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skippthecredits · 7 months

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[MewTube video embed loading...]

(UNDER REVIEW) Lavaridge Gym Challenger Skipp Normansson—The Weirdest Sneasel We've Ever Seen

This gym challenger sure had a lot of fire, but the real focus of the crowd today was his Sneasel who seemed to defy every convention we know a Sneasel to have. Though he managed to pull a frightening victory with the help of this strange variant—and despite nearly backing out due to a strange disdain for Growlithe—questions over the legality of his pokemon have forced us to make the decision to withhold his badge legitimacy until further notice.

For updates on this situation, news about the gym, and cute pics of fire types, visit our website at www.lavaridgetowngym.hnl!

[Video transcript loading...]

[The video opens with the Gym Guide standing beside a mosaic of the Hoenn League emblem that adorns the rock walls in the small lobby of the gym. Despite keeping a professional posture and an ear-to-ear smile, the woman seems nervous. She keeps looking off to her left, and if the viewer listens carefully over the murmurs of other trainers and the various sounds of pokemon getting fired up for battle, muffled yelling can be heard coming from the left of the camera.

Gym Guide: ... We're rolling? Oh! Hello, MewTube viewers, subscribers, and fire-type lovers of all kinds! This is Gym Guide Tomomi back at you again with the story of another gym challenger—Skipp Normansson, a Kanto native who now hails from Hoenn's own Littleroot town!

The screen changes to display a stats screen of Skipp and his party. It's fairly detailed as one might expect from a pre-challenge team scan, though a couple of details seem to stand out: Cheddar's entry is much less detailed, indicating that she could not be scanned. Even her species seems to be in question, listed as "Sneasel(?)". As well as that, Cable's estimated attack and speed stats seem oddly high for her species.

Tomomi: Though he physically pulled a win, that Sneasel in particular is giving Flannery some second thoughts about handing over that badge. I think she's going to talk to Professor Amaryllis in a little while to ask about the legitimacy of the pokemon—they seem to know more than we do about what's going on from the sounds of things.

The muffled yelling seems to grow a bit louder, then gets muffled entirely as the sound of a very large pokemon walking away can be faintly heard. The gym guide seems to see whatever's happening offscreen and winces before returning to her professional face.

Tomomi: Anyways! Let's review the battles, huh?

The video then cuts to raw footage of each battle from earlier. Skipp seems in high spirits as he challenges the gym trainers. Despite the taunts he throws out and the ruthlessness of the attacks dished out by his team—Cable in particular continuing her relentless assault on the kneecaps of her victims—there's a sort of serenity to him. His shoulders are relaxed, his stance is loose, and he seems to be genuinely enjoying himself.

That is, until one of the gym trainers sends out a Growlithe.

His entire demeanor seems to change in a fraction of a second. His body seems to go rigid, he takes a few steps back away from the battlefield, and as the Growlithe barks and goes to attack Cable, he quickly withdraws her before the battle can begin, holding the pokeball close to his chest as he stares down the canine pokemon before him. He seems a little further away in the moment, frozen as he searches for exits.

Gym trainer: ... You alright, dude?

The question seems to snap Skipp out of his own head, and he puts Cable's pokeball away as he growls and rubs his face for a moment.

Skipp: Yeah, yeah, just kinda... Hate those things.

Gym trainer: ... Are you talking about my Gro-

Skipp: If you think it's gonna stop me, you can fuck right off and die. Bombardier, crush the bitch.

Skipp almost snarls those instructions as he sends out the Aron, and the battle continues as normal from there, a rock tomb taking out the Growlithe before the challenger progresses further into the gym.

By the time he makes it to Flannery, there's definitely a dent put into his once good mood, but he's still fired up to battle regardless, dripping sweat with his teeth bared. The gym leader seems to be in the middle of picking her team for the upcoming battle. Her hand hovers over a particular pokeball for a moment, and as Skipp starts trash talking, she makes the decision to take it. Though, she also seems confused, as his Kantonian accent and rough pronunciation both seem to make his string of insults almost completely unintelligible.

Realizing the confusion he's caused, he growls and restarts, trying to be slower and clearer.

Skipp: I said, who the fuck runs a sauna on the side of a volcano in a gym!? Is this a year-round thing? Are you trying to kill people!? I mean, it'd be on-brand for this region by now, but—

Flannery: Are you going to challenge me, or did you just come here to criticize how I run my gym?

Skipp gets cut off midway through his sentence, then growls and takes a pokeball out of his pocket. He no longer seems to be relaxed at all—now just ready to get this over with.

Flannery: I'll admit, your pokemon have impressed me so far. Your team's pretty solid. You, on the other hand...

She whips the pokeball out onto the field and sends out a Growlithe. This one seems to have been bred particularly for attack, having a stronger jaw and more developed leg muscles as well as a more jagged stripe pattern. Skipp nearly trips over himself trying to put distance between him and the pokemon.

Flannery: ... You, Skipp, have some glaring flaws.

Skipp: ... Oh, fuck off.

He seems to slip entirely into a more malevolent mindset, switching out the pokeballs and gripping the new one tight with a wild determination in his eye. Despite the clear fight-or-flight he's experiencing, he still chooses to fight. Notably, he stops speaking in Hoennian from this point on, only speaking in a rough Celadon dialect of Kantonian.

Skipp: You think this is funny!? You think you can get me to run away with my tail between my legs after I've come this far!?

Flannery: Wait, what? I can't understand Kantonian, Skipp, slow d—

Skipp: I didn't fight my way all the way to this podunk town just to give up here! I'll rip your team to pieces if I have to! Did you want this!? Did you want to see what happens when you fuck with the Celadon Rockets!? Because you're about to learn you uptight, pants-on-fire cunt! Cheddar, turn that dog into mincemeat!

With a well-practiced whipping motion, he sends out the strange Sneasel—Cheddar. She seems equally distrustful of the Growlithe, hissing and sharpening her claws. Then, the battle begins.

The Growlithe seems to go down almost as soon as it's sent out. Cheddar attacks him relentlessly, slashing with hooked claws that seem to be drenched in a strange orange substance. The Growlithe seems fine at first, trying to use fire attacks that don't seem to faze the Sneasel nearly as much as they reasonably should. However, it quickly becomes apparent that something is wrong. The fire type seems to have trouble standing after only a few hits. Much sooner than expected, he faints, trembling in his unconscious state. Flannery returns the pokemon, looking down at the ball in concern as Skipp laughs.

Skipp: Who's got flaws now, bitch!? Go ahead, send your whole pack! Send every Growlithe in this damn building! Call the Jennies and get theirs too! I'll rip them all apart, do you hear me!? You're not stronger than me! You're not safe from—!

Flannery: What interstellar shit did you do to him...!? And I still can't understand Kantonian you—!

She groans and grabs the second ball, tossing it out into the field, rushing to put the first one in a safe location as a Slugma is tossed out onto the field. Due to the nature of the pokemon, Cheddar seems to be unable to land any physical hits on it without injuring herself, hissing as her claws get too close to the molten body. She takes a hit from a sunny day boosted overheat that sends her stumbling, but then she manages to land an attack that Sneasel aren't exactly known for knowing—sludge bomb. Again, the Slugma tries to persevere, but as the toxins incorporate into its body, it slowly becomes unable to move, and must be called back.

The Ponyta that's sent out next immediately uses bounce, which seems to do a strangely high amount of damage. Cheddar is sent reeling as the horse charges and quickly fires a solarbeam, finally taking down the Sneasel. However, the Ponyta soon falls to his knees, wheezing and frothing. An orange-laced scratch on his leg seems to be the culprit. He has to be called back shortly after the pokemon that took him down.

There's only one pokemon left on Flannery's team, and she seems almost afraid to send it out. Skipp can't stop smiling now, his laughter growing more manic as he realizes he has the gym leader backed into a corner.

Skipp: Aww, what? You're too scared to keep going? Having a regret or two? You feel like you're gonna die? Where's that fire, little match girl!? Where'd it go!?

Flannery: ... You are one fucked up guy. I... Camerupt, let's end this!

Skipp: Oh, it'll end, alright! Get out there, Cable!

Digging deep, her panic solidifies into anger as she sends out the Camerupt, the large pokemon digging deep and bellowing as smoke erupts from the humps on its back. Cable is sent back out in a flash of light, her tail lashing as she faces down the angry fire type.

Then, Flannery reaches up and brushes her hair back. As she does, her hand runs over an odd gem on her hair tie. A mega stone. Both trainer and pokemon are engulfed in light.

The Camerupt mega evolves and the smoke pours out heavier from the volcanoesque hump on its back, obscuring the battlefield in a thick smog. Cable seems to be small enough to stay beneath the polluted air, though it does drift over to Skipp and knock him down slightly, forcing him to crouch in order to stop coughing and breathe properly again. He can be heard growling Kantonian vulgarity under his breath as he narrows his eye onto the battlefield.

Cable focuses her energy as she stands guard, searching for the source of a potential attack. Then, her ears flick and she begins sprinting around the battlefield as an explosion rings out and chunks of molten rock rain from the air. She darts through the smoke, singing her fur as a few close calls happen. One piece of molten rock lands on her back, drawing a pained squeal from the Rattata as she drops and rolls to get it off. Yet, despite the burn, she only seems more focused, searching for the enemy in the haze.

Skipp is searching too, his one grey eye narrowed as he searches for any sign of the Camerupt. It's odd how such a large creature has seemed to disappear, but with the battlefield engulfed in ash and smoke, it's not hard to fathom. Still, he stays vigilant, knowing it has to be somewhere.

Then, a flash of orange knocks him off of his feet.

Skipp is sent to the ground with a pained yell, and Cable looks over just in time to see the beast charging towards her. She seems to put two and two together and holds her ground as the Camerupt leaps forward and stomps the ground, splitting the earth in a rapid, jagged line towards her.

Fissure.

The Rattata rushes forward as the Camerupt is halted, leaping from one side of the chasm to the other and kicking off of chunks of rock as they fall. She seems to be slipping into the abyss, scrambling to stay aboveground as the chasm widens.

Then, she boosts off of a falling rock and lunges up at the Camerupt. As he reels back with a high bellow, the shiny Rattata is seen hanging from his throat, clamped tight and thrashing her head.

The larger pokemon staggers back as the blood starts to pour, being brought to his knees by the rage of one rat. As he finally drops, Cable lets go and rushes to her trainer's side. With the smoke clearing, it's revealed that Skipp has landed hard on his uninked arm, clutching it as he sits up. A nasty scrape on it is packed with dirt, which only seems to slow down the bleeding.

Still, as the Camerupt is called back and Cable scampers into his lap, he knows he's won. He stares blankly out over the fissure for a moment before getting to his feet with a hiss, scooping Cable in his arms as he checks her burn. It's not severe, but it definitely looks like it'll need treatment.

He walks across the battlefield to Flannery, who narrows her eyes at him in a mixture of resentment and fear. Then, as she hands over the badge she grips his hand for a moment. She doesn't seem keen on handing over anything else.

Flannery: ... For the record. I'm not sure if you really deserve this.

Skipp: Bite me. For what you did to me... I deserve the keys to this entire fucking town.

With a snarl, he whips around and exits the battlefield, leaving Flannery to figure out what happened to her team.

The footage then cuts to the lobby of the gym, where Skipp is seen walking out to a mixture of murmurs and jeers. The negativity hardly seems to faze him as he storms towards the entrance, Cable tucked in his arms. One member of the gym staff rushes up to him to attempt to get an interview.

Gym staff: Excuse me, Mr. Normansson? How do you feel about your victory? It was pretty unconventional as far as challenges go—

Skipp: Convention my ass, I won. Isn't that what matters? I went out there with my team, we were the strongest ones in that match, and we came out on fucking top.

Skipp swipes the mic with a grin as he continues towards the exit, holding it with a death grip as he continues his rant.

Gym staff: S-Sir, you can't—!

Skipp: We were the strongest! What's that Unovan saying, "survival of the fittest" or some shit? We were the fittest in this entire fucking town, that's what matters! And we're gonna keep being the fittest! We're gonna keep surviving! We're gonna take this entire fucking region and—!

As he continues his rant, he walks out the front door. It's then that he's immediately slammed by a green and pink blur that, upon slowing the footage down, can be vaguely identified as a Meganium. The gym staff pokes their head out the door just long enough to grab the mic, briefly revealing an arm approaching the scene of the crash. The arm seems to be clutching a purple cane shaped like an Ekans.

An outro card is displayed advertising the Lavaridge Gym website as well as other videos on the channel, then the video ends.]

[Video transcript end.]

#skippost #skipp's gym challenges #pkmn irl #pokeblog rp #pokeblr #the wild guy #cw pokemon harm #cw injury

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sug4r-melon · 1 year

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I found this old writing WIP when I was wanting to write more drabbles for the wof au. dunno if I'll finish it but here it is anyway :>

"this is your team?" Sentinel barked, his voice screechy and ear piercing

"a stupid mudwing, a scrawny sandwing, an old useless skywing, and a.... rainwing?"

he spat the last word out like it was a rotten fish. his snout scrunching up as he sneered distaste at Orion's friends, looking each of them up and down, noting every small imperfection. how they looked, how they stood, how they talked, everything.

Orion saw Prowl's tail lash from the corner of his eye, her face turned down in a scowl. he knew she pretended to not care about rainwing insults, but the entire team could tell how they dug under her scales by the way her wings twitched and how her frill would bloom red.

"they're stronger than they look, Sentinel" Orion hissed, trying to keep his composure.

act like a prince act like a prince act like a prince-

especially with the leader of the elite guard himself here, Orion wasn't going to let anyone think that his team was anything less than amazing.

"let us see what they have accomplished before Judgement, Sentinel"

Magnus, said leader of the elite guard, must still have a fondness for Orion, even after.... an unfortunate incident

the massive icewing stepped in front, examining the five dragons before him with his own eyes. like two blue voids staring into your soul.

only Prowl and Ratchet, the "old, useless" skywing, seemed unaffected.

Magnus walked back and forth, his large wings neatly folded behind him with all the discipline of a dragon who fought his way to the top. though there never seemed to be a single scar or mark on his precious scales, nor a dent or scratch on the shining, ocean blue rocks that were embedded across his chest and back as a permanent armor.

he stopped once he reached Bumblebee, the skinny sandwing trying to stand as soldier-like as possible. though he only looked petrified.

but Magnus wasn't looking at Bee, he was looking at something holding onto the smaller dragon's front leg, staring right back up at the icewing.

"....what is that?"

there wasn't any malice in Magnus' voice, but it wasn't exactly warm and welcoming either.

"that's... uh, S-Sari" Bumblebee managed to choke out, mentally hitting himself for stuttering in front of Magnus.

the icewing raised a brow ridge, wondering what this sandwing was apologizing for.

"her name! I mean..." Bee coughed. "Her name is Sari. S-A-R-I-"

"I mean, why do you have a scavenger clinging to your talons like a lost dragonet?" Magnus huffed, his voice nearing a snarl. "Is she some sort of pet?"

"Hey! I'm not a pet!"

Orion wasn't going to say how satisfying it was to hear Sentinel shriek when Sari talked back, his wings flopping around like he was suddenly a headless seagull. Bumblebee quickly pulled Sari into his talons to keep her from being crushed underfoot.

Magnus managed to keep his composure better, but it was impossible to hide the shock in his face and body as Sari crossed her arms, glaring up at him.

"I'm not a pet," she repeated. "I'm their friend"

"You can talk?" Magnus stuttered "...to us?"

AND THEN I NEVER FINJSHED IT LMAOOO

#wip #tfa wof au

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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A Little extra PDA (Omega!Alex x Alpha!Reader)

Request: omega Alex, maybe it was during the 2019 World Cup where she keeps getting fouled in every match so her alpha is extremely protective and they are just very cuddly in general?

Author’s Note: So Idk what this is, but i hope you enjoy it.

World cups were hard. Just being there was difficult, and winning- well that was even more of a challenge. But that wasn’t the part you and your team were struggling with the most. It was controlling your instincts that was proving to be the hardest thing you had to do. Even Alex straddling your lap didn’t put your inner alpha at ease.

With your mate being who she was, and you Being who you were, you should have expected and prepared for the special… attention teams were paying the two of you. But there was a limit to how much you could tolerate other alphas roughing up your omega (a very high limit) and you had just found it.

You let out a low growl and pulled the forward’s body tighter to you. You glared towards the alpha goalie who had gotten too close to the two of you, dominant pheromones pouring off you in waves. Alyssa froze mid-step, glancing helplessly at Becky as you bared your teeth over your omega’s shoulder.

The team had never seen you quite this territorial. You were usually one of the most relaxed alphas on the team. You didn’t flip out when Alex flirted with other people (you were more than used to her personality as you had been mated since college), and the fans' obsession with your mate (and her determination to meet them all) didn’t even phase you.

But throughout this tournament, your tobin level chillness seemed to dwindle and the team had absolutely no idea how to handle this new and terrifying side of you.

“Y/n, it’s ok. Alyssa is just going to her locker. She won’t touch Alex,” Christen said softly, holding her hand up to stop Alyssa from stepping any further.

Your head snapped towards your oldest friend and you bared your teeth.

“Yeah, that doesn’t work on me,” She laughed, rolling her eyes. Christen had known you since the two of you were pups and she knew that you were more bark than bite, especially when it came to her (hell even Tobin trusted you with her omega). She may be an omega, but she wasn’t afraid to call you on your bullshit, and you usually responded well to her (almost as well as you did to Alex).

“No,” You growled, eyes turning back to Alyssa who had taken an unwise step forward. You let out another wave of dominant pheromones that had the keeper frozen in her tracks. Her locker was too close to you. Too close to your mate.

Alex sighed in your lap, finally pulling her face out of your neck. She shared a look with Christen, before using one hand to turn your chin away from the keeper and towards her. Your snarl ceased immediately and your scent shifted into something much more inviting for your mate.

She ran a soothing finger over your cheek, leaning in very close to you. “Baby, she’s not gonna hurt me. And I’ve got you to protect me anyway,” she said softly and you could feel her breath across your lips.

You hummed (the team didn’t know if it was in agreement or denial), and leaned in the final centimeter to connect your lips with Alex. Alex’s fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the back of your neck and pulled you closer to her. She could feel how settling holding her was for you leaking through your bond.

You were so engrossed in the kiss that you didn’t notice your mate waving Alyssa over with her free hand. The keeper crept forward towards her locker, and it wasn’t until she got there that you realized she had entered your little bubble.

A loud growl ripped from your chest and you attempted to pull back, but Alex’s fingers tightened on your neck and her free hand slipped under your shirt to scratch your abs gently. “No baby, focus on me,” She murmured, pulling you in for another kiss.

Your low growl turned into a purr as you slipped your hands into the waistband of Alex’s kit shorts and squeezed her ass lightly.

Alyssa very quickly finished what she was doing, terrified of facing your wrath again (though she was pretty sure that Alex had you adequately distracted- she was really going to have to thank the omega later).

Emily scrunched her nose at the display, leaning very close to her alpha to whisper out a nearly inaudible “That’s gross,”

Alex couldn’t stop your angry rumble this time, or how you disengaged from the kiss to bare your teeth at the frat daddy pair (though you didn’t remove your hands from your mate’s ass).

“whoa, whoa. I meant that lovingly,” Emily said, raising her hands in defense.

You had known Kelley almost as long as you had known Christen, and the grace you showed her usually extended to her mate as well. But it wasn’t a good idea to fuck with you when your instincts were already so far on edge. She was just lucky that you didn’t hit her with the dominant scent you used to deter Alyssa (you would never risk overstepping with an omega though).

Kelley nudged her mate’s side, eyeing you very carefully. She had seen you like this only once before, just before you and Alex had mated for the first time, and that had ended in a fistfight.

“Try not to provoke her more alright?”

“But it’s so fun,” Emily whined, leaning further into her alpha to avoid your glare.

Alex shot the other omega a look over her shoulder. “Not the time,” she huffed, her fingers resuming their rubbing on your abs and the back of your neck, and she let out her own soothing scent, trying to ease your inner alpha.

It wrapped around you like a thick blanket, and you allowed it to calm you enough to look away from what your inner alpha was convinced was a threat to your mate (you knew there were no threats within the team, but you couldn’t help the roaring in your chest). When you did, she pulled the hand that was rubbing your neck back, so she could run her fingers along your cheek, brushing stray hairs behind your ear.

You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes, letting yourself relax into her for the moment.

“And you two can’t talk anyway. You’ve literally been caught by everyone on the team,” Tobin smirked, pulling Christen into her for good measure. She was sure she would lose some of her chill too if her mate was getting taken down half as much as Alex was. Hell, she was impressed with how much control you were showing over your inner animal (though that could still change considering you had 3 very difficult games ahead of you).

“I take offense to that,” Emily grumbled, drawing the room's attention back to her (several of the vets rolled their eyes), now was not the time to try and lift the room’s vibe with humor. You weren’t in a stable enough mood to laugh it off like you typically would.

Another low growl rumbled in your chest, but Alex’s hand in your cheek kept you from actually turning away from her again. “Good,”

“Be nice,” Alex chastised softly, leaning in to place another kiss to your lips (physical touch was always the best way to distract you. Plus you were a really good kisser).

“Hmm, what’s in it for me?” You asked against her lips.

She smirked, pulling back just a little, and twirling one of your stray hairs between her fingers. “I’ll let you do that thing you like after we win,”

You hummed, leaning up to kiss the underside of her jaw, grazing just below her scent gland. “I believe we have a deal,”

The team sighed in relief that Alex seemed to have you back under control. They would definitely take a little extra PDA over you being a knothead anyday.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan x reader

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gamergirl929 · 3 years

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They Hate Each Other (No They Don't, Not Really) (Alex Morgan x Reader)

All would agree, your arch nemesis showing up absolutely anywhere you were would ruin your day, but that’s EXACTLY what happens to one veteran USWNT player, Alex Morgan, when she runs into her arch nemesis at the USWNT camp.

Alex Morgan’s eyes widen, pure rage running through her when you strut towards her, bag in hand.

“You shouldn’t look at your soon to be teammate like that Morgan, frowning gives you wrinkles.” You wink, the forward’s lip curling in a snarl.

“What’s she doing-

“I DON’T KNOW.” Alex yells, nearly making Kelley jump out of her skin.

Alex was absolutely livid, seeing you at the USWNT camp had been a surprise, and not a wonderful one.

The second Alex spotted Vlatko Andonovski she advances angrily on the man, who’s looking at her as if he expected this reaction.

