except the inner circle miraculous."

"So everything but what we need it to?" Carapace questioned.

"Sounds like our luck," Chat Noir commented.

"Is that why the ladybug miraculous is the only one that can purify akumas?" Rena Rouge questioned.

"Yes," Ladybug replied. "The ladybug and black cat miraculous split the ability to undo the powers of the inner circle. Chat Noir's powers are the only thing that can destroy a shelter or mirage, once the wielders have reached a certain point. Likewise, the ladybug miraculous is the only thing that can purify an amok or akuma once they've reached their targets - a cataclysm only works before they've affected a person. And the bee's venom is only undoable by the miraculous cure, which draws on the powers of both mine and Chat's miraculous, even if I'm the one that casts it. That's why I couldn't cast it the first time we fought Stoneheart - well, that and I didn't know I could. When Chat and I solidified our partnership while facing the Stoneheart clones, the ability just... appeared."

"Cool," Carapace said.

"What about your lucky charm and his cataclysm?" Rena Rouge said.

"Once we've reached a certain level of power and experience, my lucky charms will only be able to be destroyed by a cataclysm, and his cataclysms only fixable by the cure - though to fix damage like that, I could theoretically call the cure myself."

"I have a question," Viperion said. "Am I the only one getting animal side effects?"

"I am," Rena Rouge replied. "My hearing's improved."

"So has mine," Chat Noir said. "And my vision. I even think I'm getting night vision."

"Shame your jokes aren't improving," Ladybug commented.

"Hey," Chat Noir whined.

"I keep having the instinct to climb things," Roi Singe commented. "But I had that before I became a hero."

"What side effects might the rest of us have?" Ryuko asked.

"According to my research," Pegasus interjected. "I suspect that Queen Bee, Ladybug, Carapace, and Viperion night become more susceptible to the cold."

"Yep," Ladybug confirmed.

"There's also diet changes," Fu added. "When I was a child, I hated fish, but when I actively used the turtle miraculous, I couldn't have enough."

"This is the first I've heard of this," Ladybug noted.

"Ladybugs are predators," Rena Rouge offered. "They eat bugs."

"I have been eating a lot of meat recently," Ladybug said. "I thought I just needed the extra protein from all the superheroing."

"What about dragons?" Ryuko asked.

"Shrimp," Fu answered. "Like a seahorse."

"Longg does call me seahorse," Ryuko said.

"Trixx keeps calling me pup," Rena Rouge added.

"My kwami just calls me kid," Chat Noir said. "I'm pretty sure that's not a cat thing."

"I'm really glad Tikki never calls me larva," Ladybug added. "That would be weird."

"What is it like, living with Trixx?" Fu questioned. "I've heard they're one of the more difficult kwamis."

"It's interesting," Rena Rouge said. "They don't like answering questions directly, but they're great for brainstorming ideas, like - wait, secret identity. But they're like anyone else, upsides and downsides."

"Wait, you have your miraculous permanently?" Roi Singe asked.

"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about tonight," Ladybug said. "I think it would be beneficial if each of you spent some time with your kwamis - for the past couple of days, Carapace and Rena have kept their miraculous. After this meeting, we'll trade off and Roi Singe and Viperion can keep theirs."

"Really?" Roi Singe asked, perking up. "Sweet!"

"Don't get too excited," Fu warned. "Xuppu can be tiring."

"I assume that you won't let me keep my miraculous," Queen Bee said.

"At the moment, no," Ladybug answered. "But your transformation has given me a few ideas. I'll talk to you about it later."

"Out of curiosity," Rena Rouge said, as if she did anything for any other reason. "How would you rate the kwamis as far as livable-ness?"

"Wayzz and Tikki are definitely the easiest to handle," Fu answered. "I would say Plagg, Orikko, and Xuppu are the most annoying."

"Plagg stole a pair of socks, once," Chat Noir commented. "He did return them, though."

"Why Orikko?" Kota questioned.

"What do roosters like to do at sunrise?" Fu replied.

Kota's face fell. "Oh. That would be annoying."

"I have another question," Rena Rouge said. "Can you combine miraculous?"

"Yes," Ladybug said cautiously. "Combined, you gain both the powers of the miraculous and more powers."

"Is that why Hawkmoth is after both the ladybug and black cat miraculous?" Pegasus inquired.

"Yes," Ladybug confirmed. "Combined, the two are very powerful. It's why we must keep them out of his hands at all costs."

"I also have a question," Kota said. "How does the miraculous magic interact with other forms of magic?"

Ladybug had no idea how to answer that. Until her conversation with Lacy and Orikko about the love potions, it had never occurred to her that there were other types of magic - though if she had thought about, she would have probably came to that conclusion.

"It depends," Fu answered. "There's a lot of different types of magic. Each miraculous interacts with each type of magic differently. For instance, if an akuma or amok were to enter a magical object, it could increase the toughness of that object or the danger of that akuma. Is there a type of magic you were wondering about?"

Kota hesitated. "Uh, kinda?"

"Is this about you not being affected by the love potion?" Ladybug asked.

"Sorta?" Kota answered. "I - my - it's hard to explain."

"I would ask your kwami, then," Fu suggested. "If you get a chance."

Kota nodded. "Okay."

It took over an hour for the questions to run out - most of which came from Rena Rouge. After that, Ladybug brought up the idea of some training exercises she and Tikki had brainstormed.

Honestly, a race was inevitable.

It was one of the first things that Ladybug and Chat Noir had done together, outside of fighting an akuma. Rena Rouge and Carapace had raced each other earlier that week. It seemed to be an instinctual need to see who was faster.

Of course, it didn't help that both Ryuko and Roi Singe were severely competitive. And, apparently, so was Queen Bee.

Ladybug declined to race, as did Viperion. Viperion was not a naturally competitive person, and he already knew he was one of the slower heroes. Ladybug was a competitive person, under the right circumstances, but thought watching would be more interesting.

"Everyone clear on the rules?" Ladybug asked.

The track was simple - a loop around the city. Ladybug would be tracking them to make sure there was no cheating. First person to touch back on the rooftop won. No powers but all weapons were allowed.

"Three, two, one, go!"

Chat Noir and Rena Rouge practically arrived at the same time, both out of breath.

"Hah!" Chat Noir said. "I won!"

"Uh, no," Rena Rouge replied. "I definitely got here first."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"Ladybug," The two heroes whined, turning the Ladybug.

"I think it's a tie," Ladybug decided.

Queen Bee was next, followed by mere inches by Carapace. Ryuko and Roi Singe arrived together, followed by Kota. Pegasus arrived last.

"All of you made good time," Ladybug said.

"But I made the best," Rena Rouge bragged.

"I beat you!" Chat Noir argued.

"No you didn't!"

Ladybug sighed, deciding it pointless to get involved this time.

They're going to be arguing about this for a long time.

They were almost finished for the night. Ladybug had already collected Pegasus's and Kota's miraculous, and Alya and Nino were saying (a temporary) goodbye to their kwamis. Now all she needed were the bee and dragon miraculouses - but she had something she needed to talk to them about first.

She found Queen Bee on the roof of the hotel, talking to Chat Noir.

"- I guess what I'm trying to say is," Queen Bee was saying. "I'm sorry. There's no excuse for treating someone like that."

"I didn't mind it," Chat Noir replied. "At least, not that much. But I'm glad to hear that you're turning over a new leaf."

"It's not the first time I've tried," Queen Bee said.

"Hey, I bee-lieve in you."

"And here we were having a moment."

Ladybug cleared her throat, alerting them to her presence.

"Queen Bee," Ladybug called. "I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Ladybug."

Queen Bee followed her to the rooftop where Ryuko was waiting.

"What did you wish to speak about?" Ryuko questioned.

"I've been talking with Fu," Ladybug said. "And I think there's a way to make the miraculous's magic conceal your identity again."

"You mean, so I can be Queen Bee and no one will know it's me?" Queen Bee asked.

"Yep," Ladybug confirmed. "We've almost figured it out. Once that happens, I'll tell you two as soon as possible. Until then, you'll only be called on when I have no choice."

"This is great!" Queen Bee said. "Thank you, Ladybug!"

"I appreciate it as well," Ryuko said. "Though my m- my family already as safety measures, as I've said before."

"I know," Ladybug said. "But this could allow you to keep your miraculous on you, if there's ever a reason to."

"Yes!" Queen Bee squealed. "Please? I love Pollen so much!"

"I know," Ladybug replied. "I rely on my kwami a lot, too."

"I would like to talk at length with Longg someday," Ryuko said. "He seems very knowledgeable."

"The kwamis have seen a lot," Ladybug said. "But they're not always the most forthcoming with information."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ryuko said. "Thank you, Ladybug."

"So, how's Sass doing?" Marinette asked.

She and Luka were curled up together in his living room. It had only been a day since Luka had been given his miraculous, but she was sure Sass had already had an impact.

"He made me buy a sun lamp," Luka replied. "Fortunately, no one pays attention to what I buy. It's difficult keeping him hidden from Jules though."

"That's right, you two share a room."

Luka nodded. "But Juleka isn't nosy. And Sass is really cool to talk to music about - he says he knew musicians going as far back as Ancient Greece and Egypt!"

"Mhm," Marinette confirmed. "Our miracle box got around quite a bit - part of being the one with the transportation miraculous in it. Tikki's mentioned a few ladybugs from all over the world."

"Sass also said he hasn't been out in more than a century," Luka said. "He had never seen or heard an electric guitar before he met me."

"Same with Tikki," Marinette replied.

"He also knew about my synesthesia - that's when I associate colors and sounds and things like that," Luka said. "And my ability to 'hear' other people's songs. Says I might even have magical lineage."

"I didn't know you had synesthesia," Marinette noted. "That's cool."

Luka shrugged. "It's minor, compared to some people. Sass said he once knew a hero that could paint entire pictures based on what they heard in music, and vice versa."

"Wow!"

"I know, right?" Luka said. "He won't talk about any of his previous heroes fighting, or how they used their second chances though. I think - I think a lot of them died from it."

Marinette nodded. "Yeah. Tikki can get the same way, sometimes. But don't worry - miraculouses like Hawkmoth's have fail safes that keep them from being fatal. It's why my miraculous cure is so thorough with the damage from akumas - that's just as much the butterfly miraculous as it is mine and Chat's."

"I didn't know that," Luka said. "That's nice to know."

"Makes you wonder what happened to cause them to put those fail safes in though," Marinette admitted. "Tikki gets too sad when I bring it up, I just can't."

"It doesn't matter now," Luka said. "Whoever it was learned from the past, so we aren't doomed to repeat it."

Next Chapter

#kota #my writing #miraculous ladybug #heroes of olympus #Percy jackson

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real-jaune-isms · 5 years

Text

RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 5 Rundown

I really did not expect to get a daily huntress life montage episode, but here it was. Luckily that’s not all it was, and the ending is definitely gonna set events in motion to upset the status quo. But we can’t reach the ending unless we go to where it starts.

And it starts with Penny giving a sunrise wake up call to Team RWBY in their Atlas dorm. They’re in wall indented bunks, wearing matching Atlas Academy pajamas... and with the loose shirts it looks like they grew in more than just height over the last few Volumes, especially Weiss. Guess those dresses bind the chest pretty tightly. Or maybe they made one character model for the Atlas pajamas outfit and then changed up the face, hair, and other important details like Yang’s arm but left the torso basically the same? Regardless, they’re all very tired... except Ruby, who’s excited to start doing official Huntress work.

