#( half the time matt just thinks ‘wow are are really good really close friends’ )

[techniiciian]

sometimes, matt can be so oblivious to his heart that he wont realize the truth until he’s laying down next to the person he’s grown old with, shared a bed with, and lived through so many adventures with that maybe, just maybe, they’ve been more than friends this entire time.

[lights-camera-ask-tion]

Lights.... Camera.... EDD-TION... huh!!!! huh???... was that?? was that funny???......

Ok I'll leave. Whoops, it seems like our boys have been subjected to the hell that is community theater all for their individual reasons. Follow them on their many misadventures as they put together a nondescript play run by none other than EVIL- I mean normal director Bing Bingbong! (And his bodyguard Larry).

Here YOU can get some behind the curtain information on how the production is going, how cast and crews are doing and many other things of asking nature by pressing that little button at the top!

With that out of the way let's do a little role call for our cast here! Wait what do you mean only one (and a half) of our guys act in this?

more below! (*RULES AT VERY END!*) (sorry)

Edd (CREW • PROP/SET DESIGN)

Looking for a little extra cash one day Edd comes across a TV ad about a few spots open in the theater for an upcoming , unnamed production. Naturally his friends sat close by also watching. Together they decided they'd go in, try their hand at it and once the show was over put together all the money they got and split it equally. Edd easily got into props and set design because Bing knew he was an artist and for a director he's fairly lazy when it comes to assigning jobs and roles. Edd doesn't really struggle all too much with props and sets due to his prior painting experience. But the behind the stage activities and chaos get to him a bit. Needless to say he's just a inch more tired than his usual self

Matt (ACTOR • UNDERSTUDY)

Matt got assigned as an understudy for the lead role which he was pretty bummed out about at first! But as time went on the lead had fallen ill. Matt was the temporary lead! Good for him. Bing didn't really think about the repercussions of having Matt as an understudy for the lead but it's already pretty far in the show to change things around in Bing's eyes. He's just a bit stuck up... stuck up enough to make everything about himself and to be fair his, his well everything skills are a bit subpar. But not many people are signing up for this production he'll do!

Tom (BACKGROUND CHARACTER • AUDIO)

You would think Tom would just take one job but unfortunately just a week prior to this his guitar Susan had fallen apart (wow so unexpected amiright--.) In order to make enough money to fix her Tom had taken a background role. Should be easy, he has to say only one line! Well Tom doesn't know this yet but uhm! He has horrible stage fright, he freezes the instant he's made to act and this is just one miniscule line before he can just go back up to the sound stage and get that done but this one line stumps him. Will he be able to act by the end of pre-production??

Tord (LIGHTING)

Tord took lighting because it was there. Bing didn't care just as much as Tord and he could use a few dollars. Though he's the only one who openly finds it a bit weird that Bing is making a play that isn't even titled... and seemingly has little to no plot aside from a few things pulled from other movie scripts of Bing's past. He slacks off a lot and spends most of his time doing odd tasks and just floating around (occasionally causing mischief) (ok what am I saying he has purposely made stage lights fall on people before). He doesn't really like that the sound studio is right in the same room as the lighting booth. This will be fun.

Now that all the fun stuff is out of the way let's glance over at the rules and regulations!

----

-No proshippers or NSFW accounts allowed here!

- The people behind this account are both minors and would rather not have sexual asks or comments made about the au

- No ships are really present at the moment for right now this is mostly focused on the guys misadventures

- The main tag for all the tasks goes under "EDD-tion asks". Some non ask drawings and events will be shown under the tag "#EDD-tion comic". Occasionally art that isn't a ask or event will be under "#EDD-tion art." And for all who wish to draw fanart (would be very awesome!!) you can tag this account and or post under a fanart tag (#LCE fanart, #Lights, Camera Edd-tion (fanart/art) etc)

- As for non art related tags. "#Off-stage" is for out of character posts, "#Important" is for announcements.

---Enjoy the show!

[crazedlunatic]

Matt & Adrian’s First Date

“I honestly didn’t think you were going to show up. That’s why I suggested the beach… since, you know, you spent two months cancelling within two hours of the date.”

Adrian sat down on the ground in front of him, looking apologetic but not actually apologizing. “I didn’t even know there were beaches here.”

“How did you not know there were beaches here?” Cookie Guy, or Matt, looked at him like he was crazy. “There’s seven… although, honestly I would only consider three of them real beaches myself. Massachusetts has a weird definition of beach.”

“I probably did not know because I’m not from here and spend 90% of my life at work or school.” Adrian shrugged.

“So, you don’t live here live here?”

“I’ve been here about a year and a half. I go to Harvard.”

“You were giving me a hard time about my age and you’re still in undergrad?” Matt looked amused.

“No. Harvard Law.”

“Oh. Wow.” Matt’s eyes widened. “Okay then.”

“Yep. A pretty guy who is smart too. Love the trope.” Adrian sighed.

“School isn’t really my thing.” Matt said. “But good for you.”

“What is your thing?”

“Apparently playing date tag with a stranger who stole my cookie.” Matt shrugged.

Those freaking blue eyes.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“There is no way you had things come up for two straight months, by the way. So why did you even come?”

Adrian narrowed his yes.

“I mean… I even had to get two shifts covered only for you to cancel… that meant I had to work St. Patrick’s Day and I really wanted to get drunk, so…” Matt said. “It’s literally the first actual holiday I’ve had off in three years… well, would have been.”

“Your job sounds like it sucks.”

“It pays well.” Matt shrugged.

“Are you even old enough to legally drink?” Adrian asked him.

“Do you think you’re better than everyone else or just me?” Matt titled his head.

“Wh—”

“You aren’t very nice. I thought the whole cookie thing may have been a fluke because we all have bad days… but you don’t seem that much better today.”

“Are you even old enough to date somebody out of undergrad?”

“Okay.” Matt stood. “Have a good day, Adrian. Watch out for sharks. Probably aren’t any at this beach but they saw three yesterday in Cape Cod.”

“I’m sorry. Don’t go.” Adrian looked at him.

“Why did you keep rescheduling for two months to sit here and do this? Do you think because you go to Harvard Law and you’ve got a nice face, that you can treat people however you want?”

“Because I don’t do this very well.” Adrian said. “I’m sorry.”

“Well with that attitude, I’m not surprised.” Matt sat back down. “Where are you from?”

“Colorado.”

“Denver?”

“No.”

“Aspen?”

“No.” Adrian scrunched his nose up. “Boulder.”

“What is even there? Nobody can ever tell me.”

“A lot of mountains, a lot of parks, a lot of trails, and a lot of skiing… among other things.” Adrian said. “Where are you from?”

“Here.” Matt shrugged. “But you already know what’s here.”

“Yeah, some of it.” Adrian laughed a little bit. “Honestly the only time I really get to see any of it is on winter and summer break.”

“You don’t go home?”

“I went back when my grandmother died two months ago but that was it… and I basically left after the funeral.” Adrian looked thoughtful.

“Oh my God. Is that why you cancelled?”

“Just the second time.” Adrian looked around. It wasn’t a typical beach… but it was still very nice… and very Cambridge.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Where do you work?”

“CMJ.”

“Oh God.” Matt groaned.

“What?” Adrian asked, somewhat dismissively.

“Oh, it’s great. My dad is really close friends with one of the owners, though, and he gives me a hard time.” Matt laughed.

“… Which one? Jeff?”

“That guy is an idiot. No. Bob. Er, Robert? I don’t know what people call him at work. My dad just calls him Robbie but it feels weird to call him that.”

“Your poor dad.” Adrian said.

“No. Bob’s great.” Matt shook his head. “He’s a really good person. He can be a bit of a dick, though. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to go to CMJ to…”

“To what?”

“Give him stuff for my dad.”

It was kind of true.

If by stuff you meant following him home after bad trials and keeping him from getting beat up in the office when giving criminals bad news.

Technicalities.

“What does your dad do? Is he in law?”

“No. He’s the Chief of Police. When I have nothing to do, he sends me on errands… I mean, he could just make Pete do it but I’m the youngest and we always get the short end of the stick… even though I am taller by half an inch. Which I remind him daily.”

“I’m the oldest sibling.”

“Yeah, I can totally see that.” Matt nodded.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Adrian laughed, not sure whether he should be offended.

“The oldest sibling always thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

Adrian opened his mouth and then closed it.

“You didn’t even disagree. Oh my God.” Matt rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Four. Including a twin.”

“Oh God. Do I have to worry about you switching up on me?”

“Well that would be a silly thing to worry about because she is a girl, so no worries there. My youngest brother does look a lot like me when I was his age, though.”

“I am the youngest of four… and all of us are boys.”

“Your poor mother.”

“Everyone always says that. I mean, we were all pretty good, though.”

“Well you had a police officer for a dad.” Adrian pointed out.

“Same as any other dad. We just saw him a lot less on holidays.” Matt shrugged. “Plus, I basically put them through hell from fifteen to eighteen so I was the only trouble child… My mom used to call me ‘Trouble.’”

“What, was that last year?” Adrian teased, but this time Matt could tell he wasn’t doing it to be rude.

“Ha. No. And quit fishing. I’m not telling you.”

“I’m 23. I’m not going to be very happy if you are still a teenager or only 20.”

“I am not 20.”

“21?”

Matt shrugged.

“22?”

Matt shrugged again.

“There is no way you are older than 23.”

“I dunno.” Matt singsonged.

“If I was this anxious about a date with a 20 year old, I am going to be so pissed.”

“Let’s go do something.” Matt hopped up and held out his hand to help Adrian up.

As soon as Adrian was standing, a kid came and tackled Matt, arms going around his legs.

“THANK YOU MATTTTT!”

Adrian looked around, very confused, as a woman rushed up after the small girl.

“Mommy, it’s Matt and he saved my cat. Matt Cat. Cat Matt.”

“Sweetie, please have boundaries and he’s not even working.” The woman said.

“Nuh uh, Mommy. They’re always working. It’s in the rule book.”

“That rule book actually doesn’t exist. I was joking.” Matt said as the little girl let him go.

“At any rate, thank you again for saving her cat.” The girl’s mom said.

“Who doesn’t want to climb a million foot tree in the rain to save a cat?” Matt shrugged.

“You’re the best.” The girl looked at Matt like he’d hung the moon… and also kind of like a child-stalker.

“Okay. Tell him thank you one more time and then we have to leave because he’s on a date.”