“Alex-

“What the hell!? We’re you going to tell me? To tell US?!” She yells, louder than intended, but you’d riled her up in way no one had before.

“I didn’t know you were the coach this year Morgan, if I did, I would’ve stayed home.” You snark, your smirk making Alex growl.

“Shut UP!” She yells and you laugh.

“We should room together Morgan, I think we’d make GREAT roommates.”

Alex growls, mumbling under her breath.

“It’ll be easier to smother you in your sleep then.”

You smirk cockily.

“Kinky.”

Alex snarls angrily.

“Listen.” Vlatko holds a hand up, glancing your way before turning back to Alex.

“Y/N is one of the best players in the world, having her at our camp, and possibly on the team brings our team up to the next level. I saw a chance, and I took it.”

Alex shakes her head.

“But-

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry Alex.” He pats her on her shoulder before turning away and walking off.

Alex meanwhile is standing stock still, her mouth agape.

Her biggest rival had just joined the USWNT camp, and would PROBABLY join the USWNT.

She growls.

“Fuck.”

***

If you were being honest, you absolutely hated Alex Patricia Morgan, the woman knew how to push your buttons and she did so whenever she could.

You’d met during college, of course, on rival teams, ultimately where your rivalry began, a rivalry that seeped into your NWNT career, and when Alex came overseas, donning the Tottenham Hotspur’s jersey, you were there, wearing a red and white Arsenal’s jersey.

Needless to say, when the two teams squared up, your rivalry continued.

Alex hated you just as much as you hated her, making the competition between the two of you even more fierce.

It surprised literally EVERYONE that the two of you hadn’t killed one another yet.

At this current moment in time though, you were currently literal moments from killing one another.

“I didn’t mean to step on your cleats Morgan, just go to the store when practice is over and buy another pair.” You snort.

Alex lets out a feral growl.

“You are SO fucking infuriating!”

You blow the woman a kiss, which only infuriates her more, the woman stomping her foot before she trudges off.

“Fuck off!” She yells over her shoulder and you scoff.

“You too!”

***

Vlatko rubs the back of his neck watching as you and Alex hurl insults at one another. He’d known about your rivalry, but he wasn’t aware that it went to the extent of actual hatred.

Alex was absolutely fuming as you walked past her, moments after sinking a goal in her team’s net.

“Don’t look so mad Morgan, we both know I’m better than you could ever dream of being.”

Alex stomps passed you, the woman’s shoulder slamming into yours.

You flip around, eyes full of absolute fire.

“Body check me again Morgan, I fucking dare you.” You growl in her face, so much so that your nose brushes hers.

Alex pushes you backwards.

“Nobody tells me what to do on MY FIELD.”

You snicker.

“Your field?” You throw your head back, barking out a laugh, though when you stop laughing you lean towards her, smirking.

“Let’s see how much longer this field is yours, you numpty.”

Alex growls as you walk towards the nearby benches with a confident strut.

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”

***

“I don’t get why you hate Y/N so much ANYWAY, she seems nice...”

The second the words leave Emily’s mouth she feels as if she’s about to burst into flames from the absolute fiery glare she’s getting from Alex.

Kelley immediately slips in between Alex and Emily, her hands held up in surrender.

“Jan, please don’t kill Emily, who else will carry on the Frat Daddy legacy!?” The defender asks, pleading for her child’s life.

Alex snarls, stomping away from the two of them, all the while mumbling angrily under her breath.

“Y/N NICE?! How could ANYONE put her and NICE in the same fucking sentence???” She snarls, deciding that some time on the field would clear her mind.

***

Though what Alex DOESN’T expect when she gets to the field is to find you there, the field between you and the goal littered with soccer balls.

Alex ducks down when you turn her way, an aggravated snarl leaving you.

“BLOODY HELL!” You yell, Alex’s eyes widening at the thickness of your accent.

She peeks out from her hiding place, watching as you drop down onto the pitch, sitting in a cross-legged position.

Alex frowns when she sees your face is buried in your hands.

“Fuck that shite.” You sigh as you move to your feet, wiping the sweat from your brow with your bare arm.

Alex isn’t sure what possess her to stay for so long, but nearly an hour later you’re still on field, sinking ball after ball in different angles, it’s when you miss one that you angrily snarl.

“Nothing but a right, cock-up!”

Alex shakes her head, her brows furrowed.

Why were you so hard on yourself after you’d done so well within an hours time?

Alex’s eyes widen when she sees you glance her way your brows furrowed.

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You shout, standing stock still.

When no one replies, you give your head a rapid shake, unaware that Alex is currently sprinting away from the scene.

“Must’ve imagined it.”

***

Alex had seen how hard you were on yourself that day, but that in no way quelled her anger entirely considering you were at each other's throats after the fact.

“You did that on fucking PURPOSE!” Alex growls as she’s helped to the bench, her leg injured from an accidental cleating by yours truly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you jog over to the bench.

“I didn’t!” You growl as you drop to your knees in front of her, the forward’s eyes wide and brows furrowed when you gently slip her cleat off her foot, along with her sock, now noticing the hints of blood dotting the fabric.

“Shite.” You mumble, swiping the nearby first aid kit from the team’s doctor.

“Yeah, I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t make you purposely bleed.”

Alex watches in something akin to disbelief when you begin to clean her injury with a delicacy that she hadn’t seen from you in, well, ever.

Your touch sent a jolt from her leg through her entire body, a warmth spreading throughout her from a delicate brush of your fingertips.

Moments after you finished dressing her wound, you glance up at her.

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less.”

You move to your feet, sending the woman a glare before you head back on field.

“Don’t use your leg as an excuse for the shite way you’re playing, you know it’s just because I’m better than you.” You smirk cockily.

Alex’s eyes narrow.

“Better my ass.”

***

The first person who finds out about you making the USWNT, well, besides yourself, is Alex Morgan, considering you actively sought her out, a cocky smirk on your face.

Alex sighs in annoyance.

“I know you made the fucking team, go away.”

You grin grabbing an apple from the table in front of you and take a bite, the apple crunching loudly.

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be actually. Isn’t this where the USWNT members sit?” You grin, earning an eye roll from the forward.

“Yes, but your seat is over there.” She nods towards the trash and you laugh, sucking a piece of apple down your windpipe, garnering no help from the woman beside you.

“Blimey, let one of the ONLY reasons you’ll be winning any and all major tournaments this year die, real dull mate.”

Alex growls.

“I’m not, ‘dull mate.’” She says, doing her best to mock you and your accent.

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my god, that was rank awful. That actually hurt to hear. My nan is rolling over in her grave right now.”

Alex blows a raspberry at you.

“Real mature love, real mature.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” She growls.

“I’m busy bothering you right now.”

Alex snarls, jumping to her feet and storming off.

“See you later teammate!” You yell, waving over exaggeratedly at her as she marches off.

***

Where your feelings for Alex, at least off the field, were based more off of annoying her until the point of insanity, your feelings for her on the field was a competitive hate, something Alex mirrored, but her hate for you off field?

Well, it was complete unbridled hate.

“Seriously, if you’re going to play like that, then stay off the field, England needs you more than we do.” Alex shakes her head and you smirk.

“You over shot it! Not me!” You shake your head in disbelief.

Alex lets out a mock laugh.

“Maybe you should’ve actually ran faster.”

You throw your head back with a groan.

“If I was in your position, we would’ve scored.”

Alex stomps her foot, the look in her eyes something you’d seen before, but never to this extent.

“You’re not made for the USWNT and you’re NOT made for soccer at a national level, you sucked in college, and you still fucking suck now.”

The field goes silent, everyone turning to look at Alex, their eyes wide.

Meanwhile, Alex’s blue orbs are locked on your face, a face that holds literally no hints of the cockiness it TYPICALLY holds, instead, it holds what she reads, as a hint of sadness.

You clear your throat, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you nod.

“Th-Thanks.”

Alex reaches out to you as you turn your back on her, the woman frowning as you make your way towards the bench, grabbing your things hastily before you head towards the bus.

Alex’s head hangs in shame, the looks of her teammates burning holes in her back.

“Alex-” Megan starts, only to be cut off by the forward moments later.

“I KNOW! OKAY!?” She yells, sending the rest of the USNWT a look.

Her shoulders hunch.

“I know.”

***

The second she steps on the bus you turn away, unwilling to look at the woman as she walks past, though, unfortunately for you, she doesn’t walk past, she instead sits right beside you.

“Are you lost?” You ask, voice rough.

Alex shakes her head.

“No, I’m not.”

You move to your feet.

“Well, if you’re not lost, then I’ll get lost.” You say, frowning when Alex doesn’t move so you can get out of your seat.

“Move Morgan.” You growl angrily.

She shakes her head.

“No can do, Y/L/N.” She shrugs and you growl, about to climb over the seat, but the look on Alex’s face stops you, causing you to flop back down into your seat in annoyance.

“Why are you holding me against my will Morgan?” You huff.

She sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry, I took it too far.”

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowing as you lean back, away from the woman.

“There’s no WAY that you’re Alex Morgan, she never apologizes, especially not to ME.” You bark out a laugh and she shakes her head.

“As much as it PAINS me to do so, I shouldn’t have said what I said on field, you do deserve to be on the team, and you don’t suck... That much.” She shrugs, and you can’t help but smile.

You begin chuckling, the woman looking at you in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Yeah, you still suck.”

Alex growls.

“Fuck you Y/N.”

You grin.

“Right back at you love, right back at you.”

***

The lineup for the first match against Portugal was rather surprising, you weren’t expecting to start, not when players like Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press were on the team, but you were named to the starting lineup.

You wouldn’t show your surprise to the team, but you’d been sure to ask Vlatko multiple times if the lineup was correct, and he of course, told you repeatedly it was.

You did your best to not look nervous when standing in the tunnel, a number of Portugal’s players were glancing your way worriedly, everyone knew who you were, and everyone knew what you could do.

The crowd cheered as the USWNT and Portugal made their way onto the field, everyone excited to see the new editions to the USWNT and what they had to offer.

You completely blank out the National Anthem, standing stock still your eyes darting around the sold-out crowd.

It isn’t until you’re taking your place on field that you snap back out of it, your eyes unconsciously darting to the woman with a big 13 on her back.

You smirk.

“Show time.”

***

You can feel it, the moment you’re about to make your first goal with the USWNT, your entire body shaking with excitement.

Alex can’t help but smile when you expertly slip the ball passed the Portugal player who’s on you and fire it in on goal, the ball with a bit of a spin on it.

You still, the ball looking like an overshot, but thanks to the spin on it, gravity pulls it downwards, passed the goalkeeper’s fingertips and into the back of the net.

You throw a fist in the air with a massive grin, a grin Alex mirrors when she walks over to you, patting your back, her reaction tame considering Tobin was currently hanging off your back, along with Kelley and Emily.

Alex shrugs.

“Lucky shot.”

You snort.

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Alex snorts even louder.

“I mean, I DID assist.”

You roll your eyes.

“Didn’t need your assistance.” You smirk, the forward’s eyes narrowing as she sends you a glare, receiving only a wink in return.

Alex growls.

“Still so infuriating.”

***

By the end of the first half the score is 2-0, and by the end of the game, it’s 4-0, one of those goals being yours, and another belonging to Alex Morgan.

It’s when you’re heading to the bus that you turn to Alex with a smirk.

“Had to copy me, huh Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“Copy? You got a goal before me, big deal.”

Tobin shakes her head as she takes a seat beside Christen on the bus.

“Do they argue about everything?” She asks and Christen giggles, watching as you and Alex bicker, though instead of sitting far away from one another, Alex sits right behind you.

“I mean, I guess that’s how they say they’re into each other.”

An incredibly loud laugh makes Christen jump, the woman turning to her bus buddy who is looking at her in shock.

“They literally want each other dead.”

Christen rolls her eyes.

“No, they don’t, they like each other.”

Ali turns around in her seat towards Christen and Tobin.

“I mean, it’s obvious.”

Ashlyn scoffs.

“Obvious that Y/N would poison Alex’s food if she could.”

Kelley, who comes in from out of nowhere snorts.

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve hated each other since college, Jan talks about it all the time.”

Christen and Ali share a glance, the two shaking their heads.

“They’re totally into each other.”

“Oh, I know.”

***

“Wait, there HAS to be a mistake...” You say as Vlatko turns to you, Alex’s eyes wide and filled with absolute horror.

“No, the two of you are rooming together. It seems.” He shrugs, knowing full well that it was he who decided the two of you would room together, and it wouldn’t be a onetime deal either.

The two of you glance at one another, eyes narrowed.

“I get the shower first.” Alex mumbles and you smirk, swiping the key from Vlatko before sprinting to the elevators.

“The FUCK you do!” You yell, Alex sprinting after you.

“Y/N YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Everyone watches as Alex chases after you, their eyes wide.

Tobin turns towards Christen.

“You call THAT being into each other?”

Christen turns towards Ali, the two yet again, shaking their heads.

“Oblivious.”

***

“DON’T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!” Alex yells, smacking the bathroom door and you growl.

The door swings open moments later and you walk out, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers.

“Morgan, we’re in a hotel, that’s impossible.”

Alex watches as you head to your suitcase, riffling through its contents.

She can’t help but stare, the wide expanse of flesh and muscle usually hidden beneath your uniform now on display for her to see.

You turn around, holding a wad of clothes, your brows furrowed.

Alex jumps when you reach out, poking her in the forehead with your index finger.

“Hey!” She growls, slapping at your hand.

“I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”

Alex’s eyes rake down your front, stopping on your very prominent abdominal muscles.

You turn away and step in the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind you.

Alex stands there for a moment before she glances around.

“Yeah.”

***

Alex had TRIED to tell herself that she was in NO way ogling you like a horny frat boy, but when you walked out wearing basically the same thing to sleep in, she knew she was, for a fact, ogling you like a horny frat boy.

She’d made a quick retreat to the bathroom moments after, but she couldn’t avoid you forever.

You meanwhile were completely sprawled out in bed, Nintendo Switch in hand. You briefly wondered if Alex had drowned, but when the bathroom door swung open you sighed.

“I thought you might’ve drowned, I was going to see if you wanted to smash.”

Alex stops mid-stride, dropping her clothes on the floor.

“WHAT!?”

Your brows furrow as you hold your Nintendo Switch up.

“Smash...?”

Alex clears her throat, her cheeks blood red.

“O-O-Oh...”

You snort.

“Christ Morgan.” You shake your head and she rolls her eyes, stomping to her bed.

“What?”

You shrug.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, at least now I know you want in my trousers.” You smirk and she snarls, a pillow flying from her bed and smacking you right in the face.

“Fuck you.”

“SEE!” You grin, throwing the pillow back on her bed.

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

You shake your head.

“Get over here and we’ll smash.” You hold a controller out to her and her eyes narrow.

“Sure, you’re okay with losing?” She asks cockily and you grin.

“Are you?”

Alex scoffs.

“I’d never lose to you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

***

“Why do you look so tired?” Kelley asks Alex the following day and the forward yawns.

“Y/N and I were Smashing.”

Kelley’s brown orbs widen, as do Alex’s the forward punching her friend in the arm.

“Super Smash Brothers you bitch.”

Kelley hums.

“I mean I could see you and Y/N hate fucking each other.” She shrugs and Alex’s cheeks flush bright red.

Alex punches Kelley in the shoulder, the defender groaning.

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

Alex turns her attention towards her breakfast and away from the pouting defender beside her.

Though you were absolutely irritating and Alex thought about killing you a total of 48 times last night, she enjoyed spending time with you.

You yawn as you make your way towards the table, sitting across from Alex.

“You have to get used to losing if we keep smashing every night.”

Suddenly a plate falls to the table, hard, the sound making everyone jump.

Tobin is standing beside you, her eyes wide, Ashlyn meanwhile is smirking as she sits down beside you.

“Who’s smashing?” Megan asks and you roll your eyes.

“Smash Bros.” You shake your head and Megan rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Boring, there’s only one Smash that’s actually interesting.”

Tobin gasps dramatically, her hand on her heart.

“I beg to DIFFER.”

You shake your head, watching with amusement as the two bicker, leading to Ashlyn chiming in.

You glance at Alex.

“You just HAD to tell everyone we Smashed.”

Alex rolls her eyes.

“Of course, I did, because I won.”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you sip your orange juice.

“Like one time, Morgan.”

Alex growls.

“WELL, WE’LL SMASH AGAIN TONIGHT!” She yells, every single one of her teammates turning her way.

Alex clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Are we talking about the SAME Smashing?” You smirk and Alex sends you a glare.

“SHUT UP.”

***

Alex rubs her temples angrily.

Playing in the rain had always been a hassle, but playing in the rain against SWEDEN was a nightmare.

Sweden was the USWNT’s rival and the fact that the USWNT were currently down by 2 of COURSE, didn’t sit well with Alex Morgan.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half and Alex sighs in relief, she needed a break, not only for her tired legs, but to quell the irritation inside of her.

Someone bumps into her and she snarls.

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going.” She turns towards, who she now realizes is you, you who looks as equally pissed as she does.

“Listen Morgan, I’m seriously not in the fucking mood, I’m just as mad as you are, so don’t start your shit with me.” You snap, your USWNT teammates stopping to stare at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Fuck you.” She snarls turning to walk away and you sneer.

“Yeah? We’ll fuck you too!” You yell before you follow after her and into the locker room.

“Why are you following me!?” She yells and you scoff.

“WE SHARE A LOCKER ROOM.” You deadpan, flopping down on the nearby bench.

“Well, you can still sit away from me.” Alex gripes and you shake your head.

“I’m not moving Morgan.”

Alex, being purposely annoying sits down behind you, rather closely in fact.

“Well, I’m not either.” She mumbles and you snort.

“Mature Morgan, REALLLL mature.”

***

By the time the game ended the USWNT had a comeback, winning the game 3-2, much to Alex’s elation, as well as your own.

That elation didn’t erase the fact that the two of you had argued during the match, the two of you cold, wet and incredibly angry.

Alex is pulled out of her trance when the bathroom’s door in your and her hotel room swings open, a rush of steam flowing out as you leave the room.

Alex glances away from you, not only because you’re, yet again, barely dressed, but also because she’s ashamed of her behavior earlier that day.

You flop onto your bed without even looking at her, choosing to fall face down against its plush surface.

You remain silent, the air within the room incredibly heavy.

The silence is broken by Alex’s soft whisper.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”

You remain silent as you roll over, your hand slipping into your suitcase.

You search blindly until you find what you’re looking for, holding the Nintendo Switch out to Alex.

“Smash?” You ask and Alex smiles.

“Smash.”

Alex flops on the bed beside you, taking the controller she’d used a few nights prior.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m sorry too.”

Alex’s brows arch, the woman unable to bite back a smile, something that makes you send her a glare.

“Enough of this shite, ready to lose Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“I should be asking you that.”

***

You grimace as the body beside you shifts, a pair of arms wrapping tightly around you from behind.

“I’m not the little spoon.” You growl, attempting to wiggle free from the hold you’re in.

“Get over it.”

Your eyes flash open, as do Alex’s the two of you abruptly sitting up when you realize you’d in fact fallen asleep together the night before.

You turn to face her, the two of you looking at one another in absolute horror.

“I was just-

Alex leaps out of bed, the woman making a beeline towards the bathroom the two of you share.

You nod, your cheeks flushed.

“Ye-Yeah.”

You clear your throat, turning away from the bathroom to instead look at the alarm clock beside you.

3:13 AM

You grumble, annoyed at the fact that you’d woken up so early.

If you were honest with yourself, you were also annoyed that Alex wasn’t currently beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood for honesty at the moment.

You flop backwards, rolling towards the center of the bed where it just so happens Alex had been laying moments later, the smell of the woman’s perfume left behind on the sheets.

You attempt to resist temptation, but find yourself failing when you bury your nose into the sweet-smelling fabric, the smell clouding your senses.

The bathroom door creaks open sometime after, the sweet-smelling fabric lulling you to the cusp of sleep, as you fight your eyelids you watch as Alex tiptoes to her bed, the woman glancing over her shoulder at your ‘sleeping’ form with a smile before she makes her way to her own bed.

She falls down onto the cold sheets with a frown, thoughts of what the following day would bring running through her head.

***

Much to everyone’s surprise at practice the following day, neither you nor Alex had been at one another’s throats, in fact, you’d been ignoring each other as if the other had contracted the Black Death.

Even when you slip a ball passed Alex and into goal, you don’t gloat, instead choosing to just jog away as if you hadn’t scored.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Kelley asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares inquisitively at Alex.

“What?” Alex asks dumbly.

Kelley scoffs.

“THAT, Y/N didn’t even gloat! She didn’t rub in your face that she scored passed you!” Kelley points at you and Alex shrugs.

“Beats me.”

Kelley’s eyes narrow even further as Alex walks away, the defender’s eyes burning holes in her back.

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT’S GOING ON JAN!” She yells across field, drawing the attention of each and every one of her teammates, including you.

You clear your throat, your cheeks flushing when you realize Alex’s blue orbs are on you.

The two of you abruptly turn away from one another, thoughts of the events that transpired that morning running through your heads.

You clear your throat as you rub the back of your neck, your cheeks flushing further when you think about Alex’s arms around you, and how much you’d liked it.

***

That night was even worse considering the two of you were still rooming together.

Alex refused to look in your direction and you refused to look in hers, making the situation even more awkward.

“Look.” Alex started, causing you to turn her way, when your eyes locked, she fell silent.

“This was easier when you weren’t looking at me.”

Your eyes widen momentarily before you turn away.

“Alright Morgan, go ahead.”

Alex huffs.

“I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to, ummm...”

You chance a glance her way, smirking when you see how flushed her cheeks are.

“What?” Alex asks when she sees the smirk on your face and you shrug.

“Nothing.”

You fish your Nintendo Switch out of your bag and nod towards your bed.

“Let’s go Morgan, or are you too shy to Smash now?” You ask, a brow arched and Alex scoffs.

“Not a chance.”

***

It’s an hour into playing that it happens, though neither you, or Alex realized it was happening until your shoulders brush.

You both stiffen, your eyes widening, though neither of you dare look at the other.

Something else neither of you do though is scoot away from one another, your shoulders still brushing.

You clear your throat, your body untensing as you settle back against the pillow behind you, the feel of Alex’s blue orbs boring into you making goosebumps sprout on your flesh.

“Come on Morgan, head in the game.”