Next thing we know everyone’s gathered in a briefing room to get the rundown on the day’s missions, and Jaune is coerced to give his cup of coffee to Marrow. Stupid puppy dog eyes... Clover starts briefing everyone, and his monologue plays over a montage of everyone doing the very thing he’s talking about. How convenient for show with minimal tell. Most of the missions are going to be escorting supply runs out to the Amity launch site and fighting off whatever Grimm might gather around the mine or strike on the road. But since so much construction stuff is going to making Amity a communication satellite, they can’t mend the damage to Mantle’s border wall so they have to do some Attack on Titan style Garrison work and defend the wall from approaching Grimm. We see Nora adorably playing with Ren’s braid, or maybe redoing it for him that morning, before they set to work on perimeter defense. Then the Bees are seen in the mine with Marrow killing Grimm, since it is a volatile part of the launch site and worth defending. He calls their combat styles into question, specifically how they don’t seem suited to work well together and they might want to mix up who teams up with who. But they execute a flawless tag team take down on a Beowolf and that quiets him down for a bit. Let’s get into that a little, because people have been getting a lot of impressions on it. Here’s how I see it. He comes from a team where all the members were chosen specifically to compliment each other. These are girls who met and were partnered by random selection, and had to learn how to make their styles meld together, so from the outside looking in it seems disjointed but when they apply themselves they have synergy. So it’s a matter of perspective, really.

But then we get to my third favorite part of the episode, and the moment we had been teased about since RTX. Jaune is indeed helping a group of preschoolers cross the street on the way to school, with a stop sign that has six sides instead of the eight real world signs do... odd. And this earns him the attention of five flirty, posing, winking, Real. Thirsty. Moms. A sixth even comes up and gives him a casserole she made... apparently something she’s done before. And she’s not taking no for an answer, shoving it into his hands even while acting all flustered and shy. Nora is watching from nearby and attributes his mom-magnet status to the new haircut. Makes you wonder if these ladies would still be into Jaune if they knew he was only about 19?... But even this has a point. It’s still important to help out with day to day troubles and jobs around Mantle to help the public know that the huntsmen and huntresses are there to keep them safe.

Clover assures them they can use their free time however they choose, and everyone seems to take full advantage of that. The Rose-Xiao Long sisters spend their time hunting down Grimm that get into the city, while the Schnee sisters bond over strengthening Weiss’ summoning abilities... even if Winter doesn’t want to directly show praise or approval of her sister’s growing finesse. But another very practical activity emerges, training with the Ace Ops. Jaune and Ren get their butts kicked in some Atlas equivalent of the X-Men’s Danger Room by Vine and Elm respectively, but seem to learn a thing or two from the experience. Ruby tests her speed against Harriet as the two run in circles, with a little help from Weiss’ glyphs as she also gets to practice keeping up with Ruby’s movements to place the glyphs where and when she needs them. But Oscar gets the executive treatment, sparring with Ironwood himself to try and pry some of Oz’s muscle memory and fighting skills loose and hopefully bring Ozpin out too.

Next thing we know it seems to be the next morning and Ruby is excitedly telling Penny about her and Weiss’ mission the previous day complete with sound effects and wild hand gestures, while Blake drags a sluggish Yang away by the wrist to get ready for work. Jaune has learned his lesson and brought Marrow a coffee of his own, but Nora is still asleep in her chair. Can’t trust her with caffeine... Team RWBY are at varying levels of enthusiasm as they stare at the mission board, and as the days seem to fly by that energy starts to drain from all of them until its a team family napping pile. If you’re a shipper like me you can enjoy Blake sleeping with her head in Yang’s lap and Weiss leaning against Ruby’s shoulder to snooze, and if you’re not you can still enjoy the whole group comfort dynamic and Yang catching some z’s on her sister’s other shoulder. It’s a moment for all types.

But then IT happens. The best thing we could have ever hoped for all Volume. Team FNKI is Back, BABY!!!! Flynt got some fresh clothes including a jacket, while Neon wrapped her pigtails up into buns that look like cat ears and changed her whole wardrobe. She kept her cat collar-like choker and roller blades but added a white jacket connected to paw padded fingerless gloves, a crop top connected to a pair of short shorts with stars on them and a white belt by what look like suspenders, and blue leggings with a rainbow stripe down the outside and a few holes worn into it. It’s a whole ass look and she makes it work. But for all her clothing changes, her in-fight attitude is still just as bratty and insulting, calling Nora slow even as she smashes pillars to run directly at her. Ren is hiding behind a pillar and trying to shoot at... gasp, a third member of Team FNKI!!! His weapon is a whip and his outfit is mostly white and gold with a very deep cut to his shirt. Curious to see if we learn anything more about this person. But we don’t have time for that, because we bear witness to a MURDER. Neon took notice of Ren putting in so much effort against her teammate as she did a flip over him and froze Stormflower with her glowsticks, and goes for Nora’s jugular. “Where’s all that energy when he’s around you?~” ABSOLUTELY. ROASTED.

Nora takes the white and gold guy with a grenade before hopping on Magnhild and somehow riding it like a witch’s broomstick using repeated grenade shots as she chases after Neon... past Oscar fighting a guy wearing blue and black? No... it can’t be.

They based the other two members of Team FNKI on that goddamn dress meme from 2015???? You brilliant bastards... what else could we expect from the people who made a raver chick out of Nyan Cat and a jazz musician from one of their own Minecraft jokes? So JNR and Oscar are doing their best against Team FNKI, much to Ironwood’s subtle amusement. Flynt and the blue guy, whose name we later learn is Kobalt, are beaten and Neon is cornered in the center of the training room by Jaune Ren and Oscar, then ambushed from above by Nora. Even with a black eye that disappears within 4 seconds, Neon is very impressed with how much they’ve grown since the Vytal Festival. And she seems kinda flirty with Oscar, much to his flustered confusion. Jaune returns the compliment to a certain degree saying they kept them on their toes a good many times. Flynt invites them to lunch, and Nora says she could eat a sandwich the size of a human being. Kobalt, the human she was comparing its size to, is not amused that he gets hypothetical lettuce on his head. Weird how much her fantasies can affect reality like that... But before they can all head off to bond, Ironwood needs JNR+ Oscar for a mission so they promise to try and meet up again.

We shift to Ruby, Penny, Qrow and Clover in a transport bringing supplies out to the launch site and driving past a few adorable penguins, though Ruby is bored by the long drive when an airship would be faster. But Penny informs her the supplies would be too heavy and use up too much Dust fuel when they should be conserving it for coming fights. The girls have a conversation about making friends and finding time to balance between work and social lives while the men are in the back playing cards and shooting the shit. Clover keeps winning. But they still have a heart to heart about how good of an influence Qrow has been for these truly gifted kids even if he doesn’t want to give himself that credit. He tries to shift the praise back to the Ace Ops for keeping the teens safe in Atlas, but Clover says its a no brainer, since the new generation is the ones who will inherit the planet they’re still trying to save, and that hopefully they can keep the world in better shape than the current adults are leaving it for them. Some real world parallels about environmental protection and all that if you ask me, and it’s subtle enough that I don’t mind at all. Qrow confirms that he really is off the booze by saying that once upon a time he would have drank a toast to that sentiment, and Clover calls him out on his behavior. But not the alcoholism, the deflecting praise. He deserves to feel good about what he’s done, because he really has been doing a better job than he thinks.

The truck comes to a stop, and the cause is unlike anything they would have expected. Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses have set up a roadblock. Penny stays in the truck as a last resort, while the other three get out to try and talk to Robyn. She wants to know why they’re bringing stuff that could be fixing the wall and protecting Mantle to a mine in the middle of the tundra. Turns out the sheep faunus from last episode really was one of her agents and reported what she saw. You might think there would be no harm in telling Robyn that they’re trying to make Amity into a new communication tower so global communication can be restored. It’s a noble thing to do and I doubt she would object to such an ambition, even though she would have liked to know sooner. But the more people you tell about it the more chance there is the wrong people will hear it. So if Watts got word about it and told Salem she might actively choose to send a lot more Grimm to ruin the launch instead of there being a few that naturally wander onto the site. Or if Jacques found out he might make a smear campaign out of it by spinning the truth. Also, it may not be for Clover to tell.

He goes by the book in all things, so he would have to run it by Ironwood to know if this is info they can afford to share with Robyn. So he tries to play it off as getting lost out in the snow where everything looks the same, but she calls him out on it. He says Amity is at the mine for routine maintenance, but she’s not buying that either since usually only drones and select technicians do the repairs, the next tournament isn’t for a while, and the supplies they’re taking are more than what would be necessary not to mention better suited for Mantle wall repair. She demands answers for the shady military business she’s taken careful notice of, and for the materials to be handed over for the good of the people. But Clover gives that a hard pass and encourages her to focus on her political campaign so she can request materials be taken where they’re needed through the proper legal channels, especially when she shifts her questions over to Ruby and Qrow and the young huntress tries to assure her this is also for the good of Mantle. She seems very ready to fight for the sake of raiding the truck here and now, and everyone’s hands go to their weapons... until Penny pops out of the truck with her swords drawn and demands Robyn stand down and call off the camouflaged huntresses approaching the back of the truck. Guess her sensors are better than the human eye. Her pleading for Robyn to let them through peacefully works and the barrier gets taken down. But Robyn swears vengeance, she’ll get to the bottom of this secret no matter the cost. Potential antagonist? I hope not.

But enough of that tension, time for Schnee vs Schnee sparring: Weiss’ Knight vs a large Beowolf Winter spawned, but Winter has years more practice and skill so she wins a pyrrhic victory. The Knight gets slashed to death but it impaled the Beowolf with its sword. She criticizes Weiss’ technique, but it turns into a backhanded compliment that she’s made her sloppy moves a part of how she fights and makes them work for her. Weiss recognizes that’s her sister’s way of showing approval, and calls her out on being nice like that. The elder sister is mortified that her stern attitude has been called into question, but she calms down and acknowledges that Weiss has grown a lot during their time apart, she’s confident enough to make jabs like that and stand up to Dad. Winter is proud her sister has found her own independence and has made her own kinder worldview, since her own leaving the Schnee name behind was the best thing that ever happened to her. They can carve their own path together, though she still thinks Ironwood’s side is the best place to be with that path. Weiss is skeptical since she knows a bit more than the General about Salem and all that, and she doesn’t like the way the kingdom has become under his leadership, what he has let it become. Winter assures her this downward spiral is temporary and the satellite will fix everything, Ironwood is doing some tough things but it’s what he feels is right. Weiss had to deal with Ozpin keeping world shattering secrets and leading them on a deadman’s quest because he thought that would keep his self interests and plans on track, so even if she doesn’t admit that much she’s openly more skeptical. Winter stands firm that Ironwood wouldn’t keep secrets from her, but Weiss calls her on that. Can she be sure?

This is enough to spurn Winter into making a decision, to lead Weiss to the depths of Atlas Academy, through the facilities and labs and past a secure access door... to a viewing room. Overlooking a room where an old woman is resting in a hospital bed. There’s a sink and some cupboards, some paintings on the wall and an easel next to the bed, and a few medical pods on the left side of the room while the bed is on the right surrounded by health readout screens. The bedridden Winter Maiden was a painter. Oddly enough, the pictures on the wall seem to be concept art from the credits of the last few Volumes: the aquatic market in Menagerie, the Mistral train station, and the cave overlooking the forest where Nora and Ren found the Nuckelavee’s spoils of war are the ones I can recognize at the moment, but I’m sure the other 2 have relevance. But enough with the small details, let’s address the Goliath in the room. Winter has been personally attending to the Winter Maiden, named Fria, in her final days, how appropriate. In fact, that’s the plan. Winter will literally be the next Winter Maiden, so she’s the only person Fria is allowed to interact with so she can be the last person she thinks about when she dies. Which could be any day now. But I can smell a monkey wrench a mile away and there are a few that could be thrown into this plan. Fria is a very Norse sounding name so it’s possible she’s related to Nora and she could think of her in her last moments, the granddaughter she laments she may never see again after they parted so many years ago. Or if some grand attack comes to Atlas and Winter is otherwise engaged, Weiss will be the only one who knows to come bring Fria to safety and the worst might strike leaving one of our main 4 as a Maiden. All I’m saying is, there could be a lot that goes wrong. But for the moment, Winter is ready to take on this responsibility even if it seems like a dick move of Jimmy to have her volun-told to be next in line. But she calls back to Weiss’ growth and accepting what she can’t control. Her entire military career may have been a paved road to this outcome, but she’ll still make her own choices along the way and be the Maiden her way to make a real difference in the world with these powers. It’s not for Ironwood or their Father’s sake, but for herself.

