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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks and @stanrandomthings for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

3K notes · View notes

limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Too Much to Handle

Type: One-Shot (Completed)

Warnings: NSFW !!! , Explicit Content

Tags: Orgasm Denial, Smut, Slight Angst, Hurt/ Comfort, Fluff, BDSM, Edging, Crying, Creampie, Pwp

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Noritoshi edges you every single night for 5 days. But edging you repeatedly, may not have been the best idea.

You currently have a very pleasant sex life with Noritoshi, your beloved boyfriend. Everything was in place. Trust, mood, and of course, safe words.

Adzuki (red beans) to stop. Matcha to slow down. Simple as that and usually nothing went wrong in the bedroom. You were on birth control pills, which made it so much easier for the both of you.

"Hey, how do you feel about orgasm denial?" Noritoshi asks you one night. You've been curious about it, knowing that you have good stamina and a solid track record of being patient.

"Sounds okay," You shrugged. You've done all sorts of things with him already in bed, and so far you've loved every single one. "Why not?"

Oh you were going to eat those words of yours.

You both agreed to edging you and only you for 4 days, while Noritoshi got to come over your body at the end of every session. He loves seeing you covered in him. Smelling like him.

You enjoyed it at first, loving it when he pumps his cum over your lips. Then you suck the head of his cock into your mouth, taking in as much cum as you can. His soft groans and praises make you light up.

He carefully thrusts two fingers into you, pumping in and out while he presses a vibrator against your clit. Removing them everytime you come near climax.

He was able to watch and experiment with your body a lot. Knowing exactly where your sweet spots are, and what makes you cum.

Noritoshi found it simply divine. Hearing you sob and moan his name so beautifully. Begging and promising to do anything in exchange to cum. Your hips lifting and following the vibrator everytime he moves his hands. Pink pussy watery and so wet, but unable to cum. Twitching and fluttering around nothing.

How your mouth waters as you stare at his long fingers.

He gives you consolation from time to time, letting you suck either his fingers or his dick. He also leaves sloppy wet kisses in your inner thigh and against the skin around your clit, making your hips push up.

You fall back against the bed after every session. His cuddles and kisses trying to cover up for the aching feeling down between your legs.

But on the night of the 4th day, you were at your limit. It was actually so frustrating to be edged, only to be stopped. It was difficult to fall asleep after.

You were miserable and horny, but incredibly excited for the next night.

Only for Noritoshi to suggest something else the next day, "Do you think you can try for one more night?" He asked.

You gulped, seeing him look not so secretly pleased. 'He looks like he's really enjoying this. I don't wanna disappoint him.'

"Don't worry, I'll let you come tonight. I just have some ideas in mind, but I wanted it to be a surprise." He smirked.

"Okay. I'll be good for you." You meekly answered. His smile was so warm and loving, you forgot about your needs for a bit, hugging him tight.

"Such a good girl for me darling. I love you."

"I love you too Toshi."

But you were at wits end later that night. Stark naked, with the addition of handcuffs and some ropes to hold you down. Your legs spread far apart, exposing your quivering cunt.

It's been 2 hours of edging. Scratch that, it's been 5 nights. You were close to breaking.

You sobbed for the millionth time that week as Noritoshi kissed your pussy and sat back to pause.

He pressed the vibrator against your clit, watching as your legs shook, only to remove it as you started trembling.

"You can't come yet." He said softly, yet firmly.

"Why not?" You gasped. "I've been so good for you."

Noritoshi's eyebrows raised. "Because I say so." Edging you multiple more times. He was so focused on your body that he failed to see tears streaming down against your temples.

"Toshiii," You were full on sobbing and shaking. "Please let me cum. Adzuki! Adzuki! I can't do this anymore! Adzuki!"

Static white noise.

Noritoshi heard his pulse thunder against his ears upon hearing you use your safe word. Never had you ever used it before. Not even when he tied you up and fucked you over 5 rounds that one night until you were a sobbing drooling mess.

"Nuh-no more!! No! Don't want!" You babbled and shook your head, trying to move away from him.

His heart broke to see you like this.

He dropped everything, undoing your ties and massaging your limp arms, pulling you close as you cried frustratedly into his chest, cuddling and frantically hushing you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You were apologising as you shook your head and pushed him away.

No. This was not how it was supposed to go.

"Baby I'm the one who's sorry. Shhhhh, Toshi is here. Okay, I'll stop, I'll make you cum. I promise." He rushed the words out in a hurry.

"I'm sorry," You kept repeating apologies, crying and shaking your head. You didn't seem to hear a word he was saying.

He pressed his lips tenderly into yours and breathed air into your mouth. "Follow my breaths." He commanded.

That tone. He used that voice you could never resist listening to and following. So you slowed down your breathing until you matched his pace. He rubbed slow circles onto your back.

"You're such a good girl. The best, my one and only angel," he softly cooed. You preened, feeling yourself slip further into a subspace. Your head felt so foggy.

"Why are you apologising?" He asked gently as he finally notices your tears and wipes it away.

Your lips started trembling, " buh-Because I cuh-couldn't do it anymore. I'm not *hic* good enough for yuh-you. I wuh-wanted to come but you…. said… hold off longer… can't-" you started breathing heavily again but he kissed you to distract you.

"No, no that's not your fault. That's mine for not taking care of you properly. I pushed you way past your limits. I'm sorry. You are more than enough for me, you know that. Can you forgive Toshi?" He nuzzled into the side of your face.

Deep inside, Noritoshi was actually losing it. Mentally slapping himself for letting you feel this way to the point you had to use a safe word. He never wanted you to feel this way with him.

"But I wuh-want t-to feel good together with you. I can handle maybe 3 days of no cumming, but 5 is too much," You hiccuped.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I know that now. Whatever you want, I'll do for you now. Okay?"

You looked up at him with the biggest eyes ever, his heart clenched. "Anything?"

"Anything. As long as it won't hurt the both of us, I'll do it for you." He promised.

For someone who was so desperate to come, he watched you become shy. But the words that came out weren't, "Make love to me. Cum inside me Toshi." You begged him.

"Okay, if that's what you want." He quickly set to removing his clothes and fixed the bed, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be.

"Like this. I wanna face you. Stay close." You whimpered, holding out two hands.

Missionary position. Noritoshi's and your personal favorite, because of how intimate it is. He pushes your legs far apart, revealing your aching hole.

You were still loose from the stretching he did earlier, but there was a slight burn as he entered you. You welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His cock was inside. His cock was inside of you. Finally!

You teared up again, wanting this for so long.

"Shhhh," he tried to calm you down as you cried some more.

"So happy, you're finally inside of me Toshi," You sniffed.

Distantly, Noritoshi thought he heard something like a tightly coiled string snap. You looked absolutely delectable right now. Pussy a bright red and your face a teary mess.

He was rock hard down there as he started out with deep and shallow thrusts.

"Yes, yes, more, give" You moaned, hooking your legs around his waist to prevent him from pulling all the way out.

"Anything for my angel." Noritoshi sucked on that tender part of skin under your ear.

You felt him glide in and out of you and it was such a relief against your vaginal walls.

You went on like that with him for a while, with Noritoshi stroking your cheek, making sure you felt good as he started to move faster.

But something felt off. "Toshi," You cried.

"What is it baby?" He looked over you in alarm.

"Can't cum. Don't know. Feels weird." Your body wasn't used to it anymore, the sensations feeling familiar but not exactly the same as before.

You felt absolutely horrible, your body was at that knife's edge of tipping into orgasm, but it wouldn't.

"Listen to me okay? Let it happen. Do you trust me? Do you trust your Toshi?"

You looked up into his eyes, and was surprised by their intensity. So dark. His hair, his eyes, his expression. His focus was 120% on you. On making you feel good.

You loved that about Noritoshi. He was incredibly sincere and pure hearted about everything he did. "Yes I trust you. I love you."

"I love you too Angel. Hold on tight." He let you grip onto his shoulders as he held onto your hips and started slamming his hips up and down, driving his cock so deep like it never did before.

He watched as you yelped at a certain angle, and changed his thrusts to hit that soft spot deep inside.

Your arms shot out to grab the sheets beside you as you keened, feeling intense pleasure while Noritoshi hits your G spot repeatedly.

"Please, please," You whined, tears falling past your cheeks, breaths uneven.

"There there now. Toshi is here. You're allowed to cum anytime. I will give it to you." He kissed away your tears and pressed close as he continued to pound into you.

Your breath hitched, feeling him poke against your tummy. "Toshii, I ugh-" you started to lose coherence as you felt a wild spark of heat down below.

"Let go." Noritoshi refused to come before you did, holding off his orgasm despite how your velvety wet insides molded and squeezed him perfectly.

He reached down with one hand to furiously rub your clit, lighting up all the nerves in your body. He used his cursed technique to move faster and faster, hips moving at an unearthly pace.

"Toshiiii-ahhhhn!" You screamed as your body violently convulsed, your pussy creaming around his cock and contracting madly as you finally came. It was the hardest and most intense one that you've ever experienced.

"That's it, my angel, come for me." He praised you as your screams increased in pitch and volume. He held you down as you thrashed about, not wanting you to slip off of him.

You tightened so much that it almost made him cum right away. Almost.

Noritoshi hooked his arms around your legs as he chased off his own orgasm. Skin slapping harshly against skin. He pushed in at a deeper angle.

"Yesyesyes," You moaned despite still reeling from your orgasm high. "Fuck me, fuck yes, more!"

Noritoshi was practically snarling as he continued pummeling into you, finally cumming and stuffing you full. "So tight! You've been so good for me, and look at you. You're perfect baby."

You trembled even harder upon feeling his dick throb and the cum slosh inside of you.

"Are you still coming? You're such a good girl, coming on my cock like this. So pretty." He grinded deeper and continued playing with your clit and nipples, making you twitch as you rode out your second orgasm gently.

You made sounds of choking and gasping which made him slow down. "Is that too much for you? It's okay baby. It's okay."

You tried to reply, but all that came out was a string of incoherent sounds, like a baby's babbling. Noritoshi smiled.

He made you cum 4 more times and stuffed you well past your capacity, feeling his seed seep out of your cunny and run down your ass. Pressing you down against the mattress as he rutted into you as he continued spurting loads inside of you.

You refused to let him pull out even when he grew soft.

"Stay."

And so Noritoshi did, because he promised you anything you wanted.

You sniffed quietly, but he heard it of course. "Baby" He cooed as he held you closer, but you refused to look into his eyes.

"Don't tell me you're still mad?"

You pouted, but shook your head. "I agreed to it. I wanted to be so good for you-"

"You are," he cut you. "You are so good. 5 days as opposed to the original 4 nights. I really was supposed to make you come tonight. And you did so well to make it this far, but I won't push you to do something like this anymore. It's my fault for extending it."

You shut your eyes. "I thought you would be disappointed if I told you I couldn't do it. You looked so excited to try out so much stuff in the bedroom." You bit your lip hard, but he reached out to stop you from doing that.

You sucked on his fingers while he pressed his lips against your forehead. "I won't be disappointed if you tell me no. I need to know the extent of your boundaries, so we can work out what's best for the both of us. Don't think I'd leave you for someone else who could last a week without cumming just because. That's not how I feel. I want to experiment with you and you only. You understand?"

You finally looked up at him and you were shocked to see how worried he was. Eyebrows all scrunched up. A big frown on his face. You kissed him, "I understand."

He pressed in closer. "Good girl. Such a good girl for Toshi. I'm so proud of you."

You let out a sob at that. And he patted your back as you cried off whatever heaviness you had left inside of your chest, emotional baggage now a lot lighter.

"You're right. I was scared you'd leave for someone who could handle you better in bed." You whispered after you finally calmed down.

"Mmm, not gonna happen. Ever. You're stuck with me. Forever."

"Forever sounds nice Toshi."

Author's Notes: When I say that I'm so down bad for Noritoshi, I legit am on Noritoshi brain rot. And me being stuck at home with a lockdown is definitely fueling this XD. I'm supposed to be working on Blood Bound, but I couldn't help but write this because I felt the sudden urge to.

Hope you enjoyed reading! - Mon

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talesofstyles · 4 years

Text

Stitches and Pucks

i swear i tried writing the whole fic from the 3rd and 2nd pov in the beginning but hockey harry is so dang loud he’s like hang on honey this is MY story so let me tell this one ☠️ so here we are. i had loads of fun getting inside his head though, i hope you like it!

massive thank you to my biggest cheerleader @smokeinherperfume 🥺💛 and ken i’m so sorry for making you read an LA Kings fic 😂 @emotionally-imbruised

warning: smut. there’s no actual bow chicka wow wow stuff though but there’s some thigh riding 👀

[17k]

Harry

I swear I’m gonna kill Zayn.

That fucker just slammed my face into the boards, and as I’m trying to push back while flexing my jaw because that’s the right thing to do when you’ve got your face smashed into the boards, he tries to push me back again. Well, not a fucking chance. I give a particularly hard push back to get him off my back and I’m able to free my stick from the boards and put the blade to ice.

Because we’re playing on home ice here at Staples Center and I know its speed and consistency like the back of my hand, it takes nothing but a short tap on the puck and it shoots back between both of our legs. We scrabble, throwing elbows and shoulders and even kicking at it with our skates to expel it out. It’s a hard-fought battle, probably not lasting more than a few seconds, but it’s starting to wind me up because fuck if I’m gonna let them score. We’re up 4-2 against The Sharks, and with only under six minutes left to play in the game, I’d like to keep it that way.

I really don’t see it coming. And as much as we hate each other’s guts, it probably wasn’t even intentional, but it still hurts like a mother when Zayn’s stick pops upward, the end catching me just above my left eyebrow. I don’t feel any pain at first, but red, blurred vision definitely lets me know I’ve got blood streaming down my face. The ref blows the whistle and the play stops as the penalty is called.

The pain hits me next, and I bend over at the waist, my clear eye watching as a stream of blood hits the ice and freezes. In just about a few seconds, I feel a towel covering the cut and I hear the new team doctor say, “alright… let’s get you off the ice.”

Her hand stays steady at my back as I lift up straight, taking the towel in my own hand to hold it in place. The doctor walks alongside me while I skate to the bench, which has an exit door on one end that will lead back to the locker room. A few of my teammates slap me on the shoulder as I walk past. Harvey, who plays the same position as me but on the second-line yells out, “get stitched up so you can come back out and kick his pansy ass.”

I can’t help but chuckle, because that’s exactly what I plan to do.

“Up on the table,” the doctor says briskly and I watch with my one good eye as she quickly starts preparing the necessary supplies. I hop up onto the table, and in just under four minutes, my very own Doctor McSteamy has my injury evaluated, lidocaine injected, and is now closing the cut with stitches.

Good grief, she’s a fucking vision. Has a slammin’ body too, which no doubt would feel fucking fantastic underneath me. She probably doesn’t even realise it, but she’s got her little tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and I bet that’s something she does when she’s trying to concentrate on what she’s doing. I can feel my dick starting to twitch, so I close my eyes and get my mind out of the gutter before I get a hard-on. Fucking embarrassing.

When I’m sure I’ve got my downstairs head situation under control, I open my eyes again. She’s placing what I’m guessing the last suture on the cut and I make sure I put on my most dazzling smile as I look at her because I can be devastatingly charming when I want to be.

“Hey Doc,” I lean a bit closer to her when she’s done and murmur, “you should let me cook you dinner at my place tonight. You know, as a thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she replies without even looking towards me, preferring to busy herself with putting away the supplies that she used to tend to my cut. “I was just doing my job.”

“Alright then, no dinner at my place tonight,” I say with a sly smile. “But how about giving me your number so I can take you out sometime?”

She snorts in reply. “I’m not one of your puck bunnies.”

“No, you’re not,” I smirk at her. My tone is matter-of-fact when I add, “you’re one hot doctor.”

Not sure what I’m expecting, but this is definitely not it. Most women would blush and drop their knickers in an instant when I give them the tiniest bit of my attention, let alone a compliment, and let’s just say that’s why my bed is rarely empty. But it seems like my charms don’t work on this doctor since all I get is a fucking eye-roll.

“Are you always this forward?” She asks, still not looking at me.

“I’m a simple man, Doc,” I tell her with a shrug. “I see something I like, I go and get it.”

“Good for you,” she says dismissively, but I don’t miss the hint of amusement in her tone.

“Does that mean I get your number?”

She lets out a chuckle and finally turns to look at me. “That means I like your way of thinking.”

“So, no number?” I pout like a damn child, and apparently, the sight is hilarious to her. She throws her head back and laughs, and when she looks back to me, I get a wink.

“Sorry sunshine,” she smirks at me and I can’t help but ogle at her lips.

Perfect fucking lips.

“I don’t shit where I eat,” she adds.

Now, this is funny, so this time I’m the one tipping my head back laughing before I bring my gaze back to her. “You know our General Manager, Sloane Knightley?”

“Of course,” she replies, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“She’s with Alex, right-winger,” I tell her with a grin. “Now, Brynne Adams, have you met her yet?”

“The Athletic Trainer?”

“That’s the one, and she’s dating Matt, left-winger.”

“What?” Her jaw drops and it’s the cutest fucking sight. I’ve always thought of myself as a tits-man, but apparently now I’m a jaws-man too.

“Oh I’m not done yet,” I smirk at her. “Sarah Jones, Head of Equipment Manager, do you know her?”

She nods. “I’ve met her twice.”

“She’s with Mitch, right defenseman. Now, you probably haven’t met this one yet, but our goalie, Adam, is the only one married between us first-line players. His wife, Rachel, is the head of our in-house legal team. So look around Doc, everyone’s bloody shitting and eating around here,” I finish with a grin.

“Yeah, that doesn’t change a thing,” she insists. “That won’t be me.”

I give her one last glance as I hop off the table before I walk towards the door, pretty sure my eyes glitter with mischief as I say, “yeah, we’ll see, sunshine.”

—

The Owner’s Box is a local sports bar in El Segundo. Located only a stone’s throw away from the team’s practice facility at Toyota Sports Center, it has become the go-to hangout for a lot of the players ever since the facility opened in 2000. I like this place because it carries 140 types of beer and I like beer, and honestly the food is great as well.

As much as we like to mix and mingle with the fans, which is super fucking cool in my opinion, the manager always ropes off an area on the second floor for the players so we can drink and chill out without fans swamping us. Usually when we arrive, we’ll hang around the first-floor bar area for a bit to give the fans an opportunity to take pictures and ask for autographs before we head upstairs.

It’s always crowded after the game because everyone knows they can find us here, but it always gets extra busy whenever we win. Tonight, there’s an actual line of people waiting to get inside.

I nod at a bouncer and enter, and it takes me a good half an hour to make it to the second floor where I find several of my teammates sitting at some of the tables or standing around talking.

Winding around tables, teammates, and hot women since several puck bunnies have been allowed to go up the second floor and are doing their best to get noticed by the players wearing outfits that fit them like a second skin, I make my way over to Alex and Matt who are already sitting at one of the tables nursing their beers. Those two are my best friends since we’re linemates, but normally I’d go stand over with the single guys and start my selection process for whatever woman who’d warm my bed for the night.

Not tonight though. Never thought this day would come but I’m not here for a hookup tonight.

Alex gives me a knowing grin as I sit down since I told him in the locker room after the game about my exchange with the hot doctor earlier when she tended to my cut and how she turned me down. Well, he and several other of my teammates since there were a few there in the locker room with us and they had ears to listen. I’m pretty sure I could even hear Mitch chuckle, which is honestly one of the world’s seven wonders since the guy barely talks let alone laughs.

“How’s that cut feeling?” Matt asks as I take a seat in front of him.

“Feels like a butterfly kissed me there,” I tell him, which gets a deep belly laugh from both him and Alex. We hockey players would never admit to being hurt in a fight. Ever.

The voices in the second floor immediately go silent and I see all eyes swing towards the stairs, and when I look there I see our General Manager walks in alongside Coach Higgins, followed by some staff of the team. Cheers start ringing as she walks towards our table, no doubt to sit next to her man, and then I hear a low chant, “Sloane! Sloane! Sloane! Sloane!”

Matt and I do the same since not only Sloane is more of a close friend rather than a boss who signs our paycheck once she steps outside of the GM office, but as the only female GM in the league, she managed to turn our team into champions. We won the Stanley Cup last season and no doubt she’s going to push us to victory again this season. Alex has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as his gaze focuses on his girl, looking so damn proud of her. Man, my best friend is fucking whipped.

Sloane blushes, slides a grin to Alex, and when the sound dissipates and the guys all start sitting back down, she says, “shut up you big jerks, do you want me to cry?”

We all bark in laughter.

I stand up to give her access to the booth so she can sit between Alex and I, and Alex immediately wraps his arm around her shoulders when she’s within his reach to pull her closer to him and proceeds to give her a searing kiss. I whip my head at Matt and we both make a fake gagging noise.

“God, I think I’m going to be sick,” Matt says and Alex flips him off, still giving his woman a hell of a kiss and without even looking at us.

“I know, right? Not used to you being so fucking mushy mate,” I add. “Gives me the willies.”

Sloane laughs as she breaks the kiss. She leans over and playfully punches me in the arm. “You’ll have a good woman one day, Harry.”

“Yeah,” I drawl, then I give a faux shudder to make sure they understand I like being single. “No thanks.”

“You sure?” Matt cocks an eyebrow, but before I can reply, something behind me catches his attention. “Ooh, isn’t that the new doctor?”

I whip around so fast I fucking knock a bottle of ketchup off the table and it goes flying across the floor. Matt is laughing so damn hard he almost falls off from the booth, Alex is leaning over as he laughs, pressing one palm down on the sofa with the other to his ribs as if they hurt from laughing and Sloane is dabbing at her eyes as she laughs hysterically.

But yes, holy shit, that’s the doctor stepping off the stairs and onto the second floor with Brynne and Sarah. Now, I know Brynne will most definitely walk towards our table since Matt is here, but Sarah will most definitely walk towards the bar where Mitch is talking with some other guys.

Come here. Come here. Come here.

Fuck, she goes with Sarah to the bar.

“Oh no,” Alex says low and in warning. “I know that look.”

I don’t bother to give him my attention, keeping my eyes pinned on my girl. But I do ask him, “what look?”

“Your gaze just became predatory,” he says with a laugh.

“God, you have it bad for her,” Sloane teases but I ignore her as I stand up. Brynne gives me a wink when I walk past her and now I have a suspicion that my teammates blabbed to their women about what happened earlier tonight and now they’re trying to set me and the hot doctor up. Otherwise, why would she even be here? Fucking crazy, I know, but they’re all nuts.

“Go get her, tiger!” Matt quips as I walk towards the bar without looking back at their table.

The doctor has ditched the white lab coat that she wore earlier tonight at the arena, and I’m glad she has her back to me since I don’t make a secret of my ogling. My eyes are pinned to her ass in those skinny jeans and fucks sake I need to get a grip.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine,” I say with a smile as I stand next to her, trying to get her attention. That was lame, I know, and I feel like I want to punch myself for not being cool.

She laughs and fuck if that’s not the best sound in the world. It’s warm, rich, and husky, which warms my blood and speaks to my dick for some reason. Not sure if she’s laughing because she genuinely thinks I’m funny or is that just a pity laugh, but honestly I could listen to her laughing all day. Wouldn’t be opposed to hearing her moan one day, preferably with her underneath me, but if her laugh is all I can get at this moment then I’ll take it.

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask her and I mentally prepare myself for her to decline since she turned me down earlier in the arena, so it totally takes me by surprise when she only shrugs and says, “eh, why not.”

I’m sure my smile is ten times wider and she sees it. “What’s your poison?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“What if I want the hard stuff?” I raise a single brow. “Sure you want that?”

“What?” She smirks at me and my inner caveman is screaming for me at the sight to just throw her over my shoulder and take her home right this instant. But obviously I won’t do that, since I’m pretty sure that’s called kidnapping and I know I won’t look good in prison stripes. “You don’t think I can take it?”

“Oh honey, I know you can take it,” I laugh as I lift my finger to the bartender. “I’m only wondering how you’ll handle it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait and see.”

—

It’s three hours and many beers later, well for her anyway since I limit myself at two because I’m driving, and we’re stumbling out of the bar, laughing our asses off.

She’s telling me about the funniest thing that happened at the hospital a few months ago. At the beginning they thought they had a domestic situation because the couple came separately; one via ambulance and one via police car. But when they finally got the whole story, it turned out to be an anniversary celebration gone wrong since the wife had a seizure when she was going down on her husband and bit down on him.

“Are you joking?!” I stare at her, mouth gaping in astonishment before I burst out laughing hysterically.

She shakes her head and laughs with me. “I wish.”

“Did you manage to save his manhood?” I ask with a half-grin and half grimace.

“My colleague did,” she replies. “I was busy with the wife, she had rather extensive head trauma.”

“From the seizure?”

“Well, in panic and pain, her husband didn’t think much and just grabbed the closest thing he could find to try to get her to loosen her bite, which sadly was an old rotary style telephone and hit her in the head with it. She was okay in the end, though.”

“That’s one hell of an anniversary to remember for sure,” I chuckle, and the giggle she emits pretty much confirms she’s bladdered. Well, not the kind of drunk where she wouldn’t remember tonight I’m sure, but I bet she’ll wake up with a massive headache.

“I sure hope you’re not driving,” I say as I steady her by the elbow when she wobbles as we step down the stairs.

“Sarah, Brynne and I took an Uber here from the arena earlier,” she mutters as she pulls out her phone from her handbag.

“Let me drive you home,” I quickly say before she gets the chance to order a ride. Not sure why I did that because I certainly have never offered women a ride home without the promise of getting in their knickers, and I can assure you that I won’t be getting anywhere near hers tonight, but maybe I just don’t want this night to end yet.

We’ve been glued at the hip from the moment I bought her first drink, and three hours purely just talking with the same woman? That’s a record in my book. While I’m not ashamed to admit that I also like looking at her, honestly, to me that’s just an added bonus. I think it’s safe to say that I have never met anyone like her before. Granted, with most women usually there wasn’t much talking, but from what I learnt in just the span of three hours is that this doctor of mine is a hell of a lot of fun.

I swear she’s just a pure fucking joy to be around. Conversation with her is like a never-ending merry-go-round and she makes me laugh a lot. She’s bright and witty and she’s one of those people that knows no strangers. She can easily talk about anything from politics to sports even to crude jokes, and add on to that, she’s just so kind and inclusive that several times tonight I actually had to drag her away to one of the back tables so we could have a proper chat without the crowd around us.

“You don’t have to,” she gives me a hesitantly sweet smile.

“But I want to,” I gallantly insist as I turn and offer my arm to her. “Come on, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

“Well, alright then,” she smirks, her hand easily slides into the crook of my elbow. “I could save a few bucks.”

I roll my eyes and tease her, “didn’t take you to be such a skinflint.”

“Hey!” She playfully slaps my arm with her other hand as she laughs and I’m glad I amuse her.

No, seriously... I like her laugh.

There’s no doubt that she wants me, just as there’s no doubt that I totally want her. We’ve got this really heavy flirting going on all night, and plenty of innuendo, but I won’t be surprised nor disappointed if she doesn’t invite me inside when we get to her home and nothing happens tonight.

We’ll get there, I’m sure.

Until then, I’m completely fine drinking beer, being her personal chauffeur, and getting to know her a little better.

—

We always finish team practice with battle drills. From the end zone face-off spot to either the left or right of the goalie, we pair up and battle for a goal. One on offense, the other on defense, we shoulder, bump, and juke our way across the short distance to the net. It’s a four to five second drill that will make us sweat, and then it’s over. We skate to the end of the line, where we wait to do it again.

“Saw you left with the new doctor last night,” says Matt, my battle partner today, with a shit-eating grin as he taps his stick against my leg. “How was she?”

I ignore his question not only because I don’t have the answer that he’s looking for because nothing really happened after I dropped her in front of her house, but also because this feels different. She is different. Had it been just another one night stand, I wouldn’t think twice before I blab all about the dirty details with my teammates. Great lays, lousy lays, I honestly have no filter and I tell them all.

But this is YN, and fuck if I know why and what this really means. All I know for sure is that I want more than to just tap that. The thing is, my teammates will probably not understand because they can’t really see past the fact that the new doctor is a gorgeous woman who I’ve been lusting after for about a week.

“Dude,” Matt says to get a reaction from me, smacking me a little bit harder with his stick. “How many times did you score her last night?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I growl.

“Whoa, dude,” he apologises and I swear his grin gets even wider. “Sorry. I guess you’re serious about her?”

“Serious about what?” Alex pipes up from in front of us. He’s paired with Adam, our goalie. There are four pairs of skaters in front of Matt and me, but there’s an equal number on the other side. We’re alternating.

“None of your fucking business,” I mutter, willing the line we’re in to go faster so I can escape from my nosy teammates and head to the doctor’s office.

Alex and Adam take off, Alex with the puck. They ram their shoulders into each other, legs braced and skates digging hard all the way to the net.

“Did you at least kiss her?” Matt nudges me with a sly grin, still trying. Man, he’s not a quitter.

“No,” I answer shortly, hoping that will satisfy him. “Just dropped her at her house and left after I made sure she got inside safely.”

“No. Fucking. Way,” he quips dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done to my teammate?”

Play continues, the next set of skaters in our line taking off and I ignore Matt but apparently he’s not done poking his nose in my business. “Oh, we’re not done yet buddy. Let’s go out tonight so we can squeeze some more gos out of you. Just you, Alex and I, how does that sound? Brynne said the girls are going to have a girls night out so I know he’ll be game.”