“But they’re both boys, Mommy.”

“Well sometimes boys like boys.” The woman said. “Tell him bye.”

“Bye, Matt! Have fun kissing!”

The woman mouthed ‘I’m so sorry’ before going after her daughter, who had run off.

“What was that about?” Adrian asked. “Random girls call you when their cat is stuck in a tree?”

“I mean… not usually. My assumption is the firemen were elsewhere?” Matt shrugged. “Honestly, though, I’m pretty sure she’s in love with me. Any time she sees me she does the same thing—makes some excuse to run over and hug me… but her Mom is close friends with one of my brothers so it’s kind of hard to say, ‘I’m tired, sorry.’”

“How many girls have crushes on you?”

“What age range are we talking?” Matt asked.

“How many age ranges have crushes on you?”

“Well, you’ve got your toddler range, your kid range, your preteen range, your—”

“Okay, okay. You’re cute and likable. I get it.” Adrian laughed. “What are we going to do?”

“Are you hungry?” Matt asked.

“Not yet.” Adrian shook his head.

“Have you been to the Museum of Bad Art? It’s in the Somerville Theater.”

“How far away is Somerville?”

“You really haven’t been around much, have you?” Matt stopped outside of a very sporty Honda Civic.

“Oh God. Is this yours?”

“Yes. It is. I was too lazy to fill up my work car. I’m actually very selective about when I drive it.”

“Well, it’s very nice… how far away are we going, though? You’re not going to kidnap me, are you?” Adrian was mostly joking but gave Matt a look.

“It’s less than ten minutes away.”

“Okay.” Adrian got into the car.

Honestly, if people were coming up and thanking him for saving cats, he must not have been that creepy.

…

“That was ridiculous. I mean, I hadn’t been before either. But wow.”

“I don’t know. I was kind of partial to the ferret in a brothel one.”

“Not the creepy cat that looks like it was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance? That or go off to war?” Matt looked at him. “Or that torso phone? I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be being murdered or having an orgasm.”

“Yeah, that was creepier than the cat. I liked the sign that said the gallery was protected by fake security cameras.”

“Like 60% of all security cameras are fake.”

“How do you know that?” Adrian asked.

“Because companies are cheap as all get out.” Matt shrugged. “So… are you hungry yet?”

“Not really.”

“Fine. Can I just kiss you now then?”

“What?” Adrian looked at him, shocked.

“Well usually you wait until the end of the date but I’ve pretty much been thinking about it since the first time I saw you and—”

Adrian stepped up, kissing him mid-sentence.

“Oh. Okay. That was unexpected.”

Adrian smiled brightly.

“What if we just… go to my house and do that some more until you’re hungry?”  Matt asked.

“Okay.” Adrian got into the passenger seat of his car.

Sure, he’d literally had sex with one of his classmates two nights before. It wasn’t serious, though… Actually, Adrian was never very serious.

Although this did feel… different.

“To be honest, I haven’t been there in two and a half days and I had barely any sleep before I left so I’m not sure if it’s clean or not but…”

“I don’t plan to be looking at your tables or floors, Matt.”

…

Adrian woke up the next morning, comfortable and warm but having no idea where he was.

Neighborhood, anything.

He could remember making out with Matt, things getting heated, and then zip. Nada. Nothing.

He was still dressed, though, so that was good.

He stood and left Matt’s bedroom, walking into the living room. Matt was sitting in his pajamas and talking on his phone.

“I mean, I’m already pulling 64 hours next week and after tonight, I’ll be at 58 for this week… Theoretically, yeah, but nobody wants to do that… Logan, seriously, if you don’t give me my birthday and Christmas off, I am going to make your life a living hell until one of us dies—probably you because you’re older… Yeah, love you too asshole. Seriously. Birthday. And. Christmas. Fine. Bye.”

“That sounds like a very crazy work schedule.” Adrian said, coming over.

Matt didn’t even jump. He just shrugged when Adrian sat down next to him.

“You knew I was back there, didn’t you?”

Matt nodded.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Matt nodded again.

“We didn’t have sex right?”

“Nope.” Matt shook his head.

Adrian nodded his head once, looking at Matt. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. A first date doesn’t have to end with sex.” Matt shrugged. “You must have been tired. You were just out. I was almost worried you’d passed out from lack of oxygen.”

“Oh God.” Adrian’s eyes widened in horror.

“I’m kidding. You fell asleep when I went to use the bathroom.” Matt smiled.

“Your pillow was comfortable.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of partial to it.” Matt’s smile grew and he looked into Adrian’s eyes.

“I… uhm…” Adrian bit his lip and looked at him. “I really enjoyed yesterday with you.”

“I had fun too.” Matt smiled again.

Adrian leaned forward, his hand resting on Matt’s thigh.

“Before we do… this.” Matt sat up. “I have to admit something. I was just not going to tell you, but…I probably should.”

“If you tell me you’re straight and married with children, I might kill you.” Adrian said.

“We, uhm… met before.”

“At the coffee shop. I know. You gave me the cookie.”

“Well I almost gave you something earlier that day too.”

“What?” Adrian looked confused. “Is that an inuendo?”

“No!” Matt said quickly. “I almost gave you a ticket.”

“You wha— Oh my God. I knew I know you from somewhere!”

“Yeah. I should have told you at the coffee shop but… I didn’t want you to just turn me down again.” Matt admitted. “And then I was going to just not tell you at all but… I had a lot of fun with you yesterday and if this goes somewhere, I didn’t want us to start out with a lie.”

“They were on lunch by the way.”

“I know. Ugh, they always are from 1 to 2… but people have died going 20 miles over the speed limit several times, so…”

Adrian leaned forward and kissed him. He then pulled away quickly. “Hey! You gave me a hard time but you parked illegally outside of the coffee shop!”

“I know, I know. I didn’t know the line would be so long and honestly, they never care when I do it. Actually, it makes their shop look safer. It’s not in the best part of town.” Matt shrugged.

“You’re a cop.”

“Police officer.”

“You’re a police officer.” Adrian repeated.

“I promise I’m not a buzzkill at parties… I am, however, the one that barely drinks so I can make sure everyone gets home safe.” Matt said. “Even if you don’t see it, I will always have a gun. And I’ll always walk in before you because it’s what I do with my team out there and it’s kind of habit. I will hold it open for you still, though. I probably just won’t be looking at you while I do it… and I’ll always want to sit facing the entrance because I like to know who and what’s around me.”

Surely he’s not super young if he’s got his own team and goes in first… He must be good.

“I might be able to handle that.” Adrian gave him a small smile. “Are there perks?”

“Donuts.” Matt grinned. “Seriously. I’m not even joking… although I’ll eat any pastry. That and girl scout cookies will shut the office down.”

“What is the best part?” Adrian asked.

“The kids. My partner and I always stop at the lemonade stands and when it’s slow, we’ll play ball with kids in the neighborhood… also, when it’s slow when we work in the winter we sled with them.”

He is just too freaking adorable, Adrian thought.

“Worst part?”

“There’s a few worst parts.” Matt admitted. “Like being the first one to an accident and having to hold someone as they’re dying… coming up on an accident from speeding and seeing mangled bodies of people who didn’t have on seatbelts—especially kids. And… having to kill people.”

“You’ve had to kill people?”

“Twice. It really sucks knowing that you’ve ended a life even if it was to save someone else.”

Adrian nodded, frowning.

“The pros definitely outweigh the cons. All the emergency services are like your second family. Well, I guess I have actual real family in the police station too… And Shop with A Cop at Christmas is the best although I usually end up spending my own money too, not just what we’ve raised…I mean, basically anything with kids and I’m down. They’re so funny.”

“You don’t have a handcuff kink, right?”

“Oh God, no. Besides, handcuffs are disgusting. Everything from cocaine to feces on them. Anyone who would willingly put those on is crazy.” Matt shuddered. “Plus, I’m pretty vanilla. Very vanilla actually.”

“Are you going to tell me how old you are yet?” Adrian asked.

“Eventually I will.” Matt nodded.  “But not yet.”

“But you are 21 or over?”

“Yep!” Matt said cheerfully. “So… you’re taking me out on the next date, right?”

“Yes… but only if you come back to bed with me now.”

“Don’t have to say that twice.” Matt hopped up.

“Hey… where’s your gun now?” Adrian asked, crawling onto the bed.

“Safe where nobody can get to it. Literally. In a safe.” Matt crawled on top of his, unbuttoning your shirt. “You’ll definitely be doing a walk of shame back into your apartment tonight. Sorry.”

“I have a feeling it will be worth it.” Adrian pulled Matt down on top of him.

[sagexsenorita]

klitz x dom gn reader( afab) where its like klitz thinks hes gonna top and reader turns the tables and ends up topping klitz. Tieing him down and riding him👁👁

Follow The Rules

Klitz x Reader // Klitz x gn!reader

This is a smut one shot based off the character Klitz from the movie Girl Next Door

Warnings: SMUT, bdsm, tying someone down, masturbation, handjob, fluff

Word Count: 3k

My Masterlist

Smut Below Keep Reading

Eli and Matt had been over at Klitz house for the past hour, arguing over what he should wear for the upcoming movie date. Klitz was sitting on the bed, daydreaming of your gorgeous body and perfect ass, he had seen you naked once before and he intended on doing it again tonight. He was going to make sure you always remembered this night.

What makes you think he’s gonna get laid if you put him in a striped shirt!

But then again, he never had a lot of luck.

As he tried on every one of the stupid outfits his friends shoved at him he started to worry that his idea how this was going to go wasn’t exat;y right. I mean he’d seen porn before, usually the girl just lays on her back, moans really loud for like half an hour and then you’re done. He knew what to do and he wasn’t completely worthless in the dick department. It’s just that you were so… you. Everytime Klitz was around you it's like he wasn’t in control of himself. He said the stupidest things, acted like a moron, and constantly tripped over his own feet. Your looks were one thing, he had to stop himself from staring at you for too long, but what really made him weak was your demeanor. Whenever you teased him, made him blush, or even got close to him Klitz felt like he was going to faint.

But tonight he wasn’t going to do that. Tonight he was going to show you how good he could make you feel. You did have a more serious sense of self but most people just layed back and let the guy do the work, he figured if things went right you would somewhat enjoy what went on. Maybe over time it won’t be so awkward. Klitz realized he was getting ahead of himself and checked the clock.