Unfortunately, speaking of Father and doing things your own way, Jacques holds a press conference to proclaim how Ironwood’s embargo have caused everyone to suffer equally, himself included. That’s a load of garbage, he’s just moody that he’s 5% less rich and dropping. But he also announces that he will be closing down every SDC owned business that isn’t Dust mining and refining. It’s a “necessary measure” with how the embargo is effecting businesses and making it supposedly nonviable for those businesses to stay open and still be effective. Another lie, he just doesn’t want to have more money leaving his pocket as employee wages. This is clearly part of the strategy Watts suggested to him, keep as many doors closed as possible so he can horde the wealth he still has while spinning it to be Ironwood’s fault. He comes off as another victim doing what is necessary so people don’t hate him directly for it and he can win voter support. And it’s not like Robyn Hill can do anything to make the SDC give people their jobs back, so why vote for her? It’s a seemingly perfect plan, as infuriating as that is to admit. And it sure sets off the people of Mantle, as they start a riot in the streets. Guess our good boys and girls will have to deal with that some time soon.

A whole lot to think about while we wait for next weekend’s episode. But it was still a very good chapter in my opinion. What did you think?

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citrinediamondeyes · 4 years

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A Beautiful Mess: Chapter One (My Hero Academia)

Here is my chapter story I’ve been working on! Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Izuku Midoriya finds himself in detention, of all places. There, he meets an interesting girl with a cute smile and a tough exterior. She offers to teach him how to fend for himself, and with her help, he starts to realize that maybe he isn't useless after all... [Quirkless AU]

Rating: M

TW: Depression, Anxiety, Mentioned/Implied Self-Harm, Mentioned/Implied Childhood Abuse, Severe Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Scars

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugo Katsuki, Uraraka Ochaco, Iida Tenya, Todoroki Shouto, Asui Tsuyu, Yagi Toshinori/All Might, etc.

Pairings: Izuocha (slow burn)

Links: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13594271/1/A-Beautiful-Mess https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204889

"Just in time, Midoriya," Mr. Aizawa droned, looking up from his roll call list.

Izuku, his face beet red as everyone's eyes rested on him, plunked down in the seat closest to him. Imagine being late for detention. He was already enough of a failure as it was...

"Bakugo, Katsuki."

Izuku heard a growl from the back of the room, and shivers went up his spine.

"I'll take that as a 'here'. Midoriya, Izuku."

"Here," Izuku whispered.

"Uraraka, Ochaco."

"Here."

Oh. There was a girl sitting next to Izuku! Or, well, Izuku sat next to her. Izuku peeked out from under his curly green-black hair, and he only caught a glimpse of auburn hair before his attention was brought back to the front.

"Now, I don't really care what you do for an hour. Just don't leave the room and don't disturb me."

Izuku and the rest of the students looked on in curiosity as Mr. Aizawa brought out a sleep mask and tipped his chair back, planting his crossed ankles on the desk.

Izuku blinked for a solid five seconds, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, before giving up and grabbing his homework out of his bag. Might as well get started on this mountain of homework...

He tried to focus on his Calculus - he really did, but he could feel Kacchan's eyes on him from the back of the room. To calm down, he started doodling on the side of his assignment, stark black lines against his messy scrawl. He directed his thoughts to making the lines smooth and the strokes confident, even though he himself was not. Still though, his hands were trembling, and his pencil slipped in his sweaty grip. It rolled onto the floor next to the girl's foot, and he paused for a moment, fear making his mind irrational and paralyzed. The girl - whose name was Ochaco, Izuku remembered distantly - swooped down and picked up the pencil casually, leaning over to give it to him.

"Oooh, is that All Might?" she asked in a hushed voice. Izuku flinched before nodding as his left hand went to the back of his neck nervously. He glanced at Ochaco quickly, taking her in. Her caramel brown eyes were wide with interest and framed with dark lashes, and her thin lips were pulled into a small but genuine smile. She had rosy cheeks that didn't look like makeup, and her choppy bangs suggested a self-done job. She had a small silver hoop through the left side of her nose and metal piercings going up her right ear that glinted in the sunlight from the far windows. Her leather jacket was worn through at the elbows, cuffs, and collar, and her fishnet-and-combat-boot combo made Izuku mentally flush.

Oh no. She's cute. And kind of... intimidating?

His eyes trailed down to the hand that was still offering his pencil. Her hands were small and delicate-looking, with small silvery scars running across the top. Her fingertips were scarred pink.

Izuku gulped quietly and looked back at Ochaco's face, hoping she didn't notice him blatantly staring at her. She was looking at him, too, an unrecognizable look on her face, (Did she notice the scars on his arm? She had to have noticed his bruised eye...) but it didn't make Izuku feel threatened or self-conscious like it normally would have. Instead, he felt a strange kinship to this girl with the scarred hands. He slowly reached out and tugged his pencil out of her grip, giving her a small smile.

"T-thanks."

She blinked dazedly before smiling brightly, her eyes resting on his. Izuku's stomach swooped - that grin was directed at him?

"No problem. But yeah, that drawing is really good! So you're an artist?"

"Oh, I mean, I wouldn't say that," he chuckled nervously. He remembered that she recognized his drawing, though, and latched onto that. "Y-you know who All Might is?"

"Yeah, my friends and I play his video games! They're really fun - especially the one where he goes into space?" Her eyes lit up, and Izuku found himself smiling along with her, feeling more comfortable by the second.

"Yeah, that one has great graphics. I love his teammates' powers, too! Thirteen's Black Hole is so powerful!" Izuku exclaimed, tapping his eraser on the desk mindlessly.

"Oh my gosh, Thirteen is my favorite!" she declared, still keeping her voice low while pressing her hands to her chest passionately. "I just know she would beat even All Might in a fight."

"No way," Izuku snickered quietly. "That's why he is called All Might. He is 'all mighty'."

He had no idea where this bravery was coming from to tease this enigma of a girl, but seeing the competitive spark in her eyes was worth it.

"All he does is punch stuff and tackle things with brute force. Thirteen, while a more defensive hero, takes more strategy to play. Her intelligence would beat out his brawn any day. And besides, ya can't out-punch somethin' that is pullin' ya inwards!" Ochaco finished excitedly, her tongue sticking out.

Oh gods, did an accent come out during that last bit? So cute.

Izuku's face took on a look of determination - sure, this girl might be attractive, but he had to defend his favorite hero All Might!

"See, now that's where you're wrong. All Might doesn't just 'punch stuff', he can use his moves to cause the air to move around him. This can be done in precise kicks or powerful punches. When playing him, you have to use his power in different percentages to make sure not to harm any bystanders and cause the least amount of damage to the environment. He is always calculating. Also, if you noticed, every time he goes into battle, he says his catchphrase, 'I am here!' He recognizes how important it is to be a symbol of hope for the people. I recognize this is a game and not reality, but this was done on purpose. All Might knows what he is doing. I think - "

Ochaco cut him off with laughter, and Izuku froze, feeling shame wash over him. Ah, he did it again. He got weird and did a mutter-storm. She probably thought he was a total loser. He felt his head droop, and he whispered out, "S-sorry."

Her giggles abruptly stopped, and he felt her eyes on him for a second before she leaned closer over the aisle and spoke in a low, soothing voice. "Hey, no, I'm the one who's sorry. I was just laughing because you really know your stuff, and you were talking so fast, and it just really surprised me!" She smiled sadly and looked like she was about to touch his arm but instead fiddled with her long side bangs. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel bad for liking something."

She was apologizing to him, the massive screw-up?

Embarrassingly, Izuku felt his eyes swell with tears, and he turned away, wiping them back quickly. He swiveled back to face her and gave her a wobbly smile. "T-thanks," he said gratefully, his voice quiet.

She smiled again, this time a soft one, before turning back to his math homework. "Hah, isn't this for Mr. Ecto's class?"

"Y-yeah. Probably will need to redo it now."

"I always have the worst time in that class," she grumbled, her lips going into a slight pout, and Izuku felt his cheeks getting pink.

"What's wrong? Maybe I could... help?" Izuku asked, wincing at the end. He didn't want to sound presumptuous, but math was his best subject...

She lit up again. "Really? That'd be great. I'd been going to Momo for help, but she's been nagging me lately. Something about her not wanting to condone me 'breaking rules'. She's a good pal, but it's been annoying to say the least," Ochaco blew some hair out of her face while giving Izuku a silly smile.

"B-breaking rules?" Izuku asked curiously, before realizing that might've been rude and going red.

"Yeah. I mean, how'd ya think I ended up here?" Ochaco giggled, pulling out her math homework and laying it out on her desk. She scooted her desk closer to him and pointed with her own mechanical pencil at a few circled problems.

"These are the ones that are just killing me."

"Okay, let's see what we can do," Izuku cracked his knuckles, feeling more in his element, and leaned over to start reading the problems.

The hour passed by quickly, with Izuku and Ochaco muttering and quietly discussing Calculus. As Mr. Aizawa's phone alarm went off, the two were packing away their books and discussing the current All Might and Nighteye comics.

"To be honest, I think Nighteye is going to confess his love for All Might," Ochaco confided, making Izuku choke on a laugh.

"E-EHH?"

Before Ochaco could respond, Mr. Aizawa stood up and threaded a hand through his long, dark hair, yawning. "Alright kids, good job at keeping it down and civil. Some of you, I'll see tomorrow, like usual." He looked pointedly at Ochaco, and she smirked, waving her scarred fingers.

Geez, what did she do to get so much detention?

Izuku was so focused on this exchange that he didn't notice someone coming up behind him until it was too late.

"You're in my way, nerd," Katsuki growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Ah, sorry, Kacchan," Izuku whimpered, losing all confidence and shrinking into himself as he practically scuttled out of the way of the blonde boy. He felt Ochaco's gaze on him and felt ashamed, but, well, it was better for her to see him for who he truly was before he got too attached, anyways.

"Why not just go around him?"

Izuku's eyes widened, and he glanced at Ochaco in horror.

"You got something to say?" Katsuki turned his attention to the girl, who was staring at him like he was something she stepped in with her boot.

"You heard me. There are plenty of other ways to get to the door. You actually had to go out of your way to go up the aisle to pass by his desk," Ochaco explained, all previous warmth in her voice gone.

Katsuki's left eye twitched for a second, before he rushed over to her and stood in her space, looming over her. She met his gaze fearlessly.

"I'd be careful what I'd say, Round Face."

"Oh no, I'm so scared of a stereotypical guy with anger issues," Ochaco droned, her brown gaze almost looking bored. As Katsuki seethed, she scoffed. "See, you aren't going to do anything." She looked at Izuku, her eyes softening slightly. "Let's go."

Startled that she wanted to go anywhere with him and eager to get out of the tension, he hurriedly grabbed his backpack and scrambled to get out the door.

"Wait, just a minute, Deku," Katsuki grabbed at Izuku's shoulder, his grip making Izuku wince.

"You might be able to hide behind Uraraka right now, but just know there's nothing you can do to stop me from kicking your ass the next time you are alone," Katsuki threatened, his voice low and truly angry.

"Alright, that's enough. Geez, kids these days are so dramatic," Mr. Aizawa said tiredly, pinching the area between his eyes. "Just go home, all of you, and for god's sake just leave each other alone."

Izuku wanted to scream out that it wasn't just dramatics, but pure fear kept his mouth shut as he robotically walked to the door. Katsuki grinned and ran a finger across his throat before walking in the opposite direction down the hallway. Ochaco grabbed his arm and tugged him down the hallway, releasing him after a moment. They walked in silence for a few seconds, reaching the outdoors before she cleared her throat.

"So, uh... that guy has some issues," she noted, kicking a pebble in the walkway.

Izuku could only shrug, his ears burning. At her questioning look, he looked away before explaining, "Kacchan is... complicated."

"Hah, that's a word for it..." she muttered. They let silence fill the space between them again.

"So, your name is Deku?"