You miss the tiny smile that adorns Alex’s face as she focuses on the screen before you, though what you don’t miss is the brush of her leg against yours.

The inevitable of course happens when you feel Alex’s head rest on your shoulder, the woman fighting her fluttering eyelids.

You glance at the nearly unconscious woman on your shoulder and snort.

“Lay down Morgan.” You smile, the forward grumbling.

“But I don’t want to get up...”

You roll your eyes, taking her controller and laying your Switch on the table between your beds.

You wiggle until your head hits the pillow behind you, which results in Alex’s head falling onto your chest, the forward’s eyes widening.

You remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move, when she cuddles into your side, your cheeks flush, that flush spreading to the tips of your ears.

“Is this, okay?” Alex asks in a hushed whisper and you smile.

“It is.”

***

The two of you sharing a bed becomes a regular thing, so much so that Alex’s bed remains untouched 95% of the time, usually housing your luggage instead of Alex like it should be.

The rivalry you had on the field soon disappeared, something that came as a shock to literally everyone, even Vlatko.

You knew what you felt for Alex wasn’t friendship, it went well beyond that, your hatred for her turned into something you never ever expect, and that was love.

You loved Alex Morgan and there was no going back.

***

You were pissed, absolutely pissed, and how could you not be when no fouls were being called against Canada?

Fouls that were currently being directed at #13, Alex Morgan.

You snarl when yet again, Alex is taken down in the box, but YET AGAIN, the foul isn’t called.

“COME ON!” You yell, stomping towards the downed forward whose hand you take before you pull her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly as you scan the forward who nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles and you nod.

“She better call the fouls or I swear-

The whistle blows and you growl.

“Nothing but a right bitch that one.” You mumble before jogging away, missing the snort that Alex lets out, the forward shaking her head.

Her cheeks flush from more than exertion when she realizes your anger that’s directed at the ref is because the fouls have been directed solely on her, considering she was the only one being fouled.

And that was about to happen yet again, but this time, Alex wasn’t going to get up.

***

The look on your face was one of pure horror when Alex went down with a cry, the Canadian player’s cleats digging into her skin, soaking her socked ankle with blood.

The whistle blows loudly, the ref finally carding the player who’d fouled Alex with a red card, but that wasn’t good enough for you, not when Alex was currently bleeding.

Alex watches from her place on the ground as you advance on the player in red, landing a right hook that would make any boxer jealous, the woman falling to the ground with a thud.

Time literally stands still, your knuckles throbbing in pain as the player cups her cheek, her eyes wide as she stares up at you in shock.

“OFF THE FIELD! NOW!” The ref yells, the woman producing a red card immediately and holding it high above her head.

“Bugger off, wanker.” You mumble as you make your way towards Alex, who’s currently surrounded by the medical team.

“What the hell did you do that for!?” She growls at you and you frown.

“I-

You glance around, watching as the Canadian player, you were so angry you didn’t know her name, is aided off field, the woman still clasping her cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue.

Deep down, you knew why your reaction had been so visceral, but you couldn’t tell Alex that could you?

So instead, you decided to do the only thing you could do, and that was turn on your heels and sprint towards the nearest exit.

***

Alex frowns as you sprint towards the exit, leaving her and the team behind.

The medical team hoists her to her feet, the woman limping off field, the fans clapping in respect for the USWNT player as the final whistle blows.

The second Alex gets off field though she pulls away from the medical team, choosing instead to limp after you, the forward hoping she wasn’t too late and was able to catch you.

Alex limped down the tunnel and rushed towards the nearest exit, hoping it was the exit you’d went through in your haste to put distance between the two of you.

She rounds the corner, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees you marching down the sidewalk, away from her.

“Y/N!” She yells, causing you to stop in your tracks.

The dark clouds overhead that had been teasing rain all day had finally opened the proverbial floodgates, the soft sprinkles becoming somewhat of a downpour in literal moments.

Slowly, you turn around to face the forward who’s advancing on you, the woman limping as quickly as she can, closing the distance between the two of you.

You swallow hard, unable to look the woman in the eye as she tries catching your gaze,

“Y/N?! What was that!?” She yells, pointing back at the field and you shake your head.

“What was that!?” She yells again and you swallow hard.

“She was on your ass the entire game Al, and no one was calling the fouls! I had to do something!” You yell over the heavily pouring rain, the nickname slipping unknowingly off your tongue.

“That’s not your job, Y/N.” She frowns and you scoff.

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her hurt you? Watch her make you bleed!?” You cry, the feel of frustrated tears welling up in your eyes.

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“Because I love you!”

Alex stiffens, as do you, your eyes widening in horror when you realize what you’d just said.

Your mouth opens and closes, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue as you take a step back from the injured USWNT forward.

Alex reaches out for you, her fingertips brushing the back of your hand.

“Y/N...” She whispers, taking a step towards you.

You’re about to take a step back when she grabs your wrist, effectively holding you in place, you weren’t about to jerk away, fearful that you may hurt her.

You swallow hard when she steps even closer, the distance between you closing as her chest brushes your own.

“Say it again.”

You shake your head as you turn away, though when Alex’s fingers intertwine with yours, you turn back towards her, the woman’s blue orbs focused on your hand in hers.

“Say it again...”

You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat.

“Alex-

“Please Y/N.” She whispers as she tucks a strand of hair, that had been stuck to your face, behind your ear.

You blink rapidly, Alex’s fingers tracing your jawline before she cups your cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find your voice.

“I-I...” You stammer, your eyes shutting as you swallow.

“I love you, Alex, and I think I always have I just-

You stiffen, your eyes wide and hands hovering in the air as Alex’s lips meet yours in a tentative, first kiss.

Just as your eyes flutter shut the team rounds the corner, their eyes widening before they turn Christen and Ali, the two smirking as they bump their shoulders together.

“We told you.”

Meanwhile your hands find purchase on Alex’s waist, the woman pulling back only to lean right back in, the brush of her lips sending a jolt throughout your entire body.

A crack of lightning makes the two of you jump, though neither of you pull back, your lips brushing as the two of you smile, toothy grins on full display.

Alex’s forehead rests against yours, her hair stuck to her face thanks to the water entirely soaking the two of you.

The reasonable members of the team usher the chaotics back into the arena, leaving you and Alex alone, the two of you so wrapped up in one another you hadn’t noticed them anyway.

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your Y/E/C orbs focused intently on Alex’s.

“When did you know?” Alex asks, her voice pulling you out of your trance, your cheeks flushing.

“Know what?” You ask dumbly, earning a look that says Alex knows you’re just playing dumb.

You sigh.

“The first time you yelled at me during a match in college.”

Alex’s brows arch.

“It was cute.”

Alex scoffs.

“It wasn’t meant to be cute.”

You shrug.

“Well, it was to me, and I was right smitten.”

Alex’s lips split into a massive grin, the woman leaning in to bump her nose playfully against yours.

“Your nose crinkles up when you’re angry.” She giggles and you bite your bottom lip, your cheeks dusted pink.

Alex tilts her head back, kissing the tip of your nose, your lips splitting into a grin.

“I guess we better get back in there...” Alex sighs and you huff.

“I guess so.”

Alex reluctantly takes a step back before she turns around, the two of you walking back to the door that led back into the arena.

Before Alex can make her way through the tunnel, you grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug until she’s back in your arms again, your nose brushing hers.

“I never ACTUALLY hated you.” You whisper softly, giving her wrist a squeeze.

Alex smiles, the forward closing the distance between you with a feather light kiss, her lips feeling as if they barely brush your own.

“And I never ACTUALLY hated you either.”

You cup Alex’s cheek, the woman’s blue orbs disappearing behind her fluttering eyelids as she leans into your touch.

It’s in that moment when you spot them out of the corner of your eye, a snort sounding in the back of your throat as you watch your teammates scramble to make themselves scarce.

Alex follows your gaze, the woman rolling her eyes in annoyance when she spots your nosy teammates.

“Idiots.”

You wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling the woman close, your chin resting on her shoulder.

“So, you yell at them, and I watch? I bet it’s even cuter when you’re yelling at someone else.” You grin, grunting when Alex elbows you in the stomach.

“It’s not cute when I’m angry.” She pouts and you grin, shrugging.

“Actually, it’s adorable.”

Alex growls, a furrow forming between her brows as she tries, and fails to scowl at you.

“Still so infuriating.” She grumbles, the woman about to turn away, but before she can you catch her lips, unable to bite back a smile as the two of you kiss.

“I’m so infuriating, but you still smitten, aren’t you love?” You ask and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.

She gives your shoulder a playful slap and you snicker.

Looking into the pools of blue that are Alex Morgan’s eyes, you knew coming to the US was the best decision you’d ever made.

You lean in, tilting your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.

“What do you say we go kill our nosy teammates now?” You ask with a grin and Alex takes your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“Lead the way.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Realization

Pairing: Kyoutani x Reader, Iwaizumi x Reader (one-sided)

Genre: SFW, Coming to terms with feelings, Meet Ugly, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Fluff

Prompt: Meet Ugly

Summary: There’s a difference between liking someone and liking the “idea” of someone.

A/N: This is for the HQHQ SFW Meet Ugly collab. Check out the masterlist here and be sure to read all the other talent-packed content on this list!

“Thanks for all your hard work.”

Your face heats, a flustered smile and giggle escaping you as you grin at Iwaizumi, heart soaring from his praise, chest constricting at how handsome he looks when his lips twitch upwards. It’s only a brief moment, but it means the world to you. You begin to bow in respect to your senpai, only to be cut short, both your heads sharply turning towards the gym door as it slams open with a loud bang.

And just like that, Kyoutani Kentarou has ruined your special moment as he determinedly stares at Iwaizumi who merely sighs at the familiar sight of the second-year. Funny how Kyoutani finds himself at the volleyball gymnasium more now that he’s left the team than when he actually used to be on it.

“Race me.”

You sympathetically smile at Iwaizumi before scurrying off to help put away the rest of the gym equipment as the ace begins to make his way towards his underclassman, tuning out the typical scene, knowing how it’ll end, how it always ends. And sure enough, it’s another indisputable win for Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi - 31 Kyoutani - 0

For someone who’s in your class and your year, you hardly know a thing about Kyoutani other than the fact that he’s as sullen and silent in the classroom as he is outside of it. But as you curiously turn your attention to his figure slumped on top of his desk as you wait for your homeroom teacher to arrive, you have to admit his tenacity is...admirable to say the least.

Aoba Johsai is renowned for its volleyball team and although you hadn’t known a thing about the sport, you were easily swayed by your friends and classmates into watching a game, interested in seeing what the big deal was about. In all fairness, you’re not sure if you necessarily like the sport itself any more than you did that first game. But when you saw Iwaizumi Hajime spike a ball, you were instantly hooked.

Everyone and their mom is smitten with Oikawa Tooru and while you can appreciate your senpai’s charisma, skills, and attractiveness, it’s sharp green eyes and a strong and silent demeanor that captures your heart.

One game turns into two. Two games turn into three. Before you know it you’re donning a teal shirt, shouting and cheering the team on as an official member of the Aoba Johsai Cheer team.

The entire team is treated with almost reverence and certainly respect. So imagine your surprise when you’re watching them practice and a loud growl suddenly echoes throughout the room, Kyoutani stalking towards Iwaizumi with almost hostile aggression. You nervously fidget, unsure if you should do anything, worried he might hurt your crush. You’ve heard the stories of the infamous Mad Dog and his temper, but you can’t imagine Iwaizumi doing anything to warrant any of the younger boy’s anger.

Yet no one else seems to be concerned, the third-years briefly glancing at the two before continuing on with practice. So you stay put, intently watching the unfolding scene, only to rapidly bink in shock when Kyoutani barks at Iwaizumi to arm wrestle. And like a surprisingly addicting reality show, you can’t tear your eyes away as Iwaizumi easily agrees and proceeds to win, as Kyoutani scowls but politely (albeit stiffly) bows in respect to the ace before angrily storming out like a dog with its tail between his legs.

But much like a reality show that plays on the same trope over and over again, you also begin to barely acknowledge the strange daily competitions Kyoutani instigates, just wryly shaking your head in amusement when you hear Kyoutani’s familiar snarl, internally praising Iwaizumi for his patience and good-natured spirit as he goes along with Kyoutani’s whims.

Cut to a few months later, you worriedly gaze at Iwaizumi who looks worse for wear, hovering over him to make sure he’s hydrated as he holds a cool towel to his forehead while he sits on the bench, taking an uncharacteristic break.

“Iwaizumi-senpai, maybe you should go home if you’re not feeling well. It’s not good to push yourself too hard if you’re sick.”

The brunette groans in agreement, sheepishly grinning at your concerned face.

“Alright, alright. Stop looking at me like I’m going to die. I’ll go home-”

He’s cut off by the gym door slamming open and both of you whip your heads again once more as Kyoutani storms towards you two.

“Race me.”

“Not today, Kyoutani. I’m not feeling well-”

“Chickening out? Didn’t take you for someone who lets a little cold-”

“SHUT UP!”

Both boys instantaneously stiffen and quiet down, staring at you wide-eyed and in shock. But you’re not done and you stomp towards Kyoutani, turning yourself into a flimsy barrier between your rude classmate and your senpai, getting between the two and shoving your finger in Kyoutani’s chest.

“Iwaizumi-senpai is sick and he’s going to go home and rest. He’s not going to play your stupid little games that you always lose anyway and you’re going to walk away and stop being so rude to your upperclassman.”

If you weren’t so fired up, you might be proud at how you’ve flabbergasted your fellow hot-headed classmate, leaving him speechless as he stares at you, mouth gaping. But a fire is blazing inside of you and you bare your fangs at him.

“Go. AWAY!”

Your raised voice hits a chord in Kyoutani and there’s tense silence as both of you practically growl at each other before he shoves his hands in his pockets and storms off, muttering angrily under his breath. But when the gym door clangs shut behind him, all your bravado dissipates and you curl in on yourself in embarrassment as you feel everyone’s eyes still on you.

But you startle when a loud raucous laughter fills the air and you turn to pout at Iwaizumi who’s howling in between coughs and sneezes.

“What’s so funny?”

You don’t mean for the question to be as sharp as it is and you cringe when you hear the defensiveness in your own ears, an apology already on your tongue. But your words get stuck in your throat as your body heat skyrockets when a calloused hand endearingly ruffles your head.

“Thanks for standing up for me. I didn’t realize I had such a scary guard dog.”

You shyly look into playful green eyes, only to whine in protest and wrinkle your nose in distaste as he continues on.

“You remind me of Kyoutani when you get fired up.”

“Yeah! It’s like watching two angry chihuahuas go at it. Scary~”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”

You exchange smug grins with Iwaizumi as Oikawa dramatically complains about the volleyball sized bruise on his forehead before the two of you walk back home together, already leaving the day’s events behind you.

Or at least you tried to.

You can feel eyes boring holes into your head as class drags on and you don’t need to turn to know who it is. Ever since your little showdown, Kyoutani has made it a point to keep you in his sight, staring at you throughout class, only scoffing in return when you snarkily tell him that as smart as you are, he might find it more helpful to actually take notes from the blackboard in the front of the classroom.

Should you be more unnerved by the fact that you’ve caught his interest and that he can’t seem to keep his eyes off you? Maybe. But you don’t feel any creepiness or danger from his intense gaze and if you’re honest, you find it disturbingly cute (although you’d die before you admit it). It reminds you of a cautious puppy trying to study and gauge another puppy who’s entered their home and space.

You suppose you’re passing whatever mental examinations he’s running you through when he unexpectedly joins you at your lunch table one day and you find you don’t mind the comfortable silence that settles around the two of you as you continue on with your meals like nothing is out of the ordinary.

It’s subtle, so subtle that you don’t really notice your newfound closeness until Yahaba briefly mentions it one day as you’re helping the team clean up.

“When did Kyoutani and you become so close?”

Close?

That’s not a word you’d necessarily use to describe your relationship, but as you ponder his question, you can’t deny where he’s coming from. Kyoutani has become something of a protective shadow, appearing out of nowhere as you make your way to and from school, rudely pulling you back whenever he deems you too close to the side of the street as cars zoom by, hostilely growling at men who come too close to you on crowded train cars, smacking more than a hand or two that drift too close to the hem of your skirt.

And in return you’ve found yourself mindlessly blabbering on and on to him, telling him whatever’s on your mind, nosily peeking over his shoulder and correcting mistakes you notice in his homework, passing bites of food from your bento to his.

Close. The two of you are close. Something warm flutters in your chest at that realization.

It’s like a veil has been lifted from your eyes and you suddenly really see Kyoutani for the first time as the two of you walk to and from school and classes. You see the lean toned muscles of his forearm as he insists on holding your bag for you. You see the well-meaning soul behind all the barks and feral eyes. And suddenly the weight of his eyes on you feels heavier than before and you unconsciously move to pat the rumples out of your skirt and shirt and make sure your makeup is intact.

You find your own eyes straying towards his figure as he furrows his brows in concentration, paying attention to the scrawled equations on the board. You no longer ignore his daily competitions with Iwaizumi, surprising yourself with your sudden quiet internal wish for Kyoutani to win as you watch the two race and wrestle against each other. Meanwhile unknown to you, narrowed eyes hone in on the comfortable companionship between Iwaizumi and you, something uncomfortable churning in Kyoutani’s stomach as he observes the carefree way you smile and laugh at everything the ace says.

Kyoutani and you have been assigned to classroom cleaning duties and both of you work in an easy natural harmony, comfortably maneuvering around each other as you sweep and wipe down the room. So you’re surprised when you bump into a hard object, turning around in confusion and coming face to face with Kyoutani who is intensely staring you down.

“What do you like about Iwaizumi?”

You’re stunned, mouth wildly moving around as you try to form words, but no sounds come out.

Your crush on Iwaizumi is a poorly kept secret. You’ve never been subtle and you have an inkling even the vice-captain himself is well-aware of your feelings for him. So it’s not Kyoutani’s awareness of it that’s leaving you speechless. It’s your instinctual response of denial that shocks you to your core.

“I- don’t like Iwaizumi?”

There’s silence as Kyoutani narrows his eyes and stares at you in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Was that a question?”

“Shh! I’m trying to think.”

Kyoutani rolls his eyes, but he settles on top of a nearby desk, patiently waiting and watching as your thoughts race.

You like Iwaizumi. You’ve always liked Iwaizumi. But you wonder if you’ve ever truly liked the upperclassman in the way you believe you did. He’s hard working, responsible, kind, handsome, and physically gifted. He’s a man’s man, someone who everyone looks up to. He’s the shiny glossy page of a magazine that catches your eyes, showing you a vision of a picture perfect world you wildly create and build in your mind. He’s the older brother and mentor you’ve always wanted. He’s protection, comfort, and guidance. But even then, he’s always at arm’s length, on a pedestal you’ve forced him on, unattainable, unreachable. He’s not Kyoutani.

Kyoutani. Rude, gruff, brash Kyoutani with his few words and feral snarls. He’s not Kyoutani and yet when you think of bleached hair, your heart starts pounding and you instinctively want to lean in towards the silent wall of lean muscles that hovers around you, keeping you safe, listening to every word you say. You think of countless meals, walks, and hangout/study sessions. You think of sharp words and growls mixed in with laughter and fondness.

Iwaizumi is just a pretty pipe dream you’ve concocted. He’s a great senpai, a good man, who you've used as the center of your rose-tinted imagination. But you don’t really know him. Not the way you know Kyoutani. Your feelings for Iwaizumi are silly, whimsy, fluffy and cloud-like, a vapid perfect world that doesn’t exist. Not like the raw and tangible bolts you feel around Kyoutani as the two of you bicker about who has the right answer on their homework when your responses differ, excitedly talk about your favorite dog breed, or discover your new go-to fried chicken place together by accident one day while the two of you are aimlessly strolling through town.

You like Iwaizumi, but you like Kyoutani.

It’s like a lightbulb has flipped on over your head, but you know you’ve been silent for too long when movement catches your attention from the corner of your eyes and you turn to see Kyoutani’s legs beginning to impatiently fidget.

“I don’t like Iwaizumi.”

The conviction in your words startles both of you, but you continue on.

“I saw him spike a ball and my mind got carried away. That’s all.”

There’s so much left unsaid, so much implied and yet, somehow you know Kyoutani understands what you really mean when he abruptly stands up and reaches for both your school bags, carrying them on his shoulder as the two of you exit the classroom, an uncharacteristic softness in his next words.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty cool guy...for an upperclassman.”

No one pays any mind as the gym doors slam open at practice yet again, but heads turn when Kyoutani turns his back on Iwaizumi and makes his way towards Oikawa who’s curiously staring at the approaching second-year.

“I want to rejoin the volleyball team and I’m going to be the ace after Iwaizumi graduates.”

Chaos erupts as people choke on their water bottles, surprised and outraged exclamations and whispers flooding the space. But as irritating as Oikawa can be, you have to admit he’s always been good at finding and honing potential, at swaying people to his ways. And you beam in surprise and excitement as Kyoutani begins to warm-up with the team, stretching and jogging amongst a sea of teal.

You’re jolted back to attention when someone sits next to you, smiling at Iwaizumi who drinks some water as he observes Kyoutani.

“You have something to do with this?”

You balk at the hidden connotation of his words. As if you’d have any influence on stubborn, strong-willed Kyoutani who’s always done what he wants and you fervently shake your head side to side in denial.

“Me??? I’m just as surprised as you are. If he doesn’t even listen to you, what makes you think he’d even hear what I have to say-”

You’re silenced by the loud echo of your name being called, turning your head to the middle of the court where the team is lining up, getting ready to practice their spikes, looking at the second-year who’s scowling at you. (If Iwaizumi notices the way Kyoutani’s glare deepens when he notices the ace sitting so close to you, he wisely doesn’t bring it up.)

“Watch me spike.”

Your jaw drops at the demanding statement, indignation beginning to fester in you as you get ready to retort and tell him he can’t tell you what to do, let alone interrupt practice to order you around. But then you remember…

“I saw him spike a ball and my mind got carried away.”

There’s no way that’s why he’s…

And yet…

You clamp your mouth shut, eyes carefully watching as he bounds towards the net, leg muscles contracting and expanding as he leaps in the air, arm swinging overhead, a resounding smack filling the air as he slams the ball over the net. It’s mere seconds and yet it feels like eternity to you as Kyoutani eagerly whips his head towards you the second he lands back on the ground, making sure you were watching, You’re not sure how the gut-twisting awe and pride you feel translates onto your face, but it must if the slight upwards twitch of his lips are any indication as he makes his way towards the back of the line, getting ready to do it all over again

“Congratulations. I think you’ve officially bumped me down to number two on Kyoutani’s ‘people I give a shit about’ list.”