Ok guys time for you to leave

We haven't found your outfit yet?

You’re never going to find my outfit might as well give up now

Matt was eager to get going, he had the guarantee of sex tonight, he didn’t have to worry about a thing. Eli on the other hand had never passed up the opportunity to talk about sex.

We should spray some cologne on your dick

Eli, she's gonna be here soon. Please leave my house

Fine, but don't come crying to me when you're still a virgin 2 hours from now

Klitz rolled his eyes, he knew Eli was right but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

As Eli made his way out the house Klitz put his outfit together; jeans, a brown sweater, and yeah that's it. Putting an outfit together isn’t hard his friends are just stupid. Once he was finished folding and putting back all the clothes Eli yanked from his cabinets, he heard the doorbell ring.

As always he felt his stomach flutter and his heart sink, it's not that he wasn’t happy you were here. He just knew there was a chance he was about to enormously mess things up. When you said yes to this date he thought you were messing with him, that you must've thought he was messing with you. But you’re here now and everything has to go perfectly because you are everything he could ever want.

As soon as Klitz opened the door he was greeted with your bright smile, some of his nervousness wentz away but it came right back as soon as he saw what you were wearing. Your shortest shorts and his sweatshirt, his college sweatshirt that he left at your place a bit ago. You said you’d give it back, but this is much better.

Wow (Y/N) you look amazing

You smiled back at him, your smile got a little small out of shyness but you quickly snapped back to your regular self

Can I come in?

Oh yeah of course, my room is this way

Klitz led you up to his room, you could tell he was nervous, it was really cute actually. When you both finally got settled on his bed the tension in the room was high. He had only left the closet light on, he was planning to turn the tv on but you were talking about your day and Klitz just couldn’t stop losing focus. He was staring at your lips for a while before he realized you had noticed a while ago. Now you were both quiet, he was nervous but you weren’t, this is what you had wanted for so long.

As you thought of something to say you lifted your hand from your lap and placed it on his thigh.

Has someone ever touched you like this before?

His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest, he couldn’t begin to imagine where this was going. His mind was blank and his voice was gone.

Your hand rested on his leg, your thumb slowly rubbing his inner thigh. Klitz quietly gasps, his glasses fall down his nose.

Do you like it when I touch you?

Yes

Klitz barely recognized his own voice, he was quick with his response, he said it without having to think. You could tell. Goosebumps erupted across his arms and under his legs, he shivered as your touch traveled from his thigh to his clothed cock, lightly touching, just enough to drive him insane.

Please (Y/N) I need to touch you

You smirked to yourself before you started to plant wet, warm kisses on his neck before you seductively whispered in his ear

Well, baby, that’s not going to happen

Klitz was fighting to keep his moans to himself but he was quickly losing that battle.

Why can’t I touch you?

As you pulled yourself away from him and sat on your knees on the bed you contemplated your next move. He looked so perfect, his hair was already a mess, at some point he unbuttoned his pants. He looks so desperate for anything, he wasn’t expecting this but it was all he wanted now. He was still sitting against the headboard, his eyes haven't left you once, he’d never felt so needy in his life. You were going to give him what you knew he wanted, what you’ve wanted for a while.

Because I make the rules, do you understand that?

Your stare felt like it was piercing his skin, your hand that was resting on his leg squeezed him tighter and he nearly felt his soul leave his body

Yes

Klitz croaked out his answer, his heart beat grew quicker in his chest and his legs were trembling in your grasp.

Are you gonna be a good boy and do as I say?

Yes

All the lights in his room were off except the closet one, it was behind you, so all he could see was your silhouette. He didn’t know if it was scaring him or turning him on, he could feel your eyes taking all of him in. Klitz almost wanted to cover his face, your attention, your touch, and your power over him was too much. But before he could finish his thought both of your hands were gripping the backs of his knees pulling him closer to you. His back left the headboard and met the soft mattress, he was looking up at the ceiling by the time he realized what happened. His shirt had ridden up his stomach a bit in the shuffle, his happy trail made a small appearance which nearly made you lose all self control. In the moment all you could think about was how perfect he looked sprawled out in front of you. His eyes were wide and expressive, begging you to fuck him without even saying anything.

Fuck baby you look so perfect like this, I can’t wait to make you feel good

Just as you were starting to get lost in the beauty of his submissiveness you felt his touch against your thigh. It was light and cautious, he knew this would rile you up, that’s everything he wanted, or so he thought.

You quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed it, your eyes found his and Klitz immediately felt his stomach sink. He should’ve just been patient. His cock throbbed as he anticipated your next move.

I was really hoping you’d be good for me baby. I was gonna give you everything you wanted

Klitz looked devastated, you mimicked his pout before turning your stare cold again.

Stay here, don’t move

You finally let go of his hand, it was red and sore but not as much as his cock was. Klitz was panting like he had just finished a mile, the tent in his pants was growing bigger by the minute. He had barely enough energy to look up and see you walking back towards the bed with his silk ties in your hand.

Wh-what are you doing?

I’m making sure you follow the rules from now on, you’re obviously too stupid when you’re this horny to listen to me.

You took notice of how much bigger his bulge had gotten since he saw the ties. He was speechless as you took the end of the tie and started tying it around the pole of the headboard.

Y/N i’m sorry for not listening to you i promise I won’t touch you until you say

The look in your eyes and the smirk on your lips made him nervous.

Baby you’re not gonna touch me at all, now take your clothes off

You watched intensely as Klitz shyly took off his sweater and kicked his pants away from his legs, with the light of the closet far away from both of you it was hard to see exactly what his face looked like but even now you could tell he was blushing fiercely under your gaze.

He gave you his left hand slowly, he really should’ve been patient.

Small quiet whimpers left his lips as you made your way around the bed, tying his next arm to the headboard was easier. Klitz gave his hand to you without hesitation, he was desperate and it showed.

You thought about tying down his feet as well but it was his first time so you decided against it. For so long you had been observing Klitz, noticing how much he blushed you when you touched or teased him. Your compliments made him melt and you noticed every time. You had fantasized about this for so long. If he didn’t notice your advances you would’ve quickly been discouraged but Klitz was more than happy to have your hands on him.

Once he was fully tied to the bed you finally turned your stare to his face, air puffed from his nose, he was anxious to get started and your attention on him was enough to get a reaction. He kept his big hands in fists that were squeezing nothing but air and his sweaty palms. Klitz felt frustrated, embarrassed, and euphoric all at once. He wanted your hands on him but he knew that he couldn’t do anything to speed up the process, and he really thought that he was going to take control? How was it that you knew more about him than he did? You had a hold over him that he couldn’t explain, not even to himself.

Your soft gentle touch met his face as you leaned down closer to him. You brushed hair from his eyes, his forehead was perspiring and his glasses started to get fogged up from his heavy breaths. His breathing started to slow and his eyes met yours.

(Y/N) please touch me, I need you right now, please. I’ll be good I promise just please please fuck me.

His cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans by the time he finished his humiliating begging session, the embarrassment of his words was not leaving his mind.

The smile on your face was promising at least.

You’ll get what you want baby, but you better keep that promise.

He quickly nodded his head.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs before pulling down his jeans and boxers. Immediately his cock sprung up with precum leaking all over himself.

Fuck Klitz where have you been hiding this?

Klitz starts to stutter out an incoherent answer. You playfully rolled your eyes and suddenly took his cock into your warm grasp. His small whines and gasps filled the room, he tugged but the ties but they didn’t break as easily as he thought they would. You slowly stroked his cock from the base to the tip, you gathered saliva on your tongue and spit right on his head. Klitz moaned out loud and his hips twitched, your thumb swiped over his head spreading the spit all over cock. You started to stroke just a bit faster, you were planning on teasing him until he was almost crying but he looked so fucking amazing like this, his stomach was heaving up and down as you squeezed his thick cock tighter in your grasp. He could swear he was seeing stars up until your hand left his cock. Now your tits were in his line of view and the cold air of the room made him wince.

Holy fuck (Y/N) that was so amazing

His cock was harder than ever now, precum and spit covered his entire length and it was throbbing so painfully Klitz wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last.

Klitz glanced up to see you sitting back on your heels, making a mess of yourself with your own wetness. His cock oozed more cum at the sight of you touching yourself in front of him, once again he tugged at the silk without realizing he was still tied down. He flopped back down onto the mattress in frustration, which quickly turned to desperation.

(Y/N) please please-

Please what?

Klitz looked up to you with his big eyes, he didn’t want to say but he knew he had to

Please ride me

You leaned down and captured his lips into a passionate kiss, your hands cradled his head and face gently.

Only because you asked nicely, baby

Your hands left his hair and moved to his cock and torso, you positioned your lower half over him, he could only look up at you in awe as you lowered yourself slowly onto his cock. You both moaned loudly, the stretch of his cock stung but the heat that filled your stomach was so good, the tightness of you was nearly driving Klitz over the edge.

Fuck baby you feel so good inside me, do you like this baby?

Yes! Yes I do please ride me I need to feel you

You quickly obliged, pushing your hips forwards and backwards first at a slow pace. Klitz was in heaven, watching your body grind against his over and over again. He felt like he could feel into every depth of your body. His hips went up into yours instinctively, every time he felt as if he was going to completely melt into you. He was trying so hard to hold back all of his noises but he couldn’t.

You’re making me feel so good (Y/N)

You feel fucking amazing baby keep doing that you’re such a good boy for me

As Klitz’ hips continued to jerk upwards his moans got louder and louder, soon enough the neghbors would hear the both of you.

Do I need to put a tie around that pretty little mouth too?

Klitz turned his head into the pillow, his face was burning as was his stomach. He was struggling to hold back his load, the condom you had rolled onto his cock earlier was not doing anything to dull the mind numbing sensation of your tightness squeezing his cock so hard. This feeling was never going to be topped, Klitz knew, he just knew. As every second past Klitz was growing inside you, his tip was an angry red that kept rutting into you with hesitation, your whines that you couldn’t stop from leaving you were filling the room, your hands on his chest, teasing his nipples had him moaning even louder than before

Please (Y/N) i need to cum I can’t hold it in I need to cum inside you

Fuck that’s it baby you feel so good, cum for me baby cum in me youre so good for me

It wasn’t the delicious feeling of Klitz pounding into you that made you cum, it was watching him cum inside you that pushed you over the edge. His face scrunched up and his hands squeezed into tight fists. He couldn’t stop grinding into you for his life, his breathy moans filled your ears and his cum warmed you from the inside.