The girls means my teammates’ better halves, and honestly, hanging out with just my bros does sound good. Don’t get me wrong, those girls are cool—yes, my boss, Sloane, included—and they’re fun to hang out with. My teammates sure hit the jackpots with their women. But before Sloane and Brynne came along, the three of us were thick as thieves. There was a time where we went out almost every night and that’s why we’re more like brothers than teammates. Sometimes I miss that since we don’t get the chance to do it as often now that they act like old married couples, so yes, this does sound nice.

However, as tempting as it sounds, I want to hang out with my hot doctor more than my mates. That is if she’ll have me though.

“I can’t,” I say, clearing my throat. I lean in towards him and whisper, “I want to take YN out to dinner tonight.”

“Seriously,” he drawls dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

Again, I ignore his comment.

“Alright, I guess that’s a definite no to dinner with me and Alex then, huh?” Matt says in an exaggeratedly glum tone.

“The doctor is way prettier than you,” I reply blandly.

“Fine, go on your date,” he says with a slap on my back. “But I want to book some time with my best friend in the near future if it’s not too much trouble.”

“We’re going on a four day road trip in two weeks,” I mutter as I roll my eyes at him. “I’ll snuggle you then.”

Matt sidles up to me, lays his head on my shoulder, and bats his eyelashes. “Oooh, I can’t wait.”

I shove him off with a chuckle. That bastard.

—

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope,” I say after two knocks on her office door. I can hear her chuckle as she tells me to come in.

God, I have turned into such a dork. But I like hearing her laugh and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to hear that sound again and again.

“Hey,” she smiles at me as she looks up from her computer. “What’s wrong?”

“Knee’s a little sore,” I tell her, not feeling the slightest bit of guilt for my lie just so I can have a few moments to talk to her. “Thought you could take a look at it.”

Her brows draw inward with concern and she motions towards a table. “Did something happen?”

“Nah,” I shake my head as I hop onto the table with my legs hanging over the edge and kick off my slides. “Just came off the ice and noticed it.”

“Alright, go ahead and lie back,” she says as she turns to the sink and washes her hands. “I’m going to do some range-of-motion tests.”

I stay silent as she maneuvers my leg, trying not to focus too much on the feel of her soft hands against me or the smell of her perfume. Fuck, she smells good. Fruity and flowery. Like berries and the heart of rose and bitter wormwood, and the scent is fucking delicious.

“Do you feel any pain when I do this?” She asks with one hand on my calf, the other on my thigh as she rotates my knee.

“Not really,” I shake my head. What happens here today will go in my chart and I don’t want to call any attention to my knee.

“How about this?” She asks, rotating the opposite way.

I shake my head again. “Nope.”

The hand on my calf slides down, grasping the bottom of my foot firmly. With the other hand still holding onto my thigh, she pushes hard into my foot. “This cause any pain?”

“Nope,” I say quickly, and then add, “I think it’s nothing more than my muscles getting back in shape. But I figure some ice can’t hurt, right?”

She slowly lowers my leg and gives me a sweet smile. “Well, I don’t think anything’s loose or torn, but if you’re worried about it, I can schedule an appointment with Dr Green.”

She is the team’s orthopaedic surgeon, and hell I’m not about to do that. Talk about an unnecessary red flag. “I think it’s just a lack of conditioning. Got lazy this summer.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I nod firmly. “I just need some ice and I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Well, alright then,” she says as she turns back to wash her hands again at the sink. “I’ll let Brynne know and have her prepare you an ice bath.”

“Oh hell no,” I quickly shake my head and grimace. “That bloody thing is pure torture and my balls will go into hibernation until next summer. Just an ice pack will do, Doc.”

She laughs again. “Okay, just an ice pack. I’ll be right back.”

She turns and heads through the door to the treatment room and I take a moment to admire her gracefulness as she moves. She looks delectable today in her scrubs, which are the typical light blue you see in the hospitals, and they hang on her tiny frame loosely. I’d actually never seen her in them before since she usually just wears normal clothes underneath her white lab coat in the arena, but I swear this might possibly be the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen her in. I’m sure that has to do with the fact that I respect her so much as a doctor that it just heightens my attraction to her, and I can’t help but wonder if she’ll play dress-up games with me in the bedroom when the time comes. Because, well… I certainly wouldn’t mind getting a thorough exam from her.

“Here you go,” she says when she comes back. “Scoot back on the table and stretch your leg out. Keep this on for twenty minutes, then you can go.”

She places a towel over my knee, then lays the bag of ice on top.

“Thanks, Doc,” I tell her.

“Just doing my job,” she quips, and then walks back over to the box of supplies she had been unloading.

“Well, you’re very good at it,” I add and I can hear her chuckle. But I got nothing in response, so I add, “speaking about good things… I had a good time last night.”

“Did you?” She quips, still not looking at me but I can hear from her tone that she’s smiling.

“Well, yeah,” I say with a confident nod. “Didn’t you?”

“Eh, it was alright,” she smirks at me over her shoulder as she walks towards her desk.

“I want to do that again,” I tell her nonchalantly before I ask with a lopsided grin that I hope she finds charming, “will you let me take you to dinner tonight?”

“I can’t,” she shakes her head as she turns to look at me.

“Why? Got a hot date already?”

“Nah,” she chuckles. “Sarah invited me to a girls night at her place. I wasn’t gonna go because they seem like a tight-knit group and I don’t want to intrude, but Sloane came by here earlier to ask me again and she’s bribing me with tacos and margaritas, and well… I can’t say no to both.”

“Fair enough,” I laugh. “But have fun then. They’re all really nice, you’ll fit right in.”

“Thanks,” she gives me an easy smile, and I hope it’s subtle enough that she doesn’t realise this, but my breath actually hitch a little while I stare at her lips.

“How about tomorrow night then?”

“Well-” she begins, but she’s cut short when she hears her pager beeping. “Oh shit, I need to go back to the hospital. You think you’re okay there? Go to Brynne if you need something else.”

“Okay, don’t worry,” I tell her with an encouraging smile. “You go and save some lives, Doc.”

—

The arena is packed, the fans are at a fever pitch, and we’re in the midst of a fierce battle with the Anaheim Ducks. We’d taken them on in the first round of the playoffs last season, and while we swept them, they’re still a formidable opponent. Not to mention there’s a long-standing rivalry between the two teams, and add on to that, we’re in the regular season now so every win counts. The pressure is on.

As a center, I’m a shooter, not a fighter. That means I’m relied on to score, not to play defense or get tough with other players. My body is too valuable to mess it up in a slugfest, so I’m rarely enticed into a fight. Sometimes it takes everything in me to keep my cool, but I know I’ve got to trust Mitch and Marcel, our defensemen.

Just like right now. We’re late in the second period tonight, and one of the Ducks players, Jeff Azoff, is being a dick. He cross-checked me in the back, not strong enough to slam me into the boards, but it was enough to alert Mitch who’s skating right behind us.

“Do that again and I’m going to kick your ass,” I hear Mitch tell him. That guy doesn’t really talk, but he wouldn’t think twice before beating the hell out of someone if they mess with our team. He takes his job as a defenseman seriously. When he’s on the ice, nobody dares to touch his guys.

The fucker did it again, still not forceful enough for a penalty to be called, but Mitch was quick to drop his gloves and took on that Azoff guy. He kicked his ass good.

Man, I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. Mitch is a badass. Unfortunately though, the fucker did land a lucky hit to his temple and his skin split just to the side of his eyebrow. Knowing Mitch, that will be nothing but a ten-minute trip to the treatment room where YN will stitch him up. I’m sure as hell he wouldn’t let her give him anaesthetic so he can get back on the ice as soon as possible. As I watch him skate towards the exit, I make a mental note in my head to buy him a beer tonight as a thank you.

The play resumed, and there are about forty seconds left on the clock before intermission. The Ducks are down 3-0, and they pull their goalie once they gain possession of the puck since they have nothing to lose. Luckily our stamina is stellar, so our legs are still fresh as we defend.

They pass the puck back and forth, looking for the long shot or a quick dump inside for a goal. My back is to Adam, our goalie, as I keep myself facing the action, letting my stick play loose.

The crowd’s screams escalate in tune to the clock ticking closer to zero. With a sharp flick of the wrist, the puck makes it past Alex, our right-winger, to the inside. Players crash the net, Marcel poke checks, and the biscuit shoots out towards me.

It’s a full-on breakaway as I shoot down the ice, one on one against the goalie.

Tap, tap, tap… back and forth… puck to blade of stick.

I close in on the goalie and juke left.

He goes left and I juke right.

He keeps going left, so I keep going right and flip the puck up and over his shoulder into the back of the net. The red light burns bright behind the net and the fans go wild. That was my third goal tonight, and it’s the perfect timing for intermission since there’s no way we can play with all the hats being thrown onto the ice.

It takes merely a second before I’ve got my teammates surrounding me. Alex, Matt, Marcel, Adam and Niall, one of the defensemen from the second line who’s filling in for Mitch. Pats of their gloved hands on my helmet, stick blades gently against my calves.

We skate to the gate that would lead us to our locker room. We all trudge there, taking up spots around the open space as we wait for Coach Higgins to address us. It’s what he does at the end of every period. If we play poorly, we get our asses handed to us. If we play stellar though, like tonight, he’d be effusive in his praise.

But as much as I’d love to hear nice things from the Coach, there’s nobody I want to see more than my very own Doctor McSteamy. And yes, just to put it out here since I’ve been calling the hot doctor by that nickname, I’ve got to admit that I did watch too much Grey’s Anatomy in the summer because there’s not much I could do during the off-season. My sister didn’t let me watch past season 10 though, because she said it’s not worth it.

“Need to get my knee taped,” I tell Alex on my right as I stand up. We have 17 minutes before we start the third period and I figure that should be enough time to see the Doctor and secure a date in the near future. “I’ll be right back.”

“Bullshit,” he grins and there’s a clear amusement in his eyes. “You want to see your girlfriend.”

“Shut up,” I growl.

“What’s this?” Matt asks curiously as he takes a seat next to Alex.

“Our buddy here wants to see his girlfriend,” Alex’s grin doesn’t lessen as he tilts his head at me. “Needs to get his knee taped, he said.”

“Conjugal visit in-between periods? Classy,” Matt says with a salacious grin and I glare at him. When his laughter dies down, he points out, “okay, jokes aside, that’s a shit excuse. If you really need your knee taped, you’d see Brynne and not YN.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing else here,” I grumble like a stroppy child. “Can’t hit my own head just to get a cut, can I?”

“That would be outright dumb,” Alex laughs. “But come on, I’ll go to Brynne and make up something so at least you can tell the doctor that she’s busy.”

The treatment room is just down the hall from the locker, and when I get there, I notice the door is half open. I see her sitting on the little desk with her computer, so I knock lightly on the door to get her attention.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Her head swings up when she hears my voice and it takes everything in me not to just march there and kiss the fuck out of her when she offers me the sweetest smile. Crazy how much effect this woman has on me. “I need my knee taped but Brynne’s busy.”

“Sure, I was just reading the players’ medical chart,” she replies. “You were on fire out there by the way.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I smile at her.

“Skates, socks, shin pads and pants off,” she says as she walks towards the supply cabinet.

“Jock strap too?” I can’t help but smirk.

“No,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she grabs a towel and hands it to me. “Put this over your lap.”

“Do I have to?”

“Well, yeah, unless you want me to get a peek of your dick.”

“You know I wouldn’t be averse to that, Doc,” I say with a waggle of my eyebrows.

She gives me a school teacher, disapproving-type look but the slight twitch of amusement in the corner of her mouth is hard to miss. “You’re so bad.”

“You have no idea,” I grin, but she doesn’t see it because she has her back to me. She’s pulling another cabinet open to get adhesive, gauze and tape before knocking it close with her shoulder.

This is ridiculous but I’m actually a bit self-conscious of getting practically half naked in front of the hot doctor. I have absolutely no clue why and this had certainly never happened before.

I shed my gear from the waist down and she keeps her back to me until I get on the therapy table and the towel is covering my lap. She lays out her supplies on the table beside us, her slender fingers using a pair of scissors to open a new package of tape.

I take a moment to admire her as she cuts off uniform lengths of tape and attaches them to the table. She’s not in the scrubs I saw her in last week, but if you think I’d be disappointed, even just slightly, then you’d be wrong because you could put her in a burlap sack and to me she would still absolutely look edible.

Tonight, she’s rocking a mustard-yellow trouser suit with wide legs and a cross-over pleated blouse underneath her white lab coat. The crisscross swath of silk that wraps around her upper body does lovely things to her tits, and I realise I’m quite the pig to be thinking about her this way.

“Left knee?” She asks. “I’ve just finished reading your medical chart when you came in. Arthroscopic medical meniscus repair two years ago.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Sometimes it feels a little loose. A good taping is all it needs.”

“Any soreness?” She asks as she steps up in between my legs that dangle over the table.

I shake my head and say, “nope.”

“Clicking or popping?”

“Nope.”

“Locking?” She inquires as she lifts her face up to mine.

She’s fucking close enough I can smell her minty breath. I could easily kiss her, but I’d probably get kneed in the nuts, so I just shake my head and say, “nah, just feels a little loose.”

“Okay,” she says, laying a soft pat on my thigh. It’s nothing but a move of reassurance, but fuck if I don’t feel it all the way through my gut.

She grabs her supplies and I can’t keep my eyes off her as she gets to work taping my knee. It takes merely a few minutes, and then she finishes the wrap, holding the end while taping it with the precut pieces. “There you go,” she says, stepping back.

“I’ve got something to confess. My knee was absolutely fine,” I blurt out, the words popping out of my mouth so suddenly, I’ve got no clue where they came from. Clearly my subconscious decided to overtake my sensibility and make itself known. “I came here because I wanted to see you. Thought I’d try to get your phone number and a date one last time before I give up.”

She gives a tinkling laugh. “You’re not a quitter, are you?”

“Well, no,” I reply with a grin. “So, tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven. How does that sound?”

“Listen,” she smiles at me sweetly as she begins, but I don’t like the sound of it. Nothing good ever comes after ‘listen’. “You’re a nice guy-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I cut her as I hold my hands up. “Don’t go with the ‘nice guy’ brush off. Clearly I’m not if you won’t give me the time of day.”

“I just don’t think we’re looking for the same thing-”

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“Look, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem more like the bang ‘em and leave ‘em type to me.”

“Is that really how people see me?” I ask her curiously, without an ounce of defense in my voice because there’s no point in denying that. I really don’t care what people think, but I’d like to hear her opinion.

“You’re a player, Harry,” she says with a chuckle. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re young and in your prime. You should totally be sowing all your wild oats. It’s just… I’m at the point in my life where I realise that meaningless sex without something deeper isn’t very fulfilling. I don’t want that anymore.”

I feel a metaphorical light bulb goes off in my head.

I know she doesn’t mean to, but fuck, she hits me right where it hurts. She’s called that exactly right. This is something that I’ve actually realised and known for a while, especially after seeing my best mates being the happiest they’ve ever been after they found their women. There’s not an ounce of regret in what I did though, because just like my girl right here said, there’s nothing wrong with that. There was a time when burning my way through all the hot women in LA and having them take turns warming my bed had its appeal, but not anymore.

Maybe this is why I’ve been feeling unfulfilled lately. I know I’ve got a great career, more money than I could ever need in a lifetime and endless selection of gorgeous women to warm my bed every night. What more could a man possibly ask for, right? But at the end of the day, it’s just me in a monstrosity of a house that I call home.

Maybe deep down I know I don’t want it to be just me anymore.

“I think I’ve actually known that for a while, but the way you point that out, I think it’s drilled home now,” I admit as I face her.

“What do you mean?”

“That casual, meaningless sex without something deeper isn’t very fulfilling,” I say with a smile. “I mean, yes what I did was fun, but then I look at my best mates and see how happy they are with their women. Of course I rib them good because hey, that’s my job as their best mate…”

She laughs.

“...but that doesn’t mean I never look at them and think, fuck, I want that one day. Maybe the idea didn’t really appeal to me because I had never found the right person, who knows. But I swear I don’t want just sex with you. I want more. Do I know what I’m doing? Fuck, no. I haven’t even been on a proper date in years. But I do know that I genuinely want to get to know you better, Doc, that is if you give me the chance.”

She gives me a dopey smile when she asks, “you mean all that?”

“I really do,” I nod solemnly. “Now let me prove it to you. Go on a date with me.”

“Tell you what,” she begins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “If you go back on the ice and win the game, we can go to The Owner’s Box when you’re done to celebrate just like the other night. And if you behave, I’ll give you my number this time.”

“Want me to behave, huh?” I say teasingly with a waggle of my eyebrows. “Don’t fancy a bad boy?”

“Oh I actually have it bad for bad boys,” she smirks. “My favourite character in Harry Potter is Draco Malfoy.”

“Okay, I’ve got a counter offer,” I say as my laughter dies down. “If I get MVP tonight, which I’m pretty sure I will since you said it yourself that I’m on fire tonight, you give me your number straight away after the game and let me take you out to dinner. I’m thinking seven tomorrow night.”

Another roll of those gorgeous eyes that twinkle slightly at me. “Pushy, aren’t ya?”

“Only when I want something,” I tell her with a grin. “And I want you.”

“So do you want me or do you want to go out with me?” She asks slyly, tilting her head to the side.

“You gonna kick my balls if I say both?”

“I admire honesty,” she murmurs softly in that sexy, husky voice that seems to flow through my body and straight down to my dick.

“Hey boyfriend and girlfriend,” I hear Matt chirps from the doorway and my spine stiffens involuntarily. His shit-eating grin doesn’t lessen a bit even when I give him a glare. “Hate to steal your man, Doc, but the game is starting again soon and we kinda need our favourite asshole right here.”

“You two break a leg,” she chuckles. And then as an afterthought, she adds, “just so we’re clear, I don’t mean that literally.”

—

Manhattan Beach’s high-end strip of boutiques and restaurants are hugged by the beach on one side and some of California’s most expensive real estate on the other. It’s southern end blends seamlessly into smaller Hermosa Beach, which is similarly quiet but has a tight concentration of bars and restaurants near the town’s pier that attract bar-hoppers at night and sun-bleached dropouts during the day.

The Kings players’ houses are scattered evenly across the two towns. Some of us are clustered within a block or two of several teammates; others sprinkled little more than a mile or two away. All but one of the first-line players live in Manhattan Beach though, and we can easily walk or ride a beach cruiser to everyone else’s house.

YN lives in Silver Lake, and the drive to pick her up takes me about forty minutes. I know she must make a pretty good bank being an ER doctor, not to mention that she works at two places, but her house doesn’t scream that. It’s rather tiny, I’m betting not more than seven or eight hundred square feet max, and there’s not much of a porch but on the outer edge is a hanging basket of flowers.

There’s no doorbell so I rap my knuckles on the door. Flecks of peeling paint get knocked loose and fall to the concrete porch.

“Coming,” I hear her yell from inside and I can imagine her plopping in an earring, grabbing her handbag, and wondering if she turned the curling iron off. She sounds frazzled and rushed and I can’t wait to fucking see what she looks like when she opens the door.

And there she is.

She has a black dress on, and it’s not little but it’s spectacular. The neckline of the dress skims just below her collarbone so no skin or cleavage is exposed, but it doesn’t matter because the narrow waist and flared hips, all cocooned in black is sexy as shit. The hem of her dress comes down below her knees and the dress is so well fitted that I know there has to be a slit up the back so she can walk.

“Good grief you’re a sight for sore eyes,” I mutter as I let my eyes roam down and then back up again to find her smirking at me.

She’s got an off-white clutch bag tucked under an arm, and her head is leaning to the side so she can put her last earring in, exactly as I’d imagined.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she says, still smirking at me. I’d worn my best suit tonight in black with black shirt underneath and no tie. Glad she likes what she sees.

I step back so she can lock her door, and she turns to me as she tosses her keys in her clutch. I hold my arm out to her and ask, “ready?”

She nods and smiles as she curls her fingers in just below my biceps, then I escort her to my car.

I’m taking her to this new restaurant that both Alex and Matt recommended when I asked them last night for the finest restaurant in LA. It had been so long since the last time I took a woman out for a proper date, so I knew I needed to ask my mates and that they would have the answer. They both swore by this place called Apron, but then told me it took at least two weeks to get a reservation. Luckily though Alex had booked a table for him and Sloane tonight, and they gladly gave me the reservation. Sure I had to take a good deal of ribbing from my teammates and their women last night at the bar where we celebrated our win, but I knew it would be worth it.

The drive to the restaurant is short, only about ten minutes. And we lapse into the same easy conversation right away, just like we did the other night at The Owner’s Box. Today was my day off and I did absolutely nothing so I’ve got nothing interesting to tell, but she had plenty of exciting cases at the emergency room today, which included a toddler swallowing a penny.

“Holy shit, how did you get the coin out?” I ask her.

She laughs. “You don’t take it out. You’ve got to let the kid pass it naturally.”

“He can do that?”

“Well,” she begins. “I did take an X-ray first to make sure that it was small and could pass safely.”

“Okay, okay, okay… what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to remove from a patient?” I ask her with childish curiosity.

“Honestly, I think I’ve removed everything on the surface of the earth,” she snickers. “Coke bottle, tapeworms, coins, candles, but the strangest has got to be a stuffed animal. It was a Curious George doll, and… let’s just say that he’s no longer curious.”

“You’re joking right?” I bark in laughter as I park my car. We’ve arrived and I swear that was the shortest ten minutes of my life. “I mean… who does that?!”

“I wish,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose. “You’d be surprised if you know how many weirdos out there.”

I’m still chuckling as I exit my car, then I walk over to the passenger side to get her. I hold my arm out to her, and her hand so very easily slides into the crook of my elbow.

“You don’t think I’m one of them, right?”

She gives me a playful shrug. “Well, I don’t know, you might be a weirdo... I mean, I don’t know you well enough yet.”

I give her a smart-ass smirk. “Let’s remedy that then.”

—

“How’s that one?” I ask her as I finish a mouthful of this chocolate thingy. It was a chocolate ball concoction the waiter had poured more hot chocolate over, which then melted the ball to reveal a raspberry chocolate torte inside. She had a bite, but it was too rich for her. I agree though, it was a lot of damn chocolate.

“You’ve got to try this,” she says, spearing the lemon meringue pie with her fork, top it with a little bit of pine nut ice cream and holding it over the table to me.

It’s a completely intimate move and one that I didn’t expect from her tonight. I mean, she was reluctant to go out with me in the beginning and needed some convincing, so I expected her to be reserved and cautious. But hell I’m not complaining.

I lean in and let her feed me the dessert. The flavours explode on my tongue and I think that’s the best we’ve had tonight.

I don’t normally indulge in dessert, but they all sound good so I told her we should order all the ones we like the sound of. Which was most of them except that cucumber mousse and pickle ice cream because those sound like disasters on a plate.

“Good, huh?” She asks with a smile.

“Really good,” I tell her. “I think I like that one best.”

“Finish it then,” she says as she pushes the plate towards me. “I can’t possibly take another bite. I’m stuffed to the brim.”

“Alright,” I say with a chuckle as I pull the plate closer to me. “So, when are you free again so I can take you out to another date?”

She chuckles. “We’re not even finished with this one.”

I roll my eyes at her, then I ask, “are you having a good time?”

Her smile turns dopey and I know she’s just as smitten with me as I am with her. “This is definitely the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“If we were finished, considering how things have gone, would you go out with me again?”

“I would.”

“Good,” I say with an emphatic nod. “So, weekend or weekdays? When will it work best for you?”

—

I slow the speed on the treadmill, taking me down from a brisk run to a slow walk so I can cool down. Normally I like to run outside in the morning, but I woke up late this morning and we had a team skate scheduled at ten, so I figured I’d just do my workout afterwards at the arena.

Only a few of us actually have a gym membership outside. Most of us prefer to work out at the arena because not only is the equipment better, but we also have an abundance of teammates to work out with and that’s always nice.

I walk for about five minutes to cool down, then I turn the machine off and wipe my face with a towel. I grab my phone and water bottle and turn for the barbells, as today I’m working my chest and shoulders. Mitch and Marcel are already lifting, both defensemen who tend to focus on brute strength versus speed and stamina, so I’m not surprised they didn’t go for the treadmill. I also see Matt there, and I bet Alex will join us too after he’s done cooling down.

“Have a nice run, princess?” Marcel asks dryly as I set my stuff down near the bench press.

“I’m not the one who has to prove my manhood by how much weight I can lift,” I return with a sly grin.

“Yeah, well, your manhood is in a dry spell,” he says as he loads some weight onto the bar. Pre the hot doctor, both Marcel and I were the only single guys in the first line. He’s just as much as a player—on and off the ice—as I was, but now I gladly pass the title to him.

“Not true,” Matt quips with a grin. “He went on a date last night.”

“No shit,” Marcel turns to me in astonishment. “With who?”

Before I can even answer Alex throws a quick glance at us, flashes a shit-eating grin, and yells from the treadmill, “the new doctor.”

“But I saw you two got pretty cosy at The Owner’s Box last week,” Marcel says, as if he’s still confused as hell.

“Well yeah, she was cool, so I took her out again,” I say firmly.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” He blinks at me. Eyes all round and not comprehending. “You never look at the same woman twice.”

“So?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Ooh, I get it,” he says with a smirk. “Pussy that good, huh?”

“Hey,” I cut in with a warning. “I’m not there yet.”

They all suddenly stop whatever they’re doing and turn to me with raised eyebrows. Yes, Mitch included, which I’m actually quite surprised.

“Whoa, hang on,” Marcel says. “You haven’t tapped that yet?”

“You’re serious?” Matt looks at me in disbelief. “Not even last night?”

“Dude, I gave you that reservation last night to give you the opportunity,” Alex says as he walks towards us. “I was genuinely worried about your balls.”

They’re still looking at me confused, but Adam howls with laughter. “Don’t listen to these pigs. Rachel and I took it real slow at the beginning of our relationship too, and I got to tell you, the anticipation was half the fun.”

It’s true. I’m in no rush with YN because I know we’ll get there sooner or later. I can be patient when I want to be, and right now I honestly want to. I want to prove to her that when I said I wanted to get to know her, I meant her as a person and not just carnally.

I could tell that I confused her last night when I dropped her off at her doorstep after our date. I gave her nothing but a soft, brief kiss to her cheek, then told her to get inside, lock up and get some rest. Sure, she was confused for a few seconds, but the smile that I got after she realised that I really did want to take things slow was so much more than worth it.

“So you think this thing with the hot doctor is going to go the distance?” Matt asks me.

“I do,” I say confidently. I’m not dumb enough not to realise that she hasn’t fully let her guard down yet for whatever reason. Maybe she’d been badly hurt in the past, maybe it’s my past that causes her to be a little bit sceptical, I mean... let’s be honest, I was a player through and through. But that doesn’t scare me though, because I know I’m in it for the long haul. So yes, I can say it with confidence that this thing between us is going to go the distance.

“Well, if you fuck it up, I’ve got the first crack at her,” Marcel says with a salacious grin. I don’t think twice before I grab my wet towel and throw it at him. It hits him right in the face, and my teammates howl with laughter.

All this talk about her makes me want to see her again. I’ve secured a second date last night for next Wednesday since that’s when both of us will be free, but that’s still four days away and I can’t wait that long. So I pull up my phone and type out a quick text to her.

Hey, what are you doing today?

I grab my water bottle and take a slug. Before I put my water bottle down, I already got a response. I need to go and get a new bed frame. Really can’t stand this old thing anymore.

I can’t help but chuckle. She did tell me last night about her bedroom set which was apparently really old, but she couldn’t get rid of it since it’d been in the family for a few generations and her grandmother gave it to her when she bought her house.

Want some company? I quickly type.

She’s just as fast in her response. You want to go with me buy a bed frame?

Well, yeah. I’ve finished the team skate this morning and will be done with my workout soon. I’ve got nothing to do after and I want to see you. I reply.

Alright then. She texts me back within a minute. But I’m on-call though so I can be called to the hospital any time.

Doesn’t matter, I still want to see you. I text her back. When can I pick you up?

Give me half an hour.

Perfect.

—

I’ve bought three houses in my twenty-seven years of life; the one I currently live in, one in Toronto when I was still with the Leafs before I got traded to the Kings and one for my mum back in London. And yet not once have I ever gone on a furniture shopping.

Until today.

That was something I never in a million years would have dreamed to do, simply because I hated shopping with a burning passion. Hell, I didn’t even buy things for my own house because I paid the previous owner to leave everything behind. That kind of thing was honestly just something that I would have never taken the time for.

And yet, in shuffling through my memories, I really can’t remember having such a great time before. All I know is that I don’t want the day to end, and I also know that it has everything to do with the company.

I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, and technically we’ve only been on one date even though we saw each other quite often at the arena. But there was nothing odd when my hand would find its way to her thigh, or when she’d drape her arm across my shoulders so her fingers could play with my hair as we cruised along from one furniture shop to another. I love that we’re at ease with each other as if we’d known each other forever, not to mention that she’s also one of the easiest women I’ve had the pleasure of talking to in a long time.

Sadly though, it had to end when she was called to the hospital. Luckily, it was just in time after she chose a particular bed frame that she liked. It’s a classic canopy bed in live-edge oakwood with a brushed brass iron base, and I felt like a pig because even as we were still at the shop, I was already thinking about which ties from my collection would work best.