“Senpai, it’s not like that!”

“Yet. It’s not like that yet.”

There’s a pause as you can’t bring yourself to deny his words, something hopeful and nervous twining and entangling your beating heart at the heavy underlying meaning of Iwaizumi’s words. But you wince, crashing back to reality when a finger roughly pokes your forehead, any complaints dying on your tongue when you see the softest knowing look in green eyes.

“I’m happy for you and I wish the two of you all my best.”

To anyone else, they’re sweet words. That’s all. But you know better. You can see the official rejection of your unconfessed feelings in the way Iwaizumi carefully chooses his words. You can feel the acknowledgement of your past feelings for him in the way his hand gently, but firmly grips your shoulder in consolation and reassurance before he trudges back to practice himself.

Yet it doesn’t hurt the way you thought it would and as your heart bids a final fond farewell to the brown-haired, green-eyed protagonist of your past dreams, you turn to Kyoutani, ready to begin a new real adventure together.

#kyoutani x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani fluff #haikyuu fic

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ask-fantasy-sanders-sides · 3 years

Note

What is Ro thinking right now? -𓆙

Virgil had just gotten done brushing his hair when they heard the commotion outside the Manor.

Ainsliee squeaks in surprise. She turns to Virgil, boiling over with excitement, gleefully translating the message he had already guessed;

“Daddy’s back! He’s calling for us!!”

She grins and rushes over to Virgil, pulling his wrist and dragging him up from his seat. Virgil huffs in annoyance — not at her, of course, but at the bear’s continued barking — and waves his hand,

“Go on to him, then. But be careful, he’s still dangerous!”

Without a word of response, Annie dashes away. He doesn’t even think she was listening.

Virgil sighs, shaking his head. He trusts the Beast spirit not to hurt her, even with it’s unreasonable strength; After how careful the bear had been with him about an hour before, there’s no way he won’t show the same gentleness with his own cub…

The more cautious parts of Virgil can still imagine her rushing him too quickly and getting crushed on accident, though, so he knows he can’t linger long.

Virgil stands up to get dressed, still not excited to see his friends again. His stomach churns at the possibilities as he meanders towards a closet, silently hoping Lolth would just strike him down right now so he wouldn’t have to talk to them.

He just knows they’ll be angry, he feels it in his bones — and even if they aren’t, it will certainly be awkward, and that’s just as bad!

(Better to be the first to anger, so you might lead the conversation, Virgil reminds himself as he wallows in dread. He won’t even have to fake his ire if any of them come back injured, which he already knows is unavoidable. Aside from his desire to keep them all unharmed, he really doesn’t want to be owing any more favors…)

(And even more besides, if he could be petty, Virgil doesn’t want to go back outside. It’s cold and windy tonight, his hair is still damp, his limbs are still sore, his mom has his armor, and he doesn't want to put clothes back on, damnit.)

Another resounding roar thunders through the night air, and then Virgil feels the entire tree-tower tremble with vibrations.