"E-eh? N-no." Izuku looked at his feet, surprised he could feel even more shame than he was already feeling. "Deku is what Kacchan calls me to make fun of me. 'Defenseless Izuku.'"

"Oh," Ochaco said, and she almost sounded disappointed. "It just sounded like a nice name for you. Kind of like 'I can do it!', ya know?"

"O-oh." His face flushed pink. "D-Deku it is!"

"I can do it", huh?

"D'ya think he was really serious about beating ya up?" Ochaco's voice was light, but her face was serious.

Izuku laughed bitterly. "How do you think I got this?" He gestured at the shiner surrounding his left eye. "That's why I was in detention, after all."

Ochaco nodded grimly, saying nothing. Izuku wondered vaguely how long she was going to walk with him.

"Tell ya what. Let's make a deal. You help me with my math, and I'll teach ya how to fight!" Ochaco's hands where balled into fists, and her eyes were bright.

At this, Izuku looked up at her in shock. "EH?"

"Yeah! Come on. Notice how Katsuki didn't want to mess with me? It's because he knows I can hold my own. I'll teach you how to defend yourself, although it might not be street legal," she teased, "and you can teach me the difference between differentials and integrals!"

Izuku stared at her wordlessly. This tiny girl, who admittedly dressed like a punk rocker but was as bubbly and friendly as the day was long, knew how to fight - and in ways that weren't street legal???

She nudged him playfully with her black bookbag. The various pins on it jingled and clicked against each other. "So, whaddya say?"

He stopped walking to actually ponder her proposition. When he was honest with himself, he recognized that he couldn't live like this anymore. Dodging Katsuki day in and day out, being scared of even breathing the wrong way, lying to his mother and friends about being okay, hiding his scars underneath sweltering hoodies - it was exhausting. He didn't even know who he was anymore, besides a timid artist with a slight All Might video game obsession.

He wanted more. He now realized he might have that opportunity, or a chance at one, thanks to Ochaco's offer.

He looked up and met her slightly nervous gaze with a determined grin. "Let's do it."

#my hero academia #quirkless au #fanfic #fanfiction #mine #do not steal #writing #Midoriya Izuku #Uraraka Ochaco #Midoriya x Uraraka #read the trigger warnings first #TW: implied violence #TW: scars #TW: implied self-harm

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ruckystarnes · 6 years

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Author: RuckyStarnes

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff/Bucky Barnes (Black Starbucks/Righteous Assassins)

Warnings: swearing, probably plot holes, restraints, teasing, oral, vaginal and anal, cum cleaning, dirty talk, it’s just 100% filth

Words: 2,408

Square Filled/Daily Challenge/Prompt: G5 - ties / Feb 18 - Going into Battle/side by side

Written for/Dedicated to: @mcukinkbingo kink bingo / @captain-rogers-beard Love all Marvel Ships

Summary: Steve, Bucky, and Natasha prepare to retrieve an object of the occult which ends up Steve pulling a stunt that has Bucky upset and Natasha tries to ease the tension on the flight home.

A/N: My kink bingo square was ties, but i am bending it a bit by using zip ties. I know, it’s not even that gray LOL Also, this is my first time with a threesome so I feel like I had a hard time with pronoun usage

“Red line, check?” Steve spoke softly to his wrist, eyes moving along the paper that he held in his other hand.

“Doll, you’re always going to be Red. Steve’s always Blue. I’m always Black. It’s how it works.”

“I find it ridiculous that I have to be Red,” Natasha replied through the earpiece in his ear and he heard Bucky next.

“Shut it, Barnes,” Natasha snapped. Steve could hear something being thrown across the small space of the Quinjet and Bucky’s protest of being hit with one of Natasha’s disks. “You liked it, so stop your bitchin’. You couldn’t have prevented it from every touching your body.”

“Guys, c’mon,” Steve started, exasperation heavy in his tone as he looked up at his two teammates. “Listen, you two can fuck each other once we take care of this base and retrieve the spear. Alright? Just...wait until we get back before you do that? And preferably at Natasha’s place.”

“Aw, what’s the matter Steve? Jealous because I can get some?” Bucky smirked, tossing the now discharged disk at the blond, the laughter reaching his eyes. “Or are you just upset that we ended and Nat and I are a thing now?”

“James,” Natasha chided, her brow creasing as she glared at the brunet before giving Steve a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry Steve, I’ll make sure he gets punished when we get back.” That line was enough to make Bucky gulp, which made Steve amused.

“I might like to witness that,” Steve teased his friend, sending a wink towards Natasha. “But right now, we need to focus on what we are going to do. Intel isn’t as strong as the others, but we all know what the spear can do, so no one touch it. We don’t want shit to happen that could possibly change the present or alter influences. It’ll be the forties all over again.” Both nodded their agreement as they each assessed their weapons. Steve avoided looking at them, pushing thoughts from his head as he readied himself for this mission. It wasn’t that it was a rare occurrence that they had to recover occult objects, but this was for level seven or above clearance, something he had to fight Fury and Hill over on giving Bucky.

The AI called through the plane that they were approaching the drop zone and Bucky shoved a pack into Steve’s chest. “Wear it or you’ll be the one that will be punished, punk,” he griped, pulling the straps tight on his own pack. “I take it that you, Nat, than I?” Steve nodded as he reluctantly put the pack on, eyes shifting to his friend occasionally.

***

“That was reckless as it can get Rogers!” Bucky yelled, tossing his vest onto the bench, hair hanging in his face as he bent down to assess his leg. Thankfully the bullet grazed his thigh, making things much easier to deal with once he ripped into Steve more. “Ever since you took that shield up you have threw caution to the wind and care very little for your own well being. Have you ever thought about the ones who care about you? What we might possibly feel if you ended up fucking dead?”

“James, please,” Natasha hushed, her hand moving to undo the closure at Steve’s neck to assess the damage near his neck and shoulder. “Well, thankfully it’s just a flesh wound. James, through me the butterfly bandages.” She caught the white box effortlessly, ignoring Steve’s remarks of being alright. “You know, we’ve known each other for over a decade now Rogers, you don’t need to act like you have to take care of everything. Including yourself. Just let us.” There was something in her eyes that held double meaning and with a look at Bucky he knew it was meant the way she said it.

“Let’s just get this back to SHIELD before an accident happens,” he forced out, moving away from the redhead the moment she was done applying the bandages. He needed a shower, food, and sleep. “I don’t need to be looked after.”

“Says the punk who got himself into fights with dozen of guys who were twice, sometimes thrice, his size,” Bucky scoffed, “and I needed to keep them from killing you.”

“Things were different then,” Steve interjected, heat in his words, “I’m not 90 pounds of skin and bones anymore.”

“And you’re not Logan!” Bucky hollered, “Dammit, he would be saying the same shit that I am right now. Do you know how fucking hard ---”

Natasha’s hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear which changed his demeanor to be soft and quiet, only something she was able to do for him. “Steve, you know I don’t like challenging you, but you’re wrong on so many levels.” Her hand went to his chest, pressing slightly into him as she walked towards him, forcing him to walk backwards. His knees hit the bench, forcing him to sit to put distance between them. He had only seen this look on her when Bucky was out of line, and, because of Bucky, Steve knew what that look meant.

“Best not to argue with her Steve,” Bucky said softly, sitting next to him, handing Natasha a handful of zipties. “Use спор at any time, but I hope you will let us take care of you, like how I did back then.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s thigh, fingers inching upwards and Steve could barely tear his gaze off of the hand, but the delicate fingers that worked the closures of his uniform distracted him only slightly.

“Guys, I’m ---”

“Don’t you dare say fine, Steve,” Natasha warned, her long fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling his arm up and had Bucky assist in securing his wrist in a zip tie against the hand bar above. “You know, we’ve talked about having you join us for a while now. Frustrations have risen to a point where we found it was time for us to show you that people do care about you Steve. Love you even.” His other hand joined in being zip tied to the hand bar, and it was then he realized between the two of them, Bucky and Natasha had managed to get him out the top half of his uniform. He was hyper aware of each of them, his breathing was still regular but had increased due to closeness of Bucky to his right and Natasha practically straddling his thigh.

“Relax, Steve,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s neck, his flesh hand moving to cup his face, pressing his lips to Steve’s pulse, sucking a mark. Natasha was combing her fingers through Bucky’s messy brown locks as she watching her boyfriend mark Steve. There was a moment where Steve closed his eyes, giving in to the touches, which caused him to moan softly.

“I think he’s finally accepting,” Natasha smirked, leaning in to place a feather light kiss to Steve’s lips, coaxing him to return it by running her nails over his scalp. Each of them knew that Steve could easily break the zip ties if he wanted, but the straining he did was showing his control and his submission to both of them. He leaned in to deepen the kiss with Natasha only for her to pull back with a smirk, clucking her tongue as she wagged her finger.

“Oh no, Rogers. We get to call the shots unless you safe word out.”

Bucky smirked himself before nipping Steve’s earlobe, metal hand squeezing his upper thigh. “Just relax, punk,” he muttered, both hands now working at the closure of Steve’s pants, pulling his friend out to hold his heavy length in his hand and started slow, deliberate strokes to the growing length. “Моя любовь хочет попробовать первым?” he asked Natasha who licked her lips and nodded, moving to kneel in front of Steve as she pushed his legs apart to settle between them. Bucky wrapped his forefinger and thumb around the base of Steve, who was now hard and panting as he watched his closest friends work him. Natasha’s mouth was sinfully talented, working him just as well as Bucky use to, even swirling her tongue around the underside of him that made him moan animalistically. She released him with an soft ‘pop’, smiling at him through her lashes.

“You were right Bucky, he does love that tongue thing,” she quipped, her fingers moving to fondle Steve as Bucky took over stroking Steve’s shaft, bringing in Natasha for a kiss.

There was something about the two of them being on the same wavelength because a word was never spoken and they moved as they knew what was expected. Bucky’s hand left Steve only for Natasha to take over, her lips once again wrapping around his cock, working him slowly. Steve watching through heavy lidded eyes as Bucky worked to undo the buckle at his pants, pushing them down, taking Natasha’s free hand and guiding it towards his own turgid length before capturing Steve’s lips in a heated kiss. It has been ages since the two of them had shared such an intimate moment, but having Natasha there made it much hotter, something that had both men moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck,” Steve growled against Bucky’s lips as Natasha took him all the way, her nose buried against the golden curls of Steve’s treasure trail, her free hand moving along her chest, pulling down the zipper to release the compression hold on her lace covered breasts. Steve pulled on the restraints, the need to actually touch was growing, but Bucky moved his metal hand to his, wrapping the strong digits around both wrists and held.

“Not yet,” Bucky breathed, flesh finger trailing over Steve’s collarbone before moving to circle around one of his nipples, pinching harshly, “I wanna see my little блядь suck you off. You know, she loves it when you cum on her. I would love to see you cum on her tits before I bury my cock in her and watch her finger you until you weep.” His words made Steve cuss, warning about his release, which made Natasha pull off him harshly and start to work both of them furiously with her hands, shaking her hair behind her as she looked up at the two men with a slight devilish smile.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, shifting to straddle Steve’s foot and proceeded to grind down onto his boot for her own pleasure. The sight alone was enough for Bucky to give in first, cumming with a growl as Natasha directed it all over her chest, grinding harder down onto Steve’s boot. She looked at Steve with earnest eyes, her cheeks starting to flush with her own growing need as she silently begged him to mark her as well which he complied with a grunt of his own, covering her chest even more with his hot, sticky seed. Bucky had pulled her up the moment his friend finished, stripping the redhead of her catsuit and buried himself into her from behind before walking them forward so Steve could be close enough, and released Natasha’s breast by snapping the bra off and reaching up to break the zip ties.

“Clean her tits,” Bucky growled, his hips slamming into his girl as his friend obliged, tongue moving slowly over each cooling, thick ribbon that painted her chest. Steve moved his hands to cup Natasha’s breasts, occasionally sucking and nipping her nipples before cleaning more of the cum off of her. Once he had Natasha clean, her hand moved to Steve’s shoulder for balance as she leaned forward. Her hand moved between her legs to gather some of her wetness, biting back a moan as Bucky fucked her relentlessly, before sliding her fingers behind Steve’s balls and began to finger the tight entrance, slipping her middle finger in after a few moments.