They offered same-day delivery since they had it in the storage, and since she was needed at the hospital, I offered to wait for the delivery at her home for her. She agreed, so she gave me her key after I dropped her at the hospital.

And here I am. Sitting on her bedroom floor trying to build this bloody nightmare because apparently they didn’t offer assembly service. I’ve been at it for an hour and a half now. Okay, no, more like an hour and ten minutes because I spent about twenty minutes fixing the sink in her en suite. I noticed the faucet was leaking, and I needed to step away from that bloody bed for a little anyway.

Now I don’t have another excuse, so I’m back on hammering one of the bazillion nails into the wood. I’m so focused on the task that I didn’t realise YN is home until I hear her chuckling as she walks into her bedroom and say, “you know, that is the kind of pounding that’s supposed to happen after you’re in the bed.”

I can’t help it. I fucking throw my head back and bust out laughing. “Sod off.”

“You don’t have to do it, that looks complicated. I’ll just hire someone to put it together tomorrow,” she says with a sweet smile. “Just get up and go sit on the couch. I just need to go to the bathroom real quick and then I’ll join you.”

“Yeah, that won’t do, Doc,” I say firmly. “I’ll still finish this bloody thing even if it kills me.”

“Stubborn,” she quips affectionately with a roll of her eyes as she heads towards her en suite.

“Smart-ass,” I reply with my eyes pinned to one of the million pieces of her bed frame, also with affection.

“Harry?” She calls out from her en suite.

“Yeah?” I answer, when I look up, she’s leaning against the doorframe and looking at me confused.

“Am I crazy or did you actually fix my sink?” She asks with an arched eyebrow. “Because I swear the faucet still leaks a little this morning.”

“Yeah, I did,” I say with a wave of my hand. “I needed to walk away from this for a minute and when I went to your en suite, I noticed it leaked. Not a big deal though, took me only about fifteen minutes.”

“Well, good to know that if you ever quit your day job, you have a career in plumbing,” she snickers. “But seriously, you didn’t have to do that, and you certainly don’t have to finish that.”

“It’s what any boyfriend would do, Doc,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Yes I am,” I roll my eyes. “I took you on a date last night and I’m taking you out again on Wednesday. I’m not seeing anyone else, so that means we’re dating. And technically that makes me your boyfriend.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she sputters but I can see the amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Besides… I might be seeing someone else.”

“You’re not,” I say with relative certainty.

“How did you change just like that is beyond me,” she murmurs, the appreciation in her voice evident.

I let out a chuckle. “Just get your butt in there and go chill on the couch after. I’m pretty sure I’ll be done in about half an hour, then we can order something for dinner.”

“Yes sir,” she says with a mock salute, which makes me snort.

—

An hour later, her bed is finally built and as I walk into her kitchen I see her putting the plates on the table. It smells phenomenal here, and I’m surprised when I look at the table because how the hell did she manage to cook all that in an hour?

I take advantage of her back facing me by putting my hands at her hips and pressing my chest onto her back. I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck and it takes everything in me not to kiss her there. The combination of her perfume and the faint smell of antiseptic is sexy to me. So I can’t help but hum and mumble, “smells delicious.”

“The chicken?” She murmurs.

“Among other things,” I reply softly.

She chuckles. “Come on, let’s dig in while it’s still hot.”

I take a seat in front of her before I select a drumstick from a plate of fried, spicy goodness and put it on my plate. There’s something about the fact that YN made it that makes me believe it will be the best chicken I’ve ever had. Today will no doubt go down as one of the best days ever, which I seem to think a lot when I’m around this woman.

As she dishes me some salad, I honestly can’t wait anymore and take a bite of the chicken. Her eyes snap to me when I let out a groan.

“Good?” She asks with a grin.

I can’t help but let out another groan of approval as I take another bite. “Damn, Colonel, you never told me you make a mean fried chicken.”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” she shrugs smugly.

“Or a fine ass,” I tease. “If you want to quit your day job you can totally open up a fast food chain. Your fried chicken puts KFC to shame.”

She laughs as she cuts some cornbread and puts it on my plate. “Now try this, I make a mean cornbread too.”

“Mmm,” I say in pleasure as I take the first bite.

“Okay, you need to stop with the sexy moaning,” she grumbles with a tiny smirk before she turns back to her dinner. “You’re so bad. I think you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I laugh. “And besides, you’re just as bad.”

“True,” she replies with a sly smile. “I can be bad too.”

“But just how bad are we talking here?” I ask with a smirk.

“Not bad enough to sleep with you tonight,” she says before she takes a sip of water. After she swallows, she adds, “but totally bad enough I might get frisky with you.”

I give her a mock groan and look up to the ceiling. “A tease. I’ve saddled myself with a tease tonight.”

She laughs.

We talk about what she did at the hospital today as we eat, and her job in general, and it never fails to thrill me the things that she can do. She’s a jack of all trades when it comes to medicine, needing to be able to diagnose and stabilise, often in pressure-filled situations where time is of the essence. I can’t even imagine having the responsibility of someone’s life in my hands like that, and yet she seems to be able to leave it all behind. She talks openly and often with humour about her work, but she also admits that sometimes she can’t help but bear the burden of death too when her skills just don’t make a difference.

I admire her so fucking much. Never admired a woman before, but in fairness… I never looked too deeply at them.

I’m seeing YN through unfiltered eyes and I like everything that I’m seeing.

—

Something is squirming in my arms and it wakes me up.

I tighten my arm around it in response to the movement and pull it back slightly against my body.

Wait? What?

Sleep.

Couch.

We fell asleep on her couch while watching a film.

It all comes back in a rush. Our totally awesome conversation over equally awesome food she cooked that I couldn’t stop raving about all night. I had three pieces of chicken by the way. We talked more about our backgrounds, me growing up in Cheshire and her childhood in South Carolina. We had a few beers, and when she asked me if I wanted to stay a bit and watch a film or something, of course I said hell yes.

The fact that she asked made me smile, because it meant that she was having a good time too with me. So we ended up on her couch watching Jaws, and I liked that she didn’t even hesitate when I lay down on her couch, pressed my back against the cushions and patted the area in front of my hips. I’m pretty sure she can see the devilish gleam in my eyes when I said, “come on… let’s cuddle.”

“Wow… Harry Styles, big bad hockey player, shameless flirt, total panty dropper. Didn’t peg you as a cuddler.”

“I’m a big teddy bear, honey,” I said with a grin and open arms.

She fell asleep first, and I know I should’ve left but the slightest movement from me would definitely wake her up. I know she must be tired so I decided against it and closed my eyes instead.

“Morning,” she says in a husky, raspy, ‘I just woke up’ voice and it’s sexy as fuck.

“Morning,” I reply, my own voice is still rough with sleep. I wonder if she thinks that’s sexy too. “You slept good?”

“Mhmm,” she hums softly, but then immediately groans as she glances at the clock above the telly. “Ugh, I have to be in the hospital in about an hour.”

She then tries to extricate herself from my arms, but I pull her back in close and nuzzle her neck as I point out, “you work a lot.”

“Ha, tell me about it,” she says with a dry laugh. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my job. It’s just I wish I could sleep for three days straight sometimes.”

“Do you even have a day off in the week?” I ask curiously.

“I do,” she answers with a nod. “It was actually my day off yesterday, but I was filling in for a colleague.”

I loosen my hold and let her sit up in front of me. “Go get in the shower, I’ll make us both a quick breakfast.”

“You can cook?”

“Well, if I give you food poisoning you’re heading to the hospital anyway,” I chuckle.

In the kitchen, I grab some eggs and a pack of English muffins from her fridge. A quick breakfast sandwich sounds good, and portable just in case she needs to eat on her way to the hospital. I crack open a couple of eggs, scramble them with a fork and add salt and pepper while my skillet heats up. I put a bit of olive oil in the pan before I toss the English muffins into her toaster to crisp, then set coffee to brew in her Keurig. I’m moving around her kitchen as if I was born here.

By the time I pour the eggs into the pan, she walks out of her bedroom in her scrubs. I smile and nod at the Keurig as I say, “coffee’s ready.”

“And damn, you’re hot in those scrubs,” I add with a grin, giving the eggs a last scramble before pulling them off the heat.

“You’re joking right?” She says, wrinkling her nose as she grabs the milk from the fridge and turns my way, letting the door swing shut on its own.

“I’m serious, Doc,” I say with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind getting a thorough exam from you. Preferably in your new canopy bed though so I can tie you up after for a payback.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s eight in the morning,” she laughs and I snort in return.

She then pours some milk in her coffee, pulls the cup to her mouth, and blows across the steaming surface. Her eyes meet mine over the edge of the cup as she takes a tentative sip. “Are we still on for Wednesday?”

“Of course,” I say with a confident smile.

“What have you got planned?”

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see,” I tease her. “Just to warn you though, I may or may not gonna put my hands all over you.”

I don’t tell her that by putting my hands all over her, I mean on the ice to keep her from falling since I plan to take her ice-skating on the team’s practice rink. I don’t want to spoil the surprise, and besides, I’d be lying if I said I never thought of other ways too. The way she’s looking at me right now assures me that she does too, and well, that’s good.

We can compare notes on that later when we get there.

—

Blinking at me with a sleepy smile on her face, YN stands up from my couch. I walk up to her and she pushes me down into her seat, and then crawls onto my lap.

This is nice.

Our date on Wednesday was amazing, and as we walked inside, she turned to me and asked, “so this was your big plan to put your hands on me?”

I just laughed in response, and I did have to put my hands on her quite a lot in the end since she didn’t know how to ice-skate. Fuck if I’m complaining though.

Now we’re snuggled up on the couch at my house with full bellies. Last weekend she cooked me amazing food, so today, I wanted to impress her by cooking a roast dinner and introduced her to Yorkshire pudding. Sure, I was on the phone with my mum the entire time so she could give me directions, but I only almost burnt down my kitchen once so I’d call that a success.

I lean forward, which pushes her slightly to the edge of the couch, then I reach an arm over her and grab a packet of KitKat from the coffee table. I’m glad when I learnt that it is actually her favourite chocolate too, because KitKat is elite and it’s good to know we’re on the same page.

“Want another?” I ask her.

“No,” she groans. “I’m so full.”

I chuckle and awkwardly unwrap the chocolate. Awkward because I have to open it in front of her face since I have my arms around her, and once I got it opened, I hold the naked little chocolate bars in front of her mouth and tease, “want a bite?”

She shakes her head.

I wave it under her nose and I guess the smell of the chocolate changes her mind because then she says, “okay, a little bite.”

I break the bars and feed one of it to her, letting her take a bite and then chucks the rest in my mouth. We chew silently as we watch Marlin looking for Nemo, and I sigh in contentment when she tucks her face into my neck and drapes one arm across my chest.

It takes no more than ten minutes before I notice her breathing has slowed down and she’s fallen asleep. I rest my cheek on the top of her head and continue watching these fishies. I’m a little drowsy from all the food, but I resist the urge to fall under. For now, I just want to savour my existence at this moment because as Dory says to Marlin, “I look at you and I’m home”, I truly realise that’s how she makes me feel.

I’m sitting in my house, but for once, it doesn’t feel empty anymore. I just had a wonderful meal where we talked and joked and flirted, and now I have a gorgeous woman who I’m crazy about curled up on my lap.

There is absolutely no other place I’d rather be right now.

—

“Dude, you’re so fucking whipped,” Alex says as he punches me on the shoulder. I jerk slightly and reluctantly take my gaze off YN to look his way.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I take a swig of my beer and promptly look back at my girl. She’s standing just ten feet away, sipping on her own beer and talking animatedly with Sloane and Brynne. We’re at The Owner’s Box tonight having our first triple date, and I’m having a brilliant time. The only thing better would be if YN would quit chatting with the girls and get her sweet ass over here to sit next to me.

“Fucking hopeless,” Matt mutters and Alex snickers.

I blink and turn to look at them. “What? Why am I hopeless?”

“Because you can’t fucking take your eyes off of your girl for more than two seconds,” Alex jeers at me. Then he leans in towards me and murmurs with a mocking sneer, “pussy.”

“Bollocks that,” I say haughtily. “I can take my eyes off of her longer than that.”

“Good,” Matt says, handing me an empty beer bottle. “Go get us some more beer.”

“Assholes,” I say with good nature and head towards the bar. Stopping beside my girl, I kiss her on the temple. “You girls want anything else to drink?”

Sloane and Brynne shake their heads, smiling coyly at me as they watch my uncharacteristic display of affection. I’m immensely pleased when YN smiles at me and rests her hand on my chest. “I’m good, but thank you.”

“Be right back,” I tell the girls, and then I set out to prove Alex and Matt wrong.

I swivel my gaze back to Matt and Alex, and I give a sheepish grin when Matt mouths the word pussy at me. I flip him off and head towards the bar, intent on not looking back at my girl for at least the next few minutes it takes me to get the beers.

“Excuse me,” I hear and feel a tap on my shoulder. “Harry, can we get an autograph and a picture?”

As I turn around with a warm smile in my place, the word sure is out of my mouth before I even see who’s asking. I’m met by a vision of holy hotness as two women stand there with tight-as-hell t-shirts cut obscenely low and with plenty of silicone boobs pouring out.

Just a mere month ago, I would have whispered a prayer of thanks to the big man upstairs for sending these two my way, knowing well that I’d be banging the hell out of one of them before the night was finished. Instead, my stomach tightens and I glance past them to see YN still deep in conversation with Sloane and Brynne.

I bring my gaze back to the women… a brunette and a blonde, both looking at me with promise in their eyes.

“Do you mind taking your picture with us?” The blonde asks with a bat of her eyelashes.

I give her a quick smile and say, “sure, no problem.”

She steps up to me as she hands her phone to the brunette. I lift my arm to sling it companionably around her shoulders, but she uses that opportunity to press intimately into my side, bringing both arms around my waist and mashing her breasts against my ribs.

“Thanks so much,” the blonde says in a seductive voice. “Can we buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I decline with a smile. “I’ve got some friends waiting for me.”

“An autograph, then?” She asks.

“Sure.”

The blonde digs in her handbag and pulls out a sharpie. She then hands it to me and says, “can you make mine out to Kourtney with a K?”

“You got it,” I say, eager to get this over with because it feels awkward to me to have this woman coming onto me with my girl standing just a few feet away.

“Just sign here,” she says and my jaw drops as she pulls the edge of her t-shirt down her chest, practically exposing her entire right breast to me.

“Uh, you got a piece of paper instead?” I ask her. “I don’t think my girlfriend would like that.”

“You bet your ass she won’t,” I hear my girl quips from behind me and I’m trying my best not to laugh. I like that she immediately snuggles into my side so those women now would have no doubt that I’m totally hers, “wanna go play some pool, baby? Loser buys the drinks.”

“You’re on,” I tell her, Kourtney with a K and her friend are long forgotten. “But just to warn you, I’m really good.”

“Honey, I was practically born on one of these tables with a beer in my hand,” she says smugly, “you’re going down.”

—

“Do you want to come in?” YN asks as she pulls out her keys from her handbag. We’ve just got back from The Owner’s Box and as usual, I walk her to the door.

My tone is low, soft, and barely audible when I say, “Doc, if I come inside tonight, I don’t think I can promise you to keep my hands to myself.”

“I don’t want you to promise me anything,” she replies firmly. “Whatever happens, happens. Now, let’s not dawdle on my porch and get inside. Want some more beers?”

“Whoa, don’t hand me ammunition,” I joke and she laughs. “I’ll take some water though.”

“There’s some water bottles in the fridge,” she says, pointing to the tiny kitchen that sits at the rear of the house, past the living room. “I’ll be right back.”

I get two bottles of water out of the fridge and head back into her living room. I take a seat on the couch and pull out my phone, scrolling mindlessly as I wait for my girl.

When she reappears, she’s wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a white t-shirt. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and her makeup has been washed off. Her in a t-shirt and tiny shorts is a hundred times sexier than her in literally anything else—yes, including her scrubs—and there’s no stopping my downstairs head from waking up.

“Come here.”

Her eyebrows rise, but I don’t miss the clear interest in her eyes. “Come there?”

I tap my thigh, “right here.”

Her cheeks flush and a little puff of breath blows out of her. With absolutely no hesitation, she crawls onto my lap. Our gazes are locked tight and her eyes darken with intensity. When her chest comes level with mine, and her knees are pressed into the cushion just inches from my crotch, she asks me softly, “you going to finally kiss me?”

“I’m thinking about it,” I tease her as my hands come around her lower back, pressing her onto me.

Fuck, she feels good against me. Just her soft curves and warmth and I’m already starting to get hard before I even lay my mouth on hers.

She looks at me with sizzling eyes as we stare at each other, knowing that once we take this step, our relationship is going to another level.

Leaving one hand on her lower back, I slide the other up and over the shoulder, letting my palm glide up her neck so my fingers can tangle in her hair. She shivers when my thumb strokes her jaw before I cup my hand around the back of her head.

Her hands reach out and circle behind my neck. Then she whispers as she licks her lower lip, “so this is it?”

“This is it,” I tell her, and because I absolutely cannot wait one second longer, I put pressure on the back of her head to lock our mouths together. The first touch of her lips against mine causes pleasure to punch straight through my groin, and the world just absolutely melts away.

There’s nothing else but her.

Lips so fucking soft, tongue tentative and sweet. Her hair silky to the touch and her skin warm as my hand snakes up just under the edge of her t-shirt.

She tilts her head, opens her mouth more and kisses me deeper. I groan and pull her tighter to me. My hand fists tighter into her hair, hampered by the hair tie somewhat but not giving a fuck. Her hips start to rotate slightly, rubbing herself along the top of my thigh. My dick gets achingly hard as she starts to make tiny sounds of need in the back of her throat.

My other hand slips down her back and palms her backside, then I give a tentative squeeze. I think she likes that, because her hips shift forward and she starts to grind her crotch on my leg. I press against her ass, encouraging her to keep moving against me. She does it again and shudders in my arms, so I know it’s hitting her in the right spot.

Pulling on her hair, I break the kiss just enough so I can growl at her, “get yourself off, darling. Right here. On my leg.”

Her eyes fly open and they’re full of fire and sexual need as they stare back at me. Her lips curve up in a wicked smile of acquiescence and I pull her back down to my mouth for a hard kiss.

She rotates her hips in circles, then alternates flexing back and forth. I clench my thigh muscle, wanting to give her as hard a surface as possible to stimulate herself. I slip my hand down the back of her shorts, finding bare skin. I squeeze and push her down on me, helping her to move faster on my leg.

She pants and moans softly as she works herself up. I have to force myself not to push my hand down further between her legs. I’m bound and determined not to go there yet, and besides, this is hot as fuck and completely satisfying to me.

She moves faster and faster, making tiny cries of yearning into my mouth as we kiss. Then she punches her pelvis down hard onto my thigh, going still for a moment before her entire body starts quaking in silent orgasm. I hear nothing but a soft sigh of pleasure escape her lips and slither over my tongue.

Her body goes limp in my arms. She lifts her head, our lips parting, and looks down at me with glazed eyes. I press my lips to her briefly just once more, before I pull my hand out of the back of her shorts and roll her body off me. As I stand up and hover over her for a minute, I see her cheeks flushed rosy and her nipples pebbled hard, even through her t-shirt.

Placing a hand on the couch cushion, I lower myself to her and brush my lips across her forehead. “Get a good night’s sleep.”

“Wait- you’re leaving?” She asks, confusion coating her expression.

“Yes,” is all I say.

“But-”

“I’ll take a cold shower when I get home, no worries,” I assure her with a smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I had a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells me, still looking like a wet noodle on the couch so I don’t think she’ll be getting up anytime soon.

“I did too,” I smile at her over my shoulder as I reach for her door.

It’s in this moment that I’m pretty sure I’m a goner for her.

—

I see the hottest, sexiest, most adorable doctor walking across the darkened parking lot towards me. Well, towards her car. Her head is tucked down and she looks tired. When she finally looks up and locks her eyes on me, the exhaustion melts away and I’m rewarded with a happy, welcoming smile from her.

“You really have to stop stalking me in parking lots,” she quips as she walks closer.

Then closer still until the tips of her shoes touch the tips of mine and she’s offering her mouth to me for a kiss. Obviously, I take it, because who wouldn’t? Her lips are perfect. She tastes like mint gum and smells faintly of antiseptic, and that right there is my favourite combo.

When she pulls back, she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and asks, “seriously, what are you doing here?”

“I wanna take you somewhere,” I tell her as I grab her hand and take her towards my car that’s parked the next row over.

“Where?”

“Just get in the car, Doc.”

“You’re being vague,” she says with an arched eyebrow. “Is this where you kidnap me, take my kidney and sell it on eBay?”

“This is where I’ll find a way to occupy that beautiful mouth of yours if you keep asking questions and ruin the surprise,” I tell her and she gives a tinkling laugh.

“Promises, promises,” she singsongs and I just roll my eyes.

It only takes about fifteen minutes from Cedars-Sinai Hospital where she works to the closest beach where I plan to take her for an impromptu picnic date night. We only had to stop by to get some pizza because I already have a cooler with a six-pack of beers loaded in the back of my car. It’s a little too late for sunset, but the purplish black of twilight is lush.

“The beach, huh,” she deadpans. “You brought me out here to seduce me?”

“You naughty girl,” I clutch a hand to my chest and make an exaggerated gasp of disbelief. “That’s indecent exposure that is.”

She laughs as she opens the door of the car and hops out. I do the same, then I open the back door to pull out the pizza, blanket and the cooler with beers inside before letting her help by taking the blanket.

Somehow we have the beach to ourselves tonight, and she points out a nice spot for us to sit. I agree, so I let her spread out the blanket. After both of us have our butts firmly planted, side by side, facing the ocean, I take two beers out and hand one to her.

“Ooh, we’re going fancy tonight,” she says when she sees that I brought microbrews instead of cheap beer.

I chuckle as I open the pizza box and grab a slice of the cheesy goodness that will probably clog my artery, then we talk about our day as we eat. I tell her the funny things that happened at practice today, including a joke that Marcel told us in the locker room which most would probably find insulting, but I know my girl is used to locker room talk and would find it hilarious, and she tells me what she did in the hospital. Apparently, they were so busy today that her lunch break lasted less than ten minutes.

“You never cease to amaze me, Doc,” I tell her honestly. “It’s so cool what you do for a living. Impressive as hell.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she says softly. “That means a lot.”

It’s completely dark by the time we finish our pizza, but the view is still lush since the moon is bright, causing the water to look like it’s covered in floating, crushed diamonds.

We’re silent as we sip our beers, and I love that we can sit in comfortable silence as well as talk for hours. It’s crazy to think that it’s only been a few weeks that we’ve known each other yet I just feel such a strong connection with her. I love that we’re so in tune with each other that sometimes we say the same things and steal lines from one another. We have a similar sense of humour and we can even exchange an inside joke with just a glance.

I loosen my hold of her when she pulls away from my side embrace. Her head swivels to me, and I can see the moon glittering in her eyes. “I owe you an apology.”

“What?” I look at her in confusion.

“I misjudged you, Harry,” she says with a tender smile. “When you asked me out, I outright told you that you’re a player without even giving you a chance to explain yourself. I made an assumption, and that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

“And your assumption was right,” I tell her honestly with a light chuckle. “There is nothing to apologise for. It was common knowledge, I was a manwhore.”

She snorts. “Shut up, I’m serious.”

“Me too,” I squeeze her hand. “You didn’t misjudge me, Doc, you knew exactly the type of guy I used to be.”

She has a dreamy smile on her face when she says, “kiss me.”

“No, you come here and kiss me,” I say, and I’m pretty sure she can see my eyes sparkling with mischief.

She rolls her eyes and mutters “fine” under her breath as she plants her knees on the sides of my legs, but I don’t miss the light in her eyes which tells me that she likes the idea.

Closing her eyes, she dips her mouth to mine and now I’m wondering if the two years of jail time and a fine for indecent exposure is worth it if I were to take her right here right now.

—

We’re in New York for two away games in a row, tonight against the Rangers which we won 3-1, and tomorrow night against the Devils. I’m chuffed not only because we won and I played great, but I also had a great day today before the game with my girl. We didn’t do much since she wanted me to save my energy for the game tonight, but we did walk around our hotel and ended up napping on the couch in the room that I share with Marcel.

We all ride on the team bus that takes us from the hotel to the arena and back to the hotel after we finish the game. I wanted her to sit next to me, but for both trips, to the arena and back, she gave me a slight shake of her head and sat with the girls along with the rest of the staff in the front.

When I hop off the bus though, I see her waiting for me with a grin on her face. I kiss the fuck out of her, not caring about my teammates who whistle and yell, “get a room.”

“Which floor are you on again?” I ask her as we enter the lift. I want to walk her to her room just to spend a few minutes more with her.

Yeah, laugh all you want. I know I’m fucking whipped.

“Tenth,” she says, pulling her room key out of her handbag and hands it to me so I can scan it then tap the button on number ten.

“Wanna catch an early breakfast with me tomorrow?” I ask her as we approach her room that she shares with the team’s orthopaedic surgeon, Callie.

“Sure. What time?”

“We’re leaving for light skate practice at 9:30, so we should have plenty of time if we meet down there at 8:30.”

“Sounds good,” she nods as we reach her door.

There’s a handwritten note stuck in between the door and the jamb. She puts her key in the card slot, opens the door slightly, and snag the piece of paper. She opens it up and I look over her shoulder at the note as we read it silently together.

YN,

Marcel and Joslynn are hooking up and they’re in his room which means Harry has been kicked out. I’m going to sleep with Macy instead, so you and Harry can have this room. Unless you want Harry to go sleep with Macy?

No? Didn’t think so.

Have fun you two.

Callie

“This is Alex, Matt and Marcel’s doing,” I tell her with absolute certainty as she twists her neck to look at me. “I’ll just get an extra room for tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chuckles. “You can sleep here. We’ve spent the night together before.”

“Yeah, but that was different. We fell asleep on the couch, it wasn’t intentional,” I point out. “I don’t trust myself sleeping in the same bed with you, Doc. I’m not going to be able to help myself.”

“Well, good,” she says, smiling mischievously. “Cause I’m done wait-”

That’s as far as she gets before I push her through the door, backing her into the room. My mouth hits her only moments before her legs hit the edge of the bed and we both go tumbling onto it.

This is when we realise there’s a huge box of condoms with 144 packs inside it in the middle of the bed. On the top, there’s another note and I recognise Matt’s handwriting on it.

You’re welcome by the way

“I freaking love your teammates,” she says with a laugh.

I guess I owe those fuckers some beers.

#hockey!harry #harry styles au #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #boyfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurbs #harry styles drabbles

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felassan · 3 years

Text

Jon Renish (Foundation Technical Director @ BioWare, working on DA4) recently did a Twitch stream where he played through some DAO. Although he works on DA, this is his first time playing through DAO. He’s playing through it looking at random details from a dev perspective as he’s currently working on DA4 and therefore wants to know more about the previous games.

On the stream he mentioned some tidbits on the development of DA4. There were also some insights and anecdotes about the development of DAO and similar. It’s a 3 hour stream so I collected them here in case that’s of use to anyone (for example not everyone can watch streams which don’t have subtitles/captions). The stream is a fun/interesting watch though, so if you’re curious or able to watch I recc doing so. 😊 The rest of this post is under a cut for length.

Please note that there’s some paraphrasing on my part, this is not a transcript. There are also some additions from another dev who featured on the stream to give some commentary. The stream also contains more snippets that at times I couldn’t make out (I tried my best!).

(There is a mention of Cullen’s VA in the text below.)

DA4

Jon said he can talk about things about DA4 that aren’t “consumer-facing”, but he can’t say anything about the game that would be consumer-facing but which isn’t already publicly available. There are several reasons for this. One, that’s not his job, there are people whose job this is and they let each other do their respective roles. Two, BW are a publicly-traded company, so if he said something that could affect that that would be insider trading. Three, they’re not done making DA4 yet, so if he said that they have added [x] to the game and people got all excited about that or pre-ordered on that basis, but [x] ended up being cut, people would be like ‘BioWare lied to us’, when it’s just that things changed during the course of development, as is often the case

He’s glad that fans are excited for the game but notes that fan expectations are always double-edged. It can be really tough as some people started ‘playing’ the game in their heads as soon as they heard of it. That’s fine, he loves that, but he hopes that peoples’ expectations don’t turn into requirements. Clearly BW have alluded to certain characters, like Solas, being in the game, but some fans say things like “If [say] Morrigan isn’t in the game, then, rahhh!” Y’know, there’s a lot of talk about how certain characters have to be in the game, and yeah.