When Klitz finally opened his eyes all he could see and focus on was you, keeping his new soft cock warm inside you as you run your fingers up and down his chest. You didn’t want to separate from him just yet but if you didn’t do it soon you knew you never would.

Klitzy, baby, I’m gonna move now okay?

okay

How do you feel?

His big blue eyes met yours and that amazing smile that you love so much finally made an appearance

I feel great

You smiled back at him, your heart felt warm. You moved off the bed and started untying the knots, Klitz was happy to get his hands back, with them he immediately made a move for your tits

Do I need to punish you again?

Klitz could tell you were joking, still trying to hold out on him even though he knows he deserves at least a few gropes.

I thought we were past all that

At least let me get some panties on before you start grabbing at me

Just make sure you do it in my view

You playfully rolled your eyes before turning around and giving him a full view of your ass, you strutted into the closet lookng to find a shirt to wear. Your hear was pounding and you had butterflies in your stomach. He was going to be the death of you.

I hope y’all like this! Thank u anon for the great ask, I hope I did it justice! Happy May the 4th!

Comment your thoughts!

[path-of-my-childhood]

Musicians On Musicians: Paul McCartney & Taylor Swift

By: Patrick Doyle for Rolling Stone Date: November 13th 2020

On songwriting secrets, making albums at home, and what they’ve learned during the pandemic.

Taylor Swift arrived early to Paul McCartney’s London office in October, “mask on, brimming with excitement.” “I mostly work from home these days,” she writes about that day, “and today feels like a rare school field trip that you actually want to go on.”

Swift showed up without a team, doing her own hair and makeup. In addition to being two of the most famous pop songwriters in the world, Swift and McCartney have spent the past year on similar journeys. McCartney, isolated at home in the U.K., recorded McCartney III. Like his first solo album, in 1970, he played nearly all of the instruments himself, resulting in some of his most wildly ambitious songs in a long time. Swift also took some new chances, writing over email with the National’s Aaron Dessner and recording the raw Folklore, which abandons arena pop entirely in favor of rich character songs. It’s the bestselling album of 2020.

Swift listened to McCartney III as she prepared for today’s conversation; McCartney delved into Folkore. Before the photo shoot, Swift caught up with his daughters Mary (who would be photographing them) and Stella (who designed Swift’s clothes; the two are close friends). “I’ve met Paul a few times, mostly onstage at parties, but we’ll get to that later,” Swift writes. “Soon he walks in with his wife, Nancy. They’re a sunny and playful pair, and I immediately feel like this will be a good day. During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. We walk into his office for a chat, and after I make a nervous request, Paul is kind enough to handwrite my favorite lyric of his and sign it. He makes a joke about me selling it, and I laugh because it’s something I know I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. That’s around the time when we start talking about music.”

Taylor Swift: I think it’s important to note that if this year had gone the way that we thought it was going to go, you and I would have played Glastonbury this year, and instead, you and I both made albums in isolation.

Paul McCartney: Yeah!

Swift: And I remember thinking it would have been so much fun because the times that I’ve run into you, I correlate with being some of the most fun nights of my life. I was at a party with you, when everybody just started playing music. And it was Dave Grohl playing, and you...

McCartney: You were playing one of his songs, weren’t you?

Swift: Yes, I was playing his song called “Best of You,” but I was playing it on piano, and he didn’t recognize it until about halfway through. I just remember thinking, “Are you the catalyst for the most fun times ever?” Is it your willingness to get up and play music that makes everyone feel like this is a thing that can happen tonight?

McCartney: I mean, I think it’s a bit of everything, isn’t it? I’ll tell you who was very... Reese Witherspoon was like, “Are you going to sing?” I said “Oh, I don’t know.” She said, “You’ve got to, yeah!” She’s bossing me around. So I said, “Whoa,” so it’s a bit of that.

Swift: I love that person, because the party does not turn musical without that person.

McCartney: Yeah, that’s true.

Swift: If nobody says, “Can you guys play music?” we’re not going to invite ourselves up onstage at whatever living-room party it is.

McCartney: I seem to remember Woody Harrelson got on the piano, and he starts playing “Let It Be,” and I’m thinking, “I can do that better.” So I said, “Come on, move over, Woody.” So we’re both playing it. It was really nice... I love people like Dan Aykroyd, who’s just full of energy and he loves his music so much, but he’s not necessarily a musician, but he just wanders around the room, just saying, “You got to get up, got to get up, do some stuff.”

Swift: I listened to your new record. And I loved a lot of things about it, but it really did feel like kind of a flex to write, produce, and play every instrument on every track. To me, that’s like flexing a muscle and saying, “I can do all this on my own if I have to.”

McCartney: Well, I don’t think like that, I must admit. I just picked up some of these instruments over the years. We had a piano at home that my dad played, so I picked around on that. I wrote the melody to “When I’m 64” when I was, you know, a teenager.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: When the Beatles went to Hamburg, there were always drum kits knocking around, so when there was a quiet moment, I’d say, “Do you mind if I have a knock around?” So I was able to practice, you know, without practicing. That’s why I play right-handed. Guitar was just the first instrument I got. Guitar turned to bass; it also turned into ukulele, mandolin. Suddenly, it’s like, “Wow,” but it’s really only two or three instruments.

Swift: Well, I think that’s downplaying it a little bit. In my mind, it came with a visual of you being in the country, kind of absorbing the sort of do-it-yourself [quality] that has had to come with the quarantine and this pandemic. I found that I’ve adapted a do-it-yourself mentality to a lot of things in my career that I used to outsource.  I’m just wondering what a day of recording in the pandemic looked like for you.

McCartney: Well, I’m very lucky because I have a studio that’s, like, 20 minutes away from where I live. We were in lockdown on a farm, a sheep farm with my daughter Mary and her four kids and her husband. So I had four of my grandkids, I had Mary, who’s a great cook, so I would just drive myself to the studio. And there were two other guys that could come in and we’d be very careful and distanced and everything: my engineer Steve, and then my equipment guy Keith. So the three of us made the record, and I just started off. I had to do a little bit of film music - I had to do an instrumental for a film thing - so I did that. And I just kept going, and that turned into the opening track on the album. I would just come in, say, “Oh, yeah, what are we gonna do?” [Then] have some sort of idea, and start doing it. Normally, I’d start with the instrument I wrote it on, either piano or guitar, and then probably add some drums and then a bit of bass till it started to sound like a record, and then just gradually layer it all up. It was fun.

Swift: That’s so cool.

McCartney: What about yours? You’re playing guitar and piano on yours.

Swift: Yeah, on some of it, but a lot of it was made with Aaron Dessner, who’s in a band called the National that I really love. And I had met him at a concert a year before, and I had a conversation with him, asking him how he writes. It’s my favorite thing to ask people who I’m a fan of. And he had an interesting answer. He said, “All the band members live in different parts of the world. So I make tracks. And I send them to our lead singer, Matt, and he writes the top line.” I just remember thinking, “That is really efficient.” And I kind of stored it in my brain as a future idea for a project. You know, how you have these ideas... “Maybe one day I’ll do this.” I always had in my head: “Maybe one day I’ll work with Aaron Dessner.”

So when lockdown happened, I was in L.A., and we kind of got stuck there. It’s not a terrible place to be stuck. We were there for four months maybe, and during that time, I sent an email to Aaron Dessner and I said, “Do you think you would want to work during this time? Because my brain is all scrambled, and I need to make something, even if we’re just kind of making songs that we don’t know what will happen...”

McCartney: Yeah, that was the thing. You could do stuff -  you didn’t really worry it was going to turn into anything.

Swift: Yeah, and it turned out he had been writing instrumental tracks to keep from absolutely going crazy during the pandemic as well, so he sends me this file of probably 30 instrumentals, and the first one I opened ended up being a song called “Cardigan,” and it really happened rapid-fire like that. He’d send me a track; he’d make new tracks, add to the folder; I would write the entire top line for a song, and he wouldn’t know what the song would be about, what it was going to be called, where I was going to put the chorus. I had originally thought, “Maybe I’ll make an album in the next year, and put it out in January or something,” but it ended up being done and we put it out in July. And I just thought there are no rules anymore, because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, “How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?” If you take away all the parameters, what do you make? And I guess the answer is Folklore.

McCartney: And it’s more music for yourself than music that’s got to go do a job. My thing was similar to that: After having done this little bit of film music, I had a lot of stuff that I had been working on, but I’d said, “I’m just going home now,” and it’d be left half-finished. So I just started saying, “Well, what about that? I never finished that.” So we’d pull it out, and we said, “Oh, well, this could be good.” And because it didn’t have to amount to anything, I would say, “Ah, I really want to do tape loops. I don’t care if they fit on this song, I just want to do some.” So I go and make some tape loops, and put them in the song, just really trying to do stuff that I fancy.

I had no idea it would end up as an album; I may have been a bit less indulgent, but if a track was eight minutes long, to tell you the truth, what I thought was, “I’ll be taking it home tonight, Mary will be cooking, the grandkids will all be there running around, and someone, maybe Simon, Mary’s husband, is going to say, ‘What did you do today?’ And I’m going to go, ‘Oh,’ and then get my phone and play it for them.” So this became the ritual.

Swift: That’s the coziest thing I’ve ever heard.

McCartney: Well, it’s like eight minutes long, and I said, “I hate it when I’m playing someone something and it finishes after three minutes.” I kind of like that it just [continues] on.

Swift: You want to stay in the zone.

McCartney: It just keeps going on. I would just come home, “Well, what did you do today?” “Oh, well, I did this. I’m halfway through this,” or, “We finished this.”

Swift: I was wondering about the numerology element to McCartney III. McCartney I, II, and III have all come out on years with zeroes.

McCartney: Ends of decades.

Swift: Was that important?

McCartney: Yeah, well, this was being done in 2020, and I didn’t really think about it. I think everyone expected great things of 2020. “It’s gonna be great! Look at that number! 2020! Auspicious!” Then suddenly Covid hit, and it was like, “That’s gonna be auspicious all right, but maybe for the wrong reasons.” Someone said to me, “Well, you put out McCartney right after the Beatles broke up, and that was 1970, and then you did McCartney II in 1980.” And I said, “Oh, I’m going to release this in 2020 just for whatever you call it, the numerology...”