Fully realizing that this dire bear is willing to climb the place and rip it open to find him, Virgil grabs the nearest warm-looking robe. He hastily slips it on over his bandages (and quiver belt, which he had already been wearing) as he makes his way out of the Manor.

~~~

Logan watches Roman pace back and forth around the trees, in front of the spiraling stairway that leads up into the complex. He’s been incessantly huffing and stomping around like a petulant child, and Logan has no idea what to say to make him stop; He's been trying ever since the city was in sight.

Janus and Remus are very pointedly not helping, with Janus giving Logan a meaner side-eye the longer the wailing continues, and Remus yelling back at Roman for no other reason than to join in being loud.

Patton has less fear of the gigantic, angry animal, approaching the groaning beast and patting a hand on his paw,

“Aww, c’mon now, Roman. We just got here! Give them a minute to come down,” Patton soothes in a soft voice, “Not everyone is as fast as a giant bear!”

Roman looks down at him, acknowledging his presence, but he either didn’t understand Patton’s words or wholeheartedly doesn’t care. He softly shakes his paw to scoot Patton away, then rears up on his back legs, raises his arms, then lurches all of his body weight forward and slams into the trunk of the massive tree.

It doesn’t visibly shudder at his attack — even at his size, these great home-trees of the Faewild are many times wider around than a direbear, and won’t be knocked down so easily — but the intent is clear, and Logan worries someone as sensitive to vibrations as Virgil would be quite frightened. So, Logan quickly steps in, using a more stern tone this time (and his Universal Speech,)

“That’s enough! You are being impatient,” Logan scolds, “They will come down soon enough. One of them is injured. They can take their time if they wish to.”

An angry whine interrupts his last few words, but still, Roman backs away from the complex. He keeps growling and barking, but at least he’s not trying to break the damn thing down.

Right on queue, a little blue girl comes flying down the stairs like a missile, grinning wildly.

Logan sighs in relief, happy to see her in good spirits after how they had left off. Roman seems to feel the same, finally quieting down his complaints. He drops his head down to meet her when she approaches, sniffing her as she reaches up to hug his muzzle. She squeezes him as best she can from there, giggling when he pushes down a little to nuzzle her.

Practically tripping over herself with energy, Annie quickly pops up to bowl Patton over in a hug as well, giving Logan a wide grin over his shoulder as Patton squishes her close to his chest. Logan couldn’t suppress a smile in return, even if he wanted to.

Virgil appears at the staircase then, looking comically ethereal. His long, re-dyed hair and wide-sleeved elven robe blow in the wind, his expression soft and quietly observant; He looks much more like the picture of a dark-elven noble you would find in a storybook than the grizzled soldier they’ve been travelling with. Even his eyes have changed color, with his sclera turned black and his pupils reflecting pale moonlight.

Virgil spots Patton and Annie embracing, and relaxes at the sight of them. Then he turns his gaze on the rest of the team, and his usual scowl returns, eyes glowing red to match. Logan is almost comforted by the familiarity.

“Olath ilhar, You’re hurt!” Virgil growls, rushing down to meet them.

Logan grumbles to himself over the hypocrisy of that statement, looking over the bandages absolutely covering Virgil’s arms, legs and abdomen.

Roman shuffles his weight on his paws when he sees Virgil approach, but Virgil holds a hand out to him, scolding,

“Oh don’t you even start! You will sit and wait your turn!”

To Logan’s amazement, Roman whines and sits down on the grass, looking thoroughly reprimanded.

(Well that is just not fair.)

Virgil looks over each of them in turn, searching for wounds. He circles Patton first, alarmed by the bandages across his middle. The careful prodding of his hands remains in stark contrast to the snarl in his voice,

“I wouldn’t have let you go if I knew you were going to be so reckless!”

“You hardly let us go at all. And, only two of us are injured.” Logan corrects as if he can’t help it, not taking Virgil’s returning glare so seriously.

“Three of you! Roman is barely standing. And that’s more than half of your party, yutrit'zarreth!” Virgil hisses back. He moves over to Logan and stalks around him, searching him as well.

“I’m fine, Virgil, I didn’t even get near the battle.” Logan protests, shrugging off Virgil’s patchwork cloak in order to return it.

Virgil bares his teeth, still unconvinced. Logan sighs and sits through his examination, though he can’t help but complain to himself about how unfair Virgil is being.

Reminding himself of Virgil’s wounds, Logan uses their proximity to examine his bandages. They seem fairly well-wrapped, but it’s clear he hasn’t had any magical healing since they saw him last, and the bags under his eyes are dark even for Virgil. Every day it seems Virgil is stretching the limits of what levels of pain a person can ignore — by all accounts, he shouldn’t be conscious right now, much less standing.

The last few battles, Logan had tried not to think too much about why Virgil does this, and even less about how he became able to. But, at this point, it’s become obvious that he has a very serious problem. Logan’s going to have to do something if he doesn’t want Virgil to drive himself into the grave...

While he lets himself worry, Logan also notices the belt of Virgil’s quiver is strapped right over his bandages.

“Are you wearing that against your bare skin?” Logan scolds before he can stop himself, “What about the wound on your back?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Virgil grumbles, though bringing it up seems to have scared him off. He snatches his cloak from Logan’s hands, pulling it in under his robe and fastening it so it lies between the robe and his skin, then slinks away, glowering. Logan can’t help but think he’s misstepped, somehow.

Virgil has already moved on to look over Janus, who also tries to shoos the archer away, insisting he’s unharmed. Virgil hisses at him, too, but quickly moves on to Remus anyway.

“Get inside and rest, all of you!” Virgil orders as he prowls around him, examining the bruises on his sides and back with gentle touches, “We’ve already lost too much travel time as it is, at this rate we’ll never make it to the Capital.”

“What about Roman? I doubt he can fit inside, are we just going to leave him out here??” Patton whines. Virgil snaps a short, sharp laugh and glares at the bear,

“Yeah, for all I care.”

Roman groans at him, and Virgil snaps something back in Drowic. Logan doesn’t know if he can actually understand Virgil’s words or just the tone in which he’s saying them, but Roman is certainly respecting his orders more than he did Logan’s.

(Logan quickly reminds himself that Virgil had once claimed to be a Ranger, and answers his own questions on the matter.)

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Logan advises carefully, taking note of Virgil’s mood. He keeps his tone as soothing as possible as he explains,

“This is his first time shifting, we should stay to make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless. Besides, specifically as a bear, he will grow distressed if we leave his sight.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to study him.” Janus supplies unhelpfully, apparently living to annoy him. Virgil doesn’t respond, though, and Logan can tell that his reasoning got through to him.

Remus rolls his eyes, quickly growing bored of their debate,

“Well, I’m certainly staying with Brother Bear over here, and the three of us have a long overdue heart-to-heart scheduled for, ehhh, right about now~!”

Virgil pretends not to hear him while he studies the bruise on Remus’s back. Remus frowns at being ignored, turning on his heel and grabbing Virgil’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks,

“Let’s have a little chat~! You aren’t getting out of this, slick.”

Virgil glares holes into Remus’s chest, then turns away from him, hissing his discomfort the entire way. Janus looks similarly displeased, leveling an unfriendly look at Remus before taking his hand and following along.

Logan and Patton follow the three of them, Annie holding Patton’s hand and instructing Roman to follow behind.

Virgil leads them to a vacated barn, instructing Roman to lie down and wait. Annie nestles in next to his side, and Logan and Patton join her, watching Virgil lead Remus and Janus back out. Virgil keeps himself several paces ahead of them, looking like he might lose his nerve and bolt at any minute.

Logan and Patton share an uneasy look, only able to speculate about what happened between Virgil and the odd duo…

Janus doesn’t say a word, worried about getting himself in trouble before they even start the conversation. Virgil already seems tense, and Janus doesn’t ignore the way he positions himself closer to the Manor complex than to the barn.

Once he’s satisfied they’re far enough away that Logan can’t eavesdrop, he very rigidly turns to face his two old friends, waiting for someone else to start.

Janus and Virgil just glare in each other’s directions, both refusing to be the first to get vulnerable. (At least Virgil’s eyes are glowing faintly red, so Janus knows where they’re pointed, and where the hell Virgil is.)

Remus stands with his hands on his hips and glances between them impassively, knowing it’s only a matter of time until one of them cracks.

Despising the awkward silence more than anything else, Janus finally smirks,

“Well, you look terrible.”

“What are you doing here?” Virgil growls, shifting his gaze between the two. He still hasn’t looked either of them in the eye, just glaring at the grass by their feet like it’s done something to offend him; something it took many years to get Virgil to stop doing.

“Oh, you know I just love the Faewild,” Janus grumbles, folding his arms defensively, “But, this time, I must confess we were mainly looking for you.”

“Why?” Virgil growls even lower, his eyes turning even brighter red. Janus rolls his eyes at the aggressive display, 80% certain Virgil is simulating it this time.

“What do you mean ‘why?’” Janus scoffs, quickly growing annoyed, “It’s been so long, I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost!”

Janus expected the cold reception, of course, but he’s never exactly been lauded for his temper. Remus steps in, knowing a spat is imminent if he doesn’t. He chuckles,

“You fucked off in quite a rush, but you did say you were coming home eventually.”

Virgil’s jaw drops.

He quickly shakes himself out of it and resumes his defensive posture, but the damage was done; The same shocked look spreads to the other two. The three just stare each other down, all of them growing more confused by the minute.

Virgil breaks first, looking away at a suddenly very interesting rock as he mumbles,

“…You expected me to come back?”

Janus can immediately read the implication under the words; the question Virgil is afraid to ask. He feels his chest constrict a little at the thought, too winded to keep up his usual snark. In all of the visions he had seen to prepare for this moment, Virgil had never reacted like this. Usually he ran, and often he was angry at them or scared of them, but never…dejected.

“Darling, of course! How could you assume anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil huffs, shoulders raising up to his ears, “Maybe it was the huge fucking fight we had seconds before I ran off for two fucking years— Aren’t you mad?!”

“No!” Janus and Remus shout at the same time, with varying levels of surprise and distress. Virgil’s still on the offensive, glaring at them.

“Fuck off! I almost took your whole arm off, and then you leased that dweomer, and Remus lost it—”

“That’s not the first time we each went a little crazy, Virgil.” Janus shakes his head, subtly motioning down to his ankle,

“That’s part of the reason we’ve stuck together for so long, remember?”

Virgil smiles a little at the reference, an inside joke between the three of them he thankfully hasn’t forgotten. Still, he seems reluctant.

He turns a bit towards them now, though he’s started picking at his nails, like he does when he’s really nervous. His eyes are wide and startled, but he still won’t look up,

“That time was… different. Something happened. I think I…” He shakes his head, steadying his voice before he continues,

“No, I know it this time. I’m not going crazy, something cursed me in that cave! All I remember is us knocking over some altar with a crystal on it, and now I can do magic on the surface?! And I got all paranoid about every little move, and I tried to run off for good!”

“It wasn’t a curse. At least, I don’t think so.” Janus sighs, looking down at his hand, which is now covered in dragon-like scales under his glove. “And it wasn’t just you, either.”

Remus grins, focusing on drawing forward that strange energy he now houses. He holds out his hand, letting Virgil watch as he conjures the usual smoke effects he’s always been able to summon, now along with some unusual yellow lightning flashing within.

“Me and Deedee also got some cool new powers~! And some other weird stuff, too!”

Virgil slowly creeps forward to get a better look, still apparently deciding whether he should be afraid or angry. Very slowly, he reaches up and lays one of his hands on Remus’s, then raises the other. Janus and Remus watch as Virgil’s eyes glow blue, and a cluster of lightning grows out of his skin, dancing around his fingers. A moment later, both magic effects fizzle out with a sharp crackling sound.

“Where did you learn that?” Janus hums, mildly impressed, though he already knows the answer. Virgil shrugs, looking back towards the barn,

“Logan’s been teaching me how to control it. I’m still not great at it yet, but I haven’t accidentally killed anyone in several days.” Virgil sighs. He looks around at his friends, finally looking them in the eyes, though he still looks a bit like a frightened animal. Slowly, he adds,

“I still don’t know how I feel about this,” He admits, then sends a short glance at Remus, “But, you and your brother have to do something together in town, right? So… We’re all going in the same direction, anyway.”

“And you’re set on these new guys?” Janus sighs, trying not to sound disappointed. Virgil shrugs.

“I don’t think I can leave them yet. I’m making progress, but I still need Logan’s help…” Virgil looks back at the barn, an annoyed grumble returning to his tone,

“And, these three are kind of pathetic. I really don’t think they’ll make it in one piece without us, anyway.”

Janus chuckles in agreement, not at all surprised. Remus flips his hair with a smile,

“Oh, so there’s an ‘us’ now~?”

Before Virgil can even blush at the slip, Remus is laughing again,

“Well then, it can’t be helped~ Looks like the three of us are coming with them!”

“Of course.” Janus nods, “As much as it pains me to waste my time with such irksome people, it would be convenient for us to travel together. And, according to Logan, you need a sorcerer’s help with the whole ‘training’ thing.”

(Janus avoids adding a snarky remark about how “that also proves that you never should have left to begin with,” though it is difficult.)

“I’d rather it be you then some other high class know-it-all I haven’t met. One is enough.” Virgil admits, though he can’t resist rolling his eyes at Janus’s snark.

Now, a bit of a smirk has returned to Virgil’s face. He looks between the two again, blushing slightly and fiddling with his hands again to distract from his brain. Virgil himself is unsure whether he’s more afraid or hopeful. Not that he would ever admit to the latter.

“So… you really aren’t mad?”

“No, dear. If any of us have a right to be, it’s you.” Janus sighs. Virgil whines in complaint,

“But— Two years is a long time for you, you can’t just let me get away with that!”

“I was busy with something, anyway, so it’s no big deal~” Janus sighs, not quite willing to admit to himself whether or not it’s a lie. To silence Virgil’s arguing he holds one hand out to Virgil, and focuses on melting away just that little section of his glamour.

Green and yellow scales are revealed all along his hand and wrist, and Virgil gasps for a moment, reaching over to touch them. The look he gives Janus then is devastating, the last of the fear easing out of his shoulders as the memory of that night washes over him.

“This is what I was scared of?” Virgil frowns, sounding more than a little disappointed in himself, “Your scales are spreading?”

“There’s much more to it than that,” Janus quickly corrects him, letting the phrase carry a lot of weight for him, “But we can get into that when you’re awake enough to process a more detailed conversation.”

“I thought you were just born with them. Are you supposed to grow more?”

“No, I’m not. Like Remus said, you aren’t the only one who was affected.” Janus shrugs, “We both have physical mutations, though not quite like your scars. Remus already mentioned what happened to his wings, didn’t he?”

Virgil turns to him expectantly. Remus holds his hands behind his back and grins,

“Ooooh no, I’m saving that surprise for something special. After all, now Roman’s here to see ‘em too, and you know I can’t resist dramatic timing~”

“Before you keep insisting you’re too dangerous to congregate around,” Janus muses lightly before Virgil can say another word, “You’re not the only one with new temporal magic.”

Janus takes a tiny amount of pleasure in the momentary horror on Virgil’s face. As a treat.

“Oh, don’t get all worked up, my love~” Janus teases, patting Virgil’s arm, “I’m not able to affect time in any real sense, I can only predict the future. That’s how we were able to track you somewhat reliably.”

“That’s terrifying.” Virgil grumbles, “Are you guys having bursts like mine??”

“Nope. Aside from the visions, which can sneak up on me at times, I’m perfectly in control of my magic.” Janus smirks, “Remus has been having a similar problem to yours, when he gets excited. Not nearly as large-scale, though it can occasionally be dangerous.”

“And I revel in the chaos of it, so no skin off my back~!” Remus grins.

They fall into silence again, though it’s a bit more comfortable now. Virgil shuffles from foot to foot, not quite sure how to end the conversation, or disperse the lingering doubts and awkwardness hanging between them.

(As much as Virgil can try and dismiss his old feelings as “part of the Madness Roman cured,” there’s still a lot about that night that still doesn’t feel right in Virgil’s gut, and he doesn’t know how long he wants to wait for a longer explanation.)

(And, though their parting altercation has been mostly dismissed, it’s still been two years since he saw them last. Virgil knows how much non-elves can change in that time. What if even now, with everything said and done, they still can’t go back to the way they were before? What if they’re different now, and they don’t get along as well as they used to? Should he really want to, anyway??)

Sensing his worries and eager to put them to rest, Janus peels his other glove off as well and steps forward, very gently taking Virgil’s hands.

“Are you angry?” He asks, softly and genuinely.

“You can be upset, Virgil. A lot has happened, it’s okay if you need time.” Janus sends a glance in Remus’s direction, prodding him to help. Remus gives Virgil one of his ‘dazzling’ grins, trying to reassure him that they don’t hold any grudges.

Virgil relishes the familiar feeling of Janus’s hand, shoving aside his remaining worries. He’ll deal with his lingering doubts later.

(Their arrival has added an incredible number of new problems to his plate, but he’s frazzled and exhausted. His best friends are back, and they don’t hate him. At least for tonight, that will be enough; God knows he has enough to worry about right now, anyway.)

Virgil shakes his head, voice still sore from earlier that day, and nearly boneless with exhaustion. Janus and Remus share a knowing look, well aware Virgil is hiding something but too overwhelmed to get into it now.

“Let’s just head back in and rest for tonight.” Virgil sighs, brushing his hair behind his ear. He turns to Janus, frowning,

“In the morning, you’re going to have to tell them about the sorcery thing. And, probably also about being a snake. Logan never leaves it be at one question.”

“Ugh! You people won’t let me keep any of my secrets!” Janus complains, folding his arms. He already knew he would need to come clean, but that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it. He tilts his chin up in an expression of faux-contempt, tone mocking,

“Fine, but only if you promise to actually sleep tonight. I wasn’t kidding earlier, you look like shit.”

“That’s not fair, someone has to keep watch!”

“We have a twenty-foot bear in there, who is going to sneak up on that? You’re being ridiculous.”

“But what about when Roman changes back in the morning? Someone has to be awake to help him!”

“I will, then!” Remus scoffs, “I’m his brother, he’s not gonna want anyone else to see him naked. Besides, we all know damn well you’re going to wake up the second anyone moves, hypersensitive ass.”

“Oh, shit.” Virgil hums, “We should pick him up some clothes before we head back in…”

“Ooooh, can I pick them out~?” Remus grins evilly. Virgil slaps his arm, trying not to laugh,

“No, leave him alone! He’s probably gonna be scared at first. You can bully him later.”

“You’re such a buzzkill! I don’t remember you being this lame.”

“Say that again when I have the energy to kick your ass.”

They playfully shove and bat at each other the whole way up the stairs, being careful of each other’s wounds while threatening to throw the other off the balcony. At the same time, they move slowly, considerate of Janus’s leg and eyesight.

Janus watches them and suppresses a fond smile, his cold heart warming at how quickly they’ve started to ease back into their usual dynamic...

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Ask 119 (( @zozomind , @renee-niles ))

Game Start

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Rules

Most Recent Recap, in case you feel like you missed something!

Available for questions: Logan, Patton, Remus, Janus, Annie, Virgil, and…Roman?

You have reached the end of Level 2!

Begin Level 3: The Past is Never Dead

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You can now save your first File in Level 3 with the Game Menu!

Save Files:

File A.1: Communication ?

File B.2: The Heart of the Matter ?

File B.3: Angel’s Epithet ?

File B.4: Pack Tactics ?

File B.5: Lay Bear the Breast ?

File B.6: Lay Bare the Beast ?

File B.7: Moonlight Dancers ?

[ !!! WARNING: Save File Limit Breached! ]

[ Which file will you DELETE? ]

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…What a curious title. I wonder what it could mean…

...And it looks like you’ve unlocked something new in the Game Menu!

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(( UPDATED: If you missed the Patreon/Kofi announcement! ))

#please tell me if i need to tag anything else!#lets roll #save point #ttrpgau art #ask rpg sanders sides #asks open #sanders sides rpg au #Roman the Werebear #long post #long answer #game menu #renee-niles #zozomind

211 notes · View notes

lemon-boy-stan · 4 years

Text

bruises, boys, chasers and detention - fred weasley x reader requested by @yourlocalauthor, anon, and anon. i basically merged all your requests into one. sorry it took so long. for the anon who requested x ravenclaw reader, i’m sorry i couldn’t do that. instead, i’ll probably make a hc. hope that’s ok. warnings: lee jordan. sexual references.

You'd been looking forward to the first Quidditch match of the year all the holidays. And now you were positive that the match was the worst event of your day that had happened. Fred got a week's worth of detention, you were in the hospital wing and Adrian Pucey had a broken nose.

The rest of the day was actually pretty good. The bad stuff started halfway through the Quidditch match. The weather was terrible and you could barely see or keep your hands on your Bluebottle.

You only just managed to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend - a whir of bright vermillion, maroon, brown and yellow. He waved at you and you waved back.

"L/N!" Snapped Oliver, "get your head in the game!" You nodded grimly and tried your best to concentrate.

"Oi, Y/N! On your left!" Shrieked Angelina, swooping to your right. Slytherin chasers Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey zoomed over.

The two of them grinned at each other before steering their Nimbus 2001s, hooking their brooms and going on your left and right side.

"Zabini and Pucey have cornered our beautiful Seeker of Gryffindor house, I've got a sinking feeling in my stomach here and a determined force in me - I think it's humor - that's telling me the two gits won't have a happy ending if Y/N’s boyfriend of - is it six years? - Fred Weasley is going to do anything about, I daresay the two pigs will find a lot of nasty surprises, sponsored by the Beaters in red -" began a gleeful Lee Jordan, sniggering loudly into the microphone.

You could only just hear Professor Mcgonnagall barking at him to shut up. You would've laughed at Lee’s words to yourself but you had other things to worry about. Blaise and Adrian had cornered you.

You gritted your teeth and tried your best to spot out the Snitch in the dreadful weather - you certainly weren't going to let a couple of dickheads ruin your chance of winning.

When it came to cheating, however, Slytherin house certainly didn't give up. There was an upset roar from the crowd and an assortment of hooting and cheering which came from the Slytherin stands.

There was a bang and a grunt and your shoulder made contact with the fabric of the curtains.

Your stomach churned from the motion but you were determined to stay focused - you'd only just seen the Snitch and now you tightened your grip on the handle.

"She's seen it, lads and lasses! She dives! She escapes the violent clutches of Pucey and Zabini, only just making it out by the luscious strand of hair over -"

"JORDAN!" Bellowed Professor McGonnagall. Lee snickered loudly into the microphone as you puffed before diving again.

"Right, sorry for the biased narration, Professor," the snicker Lee gave off wasn't very apologetic and it distracted you long enough for Adrian and Blaise to get back on your tail again. “Can’t really help it when we all hate Slytherin house any - alright, alright!”

Something, a bone, most likely, in your arm cracked as you smashed into the wall, taking all of Pucey's weight. There was hooting from Slytherin and an outraged roar from Gryffindor. Oliver was almost as outraged as Fred was; the Snitch had now disappeared.

You took another hit and then another and there was a loud thud; you realised that you were the one making the thud, soaring into the dirt below.

There was more excited screaming and snickering from the wave of silver and green and an even louder outraged roar from Gryffindor as you tumbled.

"Exhibition B shows us the obvious cheating ways of Slytherin House and what an incredible (and furious) boyfriend Fred Weasley is, oh, look at him dive, look at him dive!” grinned Lee. "Angelina gets the Quaffle, but is there really any point when all eyes are on our gorgeous Seeker? Something doesn't seem quite right with Y/N! And look at this, everyone, Weasley's face is as red as his mother's hair!" Lee cackled into the microphone.

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall bellowed the words as the Gryffindor team flew down to your side. You groaned loudly, clutching your arm, gritting your teeth. “What’re you all doing?!” you exploded, “they’re going to win!” none of the Gryffindor team, not even Oliver, seemed the least bit frustrated about winning. George pointed and zoomed down to join you all. “Fred’s still playing, absolutely clueless. If he looked at what was going on more than he looked at her boobs, he’d be outrag -”

“JORDAN! TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!”

“Weasley dives down to join the huddle of red and gold, you can’t even see any of his freckles, they’re all camouflaged with the hideous anger, if you have Omnioculars, zoom in, look at how pissed he is - going to be, even more so when he finds out his girlfriend won’t be able to - alright, Professor, alright…” Lee huffed before silencing. The outrage from the Gryffindor stands endured a battle between the cheers and hoots from Slytherin house as Stacey Linkman caught the Snitch. “Slytherin cheats their way to victory in this one…” grumbled Lee, “Slytherin wins.”

“Get out of the way,” you could hear and see Fred shoving Angelina and Katie to the side. Soon he was by yours, George pushed the rest of the team out.

“Think I broke…” you mumbled. “Arm,” you held your right up before cursing loudly, “ow!”

“I told you not to play!” Fred grumbled loudly. “I said ‘sit this one out, we’re going against Slytherin - your arm is already fractured!’ and you said, ‘no, Freddie, I want to play, it’s no fun watching you all!’ and I said, ‘well, fine, then, five Galleons if you break something,’ and you owe me five Galleons!”

You tried to cross your arms before realising you couldn’t, giving him a vicious death glare instead. “I’m going to kill those two cheats if it’s the last thing I can do…” he hissed, fire kindling dangerously in his eyes.

“No idea what he’s saying,” said Lee, still going on with the commentary. “Slytherin house looks like a bunch of smug cheats… and, look! Weasely’s playing doctor! Professor, let me have my fun!”

“Ouch…” you let out a small whimper, Fred’s eyes glowered dangerously as the Slytherin team walked over, smug smiles on each member’s face.

“Good game, L/N,” smirked Pucey, holding out his hand. “Let’s shake on it, eh? Oh, wait,” the rest of the team laughed loudly, cackling. “Must be upsetting, isn’t it, Freckle Fred, when your girlfriend’s the only toy you’ve got, you’re going to have to return her, you won’t even get fifty percent -”

“Fred, stop,” you muttered. “Leave it alone,” Fred took no notice of your words. “Fred, it’s not worth it,”

“Pucey has obviously said something offensive, Weasley’s face is even more red now, Weasley charges Pucey, Weasley Number Two doesn’t even bother to hold his brother back, this is getting interesting!”

“Got something to say, you -”

“Listen here, you little dingbat,” you were positive that you’d never seen Fred this angry since your second grade. “If you think for one second that Y/N is a toy -” he spat the words with disgust, nails digging into his palms. “You can go home to your little Death-Eater -” his snarl was furious, terrifying.

“Fred,” you muttered, “Fred, stop.”

“Come on, Fred, it’s not worth it, mate,” began George. You forced yourself to get up, knowing that Fred would never listen to anyone else.

“Fred, let’s go,” you muttered again, “come on.” He ignored you.

Pucey smirked in satisfaction, crossing his arms with a snicker.

“Well,” Pucey wore an even bigger smirk than he had before, “at least my parents spend their time with time-worthy people rather than yours with Mudbloods,”

Angelina and Katie let out angered gasps. You wished that you could shrink to the size of an ant - so small that not even derogatory terms would be able to hurt and embarrass you.

Because even George was angry now. Not as angry as Fred was, but still angry.

“Pucey calls Y/N a Mudblood, Merlin, he must be wishing for a good kick in the dick!” cackled Lee Jordan, a hint of disgust in his voice that only his close friends would be able to sift out. “Broken arm or two…”

“SHUT UP!” roared both Fred and Professor McGonagall.

“Aren’t you thick?” growled Fred, “haven’t your foul parents taught you to read a room?”

“They have,” snapped Pucey back, “and I do, only when I want to.”

“You over entitled piece of -” began George loudly.

“Who are his parents, anyway?” Whispered Katie. Oliver shrugged, watching silently.

Fred’s lip curled.

“One’s in Azkaban,” he stood his ground, and the other’s friends with the Malfoys. Bill told us last year,” hissed Fred.

“At least my parents taught me the worth of Muggles and their kids. Which is -” Adrian turned to you, “a big, fat, zero.”

Fred charged him.

“Don’t - you - dare - insult - her - or her - family - in front of - me - STUPEFY!”

“Fred!”

“Weasley casts Stupefy on Pucey, serves him right!”

Fortunately, Fred didn’t get all of him. He did get his nose, though, and because Stupefy didn’t really work on body parts, there was a loud crack. You and the girls gasped, covering your mouths in horror.

George shook his head in dismay.

Professor McGonagall, Snape, Madame Hooch and Promfrey came running down.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor! Detention, Mr. Weasley! A week’s worth -”

“Now, now, Professor Snape,” Professor McGonagall came to Gryffindor (and Fred’s)’s rescue, tutting loudly. “Although duelling is against school rules, Mr. Weasley had a very good reason for it - Mr. Pucey did break Miss L/N’s arm (with aid from Mr. Zabini, who will be put on a week’s worth of Quidditch ban, Mr. Pucey will also be spending that week’s ban in the Hospital Wing, and Madame Pomfrey will put him in her utmost care (although not too comfortable)), and I will be deducting fifty points from Slytherin for the use of derogatory language and violence and I will ask Madame Hooch what she would like to do.”

Snape seethed through his nose.

“Yes, Minerva, a week’s worth of Quidditch ban will be perfect for Mr. Zabini. Miss L/N may have to take a few day’s break and because Slytherin cheated their way to victory, Gryffindor win.” Madame Hooch waved her wand and you assumed that the numbers on the scoreboard had changed.

“Lemons really do make lemonade! Broken arms award ten winning points! L/N, break a literal leg next week, please!”

Gryffindor house roared with laughter.

“Alright, Miss L/N, Mr. Pucey, come with me...”

I suck at endings lmaoooooo. I AM SO SORRY I TOOK LIKE TEN YEARS TO WRITE THIS OMG THE OTHERS ARE COMING I PROMISE GUYS

MASTERLIST

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader #fred and goerge weasley #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley x gryffindor reader #fred weasley x reader broken arm #fred weasley x injured reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x fem reader #i took ten years to write this #george weasley x reader

469 notes · View notes

zdbztumble · 3 years

Text

DAY 6: Sci-Fi AU (Free Day)

@lightningenergy and I figured we had to use a free day here because the Day 6 prompt wouldn’t work in the group fic verse we’ve been using...and, as it turns out, we didn’t use that verse for this fic anyway XD

***

“This can’t be right.”

Misty looked over at Ash. He was frowning at a poster tacked on the wall of the tavern baring his face. WANTED by order of Rocket Empire, it read. Reward: 10,000 Credits.

“Only ten thousand?!” Ash continued. “That’s too low.”

“You’re an idiot.” Misty said, turning back to her drink. Sitting between them on the bench, P1K4-CH00 and 4ZU-R1LL, chirped their agreement. She subconsciously touched the blaster in her holster. “Do you wanna get caught? Then keep your mouth shut.”

Ash snorted. “Yeah, like anyone in here’s a team trooper.”

“That’s what you said about the repair shop on K.N.20.”

“Well, you’re the one who thought that poor salesman was a spy on Lumos.”

Misty coughed and squirmed uncomfortably. “That was just an incomplete assessment of the facts.”

“Which means you were wrong.”

“…He had a blaster.”

“And you were wrong.”

“…His droid was a bug unit!”

“And you were wrong.”

“OH! - That reward should be 10 million, you twerp!”

Ash grinned. “Exactly! That’s a reward worth my reputation.”

“Reputation, yes,” Misty said, draining her drink and signaling for another. “Ability? Ha.”

“You–” He stopped talking when he noticed a pair of Rocket Troopers entering the bar. He flinched and turned away to hide his face.

“What’s the matter, hotshot?” Misty asked, smirking. “I thought you wanted a bigger bounty.”

“Not at the risk of getting caught.” he mumbled.

“Caught?” Misty started to turn toward the doorway, but Ash yanked her in close to him by the ponytail. “OW! What are you - mmmph!”

When the Rocket Troopers passed by their bench, they saw no faces; just two young people making out, their droids beeping and whistling in joy. The troopers kept walking without a word.

“W-W-Where did you get that idea?” Misty asked in a trembling whisper. Her face was flushed as deep red as the lights on P1K4-CH00’s sides.

Ash’s face was just as red. “Um…well, I might’ve seen in it on a filmbook once…”

Misty checked to make sure the Troopers had passed before smacking her companion upside the head. 4ZU-R1LL beeped in amusement. “Ask next time,” she growled.

“Hey, you were the one enjoying it.”

“Enjoying it–?!”

He flashed that smile that she both loved and hated. “That’s what I said.”

Trembling, Misty stumbled onto her feet. “Enjoying it, huh!? Well Ash Ketchum, if that’s what you think -”

“Ketchum?” The Troopers whirled around. “Hold it right there - let’s see that P1K4 unit!”

“…Uh-oh,” Misty squeaked.

“Drinks were overpriced anyways!” Ash said, tossing his at the troopers to distract them. Then he plugged them each with a bolt from his weapon, and they slumped to the floor, their wound smoking. He grabbed Misty’s hand, scooped up the droids in his other arm, and hightailed it out towards the shipyard.

“Oh, great!” Misty snarled as they ran. “Now I get a reward poster!”

“They don’t even know who you are!” said Ash. “P1K4, once we reach the hanger, set off a pulse, blow all the lights in this place!”

“‘Don’t even know me?’ I’m one of the princesses of Cerulean! The most beautiful, most intelligent, most -”

“Run now, brag later!”

Thankfully their speeders were still where they left them. Ash could hear another platoon of Troopers yelling and running after them. “Any time now, buddy…”

P1K4 unleashed a short-ranged EMP, bursting nearby lights and short-circuiting the Troopers’ comm units. Ash smiled as he swung his legs onto his bike. He pulled his droid into the bag behind him and started the engine.

“Mine’s busted!” Misty said, fixing him with a hard glare. “P1K4 must’ve gotten it in the blast!”

“Er…”

“There they are!” a voice barked behind them.

“You’re paying for that!” said Misty as she climbed on behind Ash. His face flushed again as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Get going, and 4ZU, leave an ice spray behind us!”

Ash gunned the throttle and they were off, leaving a massive dust cloud – and a wall of frost – in their wake. Ash couldn’t help but chuckle: there’s no way the Troopers could catch up with busted comms. Any day without G0L-B4T Fighters was a good day.

“You know I could turn you in for the money to get my speeder fixed!” Misty shouted over the wind and the whir of the engine.

“I thought I had to pay for it!” Ash shot back.

“You are - from your reward!”

“But then the Empire’s paying for it!”

“I - I - If you’re right one more time today, I will turn you in!”

“Can we just focus on getting to our next destination alive, please?!”

“Fine, you scruffy-lookin’ pain-in-the-ass… hmph. Where are we headed, anyways?”

“… Um.”

“TURN TO THE NEAREST EMPIRE OUTPOST RIGHT NOW!!”

“No, no, I know where to go next!”

“Ash, this is no time for your - you’re going into the mountains!? You know we can’t take this thing into high altitudes! That’s it, I’m driving!”

“No, Misty, I know - knock it off! - Master Riley said, after we left him at the station - you’re throwing us off! - I could find him in the - ah, in the…”

In her efforts to take the controls, Misty had ended up in the front of the seat - facing backwards, straddled across Ash’s lap. Ash could hear P1K4 and 4ZU beeping away, and it didn’t take a genius to know what they were talking about. “You’re kind of in the way.” he told Misty.

“S-shut up!” The speeder wobbled underneath them, tossing Misty forward against Ash’s chest.

“And you’re still throwing us off-balance,” Ash said.

“Well, stop and I’ll move!”

“I can’t stop, you’re in the way! Try to reach the main throttle.”

“Okay, just let me -”

She leaned too far to the left. The whole speeder swerved with her, and the front fins lodged into the trunk of a massive Caladan tree. The shock of the impact knocked Misty forward again, this time pushing her face against Ash’s.

“…Mai mrought me mere mrumosed moo mask,” Ash mumbled.

She shoved him away onto the dusty ground, where he landed with an “oof!”

“I’ll give you one thing,” she snapped, looking back the way they came. “We lost them. For now.”

Ash pushed himself up, dusting off his already dirty clothes. “Satisified, Your Highness?”

“Hmmph.” Misty collected 4ZU and eyed the peak of the nearest mountain. “And how does the great droid smuggler Ash Ketchum suggest we get up there by night without a speeder to take us part of the way?”

“Relax. I can get the speeder free.” He nodded to P1K4, who opened a compartment on its chest and presented Ash with a pair of blue gloves with jewels set behind the knuckles. Ash slid them on, closed his eyes, and stretched a hand out toward the speeder’s fins without touching any part of the bike.

This again? Misty bit down a smart remark. In her whole life, she had never seen anything to make her think that the “all-powerful” Aura masters were anything but con men magicians, but Ash and this Master Riley of his were true believers. And Misty had to admit, Ash was truly concentrating…

Though the look on his face when the speeder bike dislodged and almost flew into him was almost worth all the trouble she’d had to put up with today. Almost.

“At least you’re a better pilot than an Aura Master.”

Ash scowled as he walked over to check the speeder’s condition.

P1K4 twisted around and gave her an angry whistle. (“He told you Aura was real!”)

4ZU beeped at her as well. Misty scowled and set it down by P1K4, then retreated under another nearby tree. She was too tired for a full-blown argument with Ash or the droids. If a real display of Aura was the most amazing thing she had ever seen…Well, if he wants me to admit it, the least he could do is try for another kiss when our lives don’t depend on it…

#pokeshipping week 2021 #z's fics #lightning energy #pokeshipping #AU #fan fiction #drabble

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

Text

My One And Only - Chapter 16

Previous | Next | Master List

Chapter 16! When I have new chapters, I post it on Wattpad first then here then on AO3 as fast as I can. I watched Gang of Secrets yesterday, I fangirled greatly.

Adrien hoped that Ladybug wasn't too injured, she's far too valuable and important to be lost, especially at the beginning of, what looks like, Hawkmoth's new rise of power.

"Something tells me things are about to get a lot more serious from here on out"

————————————————————

"-ngel, Angel it's time to wake up" Marinette's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Damian's soft voice. She lifted her head off of his chest and sat up next to him, the green-eyed boy nuzzled her neck much like a cat. "Sorry for waking you but I do not wish to have your sleep schedule destroyed"

The girl giggled. "Kinda ironic that the true user of the miraculous of destruction doesn't want to have my sleep schedule destroyed" Then she shrugged. "Well I suppose you can't destroy something that's already destroyed"

"You should really get a full 8-hour sleep at least once a week" Damian grumbled as Marinette got up from the bed.

"Tell that to my cup of depresso- I mean espresso" she jokingly replied.

"In all seriousness, though" the green-eyed boy got up to sit in one of the armchairs in his hotel room. "How will you create a new team of heroes and who will you choose to uphold this responsibility?"

"Simple," she took a sip from her coffee, leaning on the wall. "I'll give each new member a miraculous, the first to join should be Adrien Agreste"

"The model?"

"Yep" the bluenette replied, popping the 'p'. "Believe it or not he was Chat Noir"

Damian raised one of his eyebrows. "They do seem quite different at first glance"

"I know right! Anyway, like I said, he was Chat Noir and he admitted to believing he was not the true owner of the miraculous. Though he might not think things through all the time, he's willing to listen and he's a good fighter"

"Admitting to that must have taken a lot of courage. He is attentive and skilled in combat" the black-haired boy hummed. "He sounds like an adequate addition to the team you are forming"

"You're just as important in this team as I am, Dami" Marinette reminded before putting a finger on her chin and thinking thoughtfully. "I was thinking maybe giving him the dog miraculous would work best"

Plagg scoffed. "The kid's gonna go from a cat to a dog eh? I know he doesn't make the wise decisions all the time but-"

Marinette rolled her eyes and continued as if Plagg hadn't said anything. "What's the power of the Dog miraculous, Tikki?"

"The Dog miraculous has the power of Location, it's ability is to retrieve and identify where any object or person is. The ability can locate them, hold them in place, bring them to the holder and/or rescue them possible captivity" Tikki stated, floating over to smack Plagg on the back of his head.

Marinette mumbled incoherently before humming thoughtfully. "I also think we should bring Alya into the team"

"Césaire? I understand she is your reporter now but what other significance does she have?" Damian questioned, trying not to offend his girlfriend's best friend.

"She's the first one other than Chat and I to join the heroes, she was Rena Rouge"

"Ah I see so you want to bring Rena Rouge back?"

The bluenette nodded as the green-eyed boy stood up from where he was sitting.

"Wanna come with me to get the miracle box?"

"Sure just... give me a minute" Marinette tilted her head in confusion as Damian went towards one of his cases and pulled, what looked like, a training mannequin. She watched as he then drew his katana and slashed at the poor mannequin, it was obliterated. The bluenette winced when the pieces hit the floor while Plagg barked a laugh.

"Now that's destruction" The black kwami then flew up to the boy and rested on his head. "Good job, kid"

Marinette giggled as he rolled his eyes and put his katana back. "In all honesty, I thought you were going to do a lot more damage in the battle. I'm surprised you're not that angry"

"Oh I am" Damian replied calmly. "Enormously so, I have just merely bottled my anger. If even the smallest ounce of it were to escape then, well, I don't think Hawkmoth would like a powerful Akuma whose only goal is to see him suffer"

The bluenette walked up to the angry vigilante, wrapped both of her arms on his left and rested her head on his shoulder. "No I don't think he would" she giggled as Damian kissed her temple. "You can use all that pent up anger in training later. For now, let's go get the miracle box"

"Lead the way, Angel"

~~~

The couple were on their way when Marinette heard a familiar voice, one that wasn't a friendly voice. She quickly pulled Damian and herself out of sight, leaning flat against the wall to safely ease drop.