On characters which are quantum (i.e. characters which can die or which can have similar end-states as death in previous games): their being quantum makes it really hard for the devs to work with those characters in subsequent games. The devs naturally aren’t going to put as much effort into characters which could have died previously. A character can have had an amazing appearance throughout/role in a previous game, but if there is a risk of something happening to them and of them being removed [effectively] from the plot, it just doesn’t make sense to have them as a major character in a subsequent game. If a character can, say, sacrifice themselves in some glorious ending, the devs have to make sure that if they use them again, in worldstates where the character didn’t do that, the character is kind of ‘muted’, as the devs don’t want to disrespect the players who made a different choice

A comment in chat expressed a wish for Shale in DA4. Jon’s response is that he has no idea on that front

Bugs don’t come out of crunch, they come out of development in general. Crunch does impact on the quality of a game though. In recent years BW are always really trying to reduce crunch, they’re currently working really hard to bring it down. The best way of doing that is by controlling scope. As creatives it’s tough to balance wanting to make great stuff and be industry-leading with the desire to constantly do extra passes over things they’ve created like the audio, art etc. Their biggest enemy is time, other ways of reducing crunch or time spent in general include iterating tools to make often-repeated processes as time-efficient as possible

I think the following was an observation on the industry in general as opposed to a BW-specific/-exclusive comment: he thinks that as a result of this sort of thing [working to reduce crunch], a lot of games are going to have to be smaller and a lot more focused in scope i.e. the devs will have to focus on hitting the key selling points of that particular game/series as hard as they can, and cut down on branching out sideways/wide on a bunch of random other stuff

Jon doesn’t personally engage in character creators in games, but he knows that for some players that expression is worth a lot of time and focus. BW want to be industry-leading in this kind of stuff as it’s something which is interesting/key/integral to their games

In a way BW have made their own nest of problems what with every DA game being so different to the previous one. Still, he notes that each game has a staunch fanbase that says that their particular favorite game is the best one in the series

He doesn’t want people who think that DA4 isn’t what they want to buy it and be upset - there are so many other great games out there! BW are going to make the game they’re going to make - if some people like it, that’s great, and if some people don’t, that’s cool. Sometimes waiting until reviews are out and/or really seeing beforehand if a game is something that you want [has things/features in it that you want] prior to getting it - as opposed to jumping right in or pre-ordering - is a good idea. Fans don’t always know what they want, but they do know what they like - these are 2 different things

He hopes that whatever they ship for DA4, people go “I enjoyed this experience”, and that then, if there’s additional content for it down the road, people can decide, “do I want this further content?”

On hair: BW are using the new hair technology in the latest version of the Frostbite engine, so they’ll see what they can do! This was said in response to a comment about the hair in the latest FIFA games (as EA make FIFA)

A comment in chat asked about a flying mechanic (griffons). Jon’s response is that flying is such a heavy gameplay mechanic that you can’t put it in a game without everything in the game being built about it (see Anthem)

Relating to the above comment, in DA4 mounted combat would be cool but then they’d have to make the game ‘around’ mounted combat and make the mounted combat feature meaningful

On the underwater concept art: it should not be interpreted as a promise of gameplay. BW have amazing artists who sit down for a couple weeks while they’re in early production and just draw loads and loads of all kinds of stuff. Concept art is like a moodboard or Pinterest board. Elsewhere in the stream he advised, take all the concept art together like a mosaic and ask, ‘what is the overall theme[s] here?’, and to zoom out from individual details. [This stuff echoes PW’s word on concept art]

BW don’t generally write things or the choices as bleak as the choices in DAO were anymore. This is a conscious choice on their part, they want their game to be fun [note: this was said when the side quest in Orzammar where the Warden has the option of convincing a dwarven mother to abandon her young baby to die was being played through. It seems to refer to intensively grimdark choices/beats of this kind]

I think this was more of a general comment on games: SSDs (solid state drives) mean that players will see shorter elevator rides (Mass Effect - was this a reference to the remaster?) and fewer switchback corridors (those are actually loading zones). Generally, these are going to change mechanically the time it takes to do stuff in games

The devs have lots of features on their backlog that they’d like to offer players but each will ofc involve implementation and subsequent maintenance, and each one that is chosen to add is being chosen over something else. And sometimes, it’s hard for them to tell if [x] feature or [y] feature would be better to add to the game

They’re about to work on a giant feature (a pure tooling feature, something that isn’t consumer-facing) that is probably going to take ~2 staff years of effort [I think “staff effort” includes multiple staff working concurrently, so 2 years of staff effort doesn’t = 2 years of time chronologically] to get done in the next few months. They’re investing all this effort across the people working on it because they don’t want their artists and designers etc to have to deal with the problem that it’s going to solve anymore. I’m not sure what this feature is but elsewhere in the stream they referred to tooling and automation and gave the example of, the better your tooling is, the fewer times you have to manually set the camera for a human vs elf vs dwarf position, for dynamically-generated [cinematic?] content and for the first pass to be automated (if this is the case, less time is spent/wasted on redoing it and manually touching it up) [see last bullet point in this section]

He doesn’t know how big DA4 is going to be but said “let’s ballpark and say like most games it’ll be somewhere between 70 and 100 GB”

If we kept our Wardens as the PC throughout all 3 games, at the end they would be so powerful that it’d be a bit like “Let’s just do [thing], I’ve killed gods before, whatever”. He thinks it’s good that they have fresh characters each time in DA in order to reset that power level. Some people want more Commander Shepard in the next Mass Effect and he feels like, ‘what else could you possibly want / what else could that character possibly do after 3 games?’

When asked how much freedom he/they have now to focus on next gen, he said that there’s actually almost no difference on that front. The problems never change. They now have better renderers, better ray-tracing, better graphics cards etc, but they have always made DA games for high- and low-spec PCs, so it’s actually about gameplay systems. The freedom isn’t power-based and them getting access to more cores and more RAM generally isn’t going to change how the games are played. The games still have to be made for hard drives on PC. Dev creativity matters more than power here. The challenge of building a BW game is more about/from managing loads of different plotstates, loads of different art pieces, etc

On the title situation (two): names are the last thing they worry about because names have to go through legal before being approved. Every name, including character names, has to be checked in case it’s a famous person, or associated with something bad, or offensive in a different language due to localization etc

They don’t do face scans of people with big beards

There was also a bit about changes/developments to/in the cinematic design process and associated tooling [?] but I found it too hard to follow sorry >< This bit of commentary begins at timestamp ~ 1:52:45 and continues til ~ 2:00:05 [keep listening through the bit where they pause for a cutscene]

General BW

There’s currently ~350 staff in Edmonton, ~200 in Austin and more elsewhere

He notes that DA games sell pretty well, but relative to EA games in general, they’re a drop in the bucket compared to FIFA

DAI

5% of players of DAI never created a character [Q: does this refer to people who just used the default appearances/presets with no editing, or people who only played multiplayer?]

The mounts don’t actually go faster than running, this is an illusion

I think they said it has 55,000 lines of dialogue. [I’m pretty sure I remember devs elsewhere saying it has 80,000 lines of dialogue]

One of the companions had to have their name changed during development because of legal/translation reasons. It sounds like the original name sounded too close to something offensive

DA2

Back when DA2 was internally code-named “Nug Storm”: this was at the beginning when it was pitched to the team on a set of slides. The image on the slide for that pitch had devil horns, a metal hand and no flesh, it was just made out of fire and flames

DAO

The engine DAO is made on is the third engine that they tried for it during development. [David Gaider has gone into the DAO engine stuff some on Summerfall’s series of DAO playthrough streams]

The cracks on the cracked eluvian asset are modelled after the crack on the Tardis in Doctor Who from around that time, as at the time some devs had been talking about Doctor Who a lot. A dev actually added this factoid to DAO’s entry on TV Tropes but someone else (evidently not a DA dev) came by and deleted it saying that it was too much of a stretch x)

Before the game had its name there was an HTML script that randomly generated possible titles for consideration, it adds verbs and nouns together e.g. “Grim Dark”. One of the craziest possibilities that it once generated that the devs always remember is "Bone Wind”

One of the portraits that’s used for decoration around the world in-game (it’s of a bearded human man) is actually of a specific BW staff member

He played through Stone Prisoner, where Wilhelm’s son Matthias gives exposition in the cellar. Matthias is voiced by GE and this had been pointed out to Jon earlier on. Jon: “I don’t think that character’s voice acting was super strong there”

On the in-game area towards the end of Stone Prisoner: Outdoor areas in games are large and one of the things needed for them is streaming, so different chunks can be ‘streamed in’. There’s a tower [?], and technically the top of the tower was made an outdoor level so that sky stuff could be there, though it didn’t really need to be. The person that made it an outdoor level chose the very smallest chunk size for the terrain mesh, which determines how fine of a streaming they do. So when playing, every time you moved like 4 meters, the game would stream out 50-100 chunks behind you and the same in front of you (this is the bubble around the player of what actually exists). Because it was so small, it was constantly thrashing the CPU and disc to do all the loading. The devs were like “this isn’t going to work”, but they barely had any time. The solution: they made a new level that was outdoor and copied all the sunlight and other settings, but with the largest chunk size. They copy-pasted the entire level from one to the other. The problem with that many chunks then is that there was a giant expanse of flat terrain sticking out of the middle of the tower. They didn’t know if the story was going to involve shots of the outside of the tower for this sequence or not, so they took the terrain deformation tool and bundled all the terrain vertices at the bottom of the tower in a giant clump. So to this day there’s a mess of vertices and twisted terrain at the bottom of the final level that probably no-one has ever seen [not sure though if this anecdote is in reference to a place in that DLC or somewhere elsewhere in the game?]

There were also some tidbits on Anthem, however I didn’t note them down (sorry).

If you think I misheard or misunderstood anything from this stream please let me know and I will edit/fix it. :)

(Thankyou to some of my friends who explained a tech detail from this to me.)

[source] <-- current rewatch link

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #video games #greg ellis mention #morrigan #queen of my heart #solas #mass effect #anthem #next mass effect #i love these factoids and insights into game dev it's so interesting and fun #i actually started this post yesterday but 2 hours in I was so sleepy (it was mad late) so I called it a night

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seokjinsdisciple · 3 years

Text

Pierced

nakamoto yuta x reader

yuta tries to surprise you with nipple piercings.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: sub yuta, mommy kink, nipple play, punishments, blindfolds, cock ring, rope, not much after care, idk i think thats it

(as always let me know if i forgot anything)

a/n: this scenario was completely the only thing i could think about when i found out yuta had nipple piercings

UNEDITED

Yuta knew you had an obsession with his piercings, almost as large of an obsession as you had with his nipples. The countless nights you've spent worshipping them on his body is proof enough of that. It was a decision made with far too many drinks, Johnny and Taeyong doing nothing but encourage Yuta to surprise you for your 2 year anniversary. So he got his nipples pierced.

It was easier to hide at first, able to pass off his lack of touches as feeling under the weather. But as time went on you started noticing things he was doing very differently. His voice trembling each time he had to indirectly lie to you. Just when he thought you’d figured him out, it was time for the boys to go on tour, and he was saved from the pressure of having to keep that secret. When he got back however, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off one another. Which made it extremely difficult to hide what was under his hoodies. But he made it through, blaming insecurities and asking you to not touch his chest. You were confused, but he had set clear boundaries, and there was no way in hell you were going to break them.

Yuta stood in front of the bathroom mirror, admiring the way the silver sparkled on his chest. He only had one more week to go, one more week before he could finally show you what he had been hiding for months. He stared at the jewelry, the sound of the shower amplified in his ears as he reached a tentative hand up. He gently ran the pad of his thumb across his nipple. He clenched the side of the bathroom sink, low groan leaving his lips at the jolt of pleasure that coursed through him.

His nipples had always been sensitive, but the gentle touch that he had just experienced never making him as hard as he was now. Twitching in his sweats as his eyes fluttered shut. He hadn’t had the time to explore how they felt, nipples either too sore from not being healed fully or he was in a position where you could walk in.

He knew the rules. He knew your rules and how he would be punished, but if Yuta was being honest with himself, that excited him even more. Besides, he didn’t think that he could help himself now, the pinch of his fingers enough to have him doubling over in pleasure.

It was with several soft moans and a decision to fuck your no touching rules that he found himself in the shower. One palm wrapped tightly around his cock as the other gently played with his nipples. He could hardly stand up, knees so weak with the hum of pleasure he had to lean against the bathroom wall to support himself. He wasn’t even pumping his cock, just holding it, the only pleasure he was feeling coming from the sensation of gentle friction across his nipples.

He was really working himself up now, moans increasing in volume as the pace in which he rolled his nipples got faster. He tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth, hot water cascading down his body as he played with himself. He was dangerously close to cumming when the door swung open.

“Hey Yu-” you spoke, bathroom door clicking shut as you entered the room, “The boys said you were showering and I figured since I’ve had a long day I would jo-,” you stopped, eyes drawn immediately to where Yuta had a hand wrapped around his furiously red dick, “What are you doing?”

“I-,” he said, hand dropping from his cock as he met your gaze, “It’s not what it looks like I swear.”

You just tutted at him, brow raising as you glanced pointedly at his twitching dick, “Is that so, baby boy? Because from where I’m standing it looks like you’re about to cum without permission.”

“I wasn’t-,” he said, eyes fluttering shut as the stream of water hit directly on his nipples. Fuck his nipples. With an unabashed moan he slapped his hands over them, your face of disbelief enough to make him burn with embarrassment.

“Yu, get out of the shower,” you whispered, eyes trained to where his hands cupped his chest.

He obeyed easily, already knowing he was in enough trouble for the night, not wanting to do anything else to upset you. You ignored his shiver, letting the droplets of water falling from his skin drop on to the bathmat as you stepped towards him. Hands enclosing both of his wrists and pulling.

You weren’t ready for what you saw. You weren’t ready at all. The instant your eyes met with his red, puffy nipples, the shimmer of silver surrounding them, you were a goner. And so was he.

“Is this why you haven’t been letting me touch you?” you asked.

At his nod, you reached your hand out, gently touching them, trying to control the look of awe threatening to cross your face as a helpless whine ripped from his throat.

“Oh my god,” you said, pinching his nipple in between your fingers and rolling it, “I’m going to absolutely ruin you.”

“It-it,” Yuta huffed, throwing his head back as you continued to work your fingers on his nipples, “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

You hummed at him, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze as you asked, “How long have you been hiding this from me?”

“Like-like four months,” he stuttered, cock twitching at your angry gaze, “It’s why I’ve been acti-ing so weird lately.”

“So you mean to tell me,” you whispered, dragging your hand from one piercing to another, “that not only were you touching yourself without permission, but you’ve been lying to me for four months?”

He just nodded at you, eyes dropping from your intense gaze.

“And now you’re not using your words?” you tsked, using your hand to force him to look at you, “That’s not like my sweet angel.”

“M sorry,” he whispered, pout forming at your words.

“You’re sorry who?” you asked, grip on his chin tightening.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” he squirmed, another shiver racking through his body as the cool air surrounded his wet skin. You gently caressed his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips before handing him a towel.

“Dry off and meet me in your room,” you said, “you can prove to me just how sorry you are.”

You smirked to yourself as he scrambled to dry his limbs, leaving the frantic boy in the bathroom as you made your way to his room. Reaching under his bed to find the box of toys you kept here. When you felt your hand brush against the side, you pulled it out from underneath the bed, searching its contents for what you were looking for. You smiled as you wove the rope between your fingers, setting it on the bed as you pulled out Yuta’s favorite vibrator and a black blindfold.

You tuned at the sound of the door opening, Yuta’s glowing skin still holding droplets of water in the toned spaces of his abs. He was buzzing as he stepped into the room, shy smile on his lips as he waited for you to say something.

“For someone who’s about to get punished you look a little too excited,” You said, raising your brow at him, “Lock the door,” you said, keeping your eyes on him as he rushed to turn the lock, “sit.”

He shuffled over to the bed, dropping his towel from his waist before sitting down. Yuta glanced over at the toys that sat next to him, nervousness showing on his face. He knew how cruel you could be, and he really wanted to cum.

“Color?” you asked, cupping his face and forcing him to look away from the toys beside him.

“Green,” he shuddered, already missing your touch as you grabbed the rope. You gently pulled his hands behind his back, sitting across his lap as you tied them together with the rope.

“Do you know how hard it has been for me not to touch your pretty little chest?” you asked, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, “Here I thought it was because my baby boy was shy. Turns out you were just lying, hm?”

You pressed a kiss behind his ear, grinning as he shuddered. You left pretty marks down the column of his neck, causing his chest to heave with deep breaths. You let your tongue drag from his ear and into the crook of his neck, sucking gently as you made your way down to his chest. Lips pressing everywhere but where he wanted you.

“That's why I think it’s fitting that you won’t be allowed to touch me,” you hummed, “Plus you’ve touched yourself plenty today. Don’t you think that's fair, peach?”

“But I wanna-” Yuta whined, shutting his mouth as soon as you shot him a glare, “Yes, mommy.”

“That’s better,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before returning your gaze to his nipples. “But you also wouldn’t let me see how pretty you look,” you said, faux contemplation on your face as you lightly flicked his piercing, Yuta’s cock twitching in response.

“I don’t think you should be able to see either,” you hummed, pulling the blindfold over his eyes. You climbed off of his lap then, taking the time to appreciate how good he looked right now.

His skin was still damp, and there were marks of purple and red blooming on most of his chest and neck. And those goddamn piercings, making him glow more than he already did. The silver contrasting so prettily against his tanned skin. You watched in arousal as he squirmed where he sat, cock heavy and red as he tried to press his thighs together.

“Mo-mommy please,” he whispered, hands trying to get out of the restraints.

“Please what, baby?” you asked, reaching back into the box of toys and pulling out a cockring.

“Please touch me,” he whimpered.

“Oh? But I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” You asked, tone mocking, grinning as his cheeks flushed red.

“No,” he whined, “Wanted you too but was trying to keep a secret.”

“You were lying,” you hissed, sliding the cock ring to the base of his dick, “And liars don't get what they want, even if they look so pretty.”

“So you’re just gonna make me sit here?” he asked, voice breaking at the thought of not being touched for hours.

“I’m gonna do whatever it is I want to do to you,” you said, yanking his hair so his head was looking up to yours, “And you’re gonna take it like the good little bitch you are.”

He visibly shuddered at this, your fingers pinching his nipples not helping him contain any of his pleasure. He whimpered as you flicked one of them, loud whine leaving his lips as he sagged at your lack of attention.

“Go ahead baby boy,” you said, “you wanna touch yourself so badly, go ahead,” you taunted him, all of the places you had been giving him physical touch gone as you watched him wiggle in his bonds.

“Mommy, please,” he whined, shoulders shaking as he tried to break out of the ties you had put him in. You cooed at him when you noticed the tears on his cheeks, his whimpers to please be touched making you cave just a moment.

You gently caressed his cheek, wiping the stray tears with your thumb, “Do you think you can come from just me playing with your nipples, love?”

Yuta nodded furiously at you, whimpering as you pinched his nipple once again.

“Use your words,” you scolded, gently rubbing your thumb on his cheek soothingly.

“Ye-es, mommy,” he hiccuped, “I think I can.”

You cooed at him, “I knew you could you sweet boy,” you patted his cheek, “Cum from just your nipples and I‘ll reward you, angel.”

You pressed a comforting kiss to his temple, mouth pressing from his lips down the line of his jaw until you met with the crook of his neck. You took your time, placing hickey after hickey across his collar bones. You drank in the taste of his skin, slight gleam of sweat glistening on his desperate body. His chest was red and patchy, evidence not only of the arousal that was humming from his body but also the kisses you had been pressing all over his chest.

You relished in the moans that Yuta let out as you wrapped your lips around his nipple. Tongue flicking over the metal that now adorned his chest. He let out a pathetic whine, desperate for more, evidenced by the bounce of his cock and the blush on his cheeks. The tip of his cock was flushed red, pulsing at the stimulation from just his nipples.

He wiggled on the bed, desperately trying to touch either himself or you. Whines ripping from his throat as you played with both of his nipples. Lips wrapped carefully around one while your fingers deliberately pinched and pulled at the other.

You watched as he threw his head back, a loud moan ripping from his throat as you tugged harshly on one of the sensitive buds.

“What a good baby boy you are,” you hummed, pressing a kiss around one of his nipples as you teased your other hand on his taut stomach. You could feel the way that abdomen clenched and unclenched, a clear signal that he was close.

“C’mon, sweet angel,” you said, licking a long stripe across one of the new piercings, “You can do it baby,” you praised, bringing your fingers back up to his other nipple.

Yuta wiggled at your touch, moan after moan leaving his body at your constant attention.

“Be a good boy and cum for me,” you said, eyes flicking up to where his was covered with the blindfold. You felt the way he quivered under your touch, feeling kind as you pulled the blindfold off of him. You couldn’t help but smile as you were met with his closed eyes, the sensations of his pleasure enough for him to not realize that the blindfold had been removed.

His eyes shot open as you tugged on his nipple with your teeth, a desperate groan leaving his lips as his eyes met with yours.

“Please don’t stop,” he begged, head falling forward as a quiet moan escaped his lips, “I’m so close, Mommy, please.”

“Then cum, angel,” you spoke, rubbing one nipple quickly in your hand. You rolled the other between your tongue and your teeth, not stopping until Yuta’s cock was spilling white streaks across his stomach.

You gently kissed his nipple, making your way back up to his lips as he came down from his high.

“What a good boy you are angel,” you praised, moving your mouth from his chest up to his lips, “So good cumming without being touched. Would you like mommy to reward you now baby boy?”

“Ye-es please,” he shook, abdomen tightening as his high still racked through him, “Want- want to make Mommy cum.”

“Mm,” you hummed, core throbbing at the reminder that you had been taking care of your baby all night long, “Are you sure you can handle taking care of me baby?”

“Yes mommy,” Yuta whined, shoulders desperately wiggling as he tried to get his hands on you, “Wanna make you feel good.”

You pressed kisses all over his face, distracting him with a kiss as you untied his hands from behind him. You held back a laugh as his arms immediately wrapped around you. Fingers digging into your skin as you kept peppering him with kisses.

The whine that tore from Yuta’s throat was the loudest that he had allowed out tonight, nails digging into your skin as you slipped the cock ring from his length.

“Please fuck me,” he begged, head dropping to your shoulder as you wrapped your hand around his already spent cock. He was still hard, yet perfectly overstimulated as you let your palm drag up and down his length.

“You do deserve a reward, don’t you love,” you whispered, mouth meeting his earlobe as you guided him to your entrance. You pressed your lips to his as you sunk down. Effectively muffling your own moan, as well as Yuta’s as you bottomed out.

You ran one hand through his hair, pulling roughly at the roots towards the base of his neck. Your other hand drifted between his chest, brushing over his nipples as you let him adjust in you.

You ground your hips lightly against his at first, gauging his reaction before lifting your hips and slamming them down at a brutal pace. You moaned as he attached his lips to your neck, desperately trying to muffle his moans at the pace of hips hitting his.

His nails dung into the skin of your hips, arms helping you bounce against him. You toyed with the piercings that adorned his chest, dragging moan after moan from his lips as ground your hips against his.

Yuta whimpered into your chest as he brought a hand between where your bodies met. You couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth as his fingers found their way to your clit.

You bounced up and down on his length, kisses turning into open mouth moans as he rubbed your sensitive spot. You let your fingers drag across his nipples, playing with the metal that adorned them.

That was all it took to have him spilling inside of you, breath hitching as he couldn’t help but buck his hips to meet yours. The feeling of him spilling into you was enough to send you over the edge, fingers pulling at his hair as you shook on top of him.

The two of you just sat, holding each other and catching your breath, smiles growing as you came down from your highs. Yuta pressed gentle kisses where he had his head buried in your chest.

You couldn’t help but smile as he finally looked up at you. His lips bitten red and swollen from the kissing, with hickies visible on his shoulders, neck and chest.

“I’m never going to be able to keep my hands off of you,” you sighed, pressing a kiss to his temple before gently standing from his length. He just laughed, reaching out his hands to help steady you before pulling you on top of his chest.

“I’m glad you like them,” he whispered, hands running through your hair as another trailed the length of your back.

“We should shower,” you huffed, trying your best to sit up. Yuta’s stomach let out a loud grumble as you shifted, and the two of you couldn’t help but giggle at the interruption, “and eat too, apparently.”

He just grumbled, allowing you to stand up from the bed before sitting up himself. He took one look into the mirror and let out a curse.

“You left too many marks,” he whined, shuffling over to his dresser to grab some clothes, “the boys aren’t going to shut up about this.”

“You should’ve thought about that before misbehaving, angel,” you shrugged, giving him a shit-eating grin when you saw just how little his shirt hid any of the marks you had given him.

The two of you made your way through the mostly quiet dorm, stopping into the kitchen for some snacks before heading back to Yuta’s room.

You had made it through the hallway before being stopped in the living room by some of the boys. Jaehyun let out a whistle, looking Yuta up and down before bursting into laughter.

“Taeyong is going to kill you both,” Taeil added, smile growing on his lips the longer he stared at the marks that were clearly displayed all over Yuta’s body, “We have schedules this week.”

“Shut up,” Yuta whined, flipping off the boys who were still trying to contain their laughs.

“Why am I going to kill them?” A voice, Taeyong’s voice, said from behind the two of you.

Before either of you could say anything, Taeyong was in front of you, mouth agape and eyes locked onto the marks on Yuta’s neck.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “I take it you liked his piercings?”

“Uh-,” you started, glancing over at Yuta’s pink cheeks, “Yeah. I’m sorry, Yong. I won’t get so carried away next time.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you before adding, “Just next time do it somewhere none of us can see, ok?”

And god, if that didn’t give you ideas.

#yuta smut #yuta fluff #yuta angst #yuta #yuta x reader #sub!yuta #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #yuta scenarios

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teacup-of-candlelight · 3 years

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how long has it been since you slept?

1:00…. 1:30… 2:00?

2:30.

Fjord rolled over and began to slowly and silently touch each of his friends, the Mighty Nein, and cast water breathing for all of them. Normally being awake at 2:30 in the morning would not have been Fjord’s thing, but ever since the incident four nights ago sleep had been turbulent at best. If he slept at all.

Beau.

Caleb.

He went one by one counting his friends, chanting their names in his head so as to make certain he didn’t miss a single one. He couldn’t bare it if anything bad happened to them because of him.

Caduceus.

Veth.

Jester-

Jester?

Fjord started out of his silent chanting.

Where was Jester?

Panicked, he shot his eyes around the dome in search for the little blue tiefling. He had already cast the spell on everyone else. But Jester was nowhere to be found.

Rising fear and logic had a short but heated struggle in Fjord’s head before he finally gave in to logic. None of the rest of his friends had been awakened, no alarms had tripped, he couldn’t hear anything that would suggest a second invasion. But even so… where was she?

Tiptoeing as softly as possible over his sleeping comrades, the half-orc left the dome, endeavoring to not wake his compatriots in the process.

“Jester..” He called softly into the bowels of the ship. “Jester!” Fjord found it difficult to shout and whisper at the same time. He continued to look, but with each passing minute his anxiety grew. Eventually he decided to abandon the lower decks all together and check topside. At least there might be more light to see by up there.

Sure enough, as soon as Fjord reached the top of the creaking wooden steps to the main deck of the ship, there he could see the form of Jester Lavorre in white under gown, tail twitching in the moonlight. She leaned against the railing, staring out at the sea, the breeze playing with her dark hair. Fjord let out a sigh of relief.

“Jester, there you are! Thank gods. What are you doing here?”

“Nothing…” came her slow reply. She didn’t turn to face him. “Just looking.”

Fjord heard something that could have been a sniffle, but that didn’t make any sense to him so he attempted to ignore it. Instead he took a deep breath and moved to stand next to Jester at the ships railing. They stood in silence for a heartbeat, watching the moon play on the waves, before he remembered his initial reason for finding the young blue woman. A little smirk crept onto his lips as he reached up and pated Jester’s head.

“Water Breathing…!” He declared playfully. “Now you should be good for the next 24 hours. Although it probably took me a good five minutes to find you so from now on you have to wait five minutes after the others. Which is really quite inconvenient for me you know since I should really be sleeping at this time of night…” Fjord sniffed and watched Jester letting his idle attempts at chatter to fade. His puffed up chest deflated the longer he watched her, his concern growing by the second.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept, Fjord?” She finally turned to look him in the eyes, face small and serious.

Gods. The moonlight did beautiful things to her eyes.

“Like, really slept?” She emphasized with a slight pout.

Fjord was momentarily stunned, both by the ethereal image of the woman before him and by her sudden and direct question.

“Er.. uh. I was sleeping earlier tonight…! But you know, Yasha snores and…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Well you don’t seem to have much room to talk. How long have you been up here?”

“We’re not talking about me, Fjord, we’re talking about you!” She called him on his bluff with an adorable scowl. Her expression softened and she took a deep breath before continuing. “You haven’t slept through the night at all since then, have you?” It was phrased as a question, but Jester said it as a statement of fact.

Fjord swallowed. She wasn’t wrong.

“I heard you screaming… Was it nightmares again? From Uk’otoa?” She continued in a softer voice, eyes trained on the glistening dark waves off the side of the ship once again.

“Well now- I didn’t scream-” Fjord quickly defended his pride. If he had screamed for real he surely would have woken up the rest of his friends who were sleeping in such close proximity to him. But that wasn’t why he felt the need to correct her…

“Okay, okay! But you know what I meant.” The blue tiefling gesticulated grandly and rolled her eyes, voice pitching higher in impatient annoyance. Fjord always secretly thought it adorable when she got exasperated, but somehow the experience was markedly less fun when it was directed at him.

She was trying to hide her worry behind a veneer of something like cold aloofness, but no matter how high in the air she stuck her button nose, he could still see her knuckles white in the moonlight as they interlaced tightly, resting on the railing.

“Jester…” He sighed. “I’m alright. Really.”

“Stop telling me you’re okay! Like nothing happened!” She rounded back on him, hair whipping around her, horns glinting in the starry light. Violet eyes watery. “Because it did Fjord!” He could now see the purple tinges around her eyes and nose.