Swift: The numerology, the kind of look, the symbolism. I love numbers. Numbers kind of rule my whole world. The numbers 13... 89 is a big one. I have a few others that I find...

McCartney: Thirteen is lucky for some.

Swift: Yeah, it’s lucky for me. It’s my birthday. It’s all these weird coincidences of good things that have happened. Now, when I see it places, I look at it as a sign that things are going the way they’re supposed to. They may not be good now, they could be painful now, but things are on a track. I don’t know, I love the numerology.

McCartney: It’s spooky, Taylor. It’s very spooky. Now wait a minute: Where’d you get 89?

Swift: That’s when I was born, in 1989, and so I see it in different places and I just think it’s...

McCartney: No, it’s good. I like that, where certain things you attach yourself to, and you get a good feeling off them. I think that’s great.

Swift: Yeah, one of my favorite artists, Bon Iver, he has this thing with the number 22. But I was also wondering: You have always kind of seeked out a band or a communal atmosphere with like, you know, the Beatles and Wings, and then Egypt Station. I thought it was interesting when I realized you had made a record with no one else. I just wondered, did that feel natural?

McCartney: It’s one of the things I’ve done. Like with McCartney, because the Beatles had broken up, there was no alternative but to get a drum kit at home, get a guitar, get an amp, get a bass, and just make something for myself. So on that album, which I didn’t really expect to do very well, I don’t think it did. But people sort of say, “I like that. It was a very casual album.” It didn’t really have to mean anything. So I’ve done that, the play-everything-myself thing. And then I discovered synths and stuff, and sequencers, so I had a few of those at home. I just thought I’m going to play around with this and record it, so that became McCartney II. But it’s a thing I do. Certain people can do it. Stevie Wonder can do it. Stevie Winwood, I believe, has done it. So there are certain people quite like that.

When you’re working with someone else, you have to worry about their variances. Whereas your own variance, you kind of know it. It’s just something I’ve grown to like. Once you can do it, it becomes a little bit addictive. I actually made some records under the name the Fireman.

Swift: Love a pseudonym.

McCartney: Yeah, for the fun! But, you know, let’s face it, you crave fame and attention when you’re young. And I just remembered the other day, I was the guy in the Beatles that would write to journalists and say [speaks in a formal voice]: “We are a semiprofessional rock combo, and I’d think you’d like [us]... We’ve written over 100 songs (which was a lie), my friend John and I. If you mention us in your newspaper...” You know, I was always, like, craving the attention.

Swift: The hustle! That’s so great, though.

McCartney: Well, yeah, you need that.

Swift: Yeah, I think, when a pseudonym comes in is when you still have a love for making the work and you don’t want the work to become overshadowed by this thing that’s been built around you, based on what people know about you. And that’s when it’s really fun to create fake names and write under them.

McCartney: Do you ever do that?

Swift: Oh, yeah.

McCartney: Oh, yeah? Oh, well, we didn’t know that! Is that a widely known fact?

Swift: I think it is now, but it wasn’t. I wrote under the name Nils Sjöberg because those are two of the most popular names of Swedish males. I wrote this song called “This Is What You Came For” that Rihanna ended up singing. And nobody knew for a while. I remembered always hearing that when Prince wrote “Manic Monday,” they didn’t reveal it for a couple of months.

McCartney: Yeah, it also proves you can do something without the fame tag. I did something for Peter and Gordon; my girlfriend’s brother and his mate were in a band called Peter and Gordon. And I used to write under the name Bernard Webb.

Swift: [Laughs.] That’s a good one! I love it.

McCartney: As Americans call it, Ber-nard Webb. I did the Fireman thing. I worked with a producer, a guy called Youth, who’s this real cool dude. We got along great. He did a mix for me early on, and we got friendly. I would just go into the studio, and he would say, “Hey, what about this groove?” and he’d just made me have a little groove going. He’d say, “You ought to put some bass on it. Put some drums on it.” I’d just spend the whole day putting stuff on it. And we’d make these tracks, and nobody knew who Fireman was for a while. We must have sold all of 15 copies.

Swift: Thrilling, absolutely thrilling.

McCartney: And we didn’t mind, you know?

Swift: I think it’s so cool that you do projects that are just for you. Because I went with my family to see you in concert in 2010 or 2011, and the thing I took away from the show most was that it was the most selfless set list I had ever seen. It was completely geared toward what it would thrill us to hear. It had new stuff, but it had every hit we wanted to hear, every song we’d ever cried to, every song people had gotten married to, or been brokenhearted to. And I just remembered thinking, “I’ve got to remember that,” that you do that set list for your fans.

McCartney: You do that, do you?

Swift: I do now. I think that learning that lesson from you taught me at a really important stage in my career that if people want to hear “Love Story” and “Shake It Off,” and I’ve played them 300 million times, play them the 300-millionth-and-first time. I think there are times to be selfish in your career, and times to be selfless, and sometimes they line up.

McCartney: I always remembered going to concerts as a kid, completely before the Beatles, and I really hoped they would play the ones I loved. And if they didn’t, it was kind of disappointing. I had no money, and the family wasn’t wealthy. So this would be a big deal for me, to save up for months to afford the concert ticket.

Swift: Yeah, it feels like a bond. It feels like that person on the stage has given something, and it makes you as a crowd want to give even more back, in terms of applause, in terms of dedication. And I just remembered feeling that bond in the crowd, and thinking, “He’s up there playing these Beatles songs, my dad is crying, my mom is trying to figure out how to work her phone because her hands are shaking so much.” Because seeing the excitement course through not only me, but my family and the entire crowd in Nashville, it just was really special. I love learning lessons and not having to learn them the hard way. Like learning nice lessons I really value.

McCartney: Well, that’s great, and I’m glad that set you on that path. I understand people who don’t want to do that, and if you do, they’ll say, “Oh, it’s a jukebox show.” I hear what they’re saying. But I think it’s a bit of a cheat, because the people who come to our shows have spent a lot of money. We can afford to go to a couple of shows and it doesn’t make much difference. But a lot of ordinary working folks... it’s a big event in their life, and so I try and deliver. I also, like you say, try and put in a few weirdos.

Swift: That’s the best. I want to hear current things, too, to update me on where the artist is. I was wondering about lyrics, and where you were lyrically when you were making this record. Because when I was making Folklore, I went lyrically in a total direction of escapism and romanticism. And I wrote songs imagining I was, like, a pioneer woman in a forbidden love affair [laughs]. I was completely...

McCartney: Was this “I want to give you a child”? Is that one of the lines?

Swift: Oh, that’s a song called “Peace.”

McCartney: “Peace,” I like that one.

Swift: “Peace” is actually more rooted in my personal life. I know you have done a really excellent job of this in your personal life: carving out a human life within a public life, and how scary that can be when you do fall in love and you meet someone, especially if you’ve met someone who has a very grounded, normal way of living. I, oftentimes, in my anxieties, can control how I am as a person and how normal I act and rationalize things, but I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and what they do and if they follow our car and if they interrupt our lives. I can’t control if there’s going to be a fake weird headline about us in the news tomorrow.

McCartney: So how does that go? Does your partner sympathize with that and understand?

Swift: Oh, absolutely.

McCartney: They have to, don’t they?

Swift: But I think that in knowing him and being in the relationship I am in now, I have definitely made decisions that have made my life feel more like a real life and less like just a storyline to be commented on in tabloids. Whether that’s deciding where to live, who to hang out with, when to not take a picture - the idea of privacy feels so strange to try to explain, but it’s really just trying to find bits of normalcy. That’s what that song “Peace” is talking about. Like, would it be enough if I could never fully achieve the normalcy that we both crave? Stella always tells me that she had as normal a childhood as she could ever hope for under the circumstances.

McCartney: Yeah, it was very important to us to try and keep their feet on the ground amongst the craziness.

Swift: She went to a regular school...

McCartney: Yeah, she did.

Swift: And you would go trick-or-treating with them, wearing masks.

McCartney: All of them did, yeah. It was important, but it worked pretty well, because when they kind of reached adulthood, they would meet other kids who might have gone to private schools, who were a little less grounded.

And they could be the budding mothers to [kids]. I remember Mary had a friend, Orlando. Not Bloom. She used to really counsel him. And it’s ’cause she’d gone through that. Obviously, they got made fun of, my kids. They’d come in the classroom and somebody would sing, “Na na na na,” you know, one of the songs. And they’d have to handle that. They’d have to front it out.

Swift: Did that give you a lot of anxiety when you had kids, when you felt like all this pressure that’s been put on me is spilling over onto them, that they didn’t sign up for it? Was that hard for you?

McCartney: Yeah, a little bit, but it wasn’t like it is now. You know, we were just living a kind of semi-hippie life, where we withdrew from a lot of stuff. The kids would be doing all the ordinary things, and their school friends would be coming up to the house and having parties, and it was just great. I remember one lovely evening when it was Stella’s birthday, and she brought a bunch of school kids up. And, you know, they’d all ignore me. It happens very quickly. At first they’re like, “Oh, yeah, he’s like a famous guy,” and then it’s like [yawns]. I like that. I go in the other room and suddenly I hear this music going on. And one of the kids, his name was Luke, and he’s doing break dancing.

Swift: Ohhh!

McCartney: He was a really good break dancer, so all the kids are hanging out. That allowed them to be kind of normal with those kids. The other thing is, I don’t live fancy. I really don’t. Sometimes it’s a little bit of an embarrassment, if I’ve got someone coming to visit me, or who I know…

Swift: Cares about that stuff?

McCartney: Who’s got a nice big house, you know. Quincy Jones came to see me and I’m, like, making him a veggie burger or something. I’m doing some cooking. This was after I’d lost Linda, in between there. But the point I’m making is that I’m very consciously thinking, “Oh, God, Quincy’s got to be thinking, ‘What is this guy on? He hasn’t got big things going on. It’s not a fancy house at all. And we’re eating in the kitchen! He’s not even got the dining room going,’” you know?

Swift: I think that sounds like a perfect day.

McCartney: But that’s me. I’m awkward like that. That’s my kind of thing. Maybe I should have, like, a big stately home. Maybe I should get a staff. But I think I couldn’t do that. I’d be so embarrassed. I’d want to walk around dressed as I want to walk around, or naked, if I wanted to.

Swift: That can’t happen in Downton Abbey.

McCartney: [Laughs.] Exactly.