“Shit, Nat,” Bucky panted, “should see his face. He loves it. You want me to fuck your ass Steve? Like old times? Maybe clean Nat’s pussy too?” His hand reached over to grip Steve’s hair, pulling him in for a heated kiss, hips stalling so he could taste the two of them on his ex’s tongue. “You look wrecked and it’s only Nat’s fingers,” Bucky moaned when he pulled back, his hips resuming their brutal pace until he was spilling inside Natasha.

Bodies shifted, Steve followed through with what he was told to do, his hands holding Natasha open for him as his tongue lapped at her folds, delving into her cum filled heat as he felt Bucky spit on his ass before pushing a finger into him, making Steve moan into Natasha. He chanced a look at her, his cock twitching at the sight of her playing with her breasts: pinching, pulling, and twister her nipples as her hips gyrated against his mouth, filthy Russian pouring from her lips.

“He does look pretty, doesn’t he,” Bucky chuckled as he removed his fingers, making Steve stop to look over his shoulder with a slight smile before he continued to work at Natasha’s core, moaning when Bucky pushed his rigid cock into his ass. The pace was slow and agonizing causing Steve to momentarily stop his licking, forehead pressed into Natasha’s thigh. Unlike with Natasha, Bucky kept his pace slow, knowing it has been a long time since his friend and he have been together. Natasha took the moment to sit up, her fingers going through Steve’s hair as she watching her boyfriend bury himself repeatedly into the blond.

“Steve,” she eased, her finger finding Steve’s chin to make him look at her, “does it feel good to have him buried inside you again?” She had reached under him to take him in her hand, stroking him to match the pace Bucky had set. Steve nodded as his second orgasm reached him as he felt Bucky spill into him.

They were a tangled mess of limbs for several minutes after, each of them had arms wrapped around Steve, Bucky smoothing Steve’s hair, placing kisses along his temple and forehead.

“You get what we were saying?” Natasha asked softly, her finger tracing the dips of his abs.

“Yeah,” Steve breathe, his eyes closing as he smiled and relished in the comfort.

“Just so you know, you are more than welcome to join us anytime,” Bucky sighed, hand reaching for Steve’s, Natasha covering his with hers.

#mcukinkbingo #love all marvel ships #black starbucks #righteous assassins #steve x natasha x bucky #steve rogers x natasha romanoff x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff

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grailacademy · 5 years

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Welcome To Grail Academy - Chapter Twenty: Dreamy Bruises

“I’m leaving.” Esmerelda stood in the doorway to her father’s office. Ardan didn’t look up from his work, continuing to write things down on the papers on his desk.

“I know.”

“I won’t be coming back for a long time.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be in very dangerous situations. Fighting grimm.”

“I know.”

“Do you have anything you want to say, before I go?” She set her luggage, all Versailles brand leather suitcases, down on the floor. The ink in Ardan’s pen clumped at the tip and made a dark stain on the paper, so he stopped writing. Looking up from his work at his daughter, he noticed how much she’d grown. Not only in height, but in maturity. “....Make sure you’re wearing the new fall line if they take any pictures, the tops from the summer collection don’t fit you. They make you look rectangular.” With that, he went right back to his work, a lock of golden hair falling over his shoulder. “Hmph,” she said, the sound dry and lacking satisfaction. Esmerelda didn’t know what she expected, she was hoping for ‘I love you’ or ‘stay safe’ or ‘goodbye’. Instead, she pulled the sheer pedaled overcoat from their summer line off. She tossed it onto a chair in the corner of the room, opting for a large green fur coat hanging on the coat rack next to her. Her father was only interested in having her attend Grail Academy because of the publicity it would gain for the company. He would much rather be grooming her to inherit the Versailles title, but sending her away to Calicem would keep her out of his way.

As everyone climbed up the side of the hill to the lighthouse, a force of waves pushed Nico the rest of the way out of the water and onto shore. Further off in the lake, it seemed like some of the islands were....moving. Gliding across the water, surfacing and diving below rhythmically, causing large waves to lap at his feet and the edges of the surrounding landmasses. The islands moved closer, until they were circling the clearing. “Guys!” Nico waved his arms to call attention to the gyrating knolls that started to pull the water into a whirlpool, the lighthouse sitting in its center. Beau waved it off, clambering up to the door of the lighthouse and retorting, “It’s just fish or something, hurry up!”

The behemoth-like creature continued to circle the island. It sped up faster and faster until it completely resurfaced. Rising up, 20, 30, 50 feet high above the water, the monster reared its head towards the students before letting out a ground-shaking screech, baring its multiple rows of teeth and tusks. This got the rest of the group’s notice. Vert moved backwards and away, while Esmerelda and Beau instinctively placed their hands on their weapons. Bernard shrugged in surprise at the sea feilong, muttering “....Big fish.”

It lunged at the group, and everyone sprung into action. Vert ripped two canisters off his belt and quickly chucked them in the grimm’s direction, exploding in a violent burst of sparks and gas. “Hold it off while I fix the beacon!”, he shouted, diving into the lighthouse. The two shots that Vert placed definitely landed, but they had little to no effect, bouncing right off the armor that plated the creature all along its back and up to the top of its head. Bernard made the first move to get near the creature, cracking his whip against the exposed underbelly to push it back. The grimm swung its large tail to skim the water, not only sending waves in the student’s direction, but barreling straight towards Nico. Without thinking, he leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding the tail’s sharp fins. But when he landed, he realized that he was no longer standing on the safety of the island. The slimy end of the monster was what he was clutching to for dear life, getting flung around like a hot pink ragdoll as he screamed like a little girl. “AAH! SAVE ME, BERNIE! I’M TOO PRETTY TO DIE!” While he rode the scaled rollercoaster, Bernard flung his other whip out to wrap around the beast’s neck.

Activating his semblance, he weighed himself down until he sunk into the sand, his new body mass creating a small pit in the ground that made him an anchor while he wrangled the creature. It tugged against the braided whip as Beau ripped her shephard’s scythe off its harness and swept the blade across a portion of its underbelly. The attack drove the sea feilong to break free of its bindings and flick Nico off its tail end, launching him into Bernard’s arms, which were already open and ready to catch his partner. The two of them shared an awkward glance before Nico smiled, “My hero.” Bernard gave a roll of his eyes, attention snapping back to the scaled monstrosity. The grimm writhed around in the water, wading back and forth and puffing billows of steam from its flared nostrils. It was waiting for the students to make a move, patiently, biding its time. As it reared up once more, lifting almost all the way out of the water to loom over the island, it bared its fangs with a menacing snarl, diving straight down with its maw wide open, aiming to catch a few hunters in its mouth.

Esmerelda grabbed Beau by the back of her vest and pulled her out of harm’s way, brushing a clump of dirt off her pants before cracking her knuckles with an audible ‘pop’ and got to work. She dug her claws into the side of the creature’s long neck as it slithered past to strap herself in for a wild ride. She was lifted high off the beach when it rose back up, and she began to climb up its side, claws burying themselves deep in its hide as she started her ascent. Reaching the head, she clamped down with one hand, and tore into one of its beady red eyes with the other.

The sea monster cried out in anguish, distracted by the pain that struck its stomach, neck, head, eye, all of it seemingly all at once. It lost its target of the two hunters that dodged out of its reach, just in time for it to plunge its snout into the sand and kick up a cloud of grainy dust. This proved to be an advantage for the grimm, now that anyone on the island or near its head would be temporarily blinded. Aggressively, it sent Esmerelda flying across the beach like a shuffleboard piece. She rolled to a stop on her side, coughing up some sand as she stumbled to her feet. Nico shielded his face from the dust, protesting with a shrill “Yo, watch it!” He spotted something glowing between the creature’s jaws, growing brighter and louder, like a cannon preparing to fire. He quickly twisted the handle on his bat that released the rows of spikes, and smacked it over the nose with a loud crack, forcing its mouth shut and preventing it from shooting off its lightning breath. Bernard lashed at it again with his whip, the blades sprouting forth and grating against its plated scales like barbed wire wrapped around a wounded animal’s throat. The lacerations did little to no damage, but Bernard managed to hold it in place long enough for Esmerelda and Nico to run out of its range.

It slunk across the shore of the island and began to twist, winding its body around the lighthouse like a snake. With its gigantic form wrapped around the building, the grimm raised its head to watch the students as it started to constrict and tighten, squeezing the structure until a few bricks shifted, and a low crunching sound could be heard. Inside, Vert stumbled at the sudden shaking that overtook the lighthouse. He fell back on a railing for balance and reached out to continue the progress he made on rewiring the beacon, completely ignoring the reptilian form spiraling around the windows, cracking the glass.

“Vert!” Beau exclaimed, “Get out of there!”

“Hang on, I almost got it!” He tied two wires together by the metal portions, and slapped his scroll onto the beacon’s censor.

Esmerelda pulled her coat off. The green fur fluttered to the ground, and she rolled the sinupus muscles in her shoulders. “I can buy you some time, darling.” She nudged Beau, who was ready to pounce on the monster to defend her friends. “Go, help him.” With that, Beau nodded and rushed into the lighthouse that was close to collapsing. Bernard was still snapping his whip at the grimm, trying to push it off the building. Esmerelda took note of his efforts as she called out to Nico, “I’m about to do something extremely stupid. Be my backup if things go wrong, okay?”

“What? Why? How come I can’t do the extremely stupid thing?”

“Because if you tried it, you’d die.”

“....Fair point, carry on.”

Nico waved Bernard away from the sea creature and allowed their team leader to strut into the center of the clearing. The monster eyed the lone girl, weaving its head back and forth, estimating her movements silently. She just stood there, staring back at it with a fierce gleam in her eyes. Abruptly, it let out a screech and dove down at her, mouth agape. Instead of running or defending herself, Esmerelda waited. Bernard and Nico watched as their teammate was swiftly devoured by the sea feilong. Both of their jaws dropped, absolutely slack in shock.

Nico shrieked, “NO!”, grasping his hair in clumps in a frenzy.

“Mierda.” Bernard’s coattails whipped behind him from the gust of wind sent out by the beast.

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED!?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“WHAT DO WE DO!?”

“I don’t know!”

“WHAT THE HELL!”

The creature gulped happily and continued to constrict around the lighthouse. The bulb at the top started to flicker, the electricity flicked on and off inside to signify Vert had fixed the beacon. A white beam of light shot out, turning and flashing rhythmically in the grimm’s damaged eyes. Avoiding the bright irritation, it slowly uncoiled and slid into the water. For a moment, Bernard and Nico were convinced that their leader was going to be carried away in a sea feilong’s belly, but they stopped their mourning when the monster’s body shuttered. It stopped in its tracks, straightening out and throwing its head back while it made a strange noise. It was….gagging? Was it actually choking on the snack it made out of the huntress?

It was about to roar, they could hear the sound building up in the back of its throat, but it was cut off before it could release the cry. A pair of bladed claws burst out from the sides of its throat, whirling from the inside until the two deep wounds connected. The head of the sea feilong toppled off its neck, revealing Esmerelda in between the severed halves, arms outstretched and claws brandished. Its body plummeted to the ground, sending up another cloud of sand while its head crashed into the lake and rippled the water with a giant splash. As its mass began to steam and smoke away, the lighthouse stopped shifting on the brick foundation that the grimm had disrupted. Though it was on a precarious angle, it didn't seem to be tipping or falling over. Esmerelda trudged through the water back onto the beach with her team, picking up her coat from where she left it. “That. Was. Vile.”

“Estas loco….” Bernard scrutinized over his friend, looking for any injuries.

“Oh, jeez--you smell nasty!” Nico plugged his nose and laughed, turning his head away from the girl. The scent of monster guts on her was definitely more pungent than her previously pleasant perfume.