Had she been…? Oh gods.

“You died!” Jester’s voice hitched on the word died. “And… And I couldn’t do anything.”

Jester had turned her face away from Fjord, head down and bangs covering her eyes. Oh gods… It seemed to Fjord that she had been crying, or something very close. He couldn’t fathom why, but she seemed to be aiming all of her emotion at him. It wasn’t as if she—

Even so he wanted to support her… not that he really knew how.

Fjord put a tentative hand on her arm. “Jester, you look sad…” That sentence had made sense in his head until he heard it out loud. The half-orc silently cursed himself as he scrambled to find better words despite his bleary sleep deprived mind. “Ehr! What I mean to say is- Why are you upset about that?”

“Because,” Fjord couldn’t breathe when she looked at him this time. “I care about you!” She choked back a tiny sob. Little streams of water now freely fell down her soft cheeks.

“Jester-”

“I promised you before that I would heal you when you were hurting- if Uk’otoa hurt you. But when you needed me.. I couldn’t get to you! I-I let you die, Fjord.” Jester aggressively wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I couldn’t even heal you…!” The girl finally gave in to her tears and stopped speaking.

Fjord once again felt as though there were a sword in his chest. How was it—how could it possibly be—that seeing Jester cry made Fjord almost wish the that he actually had been stabbed again, instead of having to see her like this. He would do anything to make her feel better. Take a sword. Fight a sea god… Hold her?

Somehow that one seemed harder than the others. More terrifying.

“Hey, hey…!” Fjord consoled the crying Jester softly. He cupped her face with his hands almost instinctively, and tried to wipe the tears from her purple flushed cheeks.

Her face fit so neatly in his hands. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch. His heart hiccupped in his chest, but he pressed it down. She was more important than his feelings right now.

“Jester listen to me—” She looked up at him, lips quivering, still sniffling violently. “It’s okay. You did your best! You always have. And we’re alright.”

Jester stopped sniffling for a moment, caught off guard by his word choice. She wasn’t the only one, but Fjord didn’t exactly have the time to truly contemplate the implications of it. First he had to help her. He could have a self-chastising session later.

“You do so much for me all the time,” he couldn’t help but chuckle fondly, “it’s alright if you share that burden every now and then.”

“You’re not a burden Fjord!—” Jester tried to protest, but he kept going.

“Think about it. Caduceus was there to help you.” He thought about that for a second before adding, “Help me. Either way, you’ve never let me down in any way Jester. What happened to me wasn’t your fault.”

The tiefling girls violet eyes began to glisten with water once more. “But-!”

“No buts!” Fjord interjected sternly, a finger out in front of her face. Contemplatively he studied her face, subconsciously noting every freckle. “We’re in this together, you and I. We’ve always been a team, yeah?”

With a hesitant hum she nodded in agreement.

“But we’re not alone either. We have friends that care about us support us too. Hells, I have this past that I’ve been trying so hard to get rid of that I just can’t seem to shake! But that’s not your fault. We’re not alone in this. We have the rest of the Nein to fall back on… So don’t be sad about not healing me this time, okay?”

Heaving a heavy sigh Jester consented. “…Okay.”

“Okay.” Fjord smiled fondly at her, hands still holding her cheeks.

“But Fjord,” a small blue hand came up and rested on top of Fjord’s calloused green one. “Are you sure you’re really okay? That you’ll be okay?”

Bless her, her expression was still filled with concern. For him.

The man let out a troubled sigh. “I’m, sure I will be. With time.”

“And sleep…!” Jester giggled softly through her drying tears.

“And sleep.” Fjord agreed.

The two continued to share a look, hands touching still, hair and clothes tugged on by the sea breeze, eyes locked. What in Exandria had Fjord ever done to deserve someone like the young lady before him who would worry about him? Butterflies began to crawl their way up his gullet, and he became instantly aware of their rather intimate position.

“Ehem!” The half orc cleared his throat as he removed his hands from Jester. “Well, eh, we better be getting back below decks, yeah? Sleep, and all that.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah!” She emphatically agreed, rubbing at her face in an attempt to clear it. “It would be really bad if the others woke up to like, poop or something, and saw that we were missing. I bet they’d be like, super worried.” Finally she smiled. Fjord smiled too.

“Probably! I know I w—” He caught himself. That had been too close for comfort. Moonlight glowed softly on Jester’s skin. The waves were lapping at the ship rhythmically, above the stars were twinkling.

The ensuing internal struggle last only a second or two but felt to Fjord like ages. Half of him yearned to press his lips to hers. But the other half knew that no matter how he may have felt, this wasn’t the time. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t even been brave enough to even hold her properly. Not yet.

In compromise, Fjord leaned forward and planted a small kiss at the top of Jester’s forehead. “Thank you, for your concern. It means a lot to me. But you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about me anymore. I’ll be fine.”

The young woman’s cheeks turned a shade darker. She looked like she was searching for the right thing to say, but by the time she had found it Fjord was already entering the depths of the ship.

Despite the freshness of the incident only days before, tonight Fjord knew he would sleep.

#fjorester #im so sorry #this is my first cr fic and it might be a mess or a trainwreck IDK #half of it was written early in the year and the other half I just finished so pls have mercy on it #Fjorester fic #long post #Critical role #my writing

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id-never-letyoudown · 3 years

Text

Rare pair hell below (plz work readmore) part 2

Henry Hidgens didn't have the best childhood. Being shipped off to live with his aunt and uncle after coming out to his parents and then disowned does not make for a happy nor healthy mind. He was sixteen when it happened. His only light in those trying times were his aunt and uncle. They supported him. No matter what he wished to do.

He wanted to learn an instrument? Sure. He wanted to take up songwriting? Absolutely. Shoot a gun? You bet. And Henry was quite ambitious to say the least. He dabbled in a little bit of everything while he lived with them. It had been the first time he'd been allowed to truly express himself.

And they accepted him. Sure they had to get used to a few things, they'd sometimes use the wrong name-but they were always quick to correct themselves. And that was all he could ask for. His parents never bothered to try. Last he heard they were telling people that their only daughter had died and they had no sons.

Henry wanted to do big things, make a name for himself doing what he loved. And he just happened to love many things-and if you asked him he excelled at them all. Of course.

It took some string pulling and a lot of extra credit and the like, but Henry had managed to get himself accepted into a nice college outside of Hatchetfield. He never could decide on what he wanted to do, so again he tried a bit of everything that tickled his fancy.

He was particularly gifted in biology. Anything to do with the human body. And had a special interest in things that had adverse effects on them as well. Diseases, plagues-you name it.

His presentations drew a lot of attention. Attention that brought him to the door of the P.E.I.P. Not literally to their door, of course. Especially when he moved back and resumed his studies in Hatchetfield. They were interested in him. His intellect. And thought he could help them. The fact that he called Hatchetfield his home was another point of interest. And the fact that his last remaining family had died in a freak accident months prior made him stand out. A smart man who knew how to handle a gun and who wouldn't be missed if he should disappear? He was practically made for their organization.

Henry declined their initial offer, having just landed a position on a team of scientists currently studying a disease he was very curious about-and just so happened to be immune to.

He had made a lot of friends at Hatchetfield Community College-a few of which became his lovers. They would all go to the football field at five o'clock to catch up every day. Always. Henry had been a little impatient and wasn't as thorough as he should have been during his decontamination procedure one day, eager to see his boys.

He infected every one of them. And had to watch them each die, one by one. Comforting them while searching for a cure. He still visits that campus in the anniversary of the start of their collective deaths, because having to go back days in a row would have been too much for him.

He ended up joining P.E.I.P shortly after that. He wasn't at the top of their ranks, sure. But he was known as a good marksman and the person you wanted to see if you needed some special equipment. But his speciality was theorizing. Because he had this uncanny ability of almost always being right.

It was discovered that he had foresight. Not the most powerful they've seen, but a good asset nonetheless. This is what made him a valuable member of P.E.I.P.

It should be noted that Henry, though preferring very much to work alone, had grown incredibly fond of a certain general. The two had even-and continue to-hooked up on several occasions. Henry had gotten a little attached and was hurt when he discovered McNamara was marrying his good friend Xander-but he supported them both fully. The three do still fool around together and Henry even became the surrogate for their son, in exchange for "a bottle of brandy for every stretchmark" and "never ask me for anything ever again".

His time at P.E.I.P was filled with adventure and excitement. He loved every minute of it.

And then the fatal day happened.

Henry was well aware that they had lost an agent to the Black and White. But that didn't stop his curiosity. He swore it was like it was calling to him. The portal. He'd dream about it. Sometimes he found himself passing by the lab it was kept in and stopping for no reason other than to gaze longingly at it.

He didn't have the clearance to venture into the Black and White, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't come up with a good enough reason for he himself to go.

And then one day he just so happened to find the masterkey card just... lying on his desk. Like it was waiting for him. And when he grabbed it it felt as though someone was standing right over him. Just this great, overwhelming presence. But a... welcomed one. Which wouldn't make sense to him until later.

He had to sneak in when everyone else had gone. But once he made it, once he stepped into the Black and White for the very first time-he fucking ate the primordial pavement and cracked his helmet.

And just as the panic was about to set in he heard it. A man's voice. One he's heard before but could only now make out.

It'd felt like he'd been wandering around that great expanse of nothingness for days-it had only been minutes-but seeing this stranger, and knowing he must have so much to tell him, made it all worth it.

"Was wondering when you were gonna get the hints, Dove." The man spoke, wearing far too much denim for Henry's tastes-but somehow he made it work. "Bet you got a lotta questions."

"You have no idea-" where did he go-oh!

Henry's helmet was gone now. And he could feel the man's warm breath against his ear. And feel him right behind him. Practically touching. "Oh but I do." When he turned around the man was gone. Henry only had to look back to find him in his original position. "And I can answer them all."

".... There's a catch, isn't there." It wasn't a question. Henry knew he needed to leave through the portal soon, unless he wanted to stay there trapped forever. "What do you want?"

"Smart, Dove. See, that's why I like you. Straight to the point. You know exactly what you want." Oh please, it took him years to settle on a major- "It just wasn't plain to see. Power."

"Power?"

"Power. Fame. Recognition. And everything in between. I can give you it all. All you have to do is shake my hand."

"I shake your hand and I become a pawn for one of your lords, is that right?" Henry eyes him skeptically, but the offer was tempting. After all-

"You know apotheosis is already upon us. Might as well rig the show while there still is one."

Henry stares at the stretched out hand, his own twitching at his side. It was true. He's seen it. Several Its, actually. So many outcomes. So many branching realities. Lost when he woke up. But coming back to the surface the longer he stayed here.

"I..." He reached for his hand, eyes finding bright, apple green. He saw a promise. A promise for power. For the ability to set the pieces wherever he wished and watch them fall. For everything he could ever wish for and... more? More.

Henry wanted so much more than what he'd been given. What he worked for.

And just as he was about to lay his palm down he was yanked back. Something had pulled on his lifeline, sending him stumbling back.

"Henry!" The general shouted behind him, and just as he looked back, to give the stranger one more look, he was gone. "Henry what were you thinking?!"

"No..." Henry had to be dragged back through the portal, kicking and screaming. "No-let me go! Let me-" and then the crying began. He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. When he finally stopped resisting McNamara let him sink to the floor, in front of the deactivated portal. And the promises it held.

"You should have let me go." His voice cracked, slumping foward. Black strands of hair fell in his face, obscuring his vision. Not that the tears weren't already doing that. "You should have-" he hiccupped.

A hush fell over the room. An odd tingling sensation ran over him. Similar to walking out into the heat after spending hours in a cold theater. His hair, strand by strand. From root to tip. Began to turn a silvery white.

Needless to say P.E.I.P didn't let him go for a long while after that. They interrogated him. Poked and prodded. Took samples of his hair. Something told Henry he needed them to think he was just slightly unhinged. Just a bit. Just enough to get them to believe he wasn't a threat.

And when they did let him go, they called it 'retirement' and gave him a new identity. And a job as a professor. Just to be safe. So no one would ask questions. He wasn't particularly happy about it. And stormed out of the facility in a huff. During a big storm.

McNamara was right on his heels. "This is just a precaution, Henry-"

"A precaution?! Putting foam on sharp corners in a precaution-this is just-u g h!" Henry threw his hands up, already soaked to the bone. White hair sticking to his face. Damn he needed a haircut. "This is wrong and you know it!"

"You entered the portal without permission-do you know what could have happened if I didn't come back?!" He had to shout just to be heard over the sound of pouring rain.

"This place was like home to me, you know that-and I make one mistake and that's it?! Poof! How fair is that?!"

"I'm trying to convince them to let you back on, I just need you to lay low-"

"Lay low?!" He laughed bitterly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. You couldn't even tell the difference between the rain and his tears. "I'm Henry 'Hidgens' now! What the fuck kind of name is that? And sixty-three?! R e a l l y?! I don't even look that old! Who's going to believe that?!"

He spread his arms out in a wide arc, "You're all going to regret not having me here, just you wait and see. You're going to come crawling to ol' Henry Hidgens, Biology professor at Hatchetfield Community College for help one day and you know what he's going to say? Fuck y-"

Thunder shook the area, lightning lighting up the sky in a crooked arc. And then, in the blink of an eye, Henry was struck.

That's what he got for ranting in the middle of a storm.

Anyways, when he was given the okay to return home he spent months crafting his new life. Hey, if he was going to be given a new identity he might as well have fun with itm and he still had to heal from that lightning strike.

He bore a scar that branched like veins all down across his body. Staring from the left side of his neck, and down to his right ankle. He liked to play up the 'unhinged and questionable professor' bit a lot. And loved to pepper in the very real fact that he'd been struck by lightning.

Hell of a thing to brag about.

It had been nearly half a year now since then. He's settled into his new life nicely. Becoming Hatchetfield's known hermit of a whacky professor.

Lately he'd been having a feeling he was being watched. And sometimes, sometimes, he'd see him. The man he now knew as Wilbur Cross. The agent P.E.I.P had lost. They never told him what actually happened though.

He had just come in from his garden one day when he felt it. That familiar presence.

Henry set his basket of apples down. His aunt and uncle had owned this house before, and planted a nice garden-which had been neglected after their passing, but Henry was tending it now. They had a few apple trees as well. Henry planned on making a pie.

That presence was still there. Bearing over him. He didn't know if he was just being paranoid or hopeful or what. Regardless-he went behind his bar, took up his shotgun, and returned shortly after.

And when he did he froze. Because there he was, sitting on the counter. Eating one of the apples. At first the shock was enough to make his jump and aim right at him-not that it bothered this man to have a gun trained on him.

"Wilbur..." Henry didn't know what he felt exactly when he saw him, but suffice to say he was overwhelmed. He lowered his shotgun.

"Hey there, Dove. Ya miss me-"

"I accept."

"Whoa now-at least let me do the pitch!"

"You already did that, remember? And I accept, on one condition."

Wilbur's brow cocked, "Who said you could make conditions?"

"I did. It's an easy thing, really." He came closer, just as Wilbur hopped down from the counter. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey, sliding it over to himself. "Every promise you make to me, you have to keep. And, we seal the deal with a drink."

"You trying to butter me up with booze and apples?"

"The apples are a coincidence."

"A n d you're making demands of me? On top of pulling a g u n on me?.... You know, I think this might be the start of a great partnership. Pass me a shot glass-" he saw Henry pop the lid off the bottle and take a drink with hardly a grimace. His heart would have skipped. If it still beat. "... damn, Dove."

"So, we got a deal or what?"

"First of all, my line." Wilbur grabs the bottle from him, fingers lingering a few seconds too long. "Second, you bet your sweet ass."

They drank together. And thus started their partnership.

#cridgens #tgwdlm #blackfriday #black friday musical #proffesor hidgens #henry hidgens #wilbur cross

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bedlamsbard · 3 years

Text

Part 11 of the other side AU concept, the first epilogue sequence! There should be one more epilogue scene after this, maybe two because despite its length this is still technically concept writing and I’m going as long as I still amuse myself.

Previous: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

About 6.7K below the break.

***

Later

The Chimaera had struck the planet point-first and then broken in half, the impact of its crash leaving a kilometers-wide crater surrounding its corpse. The bow was still embedded upright in the crater, leaving the serpentine symbols on the star destroyer’s underside clearly visible at this distance. The remainder of the ship had fallen flat, creating a second, smaller crater where it had broken off. Carbon-scoring and other damage darkened the usually pristine white hull of the star destroyer; there were patches of differently-colored plating that marked where repairs had been done over the years, probably where the ship had been damaged during the purrgil assault over Lothal.

“How long do you think it’s been here?” Sabine asked, flipping down the rangefinder on her helmet for a closer look.

Hera raised her macrobinoculars and studied the ship’s hull. “A few years, at least?” she guessed. “Look at that – are those plants?”

The magnification revealed that much of what she had taken for carbon-scoring was plant matter instead, greenish vines crawling over the massive ship’s hull, moss spreading out in clumps as large as an X-wing. Hera turned her gaze downwards, where a riot of greenery had sprung up across the surface of the crater. The Chimaera’s initial crash would have killed off all the plant life in the crater; the ship had been here long enough for the jungle to return.

Hera lowered the macrobinoculars and turned to Kanan, who was standing beside her with his arms crossed over his chest, his face fixed in a frown. “Is there anyone alive down there?”

He started to answer, then hesitated. After a moment, he said, “There’s a lot of life down there. I’m not sure if any of it is sentient.”

Sabine pushed her rangefinder upright again and rolled her shoulders back. “We need to get into those computers.”

Hera gauged the distance between their current position and the wreckage of the Chimaera, considered the sharpness of the drop at the crater’s edge, and said, “We’ll fly in – land in one of the docking bays if we can, outside if we can’t.”

She pulled at the high collar of her shirt as the three of them turned back to the Ghost, parked half a kilometer away in a slight dip where it was impossible to see from the edge of the crater. The combination of heat and humidity made the air sticky and cloying, and the jungle all around them gave her the distinct impression of being watched. She could tell from both Kanan’s and Sabine’s posture that they felt the same. Vegetation ran riot all around them, abrasive and alien to her desert-bred eyes; something about the heavy vegetal smell of the planet made her feel like she was constantly about to sneeze.

Zeb was waiting at the foot of the Ghost’s ramp when they returned to the ship. He turned sharply at their approach, bo-rifle raised, then lowered it when he recognized them. “This place gives me the creeps,” he said. “Anything?”

“We’ll have to check it out in person, but it looks like it’s been there a while,” Hera said, finally giving into her urge to sneeze, which she did three times in quick succession. She wiped the back of her hand under her streaming nose and promised herself she would take some allergy tablets before she went outside again.

Zeb waited to follow them into the ship until they were all inside, then walked backwards up the ramp, his gaze still fixed on the jungle. He didn’t relax until the ramp was up and locked again, shaking himself all over until his fur stood up.

Hera found the allergy tablets in her cabin and took them with a glass of water, then went up to the cockpit to join her crew. Sabine had abandoned her helmet on her chair and was frowning at the sensor station, Chopper plugged in beside her. “Life signs are all over the place. So’s atmo – I didn’t realize it before because I was just checking for breathable air.”

“What do you mean?” Hera stopped to look over her shoulder.

Sabine pointed at the screens. “Here are the oxygen levels when we got here and what they are now. See? They’re down – just a fraction of a percentage, but it hasn’t been more than an hour; they should be stable. I think there are some other trace elements that are fluctuating too, but I’d have to run specialized scans – the sensors don’t track those automatically.”

“What do you think?”

Sabine shrugged. “It could be nothing – we’re well off the star charts. This could be normal for this planet.”

“Keep tracking it,” Hera said, sneezed again, and went up to the pilot’s chair.

Kanan was slouched in the co-pilot’s seat, frowning through the viewport. He turned his head as she sat down, his scarred eyes narrowed in concentration.

“What do you sense?” Hera asked him. “Anything?”

“I don’t know. There’s something out there, but it’s not anything like I’ve ever felt before. It’s clouding everything else.” He frowned briefly. “It isn’t the dark side, for what that’s worth.”

“That’s good, right?” Zeb said, coming in and dropping into his seat.

“Maybe.” Kanan settle more comfortably back in his chair as Hera started pre-flight checks, the Ghost’s engines rumbling to life beneath her feet. His hands moved smoothly over the control boards in front of him, even though his unseeing gaze never moved from the viewport in front of him. “The dark side’s not the only dangerous thing out there.”

Sabine returned to her chair, still frowning over the sensor readings. “Chop, keep an eye on those?” she said; he made a noise of agreement. “It could be terraforming,” she told them doubtfully. “I wish we were getting clearer life signs readings – there’s no standard baseline for this world to filter out animal life.”

“We didn’t spot any ships on our approach,” Hera said.

“We might not have if they were on the other side of the planet or are some kind of vessel our sensors aren’t calibrated for,” Sabine said, looking unhappy.

“You’re a pessimist,” Zeb told her.

“No, I’m paranoid, there’s a difference. And something brought the Chimaera down.”

There was nothing Zeb could say to that.

Hera took the Ghost up gently, fighting back the feeling that the jungle plants were trying to keep the vessel moored to the planet’s surface. Her sensors didn’t show any kind of drag, so it had to be her imagination. Once they were over the jungle, she flew low across the top of the tree canopy until they reached the crater, where she did a slow loop around the remains of the Chimaera. Up close the riot of encroaching vegetation was even more obvious, green and orange moss spreading across the ship’s cracked and pitted hull, massive vines outlining each durasteel plate, already beginning to tear some of them loose – some kind of fungi even seemed to be eating through the metal. The idea of landing the Ghost anywhere near that vegetation made Hera’s lekku twitch.

She circled the Chimaera again, her gaze fixed on the shattered star destroyer’s hull. “There,” she said eventually. “The docking bay doors are open. I’m going to land inside.”

“Is that smart?” Sabine wondered, then leaned forward over Hera’s shoulder to get a better look at the starfighter-sized mushrooms growing through the nearest shattered hull plate and said, “Okay, I take it back. That stuff could be inside, though.”

“I don’t want to leave the Ghost in the open, either,” Hera said. Even with the vegetation that had grown up since the Chimaera’s crash, there was still vanishingly little cover – enough to hide a person, but not the Ghost.

She brought the Ghost down, slanting the ship to match up with the uneven angle of the open port docking bay. With the sun at its current angle, the upright bow cast the fallen half of the ship into shadow. Something about that made her skin prickle. As they passed it, she saw that the huge vines tracing their way up the underside of the bow outlined the nicked and damaged serpents’ heads on the ventral hull, cut off at the neck where the rest of the ship had broken away. At least the bridge was on the fallen portion of the ship, so with any luck they wouldn’t have to explore the bow.

There were no whole ships in the docking bay, though the wreckage of several TIEs was strewn across the deck, and one TIE Interceptor had been smashed against the far wall. There were no Lambda shuttles and the wreckage didn’t account for the number of TIE fighters that the Chimaera should have carried in one docking bay. The doors leading to the corridor outside the bay had been jammed open, with only darkness beyond – not even the emergency lights were lit. Not that Hera had expected them after all this time. Plant life had already crept in through the open bay doors, but didn’t seem to have spread far beyond them.

She set the Ghost down in the largest clear patch of floor she could find, crunching a TIE fighter’s solar panels under her landing struts. As Hera shut the engines down, she glanced up to see that the front of the docking bay control tower was crumpled as if something had struck it, the windows shattered – black pits that stared sightlessly back at them. She shuddered and turned her seat around to face the cockpit.

“Sabine, Zeb, take Chopper and go up to the bridge. Hopefully the Imperials didn’t have a chance to wipe their computers before they evacuated. I want to know where they were before they got here, who attacked them, and how long ago it happened – and anything else that looks useful.”

Both Sabine and Zeb nodded, and Chopper made an affirmative noise.

“Kanan and I will find Thrawn’s office,” she went on. “Stay in contact, and don’t go anywhere alone. We still don’t know what happened here.”

They all nodded.

“No one’s staying with the Ghost?” Zeb asked, frowning. “Is that smart?”

Hera sighed, deeply relieved that she and Kanan had decided to leave Jacen on Ryloth with her father rather than bring him with them. “Probably not, but there aren’t that many of us as it is. I’d rather not split us up anymore. The Ghost will be code-locked, anyway, so anyone trying to steal it will have to work for it.”

It wasn’t thieves she was worried about, though, she thought a few minutes later as they left the ship. There was a massive vine laying across the deck nearby, as thick around as her upper body; this close she could see spines digging into the durasteel plating of the deck. When Sabine walked over to inspect it, the deck made an odd squishing sound and she skipped back, startled. Chopper let out a squawk of dismay and huddled close to Hera’s legs.

She patted his dome reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we won’t be here long enough for that. Stay with Sabine and Zeb.”

He grumbled, but after another reassuring pat rolled away from her and over to Sabine and Zeb. As the three of them started towards the yawning mouth of the open hatchway, Hera moved to Kanan’s side. He was standing near the vine, frowning at it.

“Is it…sentient?” Hera asked him, not certain what might have spurred that particular expression. There were a few sentient plants in the galaxy, but they were a rarity.

He shook his head. “No, but there’s something…odd. I’m not sure what it is.” He shook himself all over like a nervous Loth-wolf and turned to join her, taking his lightsaber off his belt as he did so.

Hera drew her blaster and took out her glowrod. While she didn’t strictly need it to see in the dark, Twi’lek night vision had evolved for use in the caves under Ryloth’s surface and didn’t work quite as well in an all-metal starship. She was glad for the light as they made their way through the cave-like maze of the star destroyer’s corridors.

She had been on enough star destroyers to know exactly where she was going and how to get there, but more than once she and Kanan had to backtrack and find a different route. Hera had been over on the Lusankya, one of the Rebel Alliance’s captured star destroyers, shortly before the Ghost had left for the Unknown Regions, so her memory was fairly recent, but the damage the Chimaera had taken either in the crash or the fight that had led to it turned the ship into a labyrinth. Hera just hoped it wasn’t the kind of labyrinth with a monster lurking at the center of it.

There were no bodies that they saw, but there was evidence of hard fighting everywhere. Whatever had happened to the Chimaera had at least partially occurred on the ship itself – Hera spotted carbon-scoring on the walls and floor, as well as the unmistakable wreckage left behind by grenade detonations. The source of some of the damage she was a mystery to her, though – places that looked like acid had eaten through the walls and floor, patches of strange mold and fungi that couldn’t have yet made its way through the starship’s thick hull. Some corridors had collapsed completely, probably when the ship had broken up. The whole ship felt haunted in its emptiness, the echoing silence only broken by the distant drip…drip… of water or some other liquid. She and Kanan had to walk braced at odd angles where floors had buckled or broken up entirely.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Hera murmured, shining her glowrod over some kind of pulsing orange fungus that covered most of the floor in front of her. There was enough clear deck that they could have edged around it, but something about the idea made her lekku twitch uneasily. She didn’t want to get near it.

Kanan studied the fungus with one hand outstretched, his frown deepening, then nodded in agreement. “Let’s find another way.”

Hera sighed in equal parts resignation and relief as they turned around. The lack of bodies should have been a relief, but she found it just as disquieting as the rest of the ship. The Imperials might have buried their dead before evacuating the ship, she supposed, but she had assumed they had left before it had crashed. Maybe not.

Her comlink beeped. Hera took it off her belt and said, “Spectre Two here.”

“Spectre Five checking in,” Sabine’s voice said, crackling a little – that was odd, there shouldn’t have been any interference on the ship itself, since there wasn’t that much physical distance separating them. “We think we’re about halfway there; we have to keep doubling back and finding another way around.”

Kanan leaned over Hera’s shoulder and said, “Us too. Have you found anything interesting yet?”

“Yeah, if you see any mushrooms, don’t step on them,” Zeb said. “They explode.”

“Are you all right?” Hera demanded, alarmed.

“Tested it with some scrap,” Zeb said. “This place is –” He hesitated, probably searching for a word in Basic, then gave up and said, “– what we’d call tsaeanla back home. Cursed, maybe.”

Hera chewed on her lower lip, but couldn’t argue with that. “Well, we’re not staying once we’ve gotten what we came for. Spectre Two out.”

It still gave her a minor shock to say that; she had gone by other call signs for most of the war.

She replaced her comlink back on her belt and began the painstaking work of backtracking their progress until they could find another corridor that paralleled the one with the orange fungus. Except for some buckling along the walls, this one seemed almost untouched and they were able to proceed without difficulty until they hit the next bank of turbolifts. Kanan pried open the doors and grimaced at the shaft. “Up or down?” he asked her.

“Up. Six levels.” Hera stepped up beside him and shone her glowrod up the shaft, searching for the lift car in car in case it was blocking their passage. “We should be able to climb this.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Hera flicked a bemused look at him. “Oh? What’s that?” She caught her breath in surprise as he moved his hand and she felt herself leave the floor. He kept her there, hovering only a centimeter above the deck, until she said, “All right.”

“Tell me when to stop.”

Hera angled her glowrod upwards, never releasing her grip on her blaster, as Kanan drew her through the entrance to the turbolift and then pressed her upwards. She was careful not to look down or consider the fact that she was hanging in mid-air.

“Here,” she said eventually. “Put me about a meter forwards.”

He did so, and Hera reached out to grab the edge of the doorframe, digging her feet onto the tiny lip that protruded out from the doors. “I’ve got it,” she called down. “Go ahead and come up.”