Swift: I remember what I wanted to know about, which is lyrics. Like, when you’re in this kind of strange, unparalleled time, and you’re making this record, are lyrics first? Or is it when you get a little melodic idea?

McCartney: It was a bit of both. As it kind of always is with me. There’s no fixed way. People used to ask me and John, “Well, who does the words, who does the music?” I used to say, “We both do both.” We used to say we don’t have a formula, and we don’t want one. Because the minute we get a formula, we should rip it up. I will sometimes, as I did with a couple of songs on this album, sit down at the piano and just start noodling around, and I’ll get a little idea and start to fill that out. So the lyrics - for me, it’s following a trail. I’ll start [sings “Find My Way,” a song from “McCartney III”]: “I can find my way. I know my left from right, da da da.” And I’ll just sort of fill it in. Like, we know this song, and I’m trying to remember the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll just be inspired by something. I had a little book which was all about the constellations and the stars and the orbits of Venus and...

Swift: Oh, I know that song - “The Kiss of Venus”?

McCartney: Yeah, “The Kiss of Venus.” And I just thought, “That’s a nice phrase.” So I was actually just taking phrases out of the book, harmonic sounds. And the book is talking about the maths of the universe, and how when things orbit around each other, and if you trace all the patterns, it becomes like a lotus flower.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: It’s very magical.

Swift: That is magical. I definitely relate to needing to find magical things in this very not-magical time, needing to read more books and learn to sew, and watch movies that take place hundreds of years ago. In a time where, if you look at the news, you just want to have a panic attack - I really relate to the idea that you are thinking about stars and constellations.

McCartney: Did you do that on Folklore?

Swift: Yes. I was reading so much more than I ever did, and watching so many more films.

McCartney: What stuff were you reading?

Swift: I was reading, you know, books like Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, which I highly recommend, and books that dealt with times past, a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I was also using words I always wanted to use - kind of bigger, flowerier, prettier words, like “epiphany,” in songs. I always thought, “Well, that’ll never track on pop radio,” but when I was making this record, I thought, “What tracks? Nothing makes sense anymore. If there’s chaos everywhere, why don’t I just use the damn word I want to use in the song?”

McCartney: Exactly. So you’d see the word in a book and think, “I love that word”?

Swift: Yeah, I have favorite words, like “elegies” and “epiphany” and “divorcée,” and just words that I think sound beautiful, and I have lists and lists of them.

McCartney: How about “marzipan”?

Swift: Love “marzipan.”

McCartney: The other day, I was remembering when we wrote “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”: “kaleidoscope.”

Swift: “Kaleidoscope” is one of mine! I have a song on 1989, a song called “Welcome to New York,” that I put the word “kaleidoscope” in just because I’m obsessed with the word.

McCartney: I think a love of words is a great thing, particularly if you’re going to try to write a lyric, and for me, it’s like, “What is this going to say to that person?” I often feel like I’m writing to someone who is not doing so well. So I’m trying to write songs that might help. Not in a goody-goody, crusading kind of way, but just thinking there have been so many times in my life when I’ve heard a song and felt so much better. I think that’s the angle I want, that inspirational thing.

I remember once, a friend of mine from Liverpool, we were teenagers and we were going to a fairground. He was a schoolmate, and we had these jackets that had a little fleck in the material, which was the cool thing at the time.

Swift: We should have done matching jackets for this photo shoot.

McCartney: Find me a fleck, I’m in. But we went to the fair, and I just remember - this is what happens with songs - there was this girl at the fair. This is just a little Liverpool fair - it was in a place called Sefton Park - and there was this girl, who was so beautiful. She wasn’t a star. She was so beautiful. Everyone was following her, and it’s like, “Wow.” It’s like a magical scene, you know? But all this gave me a headache, so I ended up going back to his house - I didn’t normally get headaches. And we thought, “What can we do?” So we put on the Elvis song “All Shook Up.” By the end of that song, my headache had gone. I thought, you know, “That’s powerful.”

Swift: That really is powerful.

McCartney: I love that, when people stop me in the street and say, “Oh, I was going through an illness and I listened to a lot of your stuff, and I’m better now and it got me through,” or kids will say, “It got me through exams.” You know, they’re studying, they’re going crazy, but they put your music on. I’m sure it happens with a lot of your fans. It inspires them, you know?

Swift: Yeah, I definitely think about that as a goal. There’s so much stress everywhere you turn that I kind of wanted to make an album that felt sort of like a hug, or like your favorite sweater that makes you feel like you want to put it on.

McCartney: What, a “cardigan”?

Swift: Like a good cardigan, a good, worn-in cardigan. Or something that makes you reminisce on your childhood. I think sadness can be cozy. It can obviously be traumatic and stressful, too, but I kind of was trying to lean into sadness that feels like somehow enveloping in not such a scary way - like nostalgia and whimsy incorporated into a feeling like you’re not all right. Because I don’t think anybody was really feeling like they were in their prime this year. Isolation can mean escaping into your imagination in a way that’s kind of nice.

McCartney: I think a lot of people have found that. I would say to people, “I feel a bit guilty about saying I’m actually enjoying this quarantine thing,” and people go, “Yeah, I know, don’t say it to anyone.” A lot of people are really suffering.

Swift: Because there’s a lot in life that’s arbitrary. Completely and totally arbitrary. And [the quarantine] is really shining a light on that, and also a lot of things we have that we outsource that you can actually do yourself.

McCartney: I love that. This is why I said I live simply. That’s, like, at the core of it. With so many things, something goes wrong and you go, “Oh, I’ll get somebody to fix that.” And then it’s like, “No, let me have a look at it...”

Swift: Get a hammer and a nail.

McCartney: “Maybe I can put that picture up.” It’s not rocket science. The period after the Beatles, when we went to live in Scotland on a really - talk about dumpy - little farm. I mean, I see pictures of it now and I’m not ashamed, but I’m almost ashamed. Because it’s like, “God, nobody’s cleaned up around here.”

But it was really a relief. Because when I was with the Beatles, we’d formed Apple Records, and if I wanted a Christmas tree, someone would just buy it. And I thought, after a while, “No, you know what? I really would like to go and buy our Christmas tree. Because that’s what everyone does.” So you go down - “I’ll have that one” - and you carried it back. I mean, it’s little, but it’s huge at the same time.

I needed a table in Scotland and I was looking through a catalog and I thought, “I could make one. I did woodwork in school, so I know what a dovetail joint is.” So I just figured it out. I’m just sitting in the kitchen, and I’m whittling away at this wood and I made this little joint. There was no nail technology - it was glue. And I was scared to put it together. I said, “It’s not going to fit,” but one day, I got my woodwork glue and thought, “There’s no going back.” But it turned out to be a real nice little table I was very proud of. It was that sense of achievement.

The weird thing was, Stella went up to Scotland recently and I said, “Isn’t it there?” and she said, “No.” Anyway, I searched for it. Nobody remembered it. Somebody said, “Well, there’s a pile of wood in the corner of one of the barns, maybe that’s it. Maybe they used it for firewood.” I said, “No, it’s not firewood.” Anyway, we found it, and do you know how joyous that was for me? I was like, “You found my table?!” Somebody might say that’s a bit boring.

Swift: No, it’s cool!

McCartney: But it was a real sort of great thing for me to be able to do stuff for yourself. You were talking about sewing. I mean normally, in your position, you’ve got any amount of tailors.

Swift: Well, there’s been a bit of a baby boom recently; several of my friends have gotten pregnant.

McCartney: Oh, yeah, you’re at the age.

Swift: And I was just thinking, “I really want to spend time with my hands, making something for their children.” So I made this really cool flying-squirrel stuffed animal that I sent to one of my friends. I sent a teddy bear to another one, and I started making these little silk baby blankets with embroidery. It’s gotten pretty fancy. And I’ve been painting a lot.

McCartney: What do you paint? Watercolors?

Swift: Acrylic or oil. Whenever I do watercolor, all I paint is flowers. When I have oil, I really like to do landscapes. I always kind of return to painting a lonely little cottage on a hill.

McCartney: It’s a bit of a romantic dream. I agree with you, though, I think you’ve got to have dreams, particularly this year. You’ve got to have something to escape to. When you say “escapism,” it sounds like a dirty word, but this year, it definitely wasn’t. And in the books you’re reading, you’ve gone into that world. That’s, I think, a great thing. Then you come back out. I normally will read a lot before I go to bed. So I’ll come back out, then I’ll go to sleep, so I think it really is nice to have those dreams that can be fantasies or stuff you want to achieve.

Swift: You’re creating characters. This was the first album where I ever created characters, or wrote about the life of a real-life person. There’s a song called “The Last Great American Dynasty” that’s about this real-life heiress who lived just an absolutely chaotic, hectic...

McCartney: She’s a fantasy character?

Swift: She’s a real person. Who lived in the house that I live in.

McCartney: She’s a real person? I listened to that and I thought, “Who is this?”

Swift: Her name was Rebekah Harkness. And she lived in the house that I ended up buying in Rhode Island. That’s how I learned about her. But she was a woman who was very, very talked about, and everything she did was scandalous. I found a connection in that. But I also was thinking about how you write “Eleanor Rigby” and go into that whole story about what all these people in this town are doing and how their lives intersect, and I hadn’t really done that in a very long time with my music. It had always been so microscope personal.

McCartney: Yeah, ’cause you were writing breakup songs like they were going out of style.

Swift: I was, before my luck changed [laughs]. I still write breakup songs. I love a good breakup song. Because somewhere in the world, I always have a friend going through a breakup, and that will make me write one.

McCartney: Yeah, this goes back to this thing of me and John: When you’ve got a formula, break it. I don’t have a formula. It’s the mood I’m in. So I love the idea of writing a character. And, you know, trying to think, “What am I basing this on?” So “Eleanor Rigby” was based on old ladies I knew as a kid. For some reason or other, I got great relationships with a couple of local old ladies. I was thinking the other day, I don’t know how I met them, it wasn’t like they were family. I’d just run into them, and I’d do their shopping for them.

Swift: That’s amazing.

McCartney: It just felt good to me. I would sit and talk, and they’d have amazing stories. That’s what I liked. They would have stories from the wartime - because I was born actually in the war - and so these old ladies, they were participating in the war. This one lady I used to sort of just hang out with, she had a crystal radio that I found very magical. In the war, a lot of people made their own radios - you’d make them out of crystals [sings “The Twilight Zone” theme].