The airship veered around and drifted across the purple sky, following the lighthouse like a moth to the flame. On the ride back to the school, the vehicle was a bit off-balance, taking the fact that everybody sat on the opposite side as Esmerelda to avoid the stench into account. As the ship landed back in the courtyard of their academy, white speckles of snow began to shake down from the sky like powdered sugar.

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thegizka · 6 years

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It’s a Date (fic)

Just a few dudes having lunch and reminiscing on the good old days.

Written for Shikamaru Week Day 6: Bonds.

Read it on Ao3.

“Hey Shikamaru, you wanna grab lunch?”

He glanced up from the mission report he was reading. The newest Hokage was sticking his head through the door to his office, beaming expectantly. Naruto always stopped by around this time with the same question. It was a good way to keep track of how long he had been working.

As far as passing the torch events went, the transition between Kakashi and Naruto in the Hokage’s office had been incredibly smooth. That didn’t mean there hadn’t been an influx of additional work accompanying the process. Records had to be transferred, countless meetings arranged and attended, numerous ambassadorial letters of welcome responded to, and, of course, the ceremony itself had to be planned, all of this on top of the regular activities of the village. Luckily Naruto had begun his tenure with a diligence he had rarely shown in their academy days.

“Yeah okay,” Shikamaru sighed, setting aside the report and stretching as he stood.

“Alright! Want to go to-”

“Ichiraku?”

“You read my mind,” Naruto grinned. His friend rolled his eyes as they headed out the door and down the stairs.

“Don’t you ever eat anywhere else?”

“Sometimes, but there’s nothing as good as Ichiraku Ramen!”

“Don’t you think you might be exploiting this free-ramen-for-the-Hokage thing a little bit?”

“Of course not!” He looked a offended. “I still pay when Hinata and I go there for date nights.”

“Do you pay for both of you or just her?”

“Both, actually.”

“Are you going to pay for me today?”

“Shikamaru, I appreciate your interest, but I am happily married and would never cheat on my incredible wife.”

“But you’re the one who asked me to lunch.”

“But this isn’t a date.”

“But friends can pay for each others’ meals.”

“Sure, for special occasions, but there’s nothing special about today. It’s just lunch.”

“I’m only saying that it’s a little weird that we’ve known each other for so long and you’ve never bought me lunch.”

“Oh yeah? And when have you ever bought me lunch?”

“I haven’t,” Shikamaru admitted, “but I did pay for your share of barbeque last time we had a guys’ night.”

“When even was that? Two months ago?”

“Four, actually, and you still haven’t paid me back.”

“It couldn’t have been that long ago,” Naruto said, face scrunching up as he tried thinking back on it. Shikamaru noted that he had ignored the last part about owing him for dinner.

“It was. Lee was wearing those new leg weights he was super excited about, remember? And Sai and Ino had just celebrated their anniversary.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right.” He gave him a quizzical look. “How do you keep all of that stuff straight? That seems like a lot of unnecessary information to remember.”

“And that’s why I’m considered the smart one out of the two of us. You never know when information like that might come in handy.”

“Knowing Bushy Brows’s leg weights might come in handy?” he asked skeptically.

Shikamaru just rolled his eyes. They had reached Ichiraku. He ducked inside and away from such a stupid question.

“Naruto! It’s good to see ya,” Teuchi greeted happily from behind the counter. “And Shikamaru! You haven’t stopped by in a while.”

“Been busy,” he explained as they slid into seats.

“What can I get you? The usual?”

They placed their orders and chatted with Teuchi as he prepared the dishes, asking after his family and sharing in the general gossip of the village. Naruto was keenly interested in hearing everything he had to say. Shikamaru was always curious to see him interact with villagers when he was off-duty. He gave people his full attention, listening carefully to what they had to say even if they were complaining. For a guy who enjoyed rushing into things, he could be incredibly patient with people.

“Mind if I join?”

“Chouji, hey! It’s been a while.”

He slid into the seat next to them, grinning.

“I didn’t expect to see you two here.”

“Really?” Naruto laughed.

“Okay, maybe you, but not Shikamaru.”

“We’re on a date, and he’s paying.”

“I didn’t agree to that!”

They continued arguing the point jokingly until their food arrived. Shikamaru had been hungrier than he thought, and Ichiraku Ramen was the best in the village. Conversation didn’t even cross his mind during the first few delicious bites.

“Hey, guess who I just ran into?” Chouji asked suddenly. The others shot him curious looks and shrugged. “Genma! I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Yeah, I see him once in a while in passing but haven’t really talked to him. What’s he been up to?”

“Who’s Genma?”

Shikamaru paused and stared at Naruto.

“Genma Shiranui. He’s a jonin. He used to be one of the Hokage’s bodyguards, but now he works in the records department, I think.”

Naruto still looked at them with a blank expression.

“Brown hair, wears his headband like a bandanna, keeps a senbon in his mouth because he thinks it looks cool,” Chouji offered, but it didn’t seem to help. Shikamaru sighed. For someone who was so attentive when listening to others, the new Hokage was pretty bad at remembering people.

“He was one of the proctors of our chunin exam, the one who oversaw the one-on-one fights.”

“Oh him!” Finally recognition dawned on him. “Man, that was a long time ago.”

The others exchanged a wry glance. Of course the memory of battle would spark his recollection.

“Man, that was a good time,” he sighed, signalling for another bowl of ramen.

“The chunin exams?” Chouji asked skeptically.

“Yeah. It was fun to finally be able to go all out and not have anyone yell at you.”

“You realize some people actually died during those exams,” Shikamaru reminded him.

“And they ended in Orochimaru attacking the village.”

“Of course I didn’t mean that part of it,” Naruto explained, enthusiasm momentarily replaced by the pain of the memories. “I suppose when you look at it from that angle, they were a bit terrifying.” He took a thoughtful bite of ramen. Shikamaru was almost sorry they had brought it up and dampened his mood.

“You know what?” Naruto suddenly exclaimed. “We should hold a do-over!”

“What?”

“Well we never finished the exams, right? So we should hold the rest of the fights and complete the tournament! It’d be a great excuse to get everyone together, and someone would walk away with bragging rights of being the best shinobi of our class!” He grinned brightly.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Shikamaru said with a frown.

“Why?”

“Because some of us going all out in a fight would decimate the village faster and worse than Orochimaru’s invasion.” He gave Naruto a pointed look.

“I’m not sure we could have the Kazekage and a former rogue ninja fight and prevent it from becoming an international incident, either,” Chouji mused.

“I suppose you make a good point.” Naruto looked crestfallen. He pushed a piece of pork around his bowl with his chopsticks. “I guess I just miss having everyone around and not having to care about anything super important. It feels like the only time I see some of our friends is during mission briefs or meetings.”

“It has been a while since we all got together,” Chouji agreed. “Maybe we can plan something, like a reunion. Or a picnic!”

“Yes! I like the sound of that.”

Shikamaru tried not to grimace as his brain quickly compiled a long list of logistics they would need to sort out--the venue, the food (A LOT of food), invitations (open to spouses and children? senseis and students?), tables and chairs, decorations (Ino would insist on decorations), activites (that preferably wouldn’t damage people or property), and a host of other considerations. He had to admit, though, he did miss their friends. Jobs and families kept them all busy, and he wasn’t in the habit of scheduling social time with anyone. (How strange that socializing would need to be scheduled, as though it were an appointment or part of one’s job.) The last time they had all been together might have been Naruto’s inauguration, and he had been too busy supervising the event to really enjoy anyone’s company. They were a rowdy bunch when they did get together, and he wouldn’t mind the chance to cut loose with people he liked.

Of course, finding a date that would fit everyone’s schedules would be the biggest challenge if they were actually going to go through with this.

Chouji and Naruto were still excitedly discussing this hypothetical picnic when a white and black bird burst into the shop and circled their heads. When he saw it, Shikamaru’s heart sank, but he nudged the Hokage to draw his attention.

“It’s one of Sai’s.” Why hadn’t it gone straight to the office like most messages and reports? This couldn’t be good.

“Anyone have an empty scroll?” When his companions shook their heads, Naruto grabbed a napkin and spread it out. The bird nosedived and splashed onto the open space, the ink reshaping into words that all three of them read quickly.

A moment later they were all rushing out of Ichiraku, shouting promises to come back and pay when they were done.

“His return route should have taken him through the western edge of the forest,” Shikamaru relayed. Without a word, they adjusted their course, running through the village.

“Should we tell Ino?” Chouji asked.

“I can send a shadow clone.”

“No, she’d just end up worrying over the worst possible scenario. With luck, we’ll get there before there’s anything to actually worry about.”

Shikamaru didn’t like keeping his teammate in the dark, but he also knew her incredibly well. If she heard Sai had been jumped by a group of rogue ninja on what should have been an easy recon mission, she’d freak out and either burst into tears or insist on coming with them. He was not going to allow both of Inojin’s parents to be in danger at the same time, not until they had a better idea of the situation.

If Sai needed help, these rogues likely had an unexpected power or overwhelming numbers. He trusted Sai to fend them off long enough for backup to arrive, but red flags were popping up in his mind over the fact that they weren’t geared for battle and had only the bare minimum of ninja tools with them. But Sai was a comrade. He was practically family. Shikamaru wasn’t going to spare a second to detour and collect his gear.

Besides, he had Chouji and Naruto with him, two of the people he trusted most, both of whom he knew were excellently skilled ninja. He was already formulating plans to play to their strengths and end this quickly.

“Come on,” he cried. They sped ahead.

XXX

Shikamaru was bone tired as he trudged home that night. His instincts had been right. They had reached Sai quickly and easily defeated the rogues, capturing a few for questioning. Their friend had suffered mostly minor injuries, though a gash on his leg needed stitches. As expected, Ino had freaked out when she met him at the hospital, but the fact that her husband was alive and in one piece was a huge relief and tempered some of her emotions.

When he and Naruto finally made it back to the office, they had missed two meetings, received four urgent messages that needed replies ASAP, and lost several hours of work time. It would take a few days to catch up again, which was a drag. Shikamaru had stayed later than usual to do what he could, but he had had difficulty focusing after the excitement of the afternoon. He was looking forward to getting home and relaxing the rest of the night.

But first he had something to take care of.

When he pushed his way into Ichiraku, it was buzzing with customers and warmth. His stomach growled. Having arrived during the peak of the dinner rush, it took a few minutes to catch Teuchi’s eye.

“Shikamaru! What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to pay for my lunch. Sorry for rushing out like that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Naruto stopped by and explained everything. I’m glad your friend is alright.”

“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Naruto already paid for everything.”

“He did?”

The ramen chef nodded. “Your food and Chouji’s. We’re all squared away.”

“Thanks,” he said, repocketing his money.

“Don’t thank me, thank Naruto.”

“I will,” he promised. “Have a good night.”

As Shikamaru ducked back out into the street and resumed his walk home, he couldn’t help grinning cheekily to himself. “And he insisted it wasn’t a date…”

#shikamaruweek2019 #gizka #my words #nara shikamaru #uzumaki naruto #akimichi chouji #bros #naruto

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shadowolf19 · 6 years

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[Steve/Tony Fic] Undisclosed Desires

Summary: Tony absolutely hates having to sit a mission out, especially when it’s because of some poor ass excuse like he just couldn’t finish the repairs on his suit on time. So what if the cooling is not tested? Or if one of the propellers goes off unexpectedly? There are worst things that can happen, right? Words: 2203 Fandom: Marvel Sub-fandom: Avengers Assemble Genre: Angst, Drama, Introspective Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Accidental Confessions, Friends To Lovers, Happy Endings, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Moments, One Shot, Slash Notes: Secret Santa for @suitofhumour, who requested Avengers Assemble plus some of the additional tags/warnings aforementioned. Hope you’re having a great holiday period and that you like it! :D Read under the cut or on my AO3 page if you prefer (link on my blog)

Tony absolutely hates having to sit a mission out, especially when it’s because of some poor ass excuse like he just couldn’t finish the repairs on his suit on time. So what if the cooling is not tested? Or if one of the propellers goes off unexpectedly? There are worst things that can happen, right? But unfortunately for him, that isn’t what the others thought as well, so after a very quick vote, they decided he would remain behind to give them directions and stuff. Which means, he’s bored out of his mind right now, because the team is on its way back after a fully successful operation, and he’s sitting in the control room watching as the jet (painfully) slowly makes its way back to the Tower, a blue dot crossing the map, currently situated over the Atlantic Ocean. He thinks of bringing a project up on one of the side screens, just to make time go by faster, but he knows he’d get distracted anyway, the team’s safety being on top of his concerns at any given time, but especially right now. So what he ends up doing is taking one of Cap’s baseballs to throw it up in the air absentmindedly, eyes promptly shifting on the central monitor between takes.