She didn’t look back, but she heard a series of soft metallic thuds as Kanan followed her, leaping from side to side of the shaft with only a fraction of a second between touching the wall and pushing off again. He was beside her less than a minute later, bracing himself with one hand against the doorframe as he extended his other hand. The doors slid open with a faint protesting creak; Hera resisted the urge to step forwards immediately and shone her glowrod down the corridor instead.

There was a thick, vegetal smell in the air, but no sign of vegetation. She stepped cautiously out of the elevator shaft. Her glowrod picked up reflected flashes of illumination from the shattered corridor lighting as she made her way forwards, pausing occasionally to shine her glowrod into the dark caverns of chambers with open doors. Thrawn’s office wasn’t one of them, Hera found, sighing in frustration when they stopped in front of the closed door.

“I should have brought Chopper,” she muttered, starting to reach for the slicing tools inside her jacket.

Kanan flashed a grin at her. “I’ve got it.” He held his hand out over the door control panel; there was a click as the lock disengaged. He moved his hand slightly, and the door slid open.

Hera stepped cautiously into the short corridor beyond. It was obvious that Thrawn had kept it lined with pieces of his art collection; ceramic crunched under her boots, and she turned her glowrod downwards to see the shattered pieces of something broken beyond recognition. Plinths, probably normally bolted to the floor, had been thrown wildly about, with most of their displays destroyed. She and Kanan picked their way through the ruin of what had presumably once been an impressive display, though the only complete piece was a painted clone trooper helmet which hadn’t even been dented by the disturbance. She looked back to see Kanan pick it up, frown at it, then set it carefully down, right side up.

The control for the door to his main office wasn’t working either, but Kanan was able to open it with another wave of his hand. Further destruction greeted her as she stepped in. More of Thrawn’s collection was – or had been, rather – on display here; it hadn’t survived the crash. That must have annoyed Thrawn, Hera thought with grim satisfaction, assuming that the Chiss grand admiral was still among the living.

She and Kanan picked their way through the wreckage of the room. Kanan paused to pick something up; when Hera turned to see what had made him stop, she saw him holding a Jedi Temple Guard’s mask between his hands. Hera hesitated, uneasy about the thing; when Kanan felt her looking at him he raised his head. He bit his lip, then shrugged, hooking it to the back of his belt.

Hera turned back to the desk. She couldn’t grudge Kanan his desire to take something that belonged to the Jedi out of this tomb; she would have done the same if there had been anything from Ryloth in here. She just wished it hadn’t been that.

As she knelt behind Thrawn’s desk and reached for the emergency power restart, Kanan took his comlink off his belt and said quietly, “Spectre One to Spectres Four and Five. No, Spectre Three, I didn’t forget you,” he added in response to a flurry of aggravated beeping that made Hera smile. “We’re at Thrawn’s office.”

“We’re about to start the ascent to the bridge,” Sabine said. “It shouldn’t take too long, unless the turbolift is stuck in the shaft somewhere up here. We’ll check in when we reach out.”

“Acknowledged. Spectre One out.” Kanan put his comlink away and came over to join Hera behind the desk.

To Hera’s disgust, the emergency power restart had no effect; it had been completely drained, which Hera supposed she should have expected given the lack of power elsewhere in the ship. She and Kanan cobbled together a battery with the power cells from his blaster and Hera’s comlink, which got the desk to boot up with frustrating sluggishness. Trying to view anything would undoubtedly end in immediately draining the power, so Hera slid the first of her data cards in and set it to copy, then got up to explore the suite in case there was anything useful they could just grab.

Probably under normal circumstances Thrawn kept his living space immaculate; as it was, it looked like the crash had thrown it wildly askew. Every step Hera made crunched as she trod broken ceramic, glass, crystal, and wood under her boots.

“What a mess,” Kanan said, low-voiced. He ran one hand along the wall, his brows narrowed in concentration.

The desk beeped sluggishly and Hera went back to swap out the full data card for an empty one. As she was kneeling behind it, she heard Kanan’s comlink beep in the other room and his response of, “Go for Spectre One.”

Debris crunched beneath his boots as he came back into the office, crouching down beside Hera so that she could listen.

“We’re at the bridge,” Sabine’s voice said, crackling a little but otherwise clear. “There’s no power up here, but Chopper and I managed to jumpstart some of the computers. Logs are encrypted; I can decrypt them back on the Ghost, so we’re copying them over. It’s an older encryption so I don’t have the key on me.”

“No power here either,” Hera said. “We’re doing the same. I hope Thrawn wrote his logs in Basic,” she added, wincing at the thought. She wasn’t actually certain what his native language was.

There was a long moment of silence, then Sabine said, “Hera, we know when the ship crashed.”

“Yes?” Hera said pointedly when she didn’t go on.

Sabine took a deep breath. “Three days ago.”

“What?” Kanan said.

“The Chimaera crashed three days ago. Not three months, not three years, three days ago.”

All those plants.

“Get out of there,” Hera said flatly. “Get the logs and get out. We’ll meet you back at the Ghost.”

“Acknowledged. Spectre Five out.”

Kanan replaced his comlink on his belt, his expression grim as he considered the desk in front of them. Hera glanced at it, willing the files transmit more quickly, then looked back at him.

“Talk to me,” she said quietly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I have a bad feeling about this,” Kanan said, his voice equally soft. Suddenly the waiting darkness outside their tiny circle of light beyond the desk, never friendly, seemed hostile, as if home to every childhood nightmare Hera had ever known.

“Three days isn’t long,” Hera whispered. She didn’t want to raise her voice; there hadn’t been any evidence of animal or sentient life on the Chimaera so far, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any at all. “Unless they’ve taken major losses over the past six years, they can’t evacuate an entire ship’s crew – star destroyers don’t carry enough hyperspace-capable vessels for that. They’re still here.”

Kanan ran his fingers along the back of the desk, frowning, then shook his head.

“You don’t think they’re here?” Hera asked, not sure how to interpret his expression. She couldn’t shake the feeling that seven years ago she would have known exactly what was going through his head without having to ask, but six months after his return they were still relearning each other.

“I didn’t say that,” he murmured back. “I think there’s something going on here that neither of us can see yet.”

“I don’t need the Force to know that,” Hera said. The desk beeped again, the tone falling off and suggesting that their jury-rigged power source had come to the end of its life. Hera hit it with the palm of her hand until it reluctantly gave up the data card and wondered if it was worth sacrificing the power cell in her blaster or Kanan’s lightsaber to make certain that everything had been copied over. She was fairly certain that all of her files would have fit on one data card with room left over; she just hoped that she had gotten Thrawn’s files and not copies of his art collection.

She tucked the data cards into her pocket, pulled the used power cells from the desk so that she could recharge them on the Ghost, and used the desk to lever herself to her feet. Kanan followed with his usual careless grace, rolling his shoulders back so that his spine popped. Hera flicked a glance at him, bemused.

They searched the rest of Thrawn’s suite quickly, but without much success. Kanan eventually dug out a handful of data cards from behind a panel in the small cabin and passed them to Hera to put with the others, then stood scowling at the shattered remains of something that Hera assumed at once been another Jedi artifact.

She put her hand on his arm. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

He nodded, his expression still distressed.

They left Thrawn’s suite behind and went back down the corridor to the turbolift shaft. Hera braced her hands on either side of the doorframe and peered down its dark length dubiously. Her glowrod didn’t penetrate very far down. “I should have brought a rope,” she said to Kanan, leaning back. “How should we do this?”

He considered the shaft with one hand outstretched. “I can send you down first the way you came up, or we can go together,” he said, arching an eyebrow at her. “I won’t drop you,” he added when Hera hesitated, trying to figure out what he meant by “together.”

“I didn’t say you would,” Hera said dryly, clipping her glowrod to the front of her vest. “Together, then.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist as Hera put her arms around his neck, kissing him quickly. She didn’t bother to ask if he knew where to stop; she trusted him. She still caught her breath as he stepped into the turbolift shaft and dropped, the glowrod illuminated metal walls streaking past them.

They didn’t fall for more than a few seconds. Kanan did something that she couldn’t see and they tumbled out onto the floor of another dark corridor, something crunching unpleasantly under Hera’s shoulder – he hadn’t quite gotten the angle of their exit right. For a horrible moment she thought the crunching sound had been her shoulder, then she put her hand out and felt shattered metal beneath her gloved palm.

“Is this the floor we started from?” she said, surprised. She shone her glowrod down its length and revised her question. “This isn’t where we started from.”

“There’s something down here,” Kanan said, offering her a hand up. “I didn’t sense it before.”

“Something alive?” Hera asked, starting to reach for her blaster.

He hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

Hera drew her blaster.

She covered Kanan as he made his way down the corridor, stopping briefly to lay his hands on each closed door in search of whatever had called him here. There seemed to be none of the mysterious plant life down here; given its ubiquity elsewhere in the ship, its absence made Hera more nervous than its presence would have. She judged them to have gone several levels down past the hangar, which meant that they would presumably have to go back up to return when Kanan was finished.

“Here,” Kanan said eventually. He was at the very end of the corridor, his hands pressed to the double doors there. Hera calculated their passage and realized that they were below the hangar bay – maybe immediately below it, in fact, as some star destroyers had large chambers where ships, AT-ATs or AT-STs, or other vehicles could be kept while in transit.

He stepped back and gestured at the doors; when nothing happened, he sighed and took his lightsaber off his belt. He ignited it in a flare of blue plasma and drove it into the doors, cutting an opening with obvious effort; Hera guessed the doors were blast-shielded.

“Is it Ezra?” she had to ask him.

He paused halfway through the circle and thought about it, overheated metal beginning to melt and drip down the doors where the lightsaber had stopped. “No,” he said finally, starting to cut again. “There’s a trace of his presence here, but it’s not him, just something he did – I’m not sure what or when.”

It took him another minute to finish cutting, then he raised a hand and lifted the circle out of the way, drawing it out into the hallway to rest against the wall. Hera moved to shine her glowrod into the opening before either of them entered, but Kanan didn’t wait for her, just climbed through with a muttered curse as the back of his hand brushed the still-hot sheared away metal.

Hera swore under her breath and followed him. Kanan’s self-preservation instincts were usually good enough to keep him from walking face first into trouble, but Hera had fairly good memories of when those instincts had failed spectacularly, including the fatal occasion.

She climbed through after Kanan and almost walked directly into Kanan’s back.

He was standing stock-still, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his white eyes open and fixed on the object in the center of the room. Hera stepped up beside him and shone her light over it, trying to make sense of what it was she was looking at. At first it seemed to be nothing more than a tumble of stone, then as she continued to study it, it slowly resolved itself into half-familiar shapes.

“That’s – that’s from Lothal,” she said hesitantly, trying to decide why anyone would remove one of Lothal’s stone megaliths to a spaceship. It seemed like a strange choice even for someone as odd as Grand Admiral Thrawn.

“Yes.” Kanan’s voice was tight with the kind of barely-controlled fury Hera had only heard from him a handful of times. He took a breath, held it for a seven-count, let it out slowly, then repeated the process. When Hera put a hand on his arm she found that he was trembling, though it was slowing as he calmed himself down.

The longer she looked at the stones, the less certain she was that it was a megalith, though the color of the rock was distinctive of Lothal. Most of it must have been affixed to the floor; while there were broken stones strewn across the floor from the crash, the bulk of it remained at the center of the room. Hera took a step towards it, curious, before Kanan put his hand out and caught her elbow. “Don’t go near it,” he said, his voice low. He was so upset that he had lapsed back into his seldom-used Coruscanti accent, so upper-class that it made Hera’s back teeth ache just to listen to it. He took another breath; when he spoke again, his accent was his usual Outer Rim drawl. “Stay here.”

“What is it?”

Kanan didn’t respond, just released her and walked toward the megalith. Hera started to follow him anyway, then hesitated and stayed where she was; Kanan didn’t give her orders often or without good reason. Instead she played her light over the stones as Kanan walked up to it, forcing herself to relax so that her mind could make sense of the pattern that her eyes suggested was there.

As Kanan walked around it and then vanished from sight, Hera realized that it wasn’t a megalith at all: it was, or had been, a building. “It’s from the Jedi temple on Lothal,” she said, pitching her voice to carry and wincing at the way it echoed off the room’s high ceiling. “Parts of it had been cut away and removed when we saw it – it must have been destroyed in the crash.”

“No.” Kanan’s voice sounded as if he was speaking from the bottom of a deep well, further away than it should have been. It also echoed oddly in a way that hers had not; Hera took a reflexive step forwards, wanting to reassure herself of his presence, before she forced herself to stop again. If he could hear her and speak to her, then he was still here. “No, Ezra did this. The stones still resonate with his power. Not recently, but – he did it. There’s someone else here, too, a – a stain, a dark side stain, from about the same time. I don’t recognize the signature. I think this is, was, the temple door.”

Hera had told him what had happened to the temple on Lothal, as best as she understood it. Her memory of the event seemed to be strangely blurred, as if it had happened to someone other than her or as if it was something that she had seen through flawed glass. She suspected that her mind simply wasn’t equipped to handle what had happened, non-Force-user that she was.

“Why would Thrawn bring it here?” Hera asked him.

“I’ve no idea. There’s power in it, but it’s – it’s unanchored. It should be on Lothal, drawing from the vergence there; that’s what it was made for. What’s in it now is –” He hesitated. “– quiescent, maybe. Resting. I could probably tap it if I had to, but I don’t know what would happen.” He emerged from the opposite side of the tumble of shattered stone and Hera let her breath out in relief, then caught it again as Kanan pressed his hands to a chunk of it nearly as tall as himself. Faded painted lines glinted in the light of her glowrod. “This isn’t like the temple back on Coruscant where I was raised. This temple was older, from a long, long time ago, when the Order was different.” He pulled his hands away, shuddering slightly. “When the galaxy was different. And I don’t know what this would do when it can’t draw from the vergence on Lothal anymore.”

He wiped his palms against the sides of his trousers, his expression uneasy as he came back to Hera. She put her hand out to touch his sleeve, reassuring herself that he was there and real, because she still remembered Ezra vanishing into solid stone all those years ago.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “But I don’t like that this is.” He leaned down, frowning, and scooped up a piece of broken stone not much bigger than his thumbnail. He weighed it briefly in his palm, then slipped it into one of his belt pouches. Hera shivered, wishing he hadn’t done that.

“We’d better get back to the Ghost,” she said. She turned her glowrod upwards, considering the ceiling. “We’re just beneath the hangar, I think. That’s probably how they transported that – the temple pieces in.”

Kanan nodded absently, turning his attention upwards as well. “You know star destroyers better than I do,” he said. “Can we get up there without having to cut through the ceiling? I don’t want to give the plants a straight shot at the temple.” He frowned at the ruins. “Though I’m not sure that they could do anything to it.”

Hera bit her lip, thinking; it had been a long time since she had been in this particular section of a star destroyer. “There should be a turbolift directly up to the hangar either in this room or just outside it,” she said finally. “Inside on the later star destroyers, outside on the older ones. I don’t know which the Chimaera is.”

Kanan was already turning, one hand held out as he searched for it in the Force, then he gestured her back towards the door. Once they were back out in the corridor, he replaced the circle of durasteel he had cut from the doors, then they backtracked until they found the turbolift he had sensed. Unlike the shaft they had used before, this one only reached up to the hangar; it was used for rapid transit between the hangar and whatever cargo was being stored in the big chamber beneath it. The turbolift car was there, which mean that Kanan had to cut through its ceiling with his lightsaber until they could climb up on top of it. After that their transit upwards was fairly rapid, and they emerged from the hangar turbolift shaft just in time to nearly get shot by Sabine and Zeb.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” Zeb said, lowering his bo-rifle. “What were you doing down there?”

“Thrawn has a piece of the Jedi temple from Lothal down there,” Hera explained, a little breathless.

“What?” Sabine demanded, appalled. “He what?”

Hera looked around as they crossed the hangar deck back towards the Ghost. Sabine and Zeb had been here long enough that they had had time to unlock the Ghost; the ramp was down and Chopper was perched on top of it, his photoreceptors fixed on the nearest vine. Hera frowned at it. It had definitely grown and was now no more than a few meters from the Ghost.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “Let’s find somewhere else to set down – I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.”

Zeb nodded fervently. Sabine said, “I took samples of some of those plants, but I’m not a xenobotanist or a biologist. I can run some tests –”

“Let’s worry about that later,” Hera said, herding them all back onto the ship. She looked back over her shoulder as she came up one short; Kanan was standing by the vine and frowning down at it. “Love?”

“I’m coming.” He turned away from the vine and followed her up into the Ghost. A few minutes later Hera was in the pilot’s seat, lifting the ship up from the hangar floor and leaving the fallen Chimaera behind with relief. For lack of any better options, she took them back to the jungle, settling the Ghost in the same clearing she had docked in before.

“It will take me a while to decrypt the ship’s logs,” Sabine said as Hera and Kanan turned their chairs around to face her. “It’s an older encryption; we have the key. It’s just a lot of data.” She tapped a control on her gauntlet and a hologram sprang up in the space over it. “This wasn’t encrypted, though.”

Hera read the neat lines of script that appeared under the date three days previous. Captain Gilad Pellaeon gives order to abandon ISD Chimaera. 69.93/98.71.

“What are the numbers?”

“Imperial code,” Sabine said. “Every stormtrooper, ISB agent, sailor, and moff knows it, or at least they’re supposed to. It’s not used often, though. It means that the survivors are on-planet and these are the rendezvous coordinates – they’re standard, they’re designed to work for any planet or moon as long as it doesn’t have major irregularities, so it doesn’t matter what world it is.”

“Why Pellaeon and not Thrawn?” Kanan asked.

Sabine shrugged. “Maybe we got lucky and Thrawn’s dead. Technically the Chimaera’s Pellaeon’s command, not Thrawn’s, so it could just be that.” She rubbed her hands together, making the image waver in mid-air. “But if it’s only been three days, then they’ll still be there. That will give us some answers.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #other side au tag #as always comments are appreciated

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butterbuni · 3 years

Text

♥ Prologue ♥

Prologue of Disguise, a Kaminari x Fem Reader

"Hello my dear viewers! Thank you for joining my stream. If your new here thanks for coming. If your one of my regulars welcome back, you know the drill." I looked up at my left monitor watching the numbers of watchers rise as well as the number of donations.

"We are just waiting for one more guest! LightningMcSpark101 he is always late." I rolled my eyes playfully knowing he would be watching the video later when I upload it. My discord rang and I quickly answered it, "Dude you are so late!! The viewers were waiting!" I said into my mic.

"Aw man, I was so sure I was on time this time!" I heard him say from the other end. "Alright alright, all is forgiven! Hurry up and let's get this started. I only have 2 hours today!"

"Sure thing dude! I am so beating you this time!"

"In your dreams Sparky!"

"It's on G/N (Gamertag name)"

I smirked at my screen and took hold of my controller pressing play on the newest battle game that I was sent to try and review.

The screen lit up as it announced my ultimate victory. "Haha! In your face Sparky!! I win once again!"

"Awe man!!! I was so sure I was going to win this time!! You defeated me dude how is that even possible!!!" he exclaimed from his end.

"Ha, you thought. Thanks for helping me show off this game!" I looked over to my left monitor and saw my view had only gained as well as the occasional donation, "I hope you guys enjoyed my demonstration as much as I did! Make sure to go out and buy this amazing game! It's a lot of fun to play especially with friends maybe one of you may get lucky and I would play with you next time. Unfortunately, it is time for me to log off however same time next week. What do you say Sparky?"

"You bet!"

"Bye guys!" I said as I waved goodbye with one hand and clicked end stream. I let out a sigh of relief. That was so much fun. "Sparky you do not know how much fun that was!"

"I am so glad you let me try it out with you! Hey, when are you going to let me see your face you always wear that face mask. I only see half of you!"

"I will let you see my face when pigs fly!" I said scratching the side of my face avoiding not wanting to give him a straight answer. He asks this every single time we go on live together. "Plus it's not like I've seen your face either for all I know you are a 40-year-old man, but you don't sound a day over 15," I said cheerfully.

"Oh wow thanks." he said sarcastically, "I would show you my sexy awesome face but I don't think you would be able to resist me."

"Ha, you wi-"

The alarm on my phone went off stopping all conversation, "Oop looks like my time has come! See ya later dude!" I said quickly changing tabs to end our call. "Aw, c'mon just a little longer. I'll promise I'll be good."

"Sorry, sparky you know the drill I really need to go now," I said hastily wanting... no needing to end the call.

I heard him sigh from the other end. My cursor hovered over the end call button impatiently. My eyes kept darting to my bedroom door. He was taking too long and I didn't want to end without saying goodbye

"I'll catch ya next time G/N. Next time I promise to beat you in whatever game we play."

"Don't hold your breath," I laughed and clicked the end call button. Once it ended, I quickly tore off my face mask and took off my headset. I pulled out a medium-sized box from beneath my desk and put both of them in.

I quickly took out the game cd and put it back into its packaging. I pulled out a bigger box from beneath my desk that had various other games I've collected and put the game in. I sighed, "I wish I didn't have to live like this." Almost as soon as I closed both boxes and put them away, there was a knock on my door.

Fuck. Already?

"One moment!" I called out. Why why why now. I went into my walk-in closet and quickly changed into clothes that my parents deemed suitable for walking around the house. There was another knock at the door, "I'm coming!" I fixed my hair and opened the door quickly revealing my butler. He wore a simple black and white suit with a handkerchief hanging off his arm and as usual his gray hair was slicked back.

"Hello Bertrum," I said standing up as straight as possible.

"Hello ma'am your parents are waiting for you downstairs. Dinner today is coffee-rubbed steak with brussels sprout salad." He bowed down to me.

Great just my luck. I rolled my eyes just before Bertrum rose from his position. "How wonderful I will be down in a second."

He nodded and went on his way. I shut my door closed once he left. With my back against the wall, I slide down to the ground. I wish we could have normal food for one. I would kill for a hamburger right about now.

I got up from the floor and dusted myself off. I might as well get this over with. The sooner I get there the sooner I can leave.

I walked over to my vanity mirror making sure all my 'imperfections' were perfect in the eyes of my parents.

Once I felt ready I walked out of my bedroom making sure to be extra slow about it. I walked through the halls of our family portraits and statues. I've walked this same path for years and each time I still don't feel like I belong.

Every single one of the pictures had a family member who did something great with their lives. Some went on to be some of the greatest support items manufactures. Some became politicians. Some even became costume developers. But here I was, some random teenager who just happened to be born in a family with everything.

I walked down our spiral stairs my hand running down the banister. Well, everything except parents with the capability of love and care.

I walked into the family dining room to see the long table completely dressed in fancy dishes. Both my mom and dad weren't looking at each other. Mother was typing away at something on her laptop and Father was talking to someone on the phone.

I don't even know why they require me here anymore when they wouldn't even pay attention to me.

"Hello Mother. Hello Father." I said flatly announcing myself in. "Hello Y/N," they said without even glancing at me.

I sighed. Of course, they wouldn't even look at me. I am sure they have even forgotten how I looked considering I don't even remember the last time they looked at me for more than 10 seconds.

I took my seat at the far end of the table to wait for the maids to deliver the food.

The dining hall instantly fell into silence with nothing but the clacking of Mother's keyboard and the low gruff talking of Father on his phone. It was unbearable.

Mother finally spoke to me as the maids came into the room with our dinner.

"We have decided where you will be going for high school." She spoke, "With your quirk, we decided that you will go to U.A and join their support course."

"But mother I was planning on becoming a hero like the rest of my friends," I spoke up as a maid dropped my dish in front of me.

She scoffed at me, "I can see why the Todoroki family would want their son to be in the hero course but I don't know why the Yaoyorozu family would let their daughter partake in such a trivial career."

"Mother heroes have a lot of importance in our society! Without them, the world would spiral into chaos. Plus the support course won't even have people to sell their inventions."

"Support for quirks will always be in business with or without the heroes. The heroes are the cause of chaos. They refuse to properly dispose of villains, making our society go into a cycle of a hero-catching villain only for the villain to escape and wreak more havoc. If they would make an example of one of those good for nothing bastards, the people in our society wouldn't have the nerve to stand against heroes."

"But Mother that is such a horrible-" I started to say looking at Mother in disbelief.

"I know you are not talking back to me right now!" she raised her voice at me slamming her fork down on the table.

"No Mother," I said looking down at the plate of food.

"Good."

It was silent once again. Father didn't even bother trying to come to my side and I didn't even bother standing up for myself.

I've learned the hard way that when something is asked of me, I have to do it. Or else.

I picked up my fork and picked at my food. I wasn't even that hungry plus it wasn't like brussel sprouts and steak were very appealing.

"Aren't you eating Y/N?," Father said turning off his phone and picking up his own fork to eat. He only said that to me so he could still pretend to be that caring father he once was in his only little fantasies.

"I just don't have the appetite right now," I said dejectedly. "You should eat your food. Do you know how many kids are starving?" Mother said.

"Maybe you should feed them this nasty stuff," I mumbled.

"I didn't quite hear what you said. Could you repeat that for me?" Mother's eyebrow twitched as she gripped the fork in her hand tightly. I didn't think she could hear me. "I just think we should distribute our wealth to help people less fortunate. People could stop going home hungry," I said dropping my fork down. If she wanted to talk about starving people we can talk about starving people.

"It is not our fault that they made bad choices in their lifetime and ended up poor. Why should we share what we worked hard to get." She said not sparing a glance at me.

I rolled my eyes once she paid more attention to her food than me. Every time I try to have this conversation with her she shuts me down with her hypocritical ass. I stared at her as she ate her food. Who is she to talk about hard work when she worked her way up into my father's pants. The only hard thing she's probably ever done up till now was picking a way how to seduce him.

After a considerable amount of time of pushing my food around my plate the maids came and whisked away our plates. I gave them my thanks. Mother and Father however just picked up their laptop and phones and excused themselves from the table leaving me by my lonesome.

I sighed. Welcome to the life of L/N Y/N.

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

Once my parents were out of sight I rushed up the stairs and past the halls filled with everything my family wanted me to be and into my bedroom. The one place in this house that I felt comfortable. The one place in this big mansion that felt like home.

I locked the bedroom door and quickly logged into my computer. I looked at the number of donations I received from today's stream. I let out a yell of excitement seeing the 2000$ on the screen. A whole 500 more than last time.

I could do more with this money. I pulled up a list of local poverty fundraisers. If Mother and Father won't do anything, I will.

I donated the money equally between the topmost trusted charities. As soon as I clicked the submit button for each I felt satisfied. Even if it wasn't much, the money I made off my twitch account was what kept me motivated to keep going. People out there were suffering and people like my parents were sitting down and letting it happen when they could be doing something about it.

I've thought about wiring money from my parents' accounts but I'll just get myself in trouble so two years ago I started live streaming. When I started earning money from it, I realized I could be making a difference with it.

I sighed as I leaned back in my chair. Two years ago I wouldn't have dreamed of going against my parents' wishes but here I am. Created my own monitors from scratch with the help of my quirk and Momo making the parts. I let out a sad laugh. I even went as far as to covering half my face just so I won't be recognized by anyone.

Just as I spun in my chair looking at my ceiling, my phone buzzed on my table. My head perked up looking at it. Who could be texting me at this time?

I picked up my phone seeing it was a discord notification from Sparky. I smiled softly at my phone. It's like he always knew when I was down in the dumps. I may not know who he is behind that screen but he has quickly become my best friend. ~~~~ Y/N Character Sheet

#bnha #bnha reader insert #bnhareader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #reader insert #reader #mha #my hero academia #mha reader #mha reader insert #bnha kaminari #bnha kami #denki x you #you x denki #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader

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justkurotingz · 4 years

Text

lucky to have him (spencer reid x reader)

this was my first request from one of my favorite people 🥺🥺 i absolutely love this request and hope i did it justice for your sake @ciarawriitesmarvel <333 it gets fluffy in the end, i promise 😭😭😭

“I was wondering if you would write a little something where Spencer and the reader have both been captured by an unsub and both won't let the unsub hurt the other, so just protectiveness all round!”

so i got the unsub idea from AO3 LMAO although i forgot which fic it was so if anyone knows PLEASE tell me so i can credit them <333 the reader is a person of color :))

warning: little graphic descriptions of torture and some swearing

word count: 1.8K

you woke up with a dizzying groan, taking in the room you were in. it was dark with no windows and had a faint smell of mildew. almost like a basement. sitting up slowly, you blinked, glancing at the iron bars the separated your room from the other one, that was practically identical to yours.

the events of yesterday came rushing back to you in a flood. the unsub, bryan white, serpent hills, spence.. you gasped as you stood up, making your way over to the bars. “spence?” you called at the unmoving body lying on the ground. “spence.” you groaned, letting out a breath as his body twitched. “y/n...” he whispered, rolling over to face you.

“where are we?” “i think it’s bryan’s basement.” you whispered back, and he crawled over to you, checking your face for any injuries. “are you ok?” his eyes were cloudy with concern and you gently squeezed his hand through the bars. “i’m ok, are you?” he nodded and the two of you got to your feet, stretching out and observing every corner of the room.

“y/n and spencer! my two favorite people. i must admit, you two did a wonderful job going undercover. as you already know, interracial couples disgust me, i’m so glad you two are undercover feds. i won’t have to kill you after all, just inconvenience your day. which is fortunate because i really like you y/n. sadly you’re just a bit too dirty for a pure white male like me.” he chuckled.

the rage that filled your body subsided the second spence squeezed your hand. “it’s not worth getting mad. we can’t let him know we’re together, he’d kill us y/n. hotch must realize something’s wrong. they’ll come for us. we just have to hold on.” you nodded, holding onto him with all the strength you had left.