Swift: How did I not know this? That sounds like something I would have tried to learn about.

McCartney: It’s interesting, because there is a lot of parallels with the virus and lockdowns and wartime. It happened to everyone. Like, this isn’t HIV, or SARS, or Avian flu, which happened to others, generally. This has happened to everyone, all around the world. That’s the defining thing about this particular virus. And, you know, my parents... it happened to everyone in Britain, including the queen and Churchill. War happened. So they were all part of this thing, and they all had to figure out a way through it. So you figured out Folklore. I figured out McCartney III.

Swift: And a lot of people have been baking sourdough bread. Whatever gets you through!

McCartney: Some people used to make radios. And they’d take a crystal - we should look it up, but it actually is a crystal. I thought, “Oh, no, they just called it a crystal radio,” but it’s actually crystals like we know and love.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: And somehow they get the radio waves - this crystal attracts them - they tune it in, and that’s how they used to get their news. Back to “Eleanor Rigby,” so I would think of her and think of what she’s doing and then just try to get lyrical, just try to bring poetry into it, words you love, just try to get images like “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,” and Father McKenzie “is darning his socks in the night.” You know, he’s a religious man, so I could’ve said, you know, “preparing his Bible,” which would have been more obvious. But “darning his socks” kind of says more about him. So you get into this lovely fantasy. And that’s the magic of songs, you know. It’s a black hole, and then you start doing this process, and then there’s this beautiful little flower that you’ve just made. So it is very like embroidery, making something.

Swift: Making a table.

McCartney: Making a table.

Swift: Wow, it would’ve been so fun to play Glastonbury for the 50th anniversary together.

McCartney: It would’ve been great, wouldn’t it? And I was going to be asking you to play with me.

Swift: Were you going to invite me? I was hoping that you would. I was going to ask you.

McCartney: I would’ve done “Shake It Off.”

Swift: Oh, my God, that would have been amazing.

McCartney: I know it, it’s in C!

Swift: One thing I just find so cool about you is that you really do seem to have the joy of it, still, just no matter what. You seem to have the purest sense of joy of playing an instrument and making music, and that’s just the best, I think.

McCartney: Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?

Swift: We’re really lucky.

McCartney: I don’t know if it ever happens to you, but with me, it’s like, “Oh, my god, I’ve ended up as a musician.”

Swift: Yeah, I can’t believe it’s my job.

McCartney: I must tell you a story I told Mary the other day, which is just one of my favorite little sort of Beatles stories. We were in a terrible, big blizzard, going from London to Liverpool, which we always did. We’d be working in London and then drive back in the van, just the four of us with our roadie, who would be driving. And this was a blizzard. You couldn’t see the road. At one point, it slid off and it went down an embankment. So it was “Ahhh,” a bunch of yelling. We ended up at the bottom. It didn’t flip, luckily, but so there we are, and then it’s like, “Oh, how are we going to get back up? We’re in a van. It’s snowing, and there’s no way.” We’re all standing around in a little circle, and thinking, “What are we going to do?” And one of us said, “Well, something will happen.” And I thought that was just the greatest. I love that, that’s a philosophy.

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: And it did. We sort of went up the bank, we thumbed a lift, we got the lorry driver to take us, and Mal, our roadie, sorted the van and everything. So that was kind of our career. And I suppose that’s like how I ended up being a musician and a songwriter: “Something will happen.”

Swift: That’s the best.

McCartney: It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. It’s great if you’re ever in that sort of panic attack: “Oh, my God,” or, “Ahhh, what am I going to do?”

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: All right then, thanks for doing this, and this was, you know, a lot of fun.

Swift: You’re the best. This was so awesome. Those were some quality stories!

[talesofstyles]

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.

[firehouseonechicago]

Five Times He Almost Kissed You, The One Time He Did || Matthew Casey

Author’s Note: This is going to be a new series I am starting. There will be similar one-shots coming out for selected members of One Chicago, so keep an eye out. First up is Chicago Fire! Gif by @dawsonscasey​

One...

The last call hadn’t gone according to plan. Sometimes these things happen, but when you end up missing someone on the fourth floor of an apartment building fire, it becomes hard not to dwell on that fact.

Matt missed somone, he could have sworn that the entire floor was clear. He checked every room, every hiding place a person was likely hiding. He found nothing.

A soft knock came from behind him, alerting him that there was someone there. When Matt turned, he released a long relieved sigh as his eyes landed on your form. You stood in the doorway to his quarters, leaning against the doorframe with your arms folded casually over your chest. “Hey, thought I would check up on you, see how you were doing” You spoke softly, smiling at him sweetly the way you always did when you spoke to him. You had only recently transferred to the 51 a few months ago, but god, Matt was grateful that there was someone like you at the firehouse. You always put others before yourself, no matter how you were feeling in that current moment. You were the kind of person who would go above and beyond for your tem, and Matt admired that so much.

He released another long sigh, turning around in his chair to face you fully. “I’m okay...” He replied, not entirely convincing himself as he forced himself to speak “really, I’m fine”. The expression on your delicate features told him that you weren’t one-hundred percent convince by his answer either, your eyes narrowing slightly as you stepped into his quarters. As you sat down on his cot with a small huff, a small thought crossed Matt’s mind. He looked at the clock above you on the wall, shift had ended over half an hour ago. Everyone, including Boden, would have left by now. You were the only two souls left in the firehouse. You had stayed behind to make sure that he was okay.

For a brief second, an image of his lips on yours flashed through his mind before he shook himself back into reality. What the hell was he thinking? He did have great admiration for you, that was certain. But he couldn’t make a move on you, not now. He had just broken up with Gabby, and he wasn’t ready for another relationship yet. But the way you place your hand on his shoulder, and offerred to buy him a beer to try and drown his sorrows with a sympathetic yet joking smile, Matt was finding it increasingly hard to ignore the growing butterflies in his stomach.

Two...

The 51 was celebrating Boden’s birthday at Molly’s, and Matt was sitting beside you at one of the tables. You were leaned against the wall, sitting side on to face him. The two of you had been talking non-stop all night, making jokes here and there, and just having general light-hearted conversations.

“Wait, you broke your arm-”

“By falling down the stairs, yes. I was a very clumsy child”

“And yet you became a firefighter, how ironic”

When your mouth fell agape in shock, Matt descended into a fit of laughter, flinshing lightly as you playfully punched his shoulder. “Wow, that was so uncalled for” You pouted, folding your arms over your chest with a huff. Matt leaned forward and placed his hand on your forearm “I’m only joking, you know that right?” Matt stated lowly, genuinely wondering if he had upset you or not. But when your lips formed a taunting and mischievous smirk, Matt knew he had fallen for your facade.

You began to giggle, your cheeks flushing a bright red as Matt pulled away from you, his lips parting in disbelief. He watched as you descended into laughter, your eyes sparkling in the gold fairy lights strewn throughout the bar. In that moment, Matt almost kissed you. Almost. You just looked so beautiful, so carefree, a completely different attitued to the one you wore at the firehouse. You were just so...so perfect. Shaking himself from him daze, it was now his turn to pout as he folded hims arms over his chest, mimicking your earlier posture. “Wow, you actually made me feel bad for saying that”.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to I was joking-”

“You used my own tactic against me!”

You laughed again, shying away from Matt’s playful gaze until your name was called loudly from across the bar. Matt followed your gaze to meet the teasing smirk of Mouch. He waved you over, gesturing towards Otis behind the bar. Matt turned back to face you when he heard you sigh. “That’s my que” You joked, carefully manouvering out of your seat with a small smile. “i’ll see you later, okay” You spoke kindly, placing your hand on his shoulder. Matt’s stomach fluttered with butterflies at your touch, but he nodded nonetheless. :Sure, you still need a ride home right?”

“You’re not planning on leaving me here are you Matthew Casey?”

“Of course not, I was just making sure” Matt replied, dodging your hand as you tried to ruffle his hair. With a successful huff, Matt turned to watch you as you made your way over to the bar, smiling a kind greeting at Mouch and Otis as the three of you began to talk.

Matt knew he was falling for you, and he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from doing so.

Three...

“Thank you so much for today Matt, I really appreciate it” You spoke gratefully, serving a beautifully cooked helping of spaghetti bolognese. Matt waved his hand dismissively, taking one of the bowls from your hand with a kind smile “I really don’t mind Y/n, I’m happy to help out” He replied, following you over towards the dining room table.

Matt had overheard you talking to Herrmann and Mouch about how to go about replacing a broken window, which had been shattered when two young boys accidentaly kicked a ball through your bedroom window. ‘It was a rather rude wake-up call’ He heard you say, and he offered to fix it for you then and there. He could tell that you were surpised by his offer, but he was relieved that you had said yes. And now, he sat across from you eating dinner. It was a nice feeling.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. You didn’t have to do this” “I know, but like I said, I honestly don’t mind”. Your small smile made his stomach backflip, the two of you eating in a comfortable silence. After eating, the two of you talked and talked, laughing and joking about anything and everything. “Otis was telling me that they need an extra hand at Molly’s, but given my clumsy history I told him I’d think about it” You explained, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly. Marr gave you a confused expression “I think you should take it, I mean its a good job, plus you’re already amongst friends” He reasoned, watching as your eyes lit up with a brightness that made him feel lighter.

With a small clear of your throat, you stood up, moving to clear the bowls from the table. However, Matt beat you too it. “Here, I’ll take them” He spoke kindly, smiling down at you cheekily as he carefully took the bowls from your hands. “Are you sure? I’m fine doing-” “No, you cooked! It’s only fair that I clean-” Matt stopped abruptly upon realising how close the two of you actually were. His face was just inches away from your own, so close that he could have kissed you had he leaned forward to close the gap. Matt almost did, had it not been for the ringtone of his phone which completely ruined the mood.

Grumbling under his breath, Matt placed the bowls back onto the table and removed his phone from his pocket. His eyes widened, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. “Boden needs us back at the firehouse” He explained, placing his phone back in his pocket as he followed you towards your door. “Did Boden say why he needed us?” “No, he just said it was urgent” He replied, quickly jogging over to the driver side of his car. When he looked up, he saw you standing beside his passenger door. “Mind if I tag along?” You asked, smiling teasingly whilst gesturing to the passenger seat with your head. Without a second thought, Matt nodded “Jump in, and hold on”.

Four...