The jet is almost back to the Tower when it happens, and although there’s only the tiniest change on the screen (if you can call the fact that for just a couple of seconds the blue dot doesn’t move as such), Tony immediately picks up on it, because… well, it’s not that he has a sixth sense or had a premonition, but by now, worrying has become sort of his second nature. “Guys? What’s going on?” he asks in the comm, already jumping up on his feet, but no reply comes. Relax, it can just be a turbulence or something, he tells himself, didn’t the weatherman predicted snow this morning? He has no idea whether that’s actually true or a pathetic attempt of his mind to keep him from panicking. “Hey, can you hear me?” he repeats, eyes fixed on the screen, and in that moment the jet starts moving again, as if nothing had happened. Uh. Maybe it was just thunder or rain or whatever. He slumps back into the chair, his breathing slightly more regular now, as he fights the urge to call out yet again, because if everything is good and the team picks up on how stupidly worried he was over nothing, he would not hear the end of the tease for a damn long time. But then the radio starts spitting out Nat’s voice in brief and broken statics, and Tony understands that no, he wasn’t actually overreaching. “To-To----- Medic----- Help----- L-Long-----“ What is going on? Something involving getting medical assistance for sure, and well, the fragmented message is indication enough that the jet has been hit by more than just mere lightning. Or at least that’s what his brain is telling him. “Jarvis? Activate the medical bay, pronto. And call in Dr. Brent, there’s been some sort of emergency and I’m not taking risks,” he commands his A.I., and has been walking so fast that by the time his last word leaves his mouth he’s already on his way to the rooftop. Five minutes later, the jet lands tentatively on the tarmac, and it just takes Tony the briefest of glances to detect that whatever or whoever hit it did a significant damage to the vehicle. But he couldn’t care less about that right now, not when he doesn’t have a status on his teammates, so he runs towards the plane, not even waiting for it to come to a full stop, and starts shouting at it, as if his voice could be heard from within the vehicle. Just a few seconds later, the door opens and he sprints inside, but before he can climb more than a couple of steps Nat rushes out to stop him, placing a firm hand over his chest and searching for his eyes. “Tony, listen to me, we need to get Cap to medical attention as soon as possible. He’s the only one who got hit and… well, let’s just say he’s not in perfect conditions.” She keeps her glance steady but Tony has stopped listened as soon as his ears heard that Steve got hurt. Of course, Tony would feel bad if it had happened to anyone, but Cap? Although he would never admit it out loud, Cap holds a special place in his heart, always has. Don’t they say you should never meet your heroes? Yeah, Tony guesses that’s part of the reason why. You inevitably get attached beyond your wildest expectations, and especially in this line of work, that comes with a very dangerous price. Tony makes a movement to skirt around Nat, but she must have been expecting it because she stops him right away, and before he can think of another way to circle around her, the end of the jet opens up and he catches sight of a stretcher being rushed towards the entrance. “Steve!” he yells at the top of his lungs, turning in the opposite direction to make his way back down, but once again Nat anticipates his move and delivers a precise, small blow to the back of his neck, and a second later Tony collapses into her arms.

It takes about an hour for him to come back to his senses, and when he does, his body jerks up almost immediately, wanting to resume whatever it was doing when it got unplugged. He blinks the rest of the dizziness away, and comes to a sitting position in what he now recognizes to be his room. He jolts his legs off the bed and stands up, steadying himself against the wall as the predictable lightness in his head overpowers his will, but after a few moments he manages to move his feet without hesitation. Damn, Nat, why did you have to do that for?, he wonders to himself as he makes his way out of his room and into the corridor, and in his mind there’s not a doubt about where he’s headed. A couple of minutes later, he’s entering the sick bay, eyes immediately spotting Steve lying unconscious on the first bed he comes across. He swallows some of his nervousness down and takes the next few steps that separate him from the other, kneeling down next to the bed for lack of chairs in the nearby and throwing a quick glance at the IV next to him. “Steve?” he calls, although his brain already knows that the other is asleep, or worse. Still, he can’t help himself. “See, this is what happens when you guys shut me out…” he offers, shaking his head as looking at Steve, seemingly peaceful in his stillness. This is stupid, why am I talking to him when it’s obvious that he can’t hear me?, he ponders, but that’s a question that won’t get an answer. He lifts a hand up, moves some of the blond hair out of Steve’s forehead, sighing quietly as doing so, because his skin is cold and sweaty and Tony knows it’s not a good sign. He stays there, still and mute, and doesn’t even know how much time passes before he starts rambling, more to himself than to Steve really, because at this point he’s very much sure the other is passed out. Nobody awake would be able to not even flinch a muscle. “God, Steve, what have you done? Why were you the only one hurt? I bet you pulled some stupid self-sacrificing crap because you thought you’d be fine. What the hell were you thinking, uh? That’s why we have the Hulk on the team! I mean, no offense to Bruce, but the big guy can take an awful lot of hits, I can assure you. But you? You’re like me, and Nat, and Clint, and Sam, you’re only human, even with the serum, because guess what?, that doesn’t make you invincible or anything, it just gives you extra strength and stamina, but if you get hit badly… well, this is what happens, I suppose.” He stops at this point, shakes his head to himself, pinches the bridge of his nose as trying to focus his words to what he actually wants to say rather than a confused mumble. Not that he fully knows what that is anyway. But he feels he at least has to try. “Anyway, I believe I owe you an apology. Now, if you were awake you’d stop me right this second and say something like, ‘Forget about it, Tony, it’s water under the bridge’, and I’d jump straight at that because we both know how awkward we get whenever we try to have a conversation about feelings… But seeing you can’t talk right now, I guess this is my chance to finally tell you something I’ve been meaning to for quite a while, but never… um, got around to actually do it.” Yeah, he knows what he wants – needs – to say now, and this time nothing or nobody will stop him from doing it. He’s wasted too much time worrying about it whereas he should have just spitted it out when he still had the chance, when Steve wasn’t… No, he mentally corrects himself, this is not over, he’s gonna wake up and we’ll talk about it even if it’ll be awkward at first, but then… “See, the thing is, I think I like you, and not in a… friends way, if you get what I mean,” and he gives him a smile, as if the other could actually see it, “You know what?, scrap that, because that’s just part of it. I think I’m actually in love with you, and I’ve been for quite some time now. I don’t… I don’t know whether you like me or not, in that way I mean, because I know for a fact you do like me as a friend… god, why is this so hard to say out loud even when I’m clueless whether you can actually hear me right now or not…” he wonders, shaking his head to himself and leaning back to sit on his heels, gaze falling off Steve to find the floor as he crosses his arms over his knees and lowers his forehead against them. “Jesus, Tony, I didn’t know… just how dramatic you can be sometimes…” a feeble voice says all of a sudden, and for the first few seconds he’s one hundred percent sure that he has imagined it. He must have, right? He blinks some wetness off his eyes before throwing a tentative glance upwards, and sure enough, Steve is attempting a smile in his direction. “S-Steve?” he mumbles, a tight knot in his throat that he didn’t know he had. He uncrosses his arms to stand up again, and leans forwards towards the other man, hands desperately seeking one of his. “Oh my god, you’re awake…” “Well, yes, I’d say so, since I’m talking to you…” comes the reply, as he moves his right hand out of the sheet so that Tony can grab it. “I thought… I thought you were in a coma or something, I…” he stops halfway, realizing just now how he had let his emotions take control of his brain. Nobody had ever told him exactly how serious Steve’s injuries were, and he didn’t stop to ask about it to anyone on his way here. The only thing he knew, matter of fact, was that the other had been hit somehow, and that had come from Nat, who might as well be the best secret agent in the world, but hardly a doctor or even a nurse. “As I said, dramatic…” Steve giggles softly, throwing a sweet glance over to him and sighing quietly as their eyes finally meet. Now realizing that this mistake has come into being, in fact, because he has let his imagination (or fears) running wild, Tony shakes his head to himself and lets out a nervous chuckle, because he knows that he has to own what he just confessed moments earlier. “Listen, uh… About what I just said, I honestly thought—“ But before he can go there, Steve squeezes his hand tight and overlaps with his voice: “It doesn’t matter, because I feel the same way, and have been for quite a while now too. I can tell that you meant it, so I won’t allow you to take it back. I just have a question.” Tony wasn’t expecting anything like this, and is so flabbergasted that he seems to have forgotten how to form a logical sentence in his brain, so all he does is nodding at Steve’s request, blabbering along: “Y-Yes, sure, what is it?” “Would you go on a date with me?” Steve lets out all in a single breath, keeping his gaze on the other even if he’s awkward and shy as hell. And Tony smiles first, but then lets out a heartily laugh, rubbing some more unexpected tears out of his face: “Gosh, yes, yes I would.”

#SteveTony #Stony Fic #stevetonysecretsanta #Stony #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark

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novaimpactgenerator-blog · 6 years

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MTHTMTE Ch. 5: The Sparkeater

Summary

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"Rung!" I ran over to him and pulled him out from under the door and to the furthest side of the room. I looked up to see who had burst through the door. It was a- "Sparkeaters are real!?"

The floating creature suddenly sprang into action and barreled toward us. I let go of Rung and lunged to meet it halfway. I was able to tackle it to the ground and we rolled around a little, somehow ending up next to Rung, who looked like he wanted to help but wasn't sure how. I tried to kick it away, but its tendrils wrapping around my waist stopped me from doing any more damage. I thrashed around and pulled at the tendrils as it held me in the air while it got back up.

When it focused directly on me I felt a sharp pain in my head and the back of my throat. I clinched and clawed at my neck and the invisible force pulling at my insides. The vent above me was popped out of its socket and a red and blue arm reached down and grabbed my hand. "Come here, short stuff!" I grabbed Rung's forearm before I was yanked out of the room and into the vent.

"Thank you for saving us. I'm Nova Gen," I said as a crawled next to our savior.

"No problem. The name's Skids." He smirked at me and winked. I return the friendly expression and noticed he had a small white gun in his hand. 'Odd.'

"Yes, thanks. But how did you know that we were in trouble?" Rung pitched in from the other side of Skids.

"The terrified screams kinda gave it away."

"I didn't realize I was screaming." I cocked my head to the side as I tried to recall said terrified screams.

"You weren't." Skids corrected. "And I don't want to panic you further... but that thing is right behind us." Rung and I looked back to see that the barely held together being was, in fact, shimmying through the vent after us. We proceeded to keep moving with a little more speed than before when Rung's back buzzed.

"I've got an incoming message..."

I looked over to see him fold out a display screen.

*It's Rung, right? Ultra Magnus says you might have a Sparkeater on your tail, in which case I'm sorry.* 'I know that voice!' I climbed over Skids and peered over Rung's shoulder to look at the screen.

"Roddy!?"

*Nova!?* Rodimus' face suddenly got very large which meant he was probably leaning toward his screen. *You're here!? I thought you didn't come!* He had a huge grin and wide eyes.

"Sorry about that. I'll explain later. Now about that Sparkeater. Please explain." I glanced back and saw that the Sparkeater was gaining on us.

*Right! We thought everyone would be safe in their rooms, but it seems the hab suite doors are a lot thinner than the ones down here. The engine rooms have reinforced walls. We think the Neutrals managed to trap the Sparkeater and feed it turbofoxes to keep it docile. Listen, Nova, Rung, I need you to do something for me. I need you to head down here, to the engine rooms, and bring the Sparkeater with you. I'll be waiting. Don't worry. I've got a plan- and its a cracker.* Rodimus then ended the transmission.