"Is it true that you know the world-renowned chef Wang Cheng?" An unidentifiable voice asked.

"Yep! He actually gave me Master Class cooking sessions, that's how I've become an amazing chef myself!" The others awed at Lila's lies, Marinette felt her anger bubble, no one takes her Great Uncle's success and uses it for their own personal gain. "Actually, I was the one who helped him create his recipe for his signature dish"

"Oh my gosh, really?!"

"Yeah! I didn't help that much, he did most of the work" Lila's voice faded into the distance, Marinette was grateful that she didn't have to listen to the brunette anymore but she was also worried, 'How many lives is she willing to ruin just for popularity?'

The bluenette turned to glance at her boyfriend, only to be met with a visibly angry expression still looking at where they last saw the brunette. Marinette opened her mouth to start conversation but Damian beat her to it.

"Who does she think she is? Disrespecting Cheng Shifu in that manner" The green-eyed boy snarled. Marinette blinked in surprise.

"You know Cheng Shifu?"

Damian then looked at her, almost offendedly. "Of course! He is not just a chef, Cheng Shifu is an artist. We went to a grand opening of one of his five-star restaurants, arguably the place I was served the most exquisite food throughout my entire existence" He placed a finger on his chin in thought. "The best dish I was served had to be his signature recipe, Celestial Soup. Though, I think the name has changed to Marine-"

He paused and looked at his girlfriend's smug face, he presumed his face appeared to have an epiphany. This thought was confirmed when Marinette's giggles turned into proper laughter.

"No..."

"Yes" she giggled, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "He's my maternal great-uncle"

"My god, your mother must be an excellent cook then"

"Yep! She's the best! Now come on, to my house!" Marinette dragged Damian towards the bakery and use her keys to open the front door. His eyes diverted to a wrapped package of cupcakes. "Oh that's for Nadja, she'll come by to pick it up in a few minutes" She then gestured for him to follow her. They both went up through the trapdoor and to Marinette's room.

Damian knew that his angel's favourite colour was pink so he presumed her room was drowned in said colour, when he entered he was greeted by the splash of rose as expected but he was also greeted with many rolls of fabric. It wasn't a messy mess per se, more of an organized and pretty one. It correlated with Marinette quite well in his opinion. The green-eyed boy sat on the girl's chaise as she brought a spotted box out of one of her drawers. Box in hand, Marinette sat next to Damian and pressed a button, opening one of the cabinets and out of the cabinet appeared a new kwami.

"Hello, Great Guardian" The kwami began. "Do you need my help?"

"Hello Barkk, there's really no need to address me so formally" Marinette replied to Barkk, fidgeting her fingers. "And yes, I believe it's time for you to get a permanent holder"

"Really? Great! But what happened for you to make this decision?" The kwami noticed how Marinette flinched at the question and flew closer. The kwami gasped. "Nooroo's energy... did Hawkmoth do something?"

"He did" The sudden appearance of Damian's sharp voice made the Kwami rise slightly.

"Who-"

"Lover-boy over here is my true chosen, Barkk" Plagg and Tikki appeared through the floor after eating downstairs.

"Hmm, he does seem to have your energy"

"Yes Barkk, Damian is the true user of the Black Cat miraculous. He's also my boyfriend" Marinette's cheeks were dusted with the lightest shade of pink, they grew deeper in colour as Damian pressed his lips against her skin. "We were thinking of having Adrien use your miraculous and Alya using Trixx's miraculous" The bluenette stated, half-glaring at the green-eyed boy for getting her flustered.

"I think he'll be a great fit for the Dog miraculous" Barkk replied, happy to have a new permanent holder.

"Alright!" Marinette took the collar necklace from the compartment, followed by the necklace. The bluenette turned to face Damian, the collar necklace in her palm. "You can give Adrien his new miraculous, I'll go find Alya and we meet at the Eiffel Tower. It'll save time"

"But shouldn't you give the miraculous? Considering you are the guardian after all" he questioned.

The bluenette shook her head. "Its a good way to get to know each other because, well, you'll technically be my partner meaning that you're one of the leaders of this new team. You need to know who you're working with and you need to trust them to save your life, if it were to come to that"

Damian slowly nodded, reaching for the collar necklace. "Meet you at the Eiffel Tower then"

~~~

A certain blonde was strolling down an empty street in Paris, in sun was setting and it was deathly quiet. Luckily, his schedule was cleared for the whole day. However, had no idea how to spend his last few hours of freedom. Usually he would go out as Chat Noir and jump from rooftop to rooftop. But he wasn't Chat anymore. Adrien winced at the reminder of the events that occurred early that day, he felt so useless. Thank god for Noir. 'That is his name right? He's incredibly attractive, the hero has only showed up once and he's giving me a run for my money' Adrien couldn't help the flash of red that appeared on his face before pushing it down completely. 'If Kagami talked to me the way he normally sounds then...'

His train of thoughts stopped when a figure landed in front of him. His first instinct was to get into a protective stance, which he did, but he recognised the figure as Noir, the mysterious hero that saved Ladybug earlier, so he dropped his stance.

"Hi Noir, what can I do for you?" Adrien questioned trying to act poised when he knew the only suave one here was Noir himself. He was totally not fanboying over the new hero, no way.

"Adrien Agreste" The black cat-themed hero began. "I'm sure you are aware of the... predicament that occurred earlier today, considering the fact that you were a witness of the whole ordeal"

"Yeah..." Adrien tried to look at anything other than Noir, but he sighed as he failed.

"Knowing that Hawkmoth has had an increase in power, Ladybug and I have come to the joint decision to have other permanent holders and form a team of superheroes." Noir looked at the blonde straight in the eye.

"And you want me to be a part of the team?" The blonde's eyes widened as Noir nodded.

"You were Ladybug's first choice"

"I- really?" Adrien stuttered out in disbelief, 'She still wants me to have a miraculous? Even though I couldn't do anything today?'

"You were Chat Noir, my predecessor, were you not? I have a lot to live up to" Though Adrien couldn't see most of the hero's face, he could see his eyes and the encouragement that shone through. "Do you wish to help us?"

"Absolutely" the blonde wasted no time in confirming.

Noir nodded and pulled out a box. "Adrien Agreste, this is the dog miraculous of Location. Ladybug has entrusted me to entrust this miraculous to you, you shall use it for the greater good. Can we trust you?"

Adrien carefully took the box and nodded with determination. He opened the box and, similarly with Plagg, a small peach-colored glowing orb spun around him. When the light died down, a dog kwami was facing him. "Hello, Adrien. My name is Barkk. To transform say: 'Barkk, to the rescue!'" He out the collar around his neck.

"Barkk, to the rescue!" The blonde was engulfed in peach-colored light, leaving a new superhero when it died down. Adrien now stood in a brown suit with a white belly reaching up to his neck, white boots, white gloves, brown floppy dog ears that contrasted well with his blonde hair. He also had a short, brown, metallic tail that which on command, would appear in his hand as a boomerang-shaped weapon. The blonde found out that it could be pulled apart into two separate rods and that with a flick of the wrist, the boomerang could snap into place like a baton, similar with his staff as Chat Noir. "Pawsome!"

Noir nodded. "It would be best if we head to the Eiffel Tower as soon as possible, Ladybug and Rena Rouge are probably waiting for us" The cat-themed hero then used his staff to propel himself in the direction of the city's landmark, Adrien followed closely, his new powers allowed him to jump like Rena. Sure enough, both heroes arrived on the building where two heroine's were waiting.

"I was wondering when you were going to get here" Ladybug's voice rang out, stepping out from the shadows. Noir had transformed and left before Ladybug had but now he wished he was there to see it.

The spotted heroine's suit had changed greatly. The top part of her suit had changed to black, running down her arms fading to the familiar red. The bottom part of her suit remained the same red with black spots but she had matte-black along the bottom part of her legs, mimicking boots. The long ribbons in her hair remained the same except they faded to black at the tips. Noir looked away to stop his cheeks from getting any redder than they already were.

"Something wrong, Minou?" She asked teasingly.

"Tt, of course not"

Ladybug giggled while Rena and the dog-themed hero exchanged knowing glances. The spotted heroine turned to Adrien and gestured for him to introduce himself.

"Oh, I'm Le Chien"

"Well, Le Chien, Rena, Noir, we have some training we need to do"

~~~

By the end of their patrol and training session, Le Chien was exhausted. He bid the other heroes farewell and detransformed. Giving Barkk a sugar biscuit, which honestly smelt a lot better than Camember, Adrien ran down the Seine, hoping to meet up with two people in particular. Said figures appeared in the distance and when he was closer enough, Adrien pushed himself in between the two and placed one arm over each shoulder.

"Hey you two, what's up?" Adrien asked.

"We just wanted to watch the sunset" Kagami answered, "Right Luka?"

"Yes, the sky is very beautiful at sunset" The guitarist answered. Suddenly all three of their phones chimed. "Chloe's inviting us for a sleepover at the hotel"

"Did she say who would be there?" The bluenette asked.

"She invited us, Alya, Nino couldn't make it, Marinette and... Damian? Do you know who that is?" Luka looked between the blonde and the bluenette.

"No, never heard the name before" Adrien's oblivious self replied.

Kagami hummed, both boys looked at her in confusion. "You'll find out who he is later and before you ask, I know who he is. Now let's go get the things necessary for this sleepover"

~~~

When the trio arrived at Chloe's door, they were greeted by both the blonde herself and Alya.

"Hi Chloe, Hi Alya" Luka greeted the two.

"Just come on in already, the movie's about to start!" Chloe walked away from the door to sit on a space on her sofa out of the current view of the two bluenettes and blonde.

"What movie are we watching?" Kagami asked, entering the room first.

"Une Petite Frayeur, it was premiered just last week" Alya replied, "I don't know what the genre is yet, Chloe is refusing to tell" The brunette with glasses led them to the sofa, the coffee table decked out in snacks.

"Please don't tell me it's a horror movie" a soft voice whined.

"Oh, hi Marinette! We-" Adrien stopped mid sentence when he noticed Marinette sitting next to an unfamiliar figure. He walked up to the both of them and when he got close enough, he started spluttering. After a good minute, he managed to say words. "This man isn't doing anything yet he's a better model than me! You are waytoo attractive for your own good. Y-you're illegally attractive! I'm gonna have to take your good-looking license away"

Adrien held out his hand much like a police officer, one of Damian's eye brows shot up in amusement while Marinette giggled at the display. The bluenette looked Adrien in the eye, wrapped her arms around her boyfriend. "No" she deadpanned.

"Adrien, Luka, Kagami" Marinette got the other two's attention. "This is Damian, my boyfriend"

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Damian" Kagami held out her hand which the green-eyed boy took.

"Likewise"

"Wait you two know each other?" Adrien asked, his mind thinking of many different things at once.

"That explain's why Melody's music has changed"

"Alright enough chit-chat, let's watch the movie already!" Chloe cut in through the conversation.

"What genre is it?" Marinette timidly asked.

Chloe looked straight into the bluenette's eyes and smirked. "Horror"

~~~

Luckily the film wasn't that scary, well actually it was but the teens were busy arguing about how stupid and unrealistic the plot was.

"The murderer manages to get from point A to point B going at legit 2 kilometers per hour before the main protagonist, who just so happens to be sprinting, and they're insisting that they're human?!"

"Now you understand my frustration!"

"Well... he could've been running off-camera...?!"

"Well that wasn't implied!"

The rest of the sleepover was relatively quiet, at around midnight most of them had fallen asleep. If Alya, who were awake, managed to get a picture of Marinette cuddled in Damian's arms while they were asleep, the couple wouldn't know.

All but Chloe left in the morning after breakfast, Kitty Section would be practicing on the Liberty and Kagami came to watch. Alya would be on a date with Nino and Chloe was going to spend time with her parents, leaving Damian and Marinette free for the day. They decided just to spend the rest of their free time at Marinette's house, she had some commissions she needed to finish and Damian wanted to paint on her balcony.

When Marinette went up to her balcony through her trapdoor, she saw Damian sitting on the floor with some watercolour paint next to him. The bluenette had never been able to master using watercolours but she loved the way the paint looked. Peering over his shoulder, Marinette saw a realistic piece of the Notre Dame Cathedral and the air nearly escaped her, it was incredibly detailed. From the piece of artwork itself, the bluenette envisioned many pieces she could create and rushed to her sketchbook so her ideas could be on paper.