“bryan.” “hey y/n.” he smirked, walking towards your cell, unlocking the door and stepping in. in his hand was a old chess timer, blood stained around the buttons and your stomach dropped. the knife in his hand glinted underneath the bulb light he turned on.

“i’m sorry.” he said genuinely, then crouched next to you. “we’re going to play a little game. it’s simple, there’s only two rules. number one, the game has 5 rounds. the time you have to endure my torture each round goes up as you pass each round. i’ll be going back and forth between the two of you so you have time to heal.” he smirked, glancing at spence. “two, if you last longer than you have to in a round, the extra time will be shaved off the next one. we’ll start easy, the first round is 30 seconds.” he set up the clock and positioned it so you could press the button to stop your clock with ease.

“what are you going to do to her?” spence’s voice was calm, but you could hear the panicked undertones. “nothing much. yet.” your scream filled spence’s ears as he dug the knife into your arms.

“stop! stop it! let me take it! DON’T HURT HER!” spence screamed, thrashing along the bars as you sobbed, blood pooling underneath your arm. the pain was torturous, but the sting of the knife returning to old wounds hurt more.

10....5......0... his clock stopped and he smiled in pleasure. “y/n come on. stay strong. you can do this, i’m so so proud of you.” spence encouraged you, and you knew he was crying. “you son of a bitch.” spence spat, eyes dark in anger.

“stop. please stop.” you pressed the button, panting hard. “it hurts.” you cried and spence reached out to squeeze your hand. “come on y/n. we’ll get through this, i’m so so proud of you.” “me too, you lasted a whole minute and ten. that’s a new high record.” bryan smirked at you and you moaned weakly, clutching your injured hand.

“onto pretty boy here...” “don’t hurt him. please don’t hurt him.” you begged, holding onto to bryan with the strength you had left. “do you have another idea?” he smirked down at you and you nodded. “please, use my extra time to skip round one for spence. just skip to round two.” you begged and he raised an eyebrow.

“that isn’t part of the rules sweetheart.” he teased and spence banged on the bars. “DO NOT LISTEN TO HER! I’LL DO MY ROUND, PLEASE DON’T HURT HER!” bryan looked at spence and back at you. “this is a very interesting position to be in right now. unfortunately, neither of you are in a position to beg, so i’d suggest you shut up. y/n, i’ll take you up on your suggestion... however round two for you is going to be a minute and a half instead of a minute. well, a minute and 20 seconds, using the remaining ten seconds of your time.”

“BRYAN PLEASE LET HER HAVE HER TIME! ILL GO THROUGH ROUND ONE!” “no can do spencie-boy.” bryan teased and spence sunk to the ground, reaching out to hold your hand. “oh y/n. please don’t try and save me. please don’t put yourself through this.” he begged and you gently traced a heart on his hand so bryan wouldn’t notice.

“spence i’d gladly take this for you. you’re my best friend.” bryan paused, looking between you and spence before deciding there was nothing more between you two. “onto round 2 y/n. i must say, you’re one of the most selfless people i know.” “y/n, you don’t have to do this.” spence begged and you shushed him. “i’m ready.”

you screamed as he started on your legs, humming as he carved. you thrashed, sobbing in and out of consciousness as your arm started to bleed as well. spence turned away, surely crying because he couldn’t watch. “spence. spence.” you begged, screaming as another round of pain ensured. you watched the clock tick by, seconds seeming like centuries.

but this time, you couldn’t endure any more, and as soon as time ran out on his clock, you pressed yours. “disappointing, but not surprised.” bryan withdrew the knife, cleaning it off on your body. “can’t save him anymore.” he leered at you, crossing over to spence’s cell as you lay there, breathing faintly.

you didn’t even realize when spence’s shouts of pain started but you weakly reached out to hold his hand. “fight it. don’t give in to the pain spence, don’t let him win.” you whispered, praying to god your team was going to rush in and save the day.

you couldn’t see spence’s clock, so bryan read aloud for you. “he’s hanging in there.” he said, slightly impressed. when spence finally gave in to the pain, he was at 1:45. “45 seconds overtime, that’ll come in handy for round three. both of you are so good at handling pain.” he hummed, cleaning off the knife and crossing back into your cell.

“please. please.” spence begged, his eyes closed and his hair matted with sweat and blood. “don’t hurt her. she can’t take anymore. I SAID DON’T HURT HER!” spence yelled, making bryan stop. “don’t tell me what to do.” his voice was low, deadly and you turned to spence, tears streaming past your ear. “i can take it. i can take it. i can- AH!” you screamed and spence shut his eyes tightly. “stop. please stop.” he repeated, and bryan paused. “actually...” he trailed off, scooping you up effortlessly and crossing over to spence’s cell, blood trailing behind himon the cement floor. “i want you to look in her eyes as she screams.” spence’s blood chilled, but he forced himself to look at you, squeezing your hand and brushing away your tears as you sobbed. “you’re so brave. you’re so brave y/n, you’re so brave.... stop, bryan STOP!”

“she’s unconscious!” bryan’s upper lip curled in disgust and he threw the knife down in rage. “that little-” “do me. do me instead, please just don’t hurt her anymore. give her time to heal, if she dies right now it’ll just be me. what’s the fun in that? i’m willing to take her place. just please don’t hurt her.” spence’s voice cracked as he took in your pale, unmoving body, the blood and the sweat, your closed eyes, your labored breaths.

bryan’s eyes flashed. “you two really aren’t best friends are you? i should’ve known.” he spat at your feet and spence found the strength to get up. “you racist son of a bitch. she’s my entire world.” before bryan could answer, the door flew open with a bang. “FBI! bryan white, you’re under arrest....” hotch trailed off, taking in the scene. jj stifled a gasp as she rushed to your side, and morgan grabbed bryan, slamming him into the wall. “you bastard.” he hauled him off upstairs. emily and rossi ran to spence, supporting him up the stairs, and hotch lifted you up, following them as jj brought up the rear.

hours later, you woke up safe and comfortable in a hospital bed. “spence?” you murmured and the people around you smiled. “he’s in the other room. hotch, dave, and jj are with him.” emily squeezed your hand and you glanced at morgan comforting a sobbing garcia. “penelope. i’m ok.” you opened your arms, painfully aware of the stinging. “i was so worried.” she cried into your gown and you smiled, stroking her hair.

“what happened?” “you were in bad shape kid.” you focused on morgan and smiled weakly. “the doctors got you all patched up. pretty boy too.” “i just want to see spence.” emily laughed, patting your hand and getting up to call for your boyfriend. a few minutes later, he walked in, rushing to hug you. “you’re ok.” he whispered, kissing your temple. “you’re ok.” you brushed his hair back, wrapping your arms around your neck as he kissed you. “we’re ok angel. we’re going to get through this.” you nodded wordlessly, your forehead leaning against his.

“i’m sorry.” he pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. “y/n you have nothing to apologize for.” “if i was not... you know....” you trailed off and spence’s face softened as he kissed his way up your arms. “please don’t ever apologize for having beautiful roots and such glowing skin. i love that you’re of color and that you teach me about cultures different from my own y/n. bryan is a racist bastard, we’re going to put this chapter behind in our lives and move on, ok? i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere.”

you fell asleep like that, a mess of tangled and throbbing limbs, his hands in your hair, stolen kisses and shared laughs keeping you up late. as you fell asleep, the thought that you were lucky to have spence struck you. and as you woke up in his arms, studying his sleeping face, you couldn’t agree more.

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press-x-tojason · 3 years

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Giant Bomb is dead, and I care way less than I thought I would. Probably because 83% of the people who I ever cared about had already left or died, or were already relegated to reduced content roles.

Honestly, though, the writing’s been on the wall for a bit. They haven’t had anything worthy of paying for premium in several years, and, even though they’ve had well over a year to figure out a plan for the COVID era, they maybe made it a month with their plans to have a series of streams daily. I actually managed to forget I followed them on Twitch at all, for about 4 months, because they only streamed the podcasts and the occasional former Harmonix employee (who was literally paid to make content with their games while employed at Giant Bomb, which was funny because he blocked me on Twitter for making a post, addressing no one, back in 2014, which was asking about the legitimacy of the leaked list of “games “””””journalists”””””” who had taken money from publishers for positive reviews, a list which included him and multiple then-coworkers. I didn’t follow him, he didn’t follow me. He was manually searching the keywords, because he was, and is, a prick.) solo Rock Band stream in the last 8 months or so. Even when Jeff would manage to do one of his 20 streams from home a year, it would be on his own channel. There was just no content. And they’re surprised their “pay for our unique premium content!” model failed. They always “feigned” anger at Dan for “making” them do the Mario Party Parties, and literally never promoted his and Drew’s Metal Gear series after the first game... but I bet that, when only those, UPF, and the ad-free versions of the podcasts were premium features, those two series were keeping them afloat. Well, that and the remaining goodwill they miraculously managed to hold onto for a few years after Ryan died. Shit, I follow several people who are GB staff-adjacent, and... I can’t think of the last time they mentioned anything that happened on-site. Even the people who’ve been directly supporting them for over 10 years were out.

But yeah, the site is super dead. They pretended in the announcements like they’re going to make a go of it still, but... you’ve got like 4 content people left, and the only one people give a shit about is Jeff. You just saw 3/4 of the side of the site that was still trying these past several months jump ship in a 3 month span. One of those was, by nearly any definition, a founding member. Of which you had already lost one, and are losing another from the main side. Jeff’s been way less active until the last week or two, probably because he heard they were leaving and was like “oops, should probably check on the ship that’s been sinking for years!” Then you have Jason “The Human Mumble” Oestricher, the charisma vacuum, whose legitimate public-facing reaction to first hearing that all but one of his GB predecessors were going to be gone. was, and I quote, “Hoo Boy.” Ben and Jan are the definition of “fine”. They would have been great, as they are today, as secondary members 8-10 years ago. But carry the site, they cannot. They’re down to, what, 5 named members now? It hasn’t been that dire since the beginning of 2009, before they hired Drew, when they hadn’t even started the P4 endurance run. You know, that surprise massive, internet-changing thing that essentially popularized the Let’s Play concept, loosening its definition and making it something that could be as personality-driven as game-driven, made simply to give them something to put on the website, beyond the rare review and, slightly later, quick look. This kinda illustrates the problem with modern Giant Bomb. When they were figuring shit out, flying by the seats of their pants, they came up with great shit, and they gave enough of a shit to make it happen. 0.000% chance they do a 10 hour Thanksgiving Kinect stream if the Kinect was new today. 0.000% chance the core members would have done an endurance run in the last 10 years if CT and Shenmue (which I haven’t watched) weren’t driven by the younger members. And you could see it in the fact that they never made a real, true mobile app. The number one thing that would have made them indispensable this past decade, an app to integrate premium features, the podcast, their video player, etc. all in one place in a mobile-friendly package, that could sync with the website... and they never even raised the idea publicly. I wonder how much of the innovation was the group think-tank of the first 5 years. Beyond Dan’s couple major contributions, I don’t think they added a single new type of content after 2012, which... still means the last 6.5 years lacked any semblance of innovation. I guess that’s a big part of why I fell off tremendously quickly after late 2014. There was just nothing new, and believe me, I was looking. I wanted reasons to stay watching. I supported them with my dollar. I believed in those brave early days. And I went back yesterday to watch the DP endurance run from VJ again. I still miss that rapport. And really, that hurt, too. Vinny moving back east, less than a year after Ryan passed... short term, it was fine. You had more people than ever to cover the gaps. But the spark was gone. The chemistry made the site. When I think of Giant Bomb, I still think of Jeff, Vinny, and Ryan, first and foremost. Those early podcasts, the NintenDownloads, the crazy tangents that everyone could seamlessly follow up on(well, except Brad, because he essentially slept through most of the podcasts, unless he was talking about the thing he did that week), the weird high-concept GOTY stuff... it wasn’t perfect, but you were entertained. You laughed. You were engaged. It never felt like you were watching them working, even though you could see the work they put in. It felt like, when they released something, you were experiencing a group of legitimate friends doing what they wanted to do anyways.(And boy have I seen enough groups do everything they can to NOT be enjoying doing that, and break up as a result due to hating the jobs that they chose to do).

Part of me would love to make it as simple as “Ryan died, and so did the original spirit”, and... to a degree, it’s true. If you go back to any retrospective they’ve done about the founding of the site, or the podcast they recorded after Ryan passed, you can’t help but recognize that Giant Bomb never happens if these core members don’t all quit their jobs, led by Ryan, because they respect their boss/manager, Jeff, and know he’s doing the right things(for them, for the reader/viewer, etc.) ahead of what GameSpot management wants him to do. Jeff could have been left in the wilderness, trying find a spot elsewhere, with the rumor going around between executives that Jeff wasn’t going to help them promote anything, essentially killing their revenue. He would have been done in terms of getting employed by a major site. But Ryan first, and soon after, Vinny and Brad, gave up their jobs to make this fledgling little project go. As much as the ERs brought me in and gave the impression that Jeff and Vinny were the long-standing duo, no, it was Ryan who was Jeff’s partner in crime. And, 8 years later, I can comfortably say... Giant Bomb never recovered from losing him.

But it was so much more. Everything that set them apart slowly went away, in time. I don’t think they’ve posted reviews for games in consecutive MONTHS since 2017; 2018 at the latest. They have done one Endurance Run in 9 years. They have not had a meaningful live event in 6 years. Unprofessional Fridays were more formulaic and lesser in volume and frequency after the major players started moving east. The lack of coordination between coasts killed the camaraderie, to the point that I think one of the last 5 true gameplay crossovers was their series of 2016-2017 PUBG shitfests. I remember when Vinny starting GBEast was supposed to be the start of a new era of content, and... it was, but not in a positive way, like it sounded. When half of each side seemed to constantly have no interest in making anything, nothing got made. But I guess that’s what happens when your second in command in one of your headquarters is just a former marketing grunt with an attitude problem, and the guy with the biggest ego on the team is the one who refuses to move to join either side, and just pushes out the most self-important drivel as a header to what were literally just copy-pasted articles from other sites every week while sitting at his desk, dreaming of the days Gawker would pay him to plagiarize political drivel instead, because that’s what really gets the soulless clicks. One of your founding members becomes depressed due to losing his two closest work friends, one for real, one to a 3000 mile separation, within a year, while the other one who is left virtually stopped playing anything but DOTA 2 for 2 years. Suddenly your most prominent personalities are the 2 new guys(one the aforementioned charisma vacuum, the other a walking mark) and your previously-mostly-off-camera producer who is best known to the wider Internet for... blinking. So, yeah, lifeless. And NOW, all you’ve got is old melancholy dad, charisma vacuum dad, and the two ADHD kids whose defining trait is that they choose to exclusively refer to their partners as “my partner” in voices that make it sound like they are embarrassed to have partners, while also talking more about what their partners are doing than what they do. It’s confounding.

But yeah, TL:DR: RIP zombie Giant Bomb. Glad you’re finally getting taken behind the shed. It took 3 years too long, minimum.

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 3 years

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Beauty and the Witch - Chapter Five

x x x x

Summary: Deep in the dark forest, there’s a castle filled with magic and mystery, where no one would ever go if they could help it. But an adventurer runs from nothing, and she might come to regret it.

Sketchbook BatB AU for reasons

Notes: I had been hoping that when season 2 came around, I would have been at the end of this fic. But then I got the idea for Love and Honour and had to write it immediately, and then I had the idea for that Halloween countdown and had to write all those fics AND THEN November came and I had to focus on my finals... so I guess I’ll take a halfway mark *throws confetti because somehow we’re already in the middle of this fic*

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5)

Johanna stood at the top of the staircase to the forbidden wing, thinking she surely must have lost her mind. After the events of the night before, she’d been left with no hopes for an escape from her captivity, and when she’d gone to bed her heart had been aching with longing for her daughter even if she’d just come out of a frantic series of happenings. And yet, though her heart squeezed because of the distance between her and all that she loved, her mind seemed much closer.

All through the night and into the next morning, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Victoria had told her. There was a woman behind the monster, after all, even if it was a coarse, sarcastic one, and no person should be forced to live in the state of solitude that seemed to be hers. She had her servants, but Johanna had yet to see any of them show signs of a deeper bond with her.

Granted, the witch had been ready to doom her, and worse, her daughter, to such a life, but keeping her lowest points in the forefront of her mind would do Johanna no good if she wished to change the direction of her relationship with her captor. And surely she must be out of her senses, for she really was hoping to attempt to get to know her better. She couldn’t really tell why, but it felt wrong to let her be lonely, not because she’d saved her or because Johanna thought about befriending her in order to escape, but only because something in her wanted to get to know the beast.

No, not the beast, she told herself. Maven.

Victoria wheeled past her, lifting one eyebrow at seeing the woman there. They’d already seen each other that morning, when Johanna had gone down to the kitchens to eat breakfast, and now she assumed the servant had been with Maven to deliver her her meal.

“I’m here to check on her burns.” Johanna explained as she saw Victoria’s confusion. “See if they’re healing well and all.”

The teapot hummed in acknowledgment and continued her path back down to the kitchens, and Johanna still heard the cluttering sound of ceramic against wood as Victoria’s cart climbed down the stairs behind her when she walked through the corridor leading to the witch’s room. No natural sunlight streamed into that part of the castle, but it was still brighter than it had been at night. Once again, her eyes couldn’t help but be caught by the paintings on the wall, disheartened by the dreadful state they were in. She was sure she’d be able to restore at least some of their original glory if she could get her hands on them. Well, she thought, she might as well do so. It was not like she was going anywhere in a hurry.

Behind the red curtain, she found Maven sitting on her bed, her back propped up on pillows and her food tray to the side as she read a book. Johanna startled when she realized what the witch was doing, and ran forward to try and grab it before she got hurt. The witch was quicker, though, and noticed Johanna’s presence just in time to hold the book out of her reach.

“Good morning to you as well.”

“What are you doing?” Johanna gasped, one knee on the edge on the bed and her body leaning forward across Maven’s lap as she tried to take the object. “You’ll burn yourself even more.”

Though the woman couldn’t see it, Maven rolled her eyes. “Ah, because I’m so eager to harm myself, aren’t I?”

Finally giving up, Johanna went back to standing by the side of the bed and crossed her arms with her eyes staring daggers at the witch.

“That’s what it seems like! Why are you holding that? And why isn’t it…” Johanna inhaled, looking between Maven’s hand and her lifted eyebrows. “Why isn’t it burning you?”

The witch sat back once more when she realized Johanna had come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t burning her, figuring that the woman’s worry was due to not wanting to have to tend to her wounds once more, and closed the book on her belly. She’d read it so many times she would be able to find the spot she’d been at easily.

“There are some books that don’t burn me. They are very few, but they exist.”

Maven pointed to the shelf on the wall in front of the bed, the one with the perfectly organized books that had called her attention when she saw the room for the first time. They really were very few, Johanna thought she couldn’t even count ten.

“I think it was another trick of the Enchantress's. They were all in this room, probably to give me some sort of hope. They’re not exactly the sort of thing I want to read though. They’re all fables about selflessness and compassion. The old hag sure does have some humor.”

Johanna tilted her head at the witch when she laughed mirthlessly upon finishing speaking. There had to be more to this story than she knew, but Johanna didn’t think that was the time to ask for an explanation.

“I see.” She said. “Well, how are you feeling? I came here to take a look at your burns. Did you begin feeling any worse pains or just an itch?”

Taken aback, Maven blinked. “Did Victoria ask you to come here?”

“No, she didn’t.” Taking out the objects she’d brought on her pocket and putting them on the bed, Johanna answered. “Thought we might need to call for her. I wanted to clean your wounds again, is she the easiest way to get water?”

The witch shook her head negatively and pointed to the washing chamber. “There’s a bucket of water there. Even when you take some water out, it fills itself again.”

“Oh!” Taking the rags she’d found in the kitchen and brought with her to the chamber, Johanna hummed in delight when she saw that indeed even the small amount of water she’d taken out to wet the cloths came back instantly. “I suppose living in an enchanted castle has its perks.”

Not understanding why she’d there of her own volition, Maven watched Johanna with curiosity as she came closer again.

“Alright, now turn to your belly. The burns in your back are worse, so I need to see them first.”

Figuring she’d lose nothing by doing what she was told, Maven adjusted her pillows so that she could lie with her back and winds facing up, and Johanna sat down on the edge of the bed by her side. When the woman undid the bandages, she felt her skin uncomfortably sensitive, both because of the burn and because of her being unused to physical contact of any kind, but she did her best to stay put. Better not to show weakness in front of the prisoner.

“I won’t lie to you, these aren’t looking too good.” Johanna cooed in a soft tone to try and make the witch remain calm. “But it’s only been a couple of hours. I’ve never taken care of magical wounds before, but if they are anything like natural ones they should begin healing soon. Alright, I’m going to start cleaning them now.”

That warning was all the preparation she had before the cold, wet cloth touched her tender skin, and she twitched at the first contact. Johanna pretended not to notice.

“If we take good care of them they won’t be a bother for much longer.” She said as she pressed the rags gently to the burns, hoping her voice and reassurances would stop the witch from becoming too stressed with the situation. “My Hilda had some very similar ones a while ago. Tried to jump over the Beltane bonfire because some kids had dared her to, you see. But she got fine and so will you.”

Though she had barely been paying attention to what Johanna was saying, because after all these years she was quite sure there were few things that could significantly harm this beast form of her curse, her attention was caught when the child was mentioned. It felt odd to hear her being talked about so casually, as if Johanna had just walked in to see to her wounds and for a cup of tea before returning to her daughter, and both of them could tell the atmosphere of the room had become awkward with the comment.

“Speaking of your family.” Maven began, even knowing she was being insensitive. “Should I expect any daring attempts at rescue from your husband?”

Rather than huffing or slapping her for reminding her of the beloved she’d had to leave behind like Maven had expected, Johanna exhaled sharply, almost a chuckle.

“Oh, I don’t have a husband, so it won’t be a problem.”

“You think the father will be fine with this situation, then?” The beast asked after considering if the question was or not too rude, and deciding it didn’t matter. It happened often enough that women would have children without being married, Johanna didn’t need to suffer any prejudice at the castle on top of what she certainly must have gone through in her village.

“I don’t think you understood this.” This time, there was more open humor in her voice. “There is no father, or any man with a similar function. Hilda was adopted. I found her when she was a little baby.”

It was good that the position in which Maven needed to stay for Johanna to look at her wounds hid her face in the pillows, because she was certain she was blushing with embarrassment at that moment. Last thing she needed was to look like a fool in front of the woman.

“It was wrong of me to assume. I had just figured she was… well, truly yours because of how fiercely you are willing to protect her.”

“Hey, she is truly mine!”Johanna stopped cleaning the wounds to put her hands on her waist. “I raised her, took care of her and loved her. That’s what a mother does.”

“Of course, but not everyone is willing to do so much for people who don’t share their blood. I hadn’t meant to offend.”

Maven was not one to apologize with frequency, but she could see she’d touched a subject she shouldn’t have. If there was anything she knew about the newest member of her castle, it was how much her daughter meant to her. If she didn’t, Johanna wouldn’t be there at all.

“Well, they should.” Johanna huffed as she resumed her previous task. “Family is family, and if anything the fact that you found it just makes it more special. I don’t know who taught you otherwise, but they were wrong.”

Johanna might not know, but Maven did, and she was reasonably sure she had not been family to the woman who had taken her in, and the sting she felt when Johanna cleaned a particularly nasty burn seemed to prove her point. But then again, the woman who had abandoned her for fear of having a witch in her house, even if that witch was her daughter, hadn’t been her family either.

Running a hand through the wild combination of plumes and hair strands on her temple, the witch tried to brush those thoughts away.

“What do you do for a living? Raising a daughter by yourself is no easy task, I imagine.”

“I am an artist.” Johanna smiled. “Most of my money I’d get from doing coal drawings of things people asked me to. But what I really love is painting. Unfortunately, paint and canvases can get pretty expensive, and it’s not like I’d get many buyers in my town, at least. I only manage to do a few each year, and I sell them at the annual spring fair in Paris. Hilda loves visiting the city. The money I get is just enough to pay for the trip and for more supplies, but it’s worth it. She needs to see the world beyond that miniscule village.”

“That’s a very honourable job.” Maven said, ignoring the parts about her daughter lest she add insult to the injury. “You must be very good to be able to make a living out of it.”

Johanna’s hair covered her face as she set aside the cloth to reach for the salve. Maven could only see a small smile on her face. “Thank you. Most people think it’s a useless job, but it really is what I love doing.”

“How can it be useless when it adds beauty to the world?”

Right before applying the salve to the burns, the woman smiled more directly at her. “I think so too.”

They didn’t talk further as Johanna finished tending to the wounds and wrapping them up again. Maven politely thanked her when she was done, but when she had turned away to head back to her own room, she noticed the witch had picked up the book she’d been reading before again, continuing to ignore her food.

“You said you don’t really like them.” Johanna said from the doorway. “Why do you keep reading?”

Maven looked surprised when she looked up from her book to the woman again, having expected her to already be gone.

“I have nothing else to read.” She answered slowly, afraid the first explanation hadn’t been clear since Johanna was asking her again.

“Well, yes, but can’t you do other things?”

Though Johanna hadn’t meant it to be a calling out of any sort, the beast looked away from her and down to the book again.

“I really like reading.” With her voice small and way more vulnerable than she would have liked it to be, Maven was aware she must have sounded like a child, but Johanna didn’t laugh at her at all.

“Makes sense.” Johanna nodded, carefully considering her next words before they came out of her mouth. The Maven she knew was a grumpy and rude woman, but something told her she was beginning to peel away at her layers, and it could be her natural optimism tricking her, but she thought she was catching a glimpse of the dear and unsure soul that lied beneath.

“In that case, would it help if I read to you?” She said at last, making the beast return her gaze to her, now clearly startled.

“What?”

“Well, the books only burn you, right? This means I can still touch them, so I could read them outloud for you. I know it’s not the same as reading something yourself, but still.”

Maven blinked up at Johanna, feeling in her heart both amazement and confusion. Not even her servants, the people who knew how much this meant for her, had ever made her the offer. Why her prisoner would was beyond her understanding. Of course, this could be an attempt at being let go, but Maven had never promised freedom in exchange for good graces.

“Sorry, it was just an idea.” Johanna mumbled embarrassedly when the witch didn’t answer for a long beat. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s a great idea!” Maven said quickly, louder than she’d meant. “You… would you do that?”

Happy to see Maven didn’t think her to be some sort of naive, ridiculous girl, Johanna smiled. There was a glimmer of hope in her purple eyes that Johanna had never seen before, and it seemed to light up Maven’s entire face. She looked a lot more human in that moment.

“Of course! Why don’t you eat your food and then I’ll pick something from one of the piles to read you?’

Despite herself, Maven smiled. “I’d love that.”

_#_#_#_

“Should we bring your tea to the gardens, mistress?”

Corbeau’s voice by her side startled her, and she turned to find him on the cabinet beside her. Furtively, she stole a glance at Johanna, who was picking them a book for the evening from the multiple choices in her bedrrom’s corridor. When Maven noticed with relief that Johanna hadn’t heard or spotted her, she turned back to the servant.

“No, today is much too cold, she’ll freeze outside. Light up the fire in the hall and serve us tea there. Please.”

After this, she returned to watch Johanna choose between what seemed to be an adventure novel and a botany book. She’d never read anything about magic, never touched the ancient knowledge that Maven dreamed of, but it didn’t make their reading sessions feel like they were worth any less. Magic or not, Johanna managed to take her to other worlds and introduce her to new people, things she thought she’d been doomed to spend the rest of her life without. Besides, between the reading and the conversations that usually followed, Johanna was in her company more often than anyone had ever been, even before the curse. She thought that that was what friendship must feel like, and it was growing on her.

“Can I do anything else for you?” Maven asked impatiently when Corbeau still did not leave. She felt uneasy with him by her side when she was, by all means, hiding. Every day, her curiosity made her watch Johanna as she picked a book, and everyday she went back to her room before Johanna could catch her to pretend she had been disinterestedly waiting for her instead.

“Oh, sorry!” He whispered, looking amused. “It’s just you looked so lost in thought, I was wondering if maybe there was something you wanted to share.”

Maven bit down on her lower lip. She didn’t have fangs, exactly, but the curse did give her sharper teeth and so she had to take care not to cut herself.

“She’s been reacting extremely well to her… situation.” Maven said, her voice still low for fear of being heard. There was no problem in sharing this dilemma with Corbeau, she thought. He was her oldest servant, had been with her ever since she was a small child, he’d try to help her. “I wonder if there’s anything I can do to make her feel better here.”

“Well, there’s the usual, of course. Chocolate, roses, promises you don’t intend to keep-“

He stopped his listing when the witch glared at him, clearly not happy with or interested in his suggestions. Even though she knew he was kidding, the implication of Maven doing a romantic advance on the woman she had locked up to begin with didn’t sit well with her, and she didn’t want her servants to feel like they could begin any funny attempts either.

“I’m joking, of course!” He said when he read the expression on Maven’s face. “You’re clearly the best person to answer that question, in all honesty. You’re the one who spends the most time with her. Surely, you must know what she likes at this point. Anything you do to show that you were listening when she talked to you, I’m sure she’d appreciate.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. I’ll think on that… thank you.”