"Congratulations! How does it feel to be used as bait?" Skids sarcastically smirked.

"Not good," Rung spoke nervously.

"You think this is bad, then you should have been there when my team used me to draw away a whole squadron of armed Decepticons defenseless and with no weapons."

~Flashback~

The five of us peeked over the bunker to observe the twenty or so Decepticons guarding the front, and only, entrance. We all immediately ducked down before we could be spotted.

"Well, this is a predicament. We need to get in there to get our target... But how?" I tapped my chin in contemplation. While I was thinking I got the feeling that I was being watched. I looked up to see my teammates staring at me with smirks on their faces. "... What?"

...

I walked up to the Decepticons with my hands folded behind my back and a friendly and innocent smile. By the time that I got close enough for them to hear me without yelling, I had the full attention of the entire squad. To be quite honest, I was surprised that they hadn't fired upon me already. The biggest one there stepped forward. 'I guess he's the commanding officer.'

"Hello! Do you know where I can find the nearest Autobot stronghold? I'm kinda lost." The Decepticons all looked at each other like they couldn't believe what they just heard.

"... Are you some kind of fucking idiot?" The leader looked down at me and asked as though I had lost my marbles.

"Who me? No no. I'm just an Autobot soldier that got a little turned around." I gave the large bot a closed eye shrug. "Welp! If you don't know, then I best be on my way! Sorry to bother you and have a nice day!" I turned around and started to casually walk away before taking off into a full-on sprint.

"Kill him!" The commander yelled. All of them, including the captain, began to make chase while shooting at me.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" I ran this way and that to avoid being shot while the pack of angry Decepticons ran after me.

~Present~

Luckily, I had managed to lose them by confusing them in the abandoned underground maze of tunnels that were made under the planet's surface for the war. By the time I had circled back around, the other four had already accomplished the mission.

I giggled at the memory. "Yeah. That was pretty intense."

"I would imagine," Rung replied.

"Sounds like fun. Okay, so the quickest way to the engine rooms... is down the elevator shaft." Skids proceeded to kick the panel in front of us and transformed his left hand into a grappling hook.

"Neat," I said as I examined the limb.

"How come you get a grappling hook and all I get is a thumb with a microphone in it?" Rung asked while pointing at said thumb.

"You two are lucky. I just explode," I casually commented, looking at their hands.

"WHAT!?!" They both exclaimed at the same time and turned around to look directly at me with shocked expressions. I immediately realized what I just said and rushed to calm them down.

"D-Don't worry! That function was deactivated a long time ago! I'd need a medic to be able to do that!" I stuttered as I furiously waved my arms in front of me in a 'no' fashion. "But because that was my original function my spark is supercharged, so my body can handle a lot more than a normal bot my size could, so I guess that's pretty cool."

"So that's how you were able to carry that huge... thing around," Rung stated as though he had solved a mystery.

"Yep!"

"Wow. No wonder our friend is so interested in you two. Speaking of which... it's time we made a move! Climb on!" Skids shot his grapple into the ceiling of the shaft and Rung jumped onto his back.

I wasn't really sure where to go since Rung was just big enough to take up the majority of the surface of Skids' back. However, I must have been taking too long for Skids because he turned around to face me mid-air with Rung dangling behind him. "No need to be shy, sweetness!" He then wrapped the arm holding the gun around my waist and pulled me to his chest.

"Woah!" I didn't really feel like falling and shattering a limb or something, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and braced my legs on both of his hips. It was a little hard for my legs to find purchase like this, but I went with it instead of wrapping them around his waist because I didn't want to kick Rung.

We zoomed down to the top of the elevator just in time to not get caught by the creature following us. Rung immediately lost his grip on Skids and hit the elevator with a thud while the arm around my lower back held me securely to him. Skids let go of me when he got his balance and I went to help Rung up after thanking him.

Skids got down on his front and opened the elevator's emergency escape hatch and peered in. "Engine rooms." There must have been someone in there, I couldn't see who, but their voice was unfamiliar.

"What's going on? It's Skids, right? We all thought you were de-"

"JUST TAKE US TO THE DAMN ENGINE ROOMS!" Skids somehow managed to shimmy into the elevator and we followed suit, joining the unknown bot. He was mostly a very light shade of turquoise with a yellow face mask and he was clearly a flyer.

"We need to get moving befo-" I was cut off by the elevator jerking violently from a sudden impact above us. I looked up just in time to witness the Sparkeater rip the top of the elevator open with a level of strength that nobody would think it'd have given its decrepit state.

"RUN!" I called to the rest and since I was in front of the elevator doors, I bolted out of them to make way for the others too.

"Go! Go!" Skids yelled while shoving Rung out of the death box. I looked over him and noticed that the other guy was being cornered by the Sparkeater.

"No!" I tried to go back to help but Skids grabbed my arm when I tried to pass him, and he pulled me away from the Sparkeater and flyer.

"Brainstorm's trapped!" Rung exclaimed while crawling out from between the doors.

"Wait! Skids, we can't just leave him!" I tried to go back to help Brainstorm, but I was off balance and Skids had pretty good leverage over me at the moment.

"I'm sorry... but he's already dead!"

"No, he's NOT! I can still help him!" I continued to struggle until Skids got fed up and lifted me off the ground by my waist and tucked me under his arm. I turned in Skids' hold to see Brainstorm, but the half-open doors blocked him from my vision, so all I could see was that monster looming over him. I felt a tear slip down my cheek, and I bit my bottom lip and looked down at the moving floor below me.

"NO- PLEASE- DON'T!" Was the last thing I heard from Brainstorm before we were out of earshot.

Skids put me down to run on my own once I had stopped struggling. I wiped my tears away just as we turned the last corner to see the open engine room doors. On the other side was-

"Roddy!" I picked up my speed, pushing ahead of both Skids and Rung.

"Nova!" Rodimus held out his arms and I didn't hesitate to jump straight into them and wrap my arms around his neck. We hugged for a very brief moment before we both let go and I sunk down to the floor. "I need you to get behind me and stand back."

"But-"

"Trust me. I have a plan remember?"

"Okay." I wasn't too comfortable with just allowing my closest friend to step between me and an enemy, but he had said that he had a plan. 'And it isn't the first time Roddy has protected me like this.'

~Flashback~

I could hardly move. It felt like every piece of my metal body was either bent, cracked, or shattered. I was missing my right leg from the knee down and my whole left arm had been ripped straight out of its socket.

My vision was doubled and blurry as I looked back up to see where he was. The one who caused all of this. He was right in front of me and walking straight for me with a sadistic grin. Then he was suddenly blocked from my view by shades of fire. At some point, Hot Rod had gotten up and limped to stand between me and our assailant with his fists held up to continue the battle.

Hot Rod looked to be in just as much pain as me, the only difference being he had all of his limbs.

~Present~

"Rung! Over here!" Rodimus called out while he extended his hand to Rung. "I'm sorry. What I'm about to do isn't very pleasant."

It was only then that I noticed the red, white, and very armed bot hiding behind the doorway just before he jumped in front of Skids to point the sword in his grip to his neck. "Hey!" Skids promptly stopped moving and allowed the slightly smaller bot to direct him away from the entrance.

I looked at Rodimus in concern, but he didn't even flinch. He must have known what he was going to do and wasn't worried about him hurting Skids.

When Rung got close enough, Rodimus reached forward and roughly grabbed Rung's forearm. Rodimus yanked him closer so he could give the other arm the same treatment and then pulled. Rung's arms were painfully stretched out and everything else was completely exposed.

"Rodimus, please- I must protest! You're hurting me!" Rung didn't dare try to fight back, he might have lost an arm again if he did.

"Roddy!" I yelled in both shock and concern.

"Trust me!" Rodimus turned his head and looked at me seriously and I instantly backed down. "Can you hear me, Perceptor?" No one in the room answered him so he must have been talking into his comm. "Duly noted and ignored. Now get ready!"

"Roddy?" I called out uncertainly as a watched the Sparkeater get closer.

"Hurry up, ugly- your dinner's getting cold feet," Rodimus smirked while lifting Rung up a little higher to coax the creature nearer.

It took the bait and lunged for the pair of them. Rodimus quickly threw Rung out of the way and clashed with the mechanical beast. "ACK!"

I couldn't just stand and watch Rodimus risk his life alone anymore, and I lept into the air. I, however, didn't get very far from my launching point. The sword-wielding mech had silently made his way behind me and was standing there when I moved to help. Because of this, he was able to almost immediately wrap his hand around my neck from behind the second I left the ground. "Please, let me go!"

"Now, Perceptor! NOW!" Energy began to crackle all throughout the engine room. Rodimus clinched both hands around the creature's neck and spun to face the quantum engines. Using his momentum, Rodimus pushed forward- TOWARD THE ENGINES!

"RODDY, NO!" But it was too late. It was all over in less than a second. The Sparkeater had been completely swallowed by the engine. And Rodimus-

Rodimus wasn't moving. My escape protocols then activated. I turned in the grounder's grip and hooked my right arm around the back of his elbow and pulled it taut. I then kicked my right leg straight into his hip, effectively ripping myself from his grip.

I ran over to Rodimus, my oldest friend, my best friend. "RODDY!" I stopped at his side and tried to get a look at his face, but it was hidden by shadows from his head pointing down at the ground. "Roddy. Roddy, say something. Please!"

He suddenly straightened up with a big mischievous grin on his face, "Just kidding!" At first, was a little startled but recovered quickly. I pushed forward and hugged my arms around his waist burying my face into the side of his chest under his arm.

"Good one, Roddy. You almost got me that time." I murmured quietly against his plating. I had completely forgotten about Rodimus' long-standing prank to play dead at the worst possible times.

"My acting's gotten better if I do say so myself," Rodimus stated proudly. I felt him shift a little to look down at me from his position. "I would hug you, but- well, I kinda can't." His position in the engines that is. His arms were merged with the quantum engines up to his elbows.

"Does it hurt?" I let go of Rodimus and stepped back to inspect his wounds.

"Nah. Can't even feel it. A bit uncomfortable though." While looking him over I noticed that one of the monster's tendrils was draped over his shoulder, so I pulled it off. The mech who had stopped Skids and grabbed me chose this moment to step forward and say something.

"Wow. That was just... Wow." He seemed totally amazed by the fact that their plan had worked so well.

"And I thought I was the risk taker..." Skids chipped in.

I noticed that Rung was rubbing his dented wrists, so I went over to check on him, earning a disappointed whine from Rodimus. "Are you okay, Rung?" I gently touched his upper arms and he held them out for me to see. I carefully shifted them to look for anything serious.

"I should be fine. It just hurts a little." Rung gave a sheepish smirk and shrugged his shoulders. I gave him a closed eye smile and lightly rubbed his forearms with my thumbs.

"OH THE PAIN~! I MUST HAVE BEEN IN SHOCK BEFORE! NOVA, IT HURTS SO MUCH!" Rodimus cried out dramatically as he arched back as far as he could given his current situation. I quickly rushed back over to him and ran one hand up and down his back while the other hovered around his trapped limbs.

"Don't worry, Roddy! A medic will be here soon!" I looked up at my friend's pain-stricken face with worry. "Can someone call Ratchet, please?" I glanced around to the others in the room.

"Sure thing." The unnamed bot chuckled.

"There now just focus on keeping your pain receptors turned off." I moved my hovering hand up to his shoulder and soothed my thumb over the red plating.

"Smooth, Rodimus. Smooth." I heard Skids whisper under his breath. I would have told him how it wasn't nice to antagonize someone for their plan not ending well, but I was too focused on the red speedster in front of me.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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#OC #MTMTE #mtmte rodimus #rodimus #mtmte rung #rung #mtmte skids #skids #mtmte brainstorm #brainstorm #mtmte drift #drift #mtmte ratchet #ratchet

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