In the end, Damian gave the artwork to her so she could get inspiration whenever she wanted. He kissed her goodbye, since she had school the next day, and went back to the hotel.

~~~

"Marinette! You're going to be late!" Tikki's voice echoed in the bluenette's ears.

"Oh! Thanks Tikki!" Marinette shot out of bed, got changed, grabbed a croissant and rushed out the bakery, eating the croissant on her way. Alya was there waiting as usual.

"Hey girl!" The reporter called out after noticing her best friend, the bluenette waved back.

"Hey Alya!"

"Wow, this is probably the first time you've been early in a long time!" Marinette huffed while they both went to their lockers.

They found the room empty when the two arrived, making it easier to converse. As Alya was about to mention the photo she took of Marinette and the green-eyed boy, the bluenette winced, clutching her chest. The reporter rushed to her best friend's side but the blue-eyed girl ran to the bathroom, Alya followed not far behind. When the girl entered, she found Marinette in front of the sink, double-over with tears of pain threatening to spill. Not knowing what else to do, Alya went over to inspect where Marinette's hand was clutching, presuming that was the source of her pain. It was in the space of her curves, 'Isn't that the...' Alya gasped and looked at Marinette. It was so obvious, why hadn't she seen it sooner?

"Marinette?"

The bluenette looked at her best friend with a look that told her to continue.

"...You're Ladybug, aren't you?"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster,@frieddonutsweets,@jjmjjktth,@genderfluidmoma,@starlit-dreaming,@icerosecrystal,@lolieg,@kashlyn,@mochegato,@eggadoodle,@walkingthroughonautopilot,@toodaloo-kangaroo,@lady-bee-fechin

#daminette #damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #damianette #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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bibliocratic · 3 years

Note

I come bearing a sort-of fic idea! (Only if you feel inspired to use it, of course 😊) Back in ep 101, Martin figures out that/where the Stranger has taken Jon, and goes all BAMF to save him, using either Web powers or his developing Backup Archivist powers to do it. (Dealer's choice) Some of that sweet sweet emotional h/c...

Dearest anon, this fic has been so long in the writing, and it’s only distantly related to what you asked for. Hope you like it regardless. :)

Set in an S3 AU, implied JonMartin. Tim-centric.

Content warnings for strongly implied graphic violence, canonical S3 captivity and imprisonment, hospitals and hospitalisation. Rated T for language and implied violence

Jon’s skittering, sprawl-legged slam against the archive door startles Tim from the shadowed walkways of his reveries.

The tilted legs of his chair thump back in a slap to the floor. Almost physically wrenched into the now, there’s a snapback to Tim’s spine, a vice-clench knot tightening in his jaw. His mood cranking up from frosty to furious.

“The fuck?” he barks at the intrusion. His snarling primed with teeth, his temper clawed to rend. He’s up and standing, whereas Jon’s practically handing off the door handle, the impact of his arrival almost knocking his legs out like ten pins from under him. An ugly, airless heaving of his chest. His eyes bloodshot, wild. In the weeks since Tim saw him, his hair has grown out unwashed and limp. His skin shimmering wrong in the light in a way that’s oddly greasy.

He’s a shattering mannequin of a man tending to ruin but Tim’s long pared down his own capacity for compassion. He loads up his questions in their chambers, and he knows where to place emphasis, where to press at the bruising, the soft-tissue targets; where the hell have you been, oh wait, don’t fucking bother, why would you even tell us anything anyway huh, because you don’t even trust us. So why the bloody hell should we care where you go galivanting off to for weeks without a word, fine by us, just fucking peachy.

“Martin,” Jon rasps out finally. His words floundering beached in his mouth, and Tim has never seen this particular mania, this bruise-sick shade of pathetic desperation. “T-tim, please, help, please, god, i-i-it’s Martin.”

Jon’s spasming, quivering hands are staining brown with blood.

“He wouldn’t have just left! Not – not like – like this!”

“You mean without saying anything. Not sharing with the class. I dunno, Martin, sounds exactly like something he’d have done. Classic Jon.”

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!”

“Ha – everything’s wrong. Narrow it down.”

“You know what I mean! Something’s… He should be here, is all I’m saying, and Elias, well he’s useless but he – he knows something, I’m sure of it. We have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Find him!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Huh, what about that? Maybe he’s finally managed to fuck off and leave here, legged it and left the rest of us to rot.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“We should – ”

“No. No, listen, Martin. This isn’t a team sport. Jon made his choice to go this alone. If he’s gone off somewhere, then that’s on him. There’s no ‘we’.”

“There used to be.”

Martin didn’t come in for work, and Tim assumed he’d left. Just like Jon.

He’d stewed in that betrayal, pacing lupine and furious, bricking up the walls of himself with his self-righteous anger. Because he’d been right, hadn’t he, he’d been vindicated in his bitterness, because of course Martin had left scurrying after Jon, of course there was never any loyalty to Tim despite his pretensions to their friendship. Of course, Martin hadn’t fucking stayed, and Tim was glad he was gone, free of his nagging and needling and whining.

Tim was acquitted in all his furies, every one of his poisonous doubts. The rose-thorns of his betrayals tore deeper, and he let the wounds fester.

Elias arrives in the aftermath.

Jon collapsed not too long ago. Shock and dehydration and whatever the hell happened to him threaded through him like blood poisoning. He’d babbled to the ambulance crews, his tongue a senseless oracle of clowns and skin and blood. They’d given him a shock blanket, the foil treating the light around them erratically, but he kept shaking it off and trying to stand, dressed in grubby boxers, an overlong coat, the fabric worn to grey at the pockets and stretched to billowing at the chest, clearly belonging to Martin.

It was hard for Tim to hate him like that, even as he’d barked at Jon to stay down. Jon’s face a theatre mask of ghoulish blood, begging the paramedics to help Martin, manic and spiralling.

The old bastard had had a heart after all.

There’s a bank of chairs outside the part of the ward where they’re keeping Jon. He’s pin-cushioned with IV’s, a set of machines monitoring his vitals. He wakes fitfully, and every waking is a pitiful confusion before he sinks back under.

Martin’s still in surgery.

Elias, deigning to leave his ivory tower, his face formed in an impeccable replica of concern. He wants to speak to Jon. To have, as he put it, ‘a private word’. He talks a precisely ordered stream of bullshit in his infuriatingly reasonable tone, about all this being such a terrible tragedy, such a blow to their little family, if only they’d known. Poor Martin, of course, what a horrible ordeal, we’ll naturally help him with recovery, cover any time off, no expense considered.

Tim watches his mouth move, and knows in his gut that Elias could have stopped all this.

That he chose not to.

Elias doesn’t get within a hundred feet of Jon. Tim makes sure of it.

Jon does not speak for days. Delirious and distraught. Martin’s condition worsens, then stabilises, then lingers at critical. There are several more operations, and Tim does not know what they are doing, only that they are reforming a heap of blood and bone back into a person.

Tim wants to know what happened. Where Jon went, where Martin found him, who he needs to hate.

Tim learns to temper his frustration, the desire for knowing that curls at the bottom of his stomach. It is not a natural wanting, and it’s a spiteful, gleeful action, to deny that rot within him.

“Tim?”

“Stay still, boss,” Tim says. “You’ll pull everything out.”

Jon doesn’t say anything more for a long while. Tim shifts uneasy on the chair provided, thinking, hoping that Jon might have sunk back into sleep, when:

“Martin? Is he…?”

Jon turns his head to look at him. His eyes wide, beseeching, wet with fear. Wanting Tim to make this all ok.

Jon’s eyes in this light are a lot like Danny’s. Tim sucks back a hard breath, and doesn’t meet his gaze, and he knows that only distresses Jon further, who will take the avoidance as a death knell, as a punishment he is expecting to have earned.

“He’s alive, boss,” Tim says eventually. The words hard won. “He’s… he’ll be alright.”

That could be a lie. He doesn’t know much these days.

“Th-there was a room,” Jon stammers one day. He’s sat up, pillows stuffed behind his back. Tim’s bought him an apple juice carton like you buy for children, and he hasn’t touched it, even to push the plastic straw through the top.

His fingers at his lap twist, twist, twist.

“It must have been a … a factory floor, or something. One of those old textile mills or something, up near Manchester. It used to have those big machines for spinning cotton, there were big, discoloured spaces on the boards where they would have sat. There were columns, load-bearing, every fifty feet or so, and t-the chair that they – they had me tied to was anchored against one of those s-so it didn’t – so I couldn’t move it, or knock it over. I-I don’t know how long I was… I.” Jon stops, out of breath. “I don’t even know the date.”

Tim tells him. Jon blinks, and murmurs ‘oh’ like it’s not what he was expecting. His hands are shaking. Tim should reach out, shouldn’t he, it should not be this difficult to provide comfort.

His hands have forgotten how easily reassurance used to come to him.

“Th-they didn’t, they didn’t hurt me. Not, well, not exactly, I-I-I mean, it wasn’t – they wanted me unharmed.” Jon’s voice has crept small and crouched, words tuck under his tongue. “They were waiting. For the right time. They were going to t-take my, um, my skin. For their – for the ritual.”

“Christ.” Tim hisses out, because that is fucked, this whole thing is fucked. How the hell is this the way their lives have turned.

Only Jon’s fingers, his restless hands make noise for the next minute.

“I don’t know how Martin found me,” Jon says.

Tim has a creeping suspicion. It’s the same thing that helps Tim spits out exactly the right seeds to allow hurt to take root. What told Martin that there was something wrong. He could call it intuition, but that’s not how their world works.

Gifts, of a sort. For their faithful service at the temple of their all-seeing god.

“He tried to get me out. Snuck in somehow, cut the ropes with this – huh, this battered old kitchen knife. But I couldn’t… they’d had me tied to the chair for so long that standing up was… I couldn’t walk, and it’s my fault, he was half-carrying me but – I slowed him down, a-and then Nikola came back. And I couldn’t do, I couldn’t do anything, there’s never anything I can do, and they pulled me away and I. I tried, Tim, I-I tried, and I wasn’t… please, Tim, you’ve got to believe I tried to stop them.”

Jon’s fingers are moving to fist in his hair, yanking, tugging, his spine moving to fold himself over.

“Stop,” Tim says sharply. Trying to loosen Jon’s clenched hold.

“I tried, I tried – everything, I offered them anything they wanted, and they just kept – I-I-I tried, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim replies. Quieter. Softer. Separating Jon’s hands from his hair, pressing them back down to his lap, his burnt one held over the other pocked with worm scars. Tim doesn’t move his own away from the fragile tower they’ve made. “I – I know, Jon.”

“Martin – there was more of them. It was easy for them, to hurt him until he stopped struggling. They didn’t tie him up, they knew they didn’t need to. A-and Nikola, she was… she s-s-smiled as they pushed him over onto his back. She – she kept smiling. And she said they didn’t need the two of us. That they could have a bit of fun, a bit of – ” Jon’s voice chokes horrified. “A bit of practise. And wouldn’t I like that. To watch. To give the Eye something to look at.”

Jon crumples into tears then. In on himself like a disintegrating star. Tim feels cold and distant for a moment as he watches this shipwreck as though through the porthole of another boat. Listening to Jon’s hitching sobbing from elsewhere.

The rage is burning off him to reveal something plain and hideous in its humanity, and Tim hates it.

Jon falls apart, and Tim stays.

“You know your Archivist killed them all? He’s got a bit of a temper on him after all. Must be all that repression.”

The newest form of the Distortion still smiles like a headache. Her fingers curve corkscrewing. Tim, who is trying to get a Snickers from the vending machine two wards along from Jon, whips his head around to glower at the unwelcome visitor.

“What do you want?”

The Distortion, who has previously called themselves Michael, and is now still Michael but not entirely, whose face has refracted into a different form – there’s been a sort of change in management, if you like, except, well, that’s not really it at all, but do feel free to call me Helen.

“I was hoping for a teeny bit of gratitude. I was the gallant rescue, after that assistant of yours blundered in and made such a pig’s ear of it.”

Tim snarls. The Distortion’s expression wavers displeased.

“Ooh, touchy, alright. Calm down, firecracker. I bought them both back breathing for you. Your Archivist would be still strapped to a chair in Stockport if it wasn’t for me, to say nothing of that woebegone assistant. Blood all over my carpets.”

Tim ignores her. The glint in her eyes suggests she’s disappointed not to have riled him up.

“What now then?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the Circus for a while! Dear Jonathan’s seen to that quite splendidly. Knew he had it in him. Although, I suspect, even he didn’t know he could. The Circus was always good at pushing too far.”

“And you. What about you?”

The Distortion’s smile reflects a hundred alternatives.

“Oh, I’m just waiting to see what happens next.”

Tim’s thoughts have been straying to Danny a lot. Naturally, all things considered, his trauma’s head reared high and made horrifically manifest.

Jon is not like Danny was, too stiff and self-conscious in his own bones. But Danny’s skin had been lit up with that same live-wire intensity that last night, smeared in shadows and exhaustion and tears that shone foreign on his cheeks. Tim had not recognised the crying, silent, shaking stranger in his room, just as he barely recognises Jon.

Watching him finally fall apart holds no victory for any of them.

Martin is not like Danny was. Taller, for one, wound-up over tight in his own clockwork of fears. He’d be about Danny’s age though. Maybe.

Danny went back to the Covent Garden Theatre, alone, and the being that had then gone by the name of Joseph Grimaldi had torn off his skin as easily as wrapping paper.

Martin went alone. He didn’t ask Tim for help, because he knew Tim would have said no, and there’s an ashy shame coating his tongue, knowing it would have been true.

It’s powerlessness that’s snarled him up in barbed wire, toothless and immobile. Tim’s felt powerless for a long time. That is not going to stop.

But his anger hasn’t protected him. Hasn’t protected Jon. Certainly hasn’t protected Martin.

Jon is not in bed when Tim goes back during visiting hours. The nurse directs him to another ward, indicating in few words that this jaunt was neither encouraged nor advised, but the patient was not one to be dissuaded.

Sounds like Jon.

The man himself has dressed erratically in the spares Tim bought. A t-shirt that is divorced from his own style, the colouring drawing him over-sallow, the jeans too short and trailing above his ankle. He’s squashed himself into a chair, his back folded like a shepherd’s crook, his scatter-shot energy spent into exhaustion. His hand in Martin’s wrapped one.

Martin’s awake. The ministrations of the Circus left his face mostly alone, clear enough for tubing to be threaded into his nostrils and down his throat but the bandaging is extensive. Tim would have thought he’d be away with the fairies on morphine by now, and rightly so, but his jaw sets imperious when he sees Tim. He doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand.

“You doing alright there, Marto?” Tim asks. There is another chair nearby that’s been left by a visitor long gone, and he drags it over. Tim chooses to keep his voice low, chooses to squash the anger that sparks up in him at the violence done to Martin’s body.

“What does it look like?” Martin replies. Not snapping, no wisp of anger there, but there’s a pained whipcord strain to his response, a forced pace to his breathing.

“I thought they’d have you on the good stuff,” Tim says after a moment.

Martin gestures with imprecise movements at a remote off to his right, a grey blocky shape with buttons, hooked up to some sort of patient-controlled analgesia machine.

“You not taken any?”

Martin, as best as he can, shakes his head.

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to, alright?”

Tim doesn’t push. The silence between the two of them is protracted, uncomfortable, but Tim can stand to learn some patience.

Martin’s eyes are watery, clearly trying to push through the pain. Jon sleeps on.

“He won’t tell me,” Martin says. “But it’s bad. I know it’s bad. Right?”

“Yes.”

Martin deserves his honesty. Tim doesn’t know how long Martin suffered on that factory floor until Jon ripped the Circus’ sawdust out with his fury. Long enough for the bandages to coat his arms and legs and back like lacquer, changed multiple times a day to make sure the skin grafts take, and the stitching holds.

Tim should have been there. Like he should have been there for Danny.

“God, Martin,” he says, and he’s surprised to find his throat has clenched tight. “It’s… I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I went and got myself…” Martin trails off, swallows with difficulty. “I did this, it was all, all me. Fat lot of good it did.”

“You don’t know that…” Tim starts, but Martin looks at him and he seethes without raising his voice.

“What good’s come out of this then? Go on, Tim, tell me. I’m a – I’m a mess, and what the fuck do I have to show for it. What the fuck have any of us gained from this? I just fucked up, and it – I thought I was going to die. And worse, I thought they mightn’t let me, that they might take what they left as scraps a-a-and – ” Martin’s jaw clacks shut as he pushes down his distress.

“You saved Jon.”

“I didn’t though. The bloody – the bloody door monster showed up and did that simply fine without my help!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what you changed. God, Martin, this whole, this entire thing is all so, it’s fucked, right, it’s…” Tim’s voice wobbles, cracks. “But you tried to do something. You tried to help. And I’m – I’m so sorry you did it alone.”

Martin doesn’t leap to forgiveness. But he nods and Tim puts his hand on the wrappings up his arm and he doesn’t move away.

“What now?” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Martin closes his eyes.

“I’m tired,” he confesses. “I’m just so tired of all… all this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Tim says. Finding that he means it. It’s not a promise, but it’s as good as he’s able to offer these days. “You should take some of that morphine. It’ll… it’ll help.”

“It makes me feel out of it. Like, sluggish. And everything’s far away.”

“That means it’s working, Marto,” Tim says, trying for light-hearted, but Martin’s shaking his head, and the shivering is back in his hands. A wide and trembling glaze to his expression.

“If they come back…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll stay,” Tim says. Pats Martin’s arm in a way he hopes conveys reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Martin nods. Tim helps him grasp the grey remote, push down the button. It’s not long before Martin’s drifted off.

Tim sits there for a long while, thinking about the future.

#tma #tim stoker #fic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #cw violence #cw implied torture #cw hospitals #hurt/comfort #the magnus archives

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gamergirl929 · 4 years

Text

No One Talks To You That Way (Not While I’m Around) (Carli Lloyd x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Could you do one where T is seen as the sweetest one on the team (or let’s be real tied with christen as the sweetest) and even during many tough games she keeps her cool. Then one day someone says/tweets something about carli and she just goes off. (Cuz I will always have a soft spot for Lloyd)

“I mean, don’t you think it’s time to hang up your cleats? Give some of the newer talent time to shine? I mean we all know you’re certainly missing a step...”

Your eyes widen, as do the remainder of your teammate’s, each and every one of them looking at the reporter who’d asked the question incredulously, his fellow reporters looking at him in the same manner.

Carli Lloyd meanwhile is looking at the man in stunned silence, the woman trying to think of a reply to the clearly blatant jab at her, her career, and the fact that with a spot on the team she’s ‘taking’ from the younger generation.

The remainder of your teammates are OBVIOUSLY livid, each and every one of them shouting at the reporter, but the only clear response, comes from your microphone.

“Actually, I think I can answer that...”

Everyone turns to you, brows furrowed.

You were one of the sweetest members of the team, giving Christen a run for her money, Christen, who is currently looking at you with wide eyes.

“First off, you’re a literal dumbass.” You shrug, Ashlyn snorting loudly as Megan barks out a laugh, the group of reporters surrounding the man snickering.

“Ms. Y/L/N-

“SECOND off, how dare you.” You snarl angrily, an anger that leave your teammates taken aback.

You move to your feet, pointing a finger at the man who shrinks under your gaze.

“How dare you talk to someone like Carli Lloyd like that, she’s a fantastic soccer player, and no she doesn’t need to hang up her fucking cleats.” You swear, reporters on their feet, recording your current rant.

“She’s better at this than you’ll EVER be at your job, and she’s FAR from missing a step, how dare you talk to a legend like that, how FUCKING dare you. I WILL NOT, be silent when it comes to someone I care about, and that someone is Carli Lloyd.” You roar angrily, everyone staring at you with growing eyes.

“You’re a disgrace to your publication’s name, and this will be the LAST time you EVER comes to a conference like this, THAT is a guarantee. Carli Lloyd was and IS one of the best on the NWSL and on the USWNT, she loves this sport and this sport loves her, I love her, and if you can’t see that she's amazing you’re a moron...” You point at the reporter, who is currently red-faced.

“You sir are a fucking moron.”

You clear your throat, slowly taking your seat, your eyes locked with the man’s wide and fearful eyes.

“Now get the hell out of here.”

Wordlessly, and without missing a step, the man shuffles out of the room, his head down as he avoids any and all eye contact.

You pant heavily, angrily as you glare holes in the man’s back, that is until he moves out of sight.

Everyone stares at you in shock and awe, Carli’s cheeks blood red as she goes over all the things you’d said to the reporter, quickly realizing that in your tirade, a few things slipped out that caught her ear.

“I WILL NOT, be silent when it comes to someone I care about.”

“Carli Lloyd was and IS one of the best on the NWSL and on the USWNT, she loves this sport and this sport loves her, I love her.”

Meanwhile you’re at the end of the table, your chest heaving as your fingers drum on the table.

How dare he say that to her?

Who the hell does he think he is?

Your leg bounces up and down, pure lava running through your veins.

You wanted more than ANYTHING to go after him and give him a piece of your mind, to tear into him like a starving animal, but there’s no way you could, you weren’t going to lose your job because of him.

You sigh.

You weren’t going to lose your job, but no doubt there were going to be repercussions for your outburst, but honestly, you didn’t care, you didn’t care because coming after Carli Lloyd was coming after someone you cared about, and that, that was more important than any job could be.

***

It’s wasn’t long after that conference that your phone began to blow up, your Twitter Notifications, your Instagram Notifications, any and all social media accounts you have are currently being bombarded with comments and the like, fans commenting on your comments to the ESPN reporter about Carli Lloyd, nearly all of them praising you in your protection of the USWNT veteran.

A NUMBER of them though, pointed something ELSE you’d said in your rant, something you’d kept bottled up inside for so long that it was just itching to get out, and it HAD just not in the way you thought it would.

Oh my god, I KNEW THEY WERE MORE THAN FRIENDS!

SHE SAID IT GUYS. SHE SAID SHE LOVES HER!

Anyone could see that what you felt for Carli Lloyd was more than friendship, it went WAY beyond that, it always had.

You and Carli Lloyd were close, closer than close, no matter what, she was there for you and you were there for her, and you would be, no matter what.

You prop your elbows up on your knees, your chin resting on your fisted hands.

You planned to keep those feelings buried inside, planned to ignore them altogether, but now?

Now you couldn’t do that.

Just as the thought leaves your mind, there’s a knock at your hotel room’s door, your heart stilling in your chest at the prospect of who it might be.

***

Carli Lloyd looks down at her phone with a small smile, her cheeks flushed pink.

SHE SAID IT GUYS. SHE SAID SHE LOVES HER!

The second the words left your mouth Carli’s heart skipped a beat, the butterflies in her stomach erupting as if someone had sprinted through an empty field full of them, sending them skittering off into the wind.

The rest of your rant fell on deaf ears, the USWNT veteran staring at you in utter shock, not because of the words you were saying but because of what you HAD said, and what you hadn’t said.

All the smiles, and fleeting touches, all the instances you stood up for her on field when she was taken down by rival players, EVERYTHING had started to make sense.

All the signs were there but Carli hadn’t seen them.

Now though... Now she couldn’t ignore them, and she in NO way planned to.

“Well, are you going to talk to her?”

Carli jumps at the sound of a familiar voice, turning to find a number of her teammates standing beside her, each and every one of them wearing massive grin.

Carli remains silent, Julie Ertz snorting as she gives her longtime teammate a shove.

“Well? Get up there and talk to your girl Lloyd!”

Carli rolls her eyes, the woman grinning before she turns and darts to the elevator, her teammates cheering her on as she goes.

The closer the elevator gets to your floor, the more her heart races, the more her head tries to tell her it didn’t mean anything, you meant it in a friendly way.

As with the reporter’s comments, she tunes them out, ignoring them, ignoring the critical voice in her head as she makes her way to your room, stopping at your door.

She nods.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Then knocks.

***

It takes you a moment to gather yourself before you head towards the door, stopping in front of the only thing blocking you from whoever is on the other side.

That whoever possibly being the woman you’d stood up for when a reporter had the audacity to ask an idiotic question, and make idiotic statements.

A woman you’d had feelings for, for so long and wanted to confess to, a woman you may be facing in the next few seconds.

You swallow hard and pull the door open, revealing the very woman you’d be thinking about all day.

“He-Hey.” You mumble, unable to look at Carli, instead focusing on your shuffling feet.

Carli smiles.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand there, silent, that is until you clear your throat.

“S-S-Sorry, come in.” You step aside, still unable to look at the woman as she moves into the room the two of you are sharing.

Just as Carli goes to slip passed you, she catches your wrist, the woman pulling you towards the balcony.

The two of you step out into the warm night air, Carli pulling you to the balcony’s railing, her elbows resting on the barrier’s upper bar.

“I wanted to thank you.” She whispers, your eyes widening as you look up at her for the first time since she’d entered the room.

“You don’t need to thank me.” You whisper, the USWNT veteran smiling as she gives your hand, which she’s still holding, a squeeze.

“I do, you didn’t have to stand up for me but you did...” She smiles.

You scoff.

“Of course, I had to, there was no way I was going to let him talk to you that way...” You growl. “I’m not going to let him talk about someone I-

You swallow hard, turning away, your cheeks flushing bright red.

“Love?” Carli whispers, your eyes widening as they lock with Carli’s brown orbs.

Your mouth opens and closes a few time before you take a deep breath.

“Carli-

“Is it true?” She whispers, nervously.

She hadn’t planned on coming right out and asking, but apparently, that’s what was happening anyway.

You can’t find the words, and instead, go with a wordless answer, giving the woman a nod, not daring to look at her.

Carli is unable to bite back a smile as she stares at your profile, the woman’s hand leave yours in favor of sliding up your arm, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake as Carli hand moves to rest on your cheek.

“Would it make you feel better if I said I loved you back?”

You stare at the buildings before you, your eyes widening as you turn to Carli, the woman’s hand caressing your cheek.

“You...” You shake your head, mouth opening and closing a few times before you find your words, whispering. “You love me?”

Carli’s tongue swipes at her lips, the woman’s thumb running along your cheekbone.

“How could I not...?” She asks, voice below a whisper as she takes a step towards you, her chest inches from yours.

“T-This isn’t just because I stood up for you...?” You ask, uncertainly and Carli smiles, shaking her head.

“Of course, not...” She laughs. “I guess we were both just as blind to one another's feelings.”

Your eyes widen, darting from sparkling brown orbs, to parted lips and back.

You take a deep breath, covering the hand on your cheek with your own.

“I guess we were...” You whisper, Carli watching as you lean in. “But we aren’t now.”

Carli meets you halfway, her lips pressing gently against yours, the feel of her kiss more than you had ever possibly imagined.

Her opposite hand moves to cup your cheek, the woman pulling you closer, tilting her head to change the angle of the kiss, your hands settling on top of hers.

You pull back, of course, only for a moment before leaning back in, the two of you smiling as your lips again tenderly meet.

Eventually and reluctantly, you part, your eyes fluttering open at roughly the same time, lips splitting into massive grins.

Carli leans back in, her forehead resting against yours.

“You know, we’ll probably never see that ESPN reporter again... I never expected YOU to be the one to tell him off.” She laughs, and you snort, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“I don’t think anyone did, but I’d do it again, no one gets to talk to the woman I-” You stop mid-sentence. “No one gets to talk to the woman I...”

“Love?” Carli grins, your cheeks flushing as you nod.

“Yeah... No one talks to the woman I love that way...” You whisper, grinning when the forward closes the distance between you again, lips touching yours so gently that you wonder if they even touched at all.

Again, with much reluctance you part, the two of you grinning.

“Just so you know...” Carli whispers, your eyes fluttering open to lock with her brown orbs, a grin on the woman’s face as she whispers words you know hold nothing but truth.

“I love you too.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #carli lloyd x reader #carli lloyd imagine

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gravegroves · 3 years

Note

Can I ask about 2 and 8 for the wip tag game?

I've already talked about 8 (search #tag game in my tags and you'll find it).

But omg thank you for asking about 2!!

2. Like a Bat Out of Hell, Indiana

Oh man, oh man. This. This right here? This is my baby. My precious. The one I wrote so self indulgently that even if no one else likes it, I LIKE IT. And I'm completely okay with that.