The clock smiled before walking away. It was peculiar to see it, and perhaps a little too optimistic on his part to think so, but it seemed like the two of them were coming together on their own. Who would have known? Maybe other pleasant surprises awaited for them in the future.

_#_#_#_

When Maven announced they wouldn’t be doing their typical reading time that morning, Johanna was confused to find herself disappointed. That activity had begun as an act of goodwill of sorts, an attempt to get the witch to feel less miserable. As the weeks had passed, however, the two of them had fallen into a pleasant routine of reading and spending time with each other, to the point where Johanna looked forward to their mornings and tea times together. She thought it must be because the loneliness of the castle was starting to affect her, even though she did spend some time talking to the trio of objects that still were able to keep most of their human functions. Still, it saddened her when the witch canceled their plans.

“There’s something I want to show you instead.” Maven continued, brushing off imaginary specks of dust from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent most of her imprisonment wearing clothes so simple they would only be fit for sleeping for someone who didn’t have their body covered by feathers, but since her burns began to finally heal properly she’d been putting more effort into dressing nicely. Well, maybe not exactly nicely, but better than she had been, anyway. It wasn’t as if much could be expected from someone who had to deal with wings and claws.

“Oh?” Johanna perked up, her curiosity spiked. In the time she’d been there, she’d already explored most of the castle during the hours when she wasn’t with the witch, and the prospect that there were even more things to discover excited her.

“Yes. Follow me, please.”

Maven had walked past her and into the corridor outside of her bedroom, and Johanna fell into step beside her.

“Can you wait here?” Johanna asked. “I just need to put this book back in the pile I picked it from.”

She’d chosen the book just before heading to Maven’s room, and since she didn’t know if there was any order in the way the tomes were organized, she’d figured it might be better to return it before she forgot its place.

“There’s no need.” The beast answered, and either Johanna was imagining things or she actually sounded somewhat nervous. “You can bring it to where we’re headed.”

Johanna didn’t ask any more questions as Maven guided her. They climbed down flights of stairs until they were in the ground floor, and passed through many small tea rooms and living areas, until they arrived at a dead end. Johanna knew it was a dead end, because she’d been there before and the double doors at the end of the corridor wouldn’t open no matter what she did. However, to her surprise, the beast took a small bronze key from her pocket and stuck it in the keyhole. She then looked again at Johanna, looking uncertain.

“Would you like me to close my eyes?” She asked with playfulness, doing exactly that as the witch nodded shily.

“It might be better. I’ll… I’ll help you get inside.”

She heard the doors getting open, straining her ears to try and get a clue. Soon, Maven had placed herself behind Johanna and her hands on her upper arms, carefully pushing her forward until she was inside the room.

“You may open them now.”

At the first glimpse of her surprise, Johanna gasped. It was much brighter than the rest of the castle, as the ceiling high windows had their curtains open, and her eyes took a moment to adjust. The walls were a soft shade of white that intercalated with blue parts where birds had been painted, and the pattern made it seem like the birds were flying up to the ceiling, where there were even more of them as well as a chandelier. Near the fireplace, there were couches and armchairs and high bookcases. The window directly in front of her had a windowsill seat, and to its left lay an array of art supplies worthy of the greatest masters of France. A table with all different sorts of brushes and sketching material, and cabinet with paints of all the shades of the rainbow on its shelves, and stacks of blank canvases inside it, judging by the open door on its bottom part. Considering that there were other chests in the room which were closed but probably also filled, there was more material in the room than Johanna could spend in a lifetime.

“This is the drawing room.” Maven said while Johanna was still too stunned for words. “I don’t know who was the owner of this castle before the Enchantress, but they clearly had some interest in art. Do… do you like it?”

“Like it?” Johanna breathed, unbelieving. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

A corner of Maven’s lips lifted up only slightly, and she watched Johanna’s reaction closely, pleased with herself for having made a good choice. She’d asked the servants to clean up the room while Johanna had been sleeping, and she herself helped in the parts that didn’t have any books, and it had been worth it.

“If you like it so much, it’s yours.”

The woman gasped and turned to her abruptly. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s yours to do as you please.” Maven took a step back as she said that, ready to leave the human free to enjoy her gift. She was stopped, however, when Johanna surprised her by leaping forward and closing her arms around her neck.

“Thank you so much!” Johanna said, seemingly unaware that she’d thrown the beast in a state of complete shock. Her hands were lifted, because she had no idea of where she should put them, and as she breathed in all she could feel was the scent of Johanna’s hair. She could feel apple and peach, and something that was entirely too bright to be in that castle. Though she hadn’t seen it in years, she thought that that was exactly what summer smelt like. How did someone manage to bloom like that when she was trapped in eternal winter?

When Johanna retreated, she was smiling up at her. There was something in the way she was looking at her that Maven couldn’t decipher, and chose to ignore instead.

“Not…” Still trying to gather her thoughts, Maven had some trouble remembering what it was that she should say. “Not for that. I’ll leave you to enjoy it.”

“Wait, where are you going?” It was only when the witch tried to take another step back that she realized that Joahanna had taken her unnatural clawed hands on her own. Didn’t she worry she was going to cut herself? Since the night they met the witch had known she was brave, but it was one thing to tie yourself to a beast to save someone you love and entirely another to get comfortable enough to touch her without even shuddering. Maven didn’t know how to feel about that.

She tilted her head. “I don’t know?”

Though she cringed when she realized how much like a lost child that had sounded, Johanna only smiled wider.

“Stay with me, then! I brought the book like you said, and there are many here. Why don't you help me take a better look at this place, and then we can still read a little.”

Maven shifted her weight between her feet as Johanna walked to the bookshelf. She couldn’t fathom why Johanna would want her captor in the only room besides her bedroom where she had control over who could and couldn’t come in, and just thinking about it was a bit alarming. The woman picked up a book and Maven watched as a blush tinted her cheeks. Given that her servants had previously informed her that those books were all romances, Maven could imagine the reason for that.

“If that is of your liking.... sounds good.”

Johanna smiled to herself. She’d been right to try and get closer to the beast. If she’d simply stayed away, she would have never even dreamed of meeting the person she was talking to at the moment. There was something about her now that hadn’t been there before, and she found herself growing quite fond of this new Maven. Time would tell if she was right to give her that chance or not.

#gosh the summary is so awful and i need to change it immediately #it was made when i thought i would only write one chapter #if anyone has ideas plz tell me i hate writing summaries #fic: BatW #my fic #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #hilda librarian fanfic #johanna hilda fanfic

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lovehugsandcandy · 4 years

Text

One-on-One: Rematch (Part 3)

A/N: Now might be a good time to share that I don’t know much about basketball. I played when I was little though and constantly fouled of games out because I am gawky and awkward and would accidentally bump people all the time. Once I fouled out in a massive collision where I got a bloody nose so bad they had to stop the game to mop the floor and that was when I realized sport was not my thing. (Part 1, Part 2)

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~4,500 words

Rating: N*FW (Sex. Swearing.)

Summary: When Langston made it to Nationals, Ellie planned on spending the entire time studying in her room. It didn’t end up quite as planned.

Lips trailed up her neck, breaking through her consciousness; she tilted her head, and they went higher, nerves firing sparks of pleasure in their wake.

“I gotta go,” Colt’s voice was low in her ear and Ellie craned her neck further, wanting more of that delicious pressure.

“Mmmmh,” she whined, reaching her hand back. “Stay.”

“God, I wish I fucking could. Team meeting- need to shoot around, talk about the game tonight, all that bullshit.”

“Nooo…” She opened her eyes, shocked to see the sun positively alight through the blinds. “What time is it?”

“Noon.” His smile was positively indecent given the simple question. “You stayed up late last night.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You did too, you know.”

“But I have a game tonight.”

“Just… God, just come here.” He let her pull her closer, down onto the bed, so she could wrap a bare leg around where he was unfortunately far too clothed. “Stay,” she eked out between kisses.

“I want to, God, I fucking want…” He pulled away, clearing his throat. “Figured you would be hungry, so I ordered room service.”

“Ha ha. When will you be back?”

“Soon.” And with that, he was out the door.

Soon apparently did not mean the same thing to him, however, as it did to her. She polished off breakfast and flicked through the tv channels, stopping to watch a bit of analysis of the game tonight; she had to flick it off when the announcers started discussing Colt Kaneko’s explosive temper. She tried to study but the words and formulas swirled, flowing into indecipherable designs in front of her mind, until she pushed the books off the bed in a fit of rage, pages crinkling against the carpet. She wandered the hotel lobby for a while and, not knowing where else to go, her feet led her right to the arena doors. It was quiet, only staff cleaning to prepare for the crowds that would stream through the doors, AV techs setting up wires and mics, two announcers in the booth getting ready for filming.

And one solitary player knocking back free throws on the parquet.

He was so engrossed in the methodical rhythm of the bounce and swish of the ball sailing through net that he didn’t even notice her creep down the stairs until her sneakers squeaked piercingly on the court.

“Hey.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I was bored.” She shrugged. “You were gone for hours.”

“I was?” He pulled out his phone, face falling. “Damn.”

“You were in the zone, I get it. It happens to me when I study.”

“Ok, smarty pants.”

“You’re good,” she nodded to the hoop.

He sank another free throw. “Huh?”

“At the whole... shooting the ball… thing.”

“The… the shooting the ball thing? Seriously?”

“Shut up.”

His lips curled into a slow grin. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.” His free hand kept up a steady dribble as he gestured to her. “You said you wanted to take me on. Here’s your chance.”

Her steps were hesitant as she stepped underneath the bright lights illuminating the court. “I’ve never even played basketball; I’m not sure this would go well.”

“Well, you can be plenty distracting.”

She smirked. “I’m not sure if that would help at Nationals. I’ve never even shot the ball.”

“Really? Go for it.” He flipped it to her, and she barely caught it, fingers locked in a tight grip around the rubber.

“I’m not sure…”

“Take a free throw. C’mon, show me what you got.”

“Umm…” She stepped over, putting the toes of her sneakers against the line. “Like this?” She lifted the ball. The hoop looked so far away from here, much further than it seemed from the sidelines, and it appeared to have shrunk, circle diminishing as soon as she stepped to the line. How in the hell-?

“Wait, you-”

She didn’t let him finish speaking before she shot, chucking the ball as hard as possible, eyes tracking its path as it sailed over the backboard, bouncing against the wall before rolling uselessly behind the bleachers.

Colt started laughing, hanging his head.

“What?” she huffed. “I told you….”

He jogged over to grab the ball, passing it to her again. “Ok, first of all, what the hell were you aiming at? See the front of the rim?”

“Yeah…”

“Focus there. You’re a righty?”

“Yeah?”

“Aim, bend your knees, and then push the ball off your fingertips, following the motion with your right hand.”

She shook her head. “That seems like a lot.”

“I’ve seen you pull a back flip 20 feet in the air and you’re telling me you can’t shoot?”

“... Fine.”

She stood at the line again, staring at the rim. “Bend your knees,” he called.

“Ok, ok.” Rolling her eyes, she complied and then moved, pushing the ball from her hands; this time, it was closer, slamming into the glass of the backboard before ricocheting back towards them. Colt grabbed it with an outstretched palm.

“Jesus, ease up. You need to be gentle.”

“What?”

“Gentle, like you’re throwing an egg.” He handed her the ball. “Try again.”

“Gentle? You? That’s ridiculous.”

He narrowed his eyes before stepping behind her; she couldn’t stop the gasp at the line of heat at her back. Her breath stuttered, fingers tightening into the rubber between her hands, and she was acutely aware of every point of contact, his bare legs brushing hers, his chest against her back, the fingers that were sliding over her elbows to trace up, over wrists and fingers and bones and skin, cheek brushing against hers as he whispered, “I can be gentle.” His breath shot lightning down her spine, and she was melting, overheating, turning into liquid in the spotlight of the free throw line. “Here, let me help.” He moved her, fingers impossibly soft, raising her arms, so the ball was over her head and his phone rang somewhere in his pocket but he only tangled their fingers together and, hell, she didn’t need to know how to shoot, anyway. The ball fell from her suddenly weak fingertips, echoing as it bounced into some far corner, and she spun in his arms to grab the back of his head, pulling him down to her, desperately frantically overwhelmingly needing his lips on hers before she collapsed, when-

“There you are!”

They broke apart, leaping away from each other as the side door slammed shut behind one of his teammates. She started when she realized that they had met before, at the party after the quarterfinals. Crap. He knew that she cheered for another team.

Colt looked almost guilty, eyes wide and darting to hers, and she was sure her face mirrored his. “What do you want, Logan?”

“Coach sent me to see if you still have time to look over the tape he pulled but…” Logan’s eyes lingered on Ellie; she flushed, praying he didn’t recognize her. “It looks like you’re busy.”

“We were…” she coughed. “I was just leaving.”

“No way. I was wondering where Kaneko’s been spending all his time. Now I know. I remember talking to you at an after party, but I don’t think if we officially met. I’m Logan.” He held out his hand, shaking hers with a sturdy grip.

Crap. “I’m Ellie.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ok, asshole, you can tell coach that-”

Colt tried to interject, but Logan kept his eyes trained on her. “So you coming to the game tonight?”

Her eyes flitted to Colt. “Uh… I mean… I wasn’t…”

Colt blinked, rocking back on his heels. “Uhh….” She had seen him fight opposing players towering over him and deal with the pressure of thousands of spectators screaming his name; she had never seen him fidget like this. “You can… If you want...”

“I don’t have a ticket.”

Logan scoffed, “Come on, we have a box. It’s for friends and family... and rival cheerleaders apparently.”

Double crap. “You’re not gonna…”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Usually, Kaneko’s punched at least a few of us by this point at the playoffs; I think we all want to keep you around. For safety.”

“All right, asshole, you can leave. Unless you wanna break that streak right now.”

“Ok, going, going.” Logan held up supplicating hands as he edged away. “It was nice to meet you, Ellie.”

“You too.” She watched him leave and turned to Colt with a frown. He pulled his phone from his pocket, pointedly avoiding her gaze.

“Do you need a ticket to get in the box?”

“I have a ticket. In the box. You could go if you wanted.” He was still staring at his phone.

“You don’t…” She squinted at him, but he didn’t look up, engrossed in anything but her. “You don’t need it for someone else?”

“I mean, I would have given it to my mom but...”

“Oh…”

“And my dad’s never-well, he’s sure as hell ain’t coming.” He shrugged, putting his phone in his pocket, and turned away from her; even in profile, the furrow of his brow was harsh, closed-off and dark. “It’s ok, you don’t have to-”

“No, I wanna go.” His head jerked around; she barely caught the blinding grin before he tempered his expression.

“You do?” He was still fighting the smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “I mean, you already know the outcome, right? You know we’re gonna play you in the finals.”

“Idiot. I wanna go.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Ok.” He nodded again, grin almost bashful as it spread across his face. “Cool.”

~~~~~~

It was a completely unfamiliar experience, watching the game unfold from above. She was so used to being courtside that it was disconcerting, watching the game like a bird. The players were smaller, nondescript, and she had to focus on tracking Colt as he weaved around the court. She frowned as he got caught in a pick-and-roll but battled back to block the ensuing shot, ball careening into the stands.

However, one benefit was definitely the food and drink. Apparently stationed to satisfy all the random administration officials wandering around, the free buffet was worlds above the cafeteria at school. Ellie was making her way up for seconds when a pointed drawl made her freeze.

“Who’s chick are you?”

Ellie froze, plate dangling awkwardly in the air, as she turned to face the girl standing beside her. She was already worried about someone recognizing her, and the suspicious tone did nothing to ease her concern. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never seen you before. Who are you sleeping with to get a ticket?”

“Excuse me?!?”

“What?” The girl raised a manicured eyebrow. She was downright gorgeous, thick glossy hair framing cynical eyes and trailing down to the deep black ink that wound its way around her arms. “Am I wrong?”

“Mona!” A shout made Ellie turn her head to see a woman striding over, towering over the crowd. “Are you harassing strangers again?”

“It’s not harassment. I’m just making conversation, meeting new people.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” The unknown girl turned and, like a flash, Ellie realized why she looked so familiar; she and Colt were locked in a heated conversation at the party after the quarterfinals. “Please ignore her. She’s been in a nasty mood since she got suspended from the team and has been taking it out on everyone.”

“You know I didn’t want to join the team, anyway,” Mona huffed. “It was just so I didn’t get expelled the last time I threatened some frat bros.”

“And I’m amazed that they still let you stay at Nationals after this time you threatened some frat bros.” She turned to Ellie. “I’m Ximena.”

“Ellie.” She put her hand up in an awkward wave but the girl only shook her head, stepping forward to squish her between two massively muscled arms. The squeak that emerged from her lips was mortifying but, once the pressure on her lungs vanished and she could breathe again, she was too relieved to care.

“Sorry, I do hugs. Wanna sit with us?”

“Sure…” Ellie carefully carried her food over, sitting down carefully at a folding chair right at the glass. The third quarter had barely started, and she had to take a minute to find Colt jawing angrily on the sideline.

“-Ellie?”

“I’m sorry.” She turned to see Ximena looking at her expectantly. “What did you say?”

“Do you watch all the games?”

“Umm... some?”

Mona scoffed. “Come on, we haven’t seen you here before. Who on the team are you dating?”

“No one!” At least, she could be honest about that, though it didn’t seem to dissuade Mona any, her eyes positively gleaming.

“Ok then... who you fucking?”

“Mona!” Ximena leaned over, her hand covering the entire lower half of the other girl’s face. “I am so sorry. I would say she’s not normally like this, but she is.”

Ellie’s lips stretched into a tight grin; she tried to soften her features into an actual smile, but she didn’t manage it. “How about you guys? Are you on the women’s team?”

“Yup!” Ximena proudly beamed. “Our final is tomorrow night.”

“At least you’re excited.”

“Aw, Mona, don’t be so bitter. I’m sure you’ll play next year.”

“Can’t wait,” Mona mumbled numbly, eyes narrowing as she scanned the box. “Hey, look…” Her elbow jabbed Ximena in the ribs. “He’s here again?”

“Who?” Ximena turned her head to follow Mona’s gaze. “Oh my God, again?”

Ellie peered across the box, seeing only suits talking in whispers as they scribbled on tablets and narrowed their eyes at the game. “Uh... who?”

Ximena leaned closer to speak in a raspy whisper. “Your six. Blue suit.” Ellie turned, taking in the object of their study. He was tall, with beefy hands scribbling notes on a small notebook, beady eyes looking through the glass intently. “He’s a scout for the Jazz.”

“The who?”

“Utah NBA team. He’s been blowing up Kaneko’s phone.”

“Logan’s, too.” Mona flicked her hair over a shoulder. “Supposedly, he’s not so good at taking no for an answer.”

“Utah?” Ellie asked weakly. He hadn’t even-

Mona scoffed, digging her teeth into a chicken wing, ripping the skin from the bone. “I can’t believe they want those losers. Logan spent half the quarterfinal game consoling Toby over a missed free throw while Kaneko had to be held back from assaulting a ref. They couldn’t keep it together at McDonald’s, let alone the NBA.”

Ellie shot a glance at the scout, still rapidly jotting notes, before she peered down at the court below. Logan was at the free throw line, waiting patiently while the refs sorted out some scuffling at the edge of the box. To no surprise, Colt was in the middle of the fray, mouthing off to opposing players but, amazingly, the exchange hadn’t devolved into physical blows.

“I thought they weren’t even supposed to do that,” Ximena wondered. “Don’t they need to declare draft eligibility before they can get scouted?”

“It would be different if they had agents.” Mona rolled her eyes, but Ellie couldn’t even keep up; she didn’t understand the draft rules at all, but the intricacies faded as the reality started crashing in. “They don’t have agents, yet, so the rules are different.”

They continued discussing the convoluted ins-and-outs of the NCAA draft eligibility requirements, but Ellie tuned them out. She knew their paths would diverge after Nationals; she had always known this. Why did it matter if he would go pro and move across the country? For Christ’s sake, they weren’t dating. This had always had an expiration date. She blinked, surprised to find a trail of moisture on her face when she wiped a shaking hand over her cheek. It didn’t matter.

~~~~~

Colt was in fantastically high spirits as they got back to his room; she eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t you want to go out? Celebrate?”

“What do you mean, go to one of those lame-ass penthouse parties?” He rolled his eyes. “I hate that shit. I want to celebrate here.”

“Ha. Let me guess how you want to celebrate.”

“You wound me.” He pulled the jersey over his head, abs rippling with the motion, and she swallowed. “Fine. Guess.”

She stalked closer. “You, me, and this bed?”

“Close.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “You, me, and the bath.”

“What?” she choked out.

“My muscles are sore. Come on.” She blinked as he walked into the bathroom, standing stock still while her brain struggled to keep up. He wanted... what? “Are you coming or not?” he called, voice loud over the roaring faucet, and she shuffled in, no idea what to expect.

He was pulling his shorts off, tossing them in the corner by his shoes, as she walked through the door. “Are you serious?” she huffed.

“Yeah? Obviously.” He settled down, water swirling around him as he settled into place. “Water’s nice.”

She was still confused but, well, it did look comfortable. She pulled her shirt over her head, fully cognizant of the way his attentive stare followed the movement, and tugged the rest of her clothes off as well before balancing her hands on the tub’s edge. “How are we gonna-?”

“Jesus, just come here.” Wet hands found her waist, and he pulled, lifting her over the ceramic side to settle her on top of his chest with a pleased sigh.

The water was nice, warmth easing into her own muscles. Once they were mostly covered, water edging towards her shoulders, she reached a hand back to turn the knob. “No bubbles?”

“No, dork.” He didn’t even open his eyes to snark at her, just curving an arm around her shoulders to pull her flush against him. “No bubbles.”

Every inch of her was stretched out, her head on his chest, hips meeting his exactly where his cock was twitching, but still he just held her close, damp hands threading through her hair.

It felt nice. Weird. Domestic.

She lifted her head; Colt had opened his eyes, was looking down at her with a soft expression. It made her heart skip. She had seen him angry, playful, turned on, in situation after situation, but she had never seen him look so... tender? At ease?

She couldn’t bear the reverential gaze, just days before she had to return to Langston, back to her books and formulas and theorem-filled reality and her actual boring life. Water splashed over the side of the tub as she lifted her hand to his chin, pulling him in for a kiss. As his tongue swiped across her lower lip, she screwed her eyes shut, but the thoughtful look on his face still lingered behind her eyelids. Desperately, she deepened the kiss, and he dropped his legs from the blindingly white ceramic to tangle with hers. The only sound was her quiet sighs and the swirling water as his hands ducked under the surface to skate down her curves.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?” She was out of breath and her hips wouldn’t stop rocking into his.

“I’m ready to celebrate a different way.” He sat up, dragging her with him, to slide out of the water, pulling her with him as his tongue traced the rivulets running down the hollow of her collarbone. Her nails found the damp hair at the back of his head, pulling slightly to feel the groan from his throat. “Come on…” He found her hand and pulled, dragging her out of the bathroom and maneuvering her so, when her back hit the bed, he followed, skin quickly drying with the heat between them.

He couldn’t stop kissing her, moving from her shoulders to her breasts back up her neck in a dizzying array. Her head fell back on the bed as his thumb found her clit; in their week-long Nationals fuck fest, he had become very skilled in finding exactly how to touch her, the pressure, the speed. The indistinct shapes were maddening, her hands grappling to pull him closer, please, closer, when he stopped with a smirk.

“What?” She opened her eyes. “Colt, I was…”

“I know.” He ran a finger down her temple, brushing away a stray hair before it traced further down, barely a tickle as it rounded her breast, lower. “You said I couldn’t be gentle. I can be gentle.”

“What?!? Goddammit, just fuck me.”

He shook his head, water droplets raining down over her chest. The smirk hadn’t left his face. “Nope. I told you. I can be gentle.” His lips followed the path of his hands, feather-light touches, miles from the abrasive player on the court.

“Colt, what?” She gasped as he lined up and slid in, slowly, filling her at his own pace, ignoring the way she pulled at his arms. “Oh my God, please. Please!”

“Nope.”

She would have hit him, forced him to move faster, but it felt so good. Their time together had been filled with, well, fucking. But this was different. This wasn’t fucking. This wasn’t just sex.

This was something she didn’t want to give up, even though the end date was barreling ever closer.

Fuck.

His lips connected to her neck, lips and teeth slowly working yet another mark onto her skin. She curved a hand into his hair, and she felt his lips stretch into a smile. His hips moved, her head fell back, and he smiled wider.

Damn, he could do gentle, apparently. He could do gentle very well, cock inching inside her, almost delicate, almost patient. Every thrust ended in a slow grind that made her body sing. This wasn’t…

It was lighting up nerve endings she never even knew about, each one pinging one-by-one, sending spark after spark through her limbs, her brain, flares of sensation that made her grip tighter to his forearms.

“Colt…” It was too much. They were supposed to be fuckbuddies, just hooking up, goddammit, but this wasn’t fucking. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer, move him faster. “Come on, please.”

“Nope. You wanted gentle.” He moved forward, an inch, another, right there, thumb tracing another delicious circle, God. She keened. “Is this gentle enough?” She had no idea how his hands were able to move with such restraint. She had seen him fight, fists hammering until they were bruised and bloody; but now those hands moved carefully down her arm, over her clit, every touch making her hair stand on end.

“P-please,” she stuttered. They weren’t even dating. She had expected him to ravish her against the door or bend her over the desk. She wasn’t prepared for reverence, adoration. Her eyes were watering and her brain wasn’t working fast enough to tease out why.

His laugh was low against her neck and then his lips were trailing lower. His hips moved faster and her breath raced, body heating degree by degree until she was aflame. “Please, more.”

His lips traced back to her ear. “You don’t need to beg,” he crooned. She bit her lip as his hips moved faster; she wrapped her legs tighter, muscles tensing.

This wasn’t the plan.

He curved a hand around her jaw, tipping her face up to stare at her. She had always been used to their intensity, the fire that shone through his every move, but this look was almost tender, almost worshipping. It was too much. The sound that left her mouth when she came was half-sob, half-cry, emotion laid bare as her body quaked and mind, finally, went blissfully blank.

When she could process again, she was wrapped around his chest, his fingers tracing slow circles around her shoulder blades. She felt utterly boneless, mentally wrecked, brain fuzzy and sex-dumb, but her nerves were alight. Their expiration date was in two days and-

His voice cut through her internal panic. “You know what this means?” His fingertips moved to her ribs, honey slow and sweet, one by one, and Ellie had to take a deep breath to settle her mind.

“What?”

“We’re playing you in the finals.”

“Hmm…” She needed to think, barely managing to shoot back, “You’re going down.”

“We’ll see about that.” He sized her up, lips quirking. “Who are you cheering for?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You need to cheer for me.”

“What?”

“Just once. Come on, Ellie. One single tiny cheer for me.” The smile played on his lips. “Only one.”

“I can’t!”

“Come. On! I can’t have the girl I’m dating cheer for the opposition!”

She froze. “The what?” Goosebumps broke out over her arms as she shivered. Did the air conditioning turn on?

“I can’t have you-”

“Colt, we’re not dating.”

“What.” He opened his mouth and then closed it again. “What exactly are we doing, then, because you’ve basically been living here for-”

“We’re not dating!” She broke in, pushing off his chest, desperate to make him stop talking. “We hooked up like two times. That’s it.”

“Umm…” He raised an eyebrow. “We hooked up two times today. That’s not counting yesterday, or the day before, or right before the quarterfinals…”

She raked her fingers through her hair and tugged, pinpricks of pain in her scalp filtering through her swirling thoughts. “That doesn’t mean…” She was going back to Langston in two days, she had to go back, but there was nothing she wanted less.

Colt sat up as well; she had to look away from the shifting biceps to pull her racing thoughts into a concrete sentence.

“That doesn’t…” she faltered again. “That doesn’t mean… you’re a basketball player…”

“Ok?”

“.... your school is like two hours away.”

“What, you’re allergic to your phone now?”

“But…”

“It’s not like I’m across the country.” He pulled a hand through his hair.

“I’m not supposed to fraternize with players.”

“Come on, like that stops Ingrid. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“I…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I just… I’m busy. With school and cheer and my major is hard…”

“Oh, and I have so much free time?”

“I… this isn’t the plan.”

“What plan?!?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again.

“Fine. Forget I said anything.” His frown made her heart hurt but, before she could interject, his eyes flared, glaring through her as the flame was replaced with ice. “You know what, you’re so busy, you should just go.”

She pulled back, stung. “What?”

“Go back to your room, go study for your difficult major, it’s fine.”

“Colt, I…”

“Go,” he implored, hands shooing her away. “Goodbye.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her chest hurt and her eyes were stinging, telltale precursor to tears that she desperately wanted to keep inside. She raced to the bathroom, grabbing her clothes and throwing them on in a panic. She had to get out of this room before-

“Bye, Ellie.”

His voice was cold behind her but she didn’t care because she was fiddling with the doorknob but it was difficult because everything was blurry and then she was out, rushing down the hall and down the stairs and then she couldn’t see anything, clinging to the railing as water filled her eyes and blurred her vision.

It took her 15 minutes to stumble down the two flights of stairs, death grip on the railing the entire way.

And when she walked into her room, Ingrid’s ‘told you so’ died on her lips. She sprang up from her bed to envelope Ellie in a warm hug as the tears finally poured out.