El and Hopper fail at closing the gate at the end of s2, Billy appears at the Byers' house just in time and so begins a mad dash across the country, trying to outrun the end of the fucking world.

Tw: death (no one we care about though)

Excerpt:

The sound of a car roaring into the driveway has Steve's heart crashing up into his throat and they all turn to watch as headlights dance across the living room walls, sharp and blinding, like a goddamn beacon of hope.

And Steve doesn't have time to think about why the deep rumbling of the engine sounds so familiar.

He moves the kids now or they die.

"Get to the car, now!" Steve screams, just as the window at the end of the hall explodes inward.

Max gets to the door first and tears out of the house, sprinting toward the high beam lights with the boys hot on her heels.

"Billy!" She screams and goddamnit she can't mean--

She reaches the car, yanks the passenger side door open and pushes the front seat forward, shoving Dustin, Mike and Lucas into the back before diving in herself, righting the front seat in a practised move just in time for Steve to jump in after her.

And yep. There he is.

Hargrove's expression would be hilarious if they weren't seconds away from being overrun by a horde of carnivorous monster dogs.

"What the fuck do you losers think you're doing?!" Billy roars, eyes bugging slightly when he recognises Steve.

"Harrington?!"

Steve grabs him by the collar and screams into his face: "Just fucking drive!"

A loud crash has them both snapping their heads to the side just in time to watch as a hundred Demodogs or more come rushing out from behind the Byers' house, heading straight for them.

Without another word, Billy yanks the car into reverse and accelerates before hitting the breaks. Steve's stomach swoops as their momentum lets the wheels slide over the gravel to land perfectly on the road.

He grabs Billy's arm, yanks on it like it might shake some urgency into him.

"Hargrove, go!"

"Seatbelts! Get the seatbelts" Max yells at the others.

That's what she's worried about? Steve thinks, even as he reaches over his shoulder to strap himself in.

Then Billy puts the car into gear and guns it forward and they go from 0 to 70 mph in ten seconds flat, zooming down old, twisting back roads and Steve honestly can't believe that Hargrove's insane, wannabe NASCAR driving is gonna be what saves their asses tonight.

"What the hell are you doing all the way out here with my sister, huh?" Billy yells, taking his eyes off the road to look over at him and Steve might seriously have a fucking heart attack.

"Eyes on the road!" He exclaims, foot searching the footwell for a break pedal that isn't there, "For real, man? You want to do this now?!"

"Or you can get out and fucking walk, amigo," Billy snarls, swerving around another Demodog leaping for the hood of his car, "What the hell is up with these dogs?"

"Billy, stop it! Can you jus-- look out!" Max shrieks, her arm shooting between them to point straight ahead and the kids all begin yelling as the flower-in-bloom-faced ugly fuck grows larger in the windscreen at an alarming speed.

Smooth as butter, Billy avoids the gaping creature in their path, not taking his foot off the accelerator for even a second. Steve's heart beats a drum solo against his adam's apple. His fingers feel fused to the edges of the seat, holding on for dear life.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that?" Billy turns to look behind him and Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw hurts, barely restraining himself from yanking Billy around to face forward again.

"Hargrove, I swear to God--"

"Oh god, look."

Steve turns his head the slightest amount to see Lucas pointing out of the window at the treeline to their right.

Demodogs.

Lots of them.

So many slimy, greyish bodies that the forest floor has all but disappeared and transformed into a churning sea of dark, slick oil.

More worryingly, they're all running in the same direction as the Camaro.

Fuck.

"What the…" Billy falters when he looks out of the window at the treeline, then seems to shake it off, placing his undivided attention back on the road for once.

He speeds up to pass a whole group of the beasts trying to cross to the other side, narrowly misses being cut off entirely by the mass of Demodog bodies. Steve releases a hand from the seat only to clutch at the grab handle on the door. He closes his eyes, swears he can feel his stomach fall out of his ass when the wheels on his side of the car lift into the air for half a beat.

"Shit, we're gonna die!" Dustin wails, voice wobbly as Billy jerks the wheel again to avoid a creature charging straight for them. If the kids weren't already packed in like sardines they'd be sliding around back there, seatbelt or no. "We're definitely gonna die! This psycho is gonna kill us before the monsters do!"

Billy scowls into the rear-view mirror and grits out "Hey kid, you're welcome to get out and walk."

"You literally tried to run us off the road a week ago--"

"Not the time, Dustin!" Max snaps and shushes him.

"We need to get to the gate!" Mike blurts out, leaning forward to speak directly at Steve. Demanding. "We need to help El!"

Steve doesn't even have the faintest idea of how to begin doing any of that.

"Dude, we can't just go back there, are you crazy--" Lucas pulls him back and they continue to argue in harsh whispers.

"If you losers don't shut the fuck up, I'll crash this goddamn car just so I can take you all with me." Billy barks, knuckles white on the wheel.

"Oh my god, see! What did I tell you?" Dustin exclaims, "He's dangerous, Steve!"

Yeah, well, he's all that we've got, Steve doesn’t say. "Shut up, Dustin."

They turn into the first proper residential street and Billy misses a tree by an inch as he tries to avoid colliding with five demodogs hunched over something on the road.

Oh god, was that a body?

"Harrington, where the fuck am I going?"

Steve closes his eyes, overwhelmed and completely out of his depth. They might have been the B team, but there hadn't actually been a plan B--

"Fuck, fuck! I don't know--"

"Billy," Max pleads, voice shaky with terror, silencing them all, "My mom…"

Billy sighs explosively before turning down a side street, barely slowing down.

"Shit."

*****

It's not just Max's mom, but Dustin's mom, too. Lucas's family. Mike's family.

They reach Old Cherry Road first and Billy barely allows the car to come to a full stop, Demodogs further down the street are taking notice of them already, stalking forward, mouths blooming excitedly. Steve eyes them warily until a garbled oh fuck from the back seat draws his attention to the other side of the street and--

It's bad.

The porch light sets the stage for a grizzly scene at the Hargrove residence. A woman lies directly beneath it, like the opening shot to a fucked up play, her head of red hair spilling over the top step.

She's very obviously dead. Steve can see where she must have tripped on the welcome rug -- awkwardly stiff and upturned between her feet -- and he can only hope she got knocked out in the fall and didn't feel a thing that came after. There isn't much left between her head and her knees except for a dark patch of gøre.

The headless body of a man lies slumped against a truck parked in the driveway, one arm stuck through the open car door, half torn off within his jacket. Blood still running down the concrete incline, pooling in the roadside gutter.

"Oh, you Bastard," Billy spits, barely a whisper.

The longer Steve stares, the more horrifying the scene becomes.

He doesn't want Max to see this. Or Billy.

Max doesn't make a sound.

Billy slams his fist against the steering wheel a couple of times, then peels away from the curb before the Demodogs can get too close.

*****

Dustin's house is dark. There's no car in the driveway.

"I told her Mews had been seen in Loch Nora. She must still be out looking..." Dustin trails off quietly. Shellshocked.

It's almost midnight. Steve doubts she's still out looking for a cat. And if she is...

"I wanted to keep her out of the way."

No one says anything.

They drive.

*****

The Sinclair house is dark, too, no lights on except for the motion sensor activated ones over the empty carport.

Billy doesn't bother slowing down. The area is absolutely swarming with creatures already.

"It's so late. Where..." Lucas falters, scanning the houses they pass, like he made a mistake and his home will appear any minute now. "Where did they go?"

"I'm sure they're okay, man," Steve tries, but it feels flat, false, "If they're in a car they could make it out. Your mom too, Dustin."

Billy grimaces, but says nothing.

"What?" Steve demands.

"I was just here looking for Max. They were home."

He keeps a laser focus on the road now, on avoiding the monsters spilling out onto their path, growling when he's forced to change down a gear before aggressively working his way up in speed once more, jaw clenched tight.

"You probably caught them on their way out." Steve insists.

Billy looks doubtful, but he nods anyway. Neither of them enough of an asshole to take a kid's hopes away like that.

They move on.

*****

"Let me out," Mike says, quietly. Trembling. Hands pushing against the back of Steve's seat like he'll be able to bend it out of the way through sheer force of will.

No one moves.

The front door to the Wheeler home is open, door splintered where the deadbolt held, but the wood didn't. The car is parked in the carport. All the lights are on.

Karen Wheeler's corpse lies forgotten and half devoured on the front lawn.

In the driveway, a tiny yellow sock lies next to bloody drag marks disappearing into the grass--

Oh god...

"Let me out."

Steve's lips move, but he can't seem to draw breath enough to produce sound..

Billy seems to shake himself out of a daze, takes a deep breath beside him. "Nah, kid."

And Mike just snaps.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" He screams, punching and kicking the seat in front of him.

Steve leans forward out of the seat and puts his head in his hands.

"Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Mike shrieks, begs.

"No." Billy says again, evenly.

Mike's voice breaks on a wordless scream.

Steve wants to do his own bit of kicking and screaming, but someone needs to keep their fucking head in the game or they're all going to end up dead.

By some twisted turn of fate that someone is turning out to be Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hysterically, he remembers hearing about Billy abandoning Carla Green to walk home alone from the quarry after she'd scratched the Camaro's dashboard with her fake nails by accident.

Mike kicks the back of the seat again. Billy says nothing.

All the kids are crying, now.

Mike's screams eventually taper off into babbling sobs and Dustin does his best to comfort him through his own half-choked cries. Lucas is whispering to a sobbing Max, his own breaths hitching and heaving uncontrollably, on the edge of breaking.

Steve's eyes sting, hidden behind his hands.

He lifts his head up and glances over at Billy, still tracking the side of the road, the edge of the trees. He looks so normal that it almost throws Steve for a loop. He wants to grab Billy by the collar again. Shake him. Scream: what part of this aren't you getting?

"The fuck is going on?" Billy hisses, almost to himself and oh, right.

"Later," Steve promises, hoarsely, digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see stars.

"You know what they are?"

"Yeah." Steve says after a great deal of swallowing past the lump in his throat.

If Hargrove's voice betrays even a hint of emotion Steve knows he's gonna fucking lose it. Luckily, the guy keeps his shit together so Steve can keep a lid on his.

"You know what kills them?" Billy continues.

"Heat," Dustin says, voice thick, "And, like, bullets."

Billy nods, "Alright, how warm are we talking?"

"They don't like warm weather or daylight, but I don't think it kills them. Weakens them, maybe. Sends them underground."

"Fire will." Steve says, pulling at his hair until it hurts, dragging himself out of foggy despair and into the present where he's needed. He accidentally runs his gaze past Karen's body and tries not to dry-heave.

Mike is still crying behind him and god fuck, they should get out of here. The kid shouldn't be seeing this.

"Where do we go?" Max whispers, like she read his mind. She sounds as lost as Steve feels.

Billy revs the engine and turns to Steve, "Any requests?"

Steve thinks about the huge empty house waiting for him, a gaping nightmare at the edge of the woods. He balks at the thought.

Where the fuck do we go?

"Just get us out of Hawkins."

#anon ask #tag game #my precious #gravegroves writes #harringrove

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suganovakawa · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , platonic hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , implied car accident , amnesia recovery

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 .

your first day back at seijoh doesn’t seem so bad . . . but that boy at the window sure does pique your interest .

word count : 1.4k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀"hajime, was i always this... popular?"

⠀unsure of how to accept a bouquet of flowers from an unknown face as you and the only friend you could confide in walked through the halls of the vast school, your mind was only left to ponder aimlessly. did you always think this school to be so big? maybe it was because you had no recollection or memories of this place, that it seemed like a never ending corn maze.

⠀"well, word travels quickly, y/n. everyone here is worried about your safety. we're all glad you're back, safe and sound." you turned to the male walking beside you, his hands loosely stuffed in his pockets. that same gaze turned to the flower bouquet held tightly in the embrace of your arms, echoes of well wishes and greetings filling your ears as you struggled to find your classes. iwa was assigned to be your personal guide until you got the gist of the seijoh halls once more, and he made sure to make it crystal clear he was your go-to guide incase you needed some assistance with anything.

⠀"i feel guilty, not being able to remember anyone..." your voice hushed into a whisper, only loud enough for hajime to decipher. "everyone i've spoken to is so nice, i wish i could at least remember everyone's names to thank each of them properly." every time anyone reached your vicinity, hajime was the one who had to inform you of their name before they approached the two of you. you had to explain of your amnesic situation, to which each of them understood... to an extent.

⠀you'd always get a mix of emotions in reaction to such horrific news, depending on the person. many shown pity, while others attempted to empathetically understand your frustrations. a select few were skeptical upon first hearing the news, but there was nothing you could be lying about. amnesia wasn't something to be joking about; at least, you found no reason to joke about it. the way it erases your mind of your precious memories with those you love and cherish is cruel in its own right. you remember how distraught your parents were when you had no recollection of their faces. you believed them to be your family, as you assumed they had no reason to lie, but that was as far as credibility went.

⠀hajime was a tremendous help through it all, too. after his first meeting with you - when you awoke from your supposed coma, he brought in a large group of boys, around the same age as the two of you. though their names were a blur, the one thing that stuck out to you was when they each thanked you for being their volleyball team manager.

⠀the aoba johsai volleyball club team. that's who they were to you. could a team really be so tightly bonded they'd even visit a mere manager? the thought of it humbled you, and your heart felt fuzzy. you were able to smile genuinely once more, bringing joy to the boys' faces. though their visit wasn't that long, you were able to remake some friends, and maybe met new ones before returning to seijoh.

⠀you snapped out of your daze as you accidentally bumped shoulders with another student, flinching at the sudden contact. hajiime reacted to your movement by looking to see who you bumped into, but it was too late for him to speak up first.

⠀"watch where you're going, will you? damn." he snapped at you as his nasty glare stared you down, his posture slouched over and grumpy. even with an appearance as unique as his - bleached buzz cut, darkened eyelids, and two brown stripes on both sides of his head - no name came to mind. his intimidating aura worked on you all too well, and your mouth clamped down nervously, since it technically was your fault you hadn't paid attention to where you were walking.

⠀"kyoutani." there was a bark, to which both you and the strange male looked towards hajime, whose glare was darker than the other's. "don't talk to her like that. it's y/n."

⠀as if it was some sort of special cue, kyoutani's snarl lightened oh so slightly, his eyebrows arching upwards as he cleared his throat before looking at you once more. "oh, y/n." his voice lowered to a mumble, "sorry about that. glad to know you're back in one piece." in astonishment towards his abnormal attitude change, you weren't able to say anything in reply as he quickly shuffled past the two of you and disappeared down the hall.

⠀"who was that, hajime?" you were freaked out about how easily iwaizumi was able to change such a grumpy attitude with just a snap and your name. were you a sensitive topic to talk about amongst the students? sure, your accident was pretty bad, but it could've been a lot worse than memory loss, right? amnesia was probably the luckier gamble of the entire situation.

⠀unless if there was something else he hadn't informed you of already?

⠀"oh, don't mind him. he was part of the volleyball club team, too. he's just more on the... lone wolf side. he doesn't interact with us that much." he only shrugged at your curiosity. "he knows of what happened, and it's nice to know he has enough manners to wish you well."

⠀there were so many questions you wanted to ask him; the problem was, you didn't know where to start. there was that standing fear of overwhelming him with too many inquiries, too. just how much did hajime iwaizumi know? what doesn't he know? he seemed to be capable of informing you of everything that you'd need to know, but even if there was anything he was hiding under the surface, you would have no notion or clue as to what it was.

⠀and while you were eternally grateful for his presence and overwhelming kindness, your curiosity of rediscovering everything continuously poked at the back of your brain. maybe when you got back on your feet, stable enough to figure out things on your own, hajime would let up and see things for yourself. for now, you were content with him being at your beck and call - whether it be for better or worse.

⠀"we're here." you filled your lungs with a sharp inhale as hajime opened the door for you, reintroducing you to your first classroom of the day. seeing your nervousness, the brunet merely smiled comfortingly, placing a hand on your shoulder before looking to the others, who were trying to hide their curiosity in seeing you standing under the doorway. "there's no one you should be afraid of, y/n. you sit next to me anyway, so you'll be fine."

⠀"thank you, hajime." there was nothing to be afraid of, he was right. why were you hesitating? there was no need for that self inflicted worry.

⠀two empty desks stood side by side as majority of your classmates rose from their own to greet you the moment you stepped in. unfortunately for you, there were too many people reaching for you all at once, so hajime was a bit behind in naming all of them for you. as much as you tried and appreciated their concerns, all you really wanted to do was just sit down and let everything sink in. today was going to be a long day.

⠀"oikawa, are you not going to say anything to y/n?"

⠀oikawa?

⠀your head turned at the name, noticing how a small bunch crowded a single desk in the back of the room, their faces less than pleasant as they glared at the lone male sitting by the window. an uneasy knot grew in your stomach as you caught glimpses of the student; you ignored hajime repeatedly calling your name, instead focusing on the boy sitting in the back of the room.

⠀why was someone so attractive sitting all the way in the back like that? alone, no less?

⠀the male ignored every advance towards him, and the students who ganged up on him had no choice but to back away, grunting in their failure as they plopped down in their own desks. you, however, still felt strange. oikawa... there was no ring to it, just as everyone else's name was in aoba johsai.

⠀but you couldn't deny it, he was the one.

⠀and such a thought was solidified the moment he turned from the window to gaze into your eyes. it was only for a second, but that stare meant something; you could feel it.

⠀oikawa...

⠀the first one to see you when you woke up.

a / n : writers block hurts so much i deeply apologize for the absence 😭 i’ll def be updating more frequently now , don’t worry !! n don’t mind me crying over this chapter , casually crying as i write this on tooru’s birthday— happy birthday sweetie

saudade taglist : @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-a-lot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @cirtruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixc @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @lissa-writes-and-does-matchups @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddlesslut @crypto-s

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

Text

stuck in stories - a hostage situation

Neil x Reader

summary: the intel you’d received was shit lacking, and as the mission got awry, you had to improvise.

+ song: Nothing But Thieves - Particles

warnings: language, some violence, blood mention, hand content

author’s note: thank you so much for inspiring me to write this little piece, my dear friend. And for that fantastic song.

This one is more action-packed than the previous works, I hope you’re going to like it!

This is a one-shot, but as usual - hits differently in you’re familiar with Neil and Reader from Stuck in Reverse series.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

___

You ducked between the crates. The dim light of the warehouse was working to your advantage.

But you could already hear the ruckus at the corridor, the doors you’d barricaded were not going to hold for much longer.

You checked the ammo - two bullets left.

“I’m almost out, you?” you whispered as you stopped in the darkest spot you could find.

Neil crouched right next to you and shot you a quick, panicked look.

Shit.

You gritted your teeth, your mind racing to find a solution for the unfortunate situation you’d found yourselves in. Aborting the mission was one option, but both of you knew that an opportunity like this is not going to happen anytime soon. What else?

“We could wait for them here, let them spread out, and take them one by one.”

Neil raised a brow, quite amused at the idea. “And rely on your sneaking skills?” he snorted and shook his head. “Just shoot me now.”

“Fuck you, darling,” you huffed, punching him in the arm. He got a point though. You sighed. “Fair enough, we need a distraction, then. Any ideas?”

He chewed on his bottom lip as he glanced over his shoulder at the other side of the hall. His face was tense, but the corner of his mouth curled into a smile. “You’re not going to like it.”

You were sure of it. But the time was running out, and so were your options.

“Hit me.”

Neil took a deep breath. “Remember Munich?” he said and his eyes lit up. “I believe it’s my turn now.”

Of course you remembered. You’d had to improvise to buy some time for the rest of the team to get on the site, so you’d acted as a decoy. What you also remembered was spending the next two weeks in the hospital.

And that agonizing pain.

You winced at the memory. You were not willing to see anyone in that state ever again. Especially not him.

“Forget it, I’m not leaving you--”

Neil turned your way and placed both hands on your arms. “Those guys are pawns. I’ll be fine.” His voice was calm, but it sent a cold shiver down your spine anyway. You knew he’d made up his mind already.

A loud bang on the other side of the hall.

They were getting closer.

A spike of panic was trying to force its way through your mind, but you were so deep in your mission mode, you barely felt it. The only indication of its presence was the pulse pounding in your ears.

“But-”

Neil’s gloved hand covered your mouth as he peeked from your cover. He clenched his jaw and looked back at you with determination. “Don’t argue with me. Get the pass-codes and radio-in the cavalry,” he said, searching your eyes for any sign of compliance. You stared back at him in a silent protest. “Please.” His dark gaze got softer, finally breaking your will.

You nodded.

Neil exhaled slowly and lowered his hand. You grabbed it and squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

“I’ll find you.”

He quickly pulled you closer into a kiss. “I know. Run.”

And so you did.

You reached the first door and managed to force a lock when you heard the sound of the barricade being breached. You rushed into a corridor and cocked your pistol, just in case there was any leftover security personnel at this side of the compound. There shouldn’t be any, but the intel you’d received at your briefing had already turned out to be lacking.

Finding the right room wasn’t a problem. Neither was overriding another, more advanced lock. Late-night lessons with Neil turned out to be invaluable. You could almost hear his clear instructions in your mind, walking you through the whole process.

The memory of one of your first lockpicking lessons flashed before your eyes. Losing your patience and groaning in frustration after breaking yet another tool. Neil’s arms wrapped around you, his hands on yours, slowly but steadily guiding your movements.

You smiled to yourself as the door gave in with a quiet click. You slipped into the room and looked around. Someone definitely tried to make it look like an elevated boss office, but you didn’t have time to muse over the poor choices in interior design. You jumped to the desk, reaching for a pendrive hidden in your vest. As you plugged it into the computer and ran a script to help you sneak into the system, you could finally signal the team.

“Ives, do you copy? We need a backup over here,” you barked into a walkie and tossed it on the desk.

“Copy. ETA to secondary breach location - thirteen minutes. Hang in there.”

No questions asked? Must have been something in your tone.

A minute later, you gained access to all files and after a quick search, you found what you’d been looking for. You copied the files and hesitated. Biting your lip, you typed in a few commands and pulled out feeds from the security cameras on the screen. You browsed through the images from different locations, trying to find any clue about Neil’s whereabouts.

You inhaled sharply. There he was, sitting on the chair in the middle of a room, with his hands tied behind his back. A woman in a black security uniform was standing in front of him, her back facing the camera. She punched Neil in the face, the force of that blow almost sending him to the ground. You spurted out a litany of cuss words as you unmuted the feed.

“I’ve asked you a question, pretty boy.”

You clenched your hands on the edge of the desk, watching as Neil spat out blood on the ground.

“So that was the annoying ringing in my ear,” he scoffed, his lips curled in a sly smile. “Blimey.”

The next punch landed on his stomach, making him bend in half breathless.

“Where is your partner?” the woman snarled, grabbing Neil by the hair and making him look at her.

“Got out and left me here,” he said, coughing out.

“If you’re lying-”

Even with the questionable quality of the feed, you could see his eyes lighting up. “What, you’re gonna beat me?” he mocked with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh honey, I’ve barely touched you,” the woman chuckled, taking his chin in her palm and squeezing it. She glanced over her shoulder and you realized there must have been someone else in the room with them. “Check it.”

“Take your time!” Neil called after the person leaving the room. For a brief moment, his gaze focused on the camera, as if he knew you were watching him. He shifted slightly, wincing. You noticed a trickle of blood coming down his face from the cut on his cheekbone. The way he wanted to look relaxed, leaning back on the chair with his legs spread wide, made you grit your teeth. The corner of his lips twitched as he raised a brow. “So... you come here often?”

A hysterical giggle escaped your mouth. Oh god, he was going to get himself killed.

You reached for the walkie. “Got the codes, on my way to the rendezvous point.”

“Copy. Meet you there in five.”

Packing your things and erasing every sign of your presence from the room, you took one more look at the screen, just in the right moment to see a precise kick landing on Neil’s ribs. You closed your eyes, but you could still hear his muffled groan.

“Ives,” - you said, turning off the computer and making your way out - “hurry up, please.”

With the help of the squad, you secured the area in no time. As you burst into the room where Neil was being held captive, you didn’t hesitate. It took you a second to lock on the woman you’d seen on the screen just minutes before, another second to put a bullet into her head. Few more shots echoed through the room. Only when Wheeler called all clear, you allowed yourself to look at Neil, sitting still on the chair in the middle of the room.

The vacant stare he gave you made your heart clench in your chest.

Before you could run to him, Ives grabbed your elbow.

“Child’s play, eh? What happened here?”

You glared at him, flashing your teeth in frustration.

Couldn’t it wait?

“We’ve run out of luck. Or your intel was shit. You pick.”

“Fucking hell,” Ives let go of you, his face tense as he considered your words. He glanced towards Neil and rolled his eyes. “Oi, mate, stop slacking, could have gotten out of those knots like three times since we came in.”

That made Neil finally focus his gaze.

As you walked up to him, he blinked a few times and winced, releasing his hands from the ropes. He rubbed his wrists and scoffed, “A little sympathy wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

Now that your adrenaline rush was wearing off, you were slowly getting overflown by the emotions you’d kept bottled up since the moment you split up in the warehouse. Seeing Neil’s face up close, covered in bruises, bleeding from cuts on his eyebrow and cheekbone, brought a choking lump to your throat.

You knelt in front of him and carefully took his hands in yours, only then realizing that he no longer had his gloves on. You held your breath as your eyes ran along the wounds on his knuckles. His long fingers trembled lightly as he interlocked them with yours, making you glance up to meet his eyes.

Neil looked at you tenderly, but he clearly struggled with concentrating his gaze on a single point.

“I’m fine,” he said softly and gave you a weak smile.

You bit your lip. You desperately wanted to kiss him, but you were too afraid to hurt him to even graze your fingertips against his face. There was also the tiny part of you not willing to make a scene in front of your team, but to be honest, you were way past caring at that point. As your thumbs gently stroked his fingers, you let out a shaky breath.

You stood up and reached out your hand to help him get up, but he waved at you dismissively. You rolled your eyes, still ready to provide a safeguard at any moment.

And you were right to do so; as soon as Neil got up and tried to take a step, he lost his balance.

“I’ve got you,” you said, taking his arm and tossing it on your shoulders, wrapping your own arm around his back. Neil leaned on you and frowned, shooting you a thankful look.

As you guided him towards the door, you noticed his clenched jaw and a pale shade on the uninjured parts of his face.

He was far from fine and both of you knew it.

And to think he could have escaped his bounds way before you got to him if only he’d wanted to. You shook your head. “Why the hell did you let them do all of that to you?” you said under your breath.

His brows drew together as if you just asked about the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because as long as they were focusing on me, they wouldn’t be focusing on you.”

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #robert pattinson #stuck in stories #stuck in reverse #tenet #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet fanfic

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