Matt certainly wasn’t expecting you to ask him to be your date to your brother’s wedding, but he was more than happy to go.

The last few shifts had been rough, rougher than most, so escaping to the picturesque scene of a wedding was exactly what he needed to clear his mind. And besides, it was an open bar. Fixing his tux as he stepped out of his car, Matt was adjusting his tie when he heard rushed footsteps coming from inside your house as he knocked on the door to announce his arrival. “I’ll be there in a second Matt! I can’t find my damn purse!” He heard you cry, chuckling to himself quietly as he shook his head in amusement. “Okay, I’ll just wait by the car!” He replied, turning around and heading back down the stairs. He didn’t even make it down to the sidewalk before he heard the door to your house close.

As Matt turned, his breath was immediately knocked out of him. You stood at the top of the staircase wearing a beautiful light blue dress, with your hair tied into a delicate bun with a few loose strands here and there. Matt was so incredibly stunned, that he hadn’t realised that you were actually speaking to him. He shook his head quickly “Uh, sorry what did you say?” He asked somewhat sheepishly, flushing a light pink in embarrassment. You laughed, smiling happily as you walked down the stairs to join him. “I said, how do I look?” You asked again, waiting nervously for his reply.

Looking you up and down, Matt wanted nothing more than to kiss you. You just looked so beautiful, so...

Matt took a deep breath, calming his racing heart as he spoke “You look absolutely breathtaking”. Your smile made his heart skip a beat, your cheeks turning a bright red. “Then shall we go?” You asked timidly “after the week we’ve had, I can’t wait for the reception”. Matt laughed loudly as he held out his arm toward you “I think we shall, m’lady” He taunted, raising a teasing eyebrow in your direction as your looped your arm through his.

Five...

Herrmann had brought his family to the firehouse for a visit, and as usual, they were running around like wild animals, their loud shouts and screams giving everyone a headache.

Herrmann was just about at the end of his tether, as he sat opposite you and Matt in the common room with his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do...” Herrmann whined, “no matter what I tell them, they just won’t be quiet”. You pressed your lips into a thin line, sighing lightly through your nose. Matt watched from the corner of his eye as you quickly stood up, calling out to each child by name. As if by magic, Lee, Luke, Max, Annabelle and little Kenny all immediately fell silent. They all turned to face you with confused but smiling expressions, whilst Matt and Herrmann watched you in a dumbfounded stupour.

You knelt down in front of the five children with a bright smile on your face. “Hey, listen your dad kind of has a teeny tiny headache from the last call we went on, and he just needs a few moments of peace and quiet, okay? If you guys can be quiet for just a few minutes, I’ll take you all out for ice cream after the shift ends. How does that sound?” You reasoned, earning a few silent nods and murmers of agreement in response.

“Okay, I think a few of the other guys were playing hacky sack on front of the firehouse, why don’t you guys go see if you can join them?” You suggested, laughing lightly as the five children all raced out of the common room with excited giggles and the occasional squeal. Feeling several pairs of eyes on you, you turned back to face Matt and Herrmann, finding that their gaze was already on you with wide eyes and dropped jaws. As you moved back over to your seat beside Matt, Herrmann scoffed in disbelief. “How the hell did you do that!?” He exclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation whilst he waited for your answer. As your shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, Matt watched you in complete awe. He had no idea that you were this amazing with kids. He didn’t know why he was so surprised, he supposed that the situation never presented itself.

But after seeing the way you handled Herrmann’s kids, how you were so kind and caring, how your voice was soft and delicate...he felt his heart begin to beat wildly in his chest. It felt strange to think about you that way, having kids of your own someday, a part of him hoped that one day, he would have kids too. When your eyes briefly met his with that teasing smirk of yours on your lips, Matt suddenly had the overwhelming urge to kiss you. But he didn’t, not in front of Herrmann, he wasn’t even sure if you felt the same way about him the way he did you. So he pushed down that feeling, and instead smiled happily in your direction as you continued to converse with Herrmann.

The one time he did...

You were the only one still inside the apartment complex as it went up in flames.

Your last call over the radio stated that you were headed up to the fifth floor to retrieve a resident’s daughter who was trapped inside their apartment. That was five minutes ago.

You had been silent ever since, and Matt was getting worried. What if something had happened to you? What if you were trapped too? Matt turned to Boden, who looked just as worried as he was. “Chief, let me go back in. She might need-”

Before Matt could finish uttering his sentence, the top three floors of the apartment complex exploded, including the fifth floor. Bright orange flames engulfed the outside of the building, thick black smoke rising into the Chicago night sky. “Y/n!” Matt shouted, starting to rush toward the buring building entrance. However, he was stopped by Severide and Mouch, who forcefully held him back as he struggled against their hold. He could faintly hear Boden calling you over the radio due to the roaring of the flames, he could hear the mother of the mother of the girl inside screaming for her daughter. Gabby and Shay stood on standby, their eyes gleaming with unshed tears as they waited...and waited...and waited.

Boden lost his temper, “Damnit L/n, respond!” He shouted furiously, though he waited anxiously for your reply. Several agonising minutes passed by, there was still no word from you. Matt was starting to lose hope. No, you couldn’t be...you just couldn’t. You were always careful, always vigilant. There was no way you could be gone. There was till so much he needed to say to you, Matt’s heart almost stopped at the mere thought of never being able to tell you that he loved you.

The door to the complex flew open, thick smoke billowing out through the doorway. Everyone held their breath, the usually busy street was now completely silent. Aft first, Matt thought it was the sheer force of the fire that had almost knocked the door off its hinges, the weight of immense dread and grief consuming him as he struggled to stay on his feet. The cold harsh reality of the situation began to set in. You were gone.

Then Severide was rushing towards the door, shouting for Gabby and Shay to follow. And as if by some miracle, you stumbled through the doorway with the little girl in your arms, your mask covering the girl’s face. Matt released a choked sob as he watched Severide take the girl from your arms, handing her over to Gabby and Shay before he enveloped you in a bone crushing hug. Matt began to jog forward, pure elation and happines filling him as he heard your voice. “Why the hell didn’t you answer your radio!?” Kelly shouted angrily, though his happy tears and slight laugh of disbelief conveyed different emotions altogether. You coughed slightly, looking up at Severide shyly “A bit of debris caught my shoulder, breaking the damn thing in two. I couldn’t have responded even if I wanted too”.

Removing his helmet as he moved past Severide, Matt tossed it aside and gently cupped both sides of your face before dipping down and pulling you into a gentle yet passionate kiss. You were completely taken aback at first, surprised that this moment was even happening. But eventually you reciprocated the kiss, not caring about the cheerful shouts coming from the rest of your colleagues who watched on in pure joy. The two of you pulled away breathlessly, as Matt’s teary gaze examined every inch of your smoke-covered face. “Promise me, that you will never do that again” He whispered quietly, his voice breaking slightly as his eyes fixated on every minor burn, every speck of ash that flecked your skin. You nodded curtly, sniffling slightly as your tear-filled eyes met Matt’s. “I promise”. 

[stardustincarnate]

CONFESSION // Mello x Reader

word count : 4016 genre : fluff a/n : i haven’t gotten over my writer’s block, so yes -- here i am, once again posting old fics from my wattpad account. 

Today is the day.

After contemplating about it for a couple of weeks and confiding it to his best pal, Matt, Mello has finally decided to confess his feelings for you tonight, exploiting the situation where you two will normally go riding on the city streets during Friday midnights such as this one.

To say the least, he isn't the best in this kind of thing— love, that is. Before, all he could think about was one thing which was proving that he's better than Near, and besides, no one really piqued his interest. But then the enigma that you are came.

You can be cunningly evil at times if you want to. You'll often say to the ones you've fooled or to the other mafia members, "It's nothing personal, it's just business." You also have a harsh mouth as he would like to describe. Anything that comes out of it may sound derisive or blatant, but it's basically the truth. You don't sugarcoat things— you don't even try to. Although sometimes you seem to make the truth more cruel than it really is, which makes you look too intimidating for the others. They're only thankful that you don't talk very often and only will if you have something conducive to say.

But that's not all that you are. Mello could feel it, so he grew curious of you. Just a mere speck of curiosity, but then it grew. He wanted to talk to you, but then he asked himself what's the point of doing so, thus he disregarded the idea. That's why you developed a friendship with Matt, who you think is really fun to be with, first. Then as your friendship grew, he thought of introducing you to Mello, and that's when it began. To be frank the beginning of your friendship wasn't easy, and to think that friendship only started growing not until you celebrated a year and a half of being with the mafia.

It was a long process, but in the end, it was worth the wait. Day by day he started lowering the walls he barricaded himself with, and same as you. He became really outgoing and deep down truly caring as your friend, like he is with Matt, because after all you two are the only family he has. And— let's not forget his strange addiction with chocolates! And, well, you like it.

You like him.

Mello knows this as well. He knows that his feelings are reciprocated and he's happy with that. But the question is, who's going to make the first move? Certainly not you. Between fighting the devil and confessing your feelings for someone, you'd probably choose the former. You don't seem like the kind of person who will make the first move. He as well is like that.

And that leads us to his acquiescence of doing it instead. Did he have a choice? Well, maybe, if one considers you doing it instead, but that will definitely take several months, or even years, from now. And he can't wait that long! What if you suddenly start to develop feelings for another person? He can't lose you, you that is just in front of his eyes, one step away from him. He needs to grab the opportunity while it still is there.

Because with you, he feels happy and contented. And for the first time he finally feels like he is number one.

And he really is, in your heart.

"Wooh!"

Matt exclaims after slamming the door, causing Mello to jolt upwards from his reverie. "You know I almost got caught by another mem!"

"Is it done?"

"Of course."

"Hm. You sure this suggestion is for the better? You know how scary that woman can be when she's mad. Especially after finding out that her tires have been flattened."

"Didn't you say you wanted something more romantic tonight? So, I thought of flattening her tires so she can't use her own scooter, that way she can ride with you."

"Uh-uh... Is it romantic though?"

"You two will be close enough. And—no perverted thoughts—she gets to wrap her arms around you while riding. If that's not romantic, I literally don't know what is."

"I'm having qualms about this one."

"What? I'm just as clueless as you are when it comes to romance. I'm doing my best here to help you ya know?"

"I know, I know. Sorry."

"It's your fault you fell in love with her." Matt jests, chuckling. But he immediately behaves himself when he sees that deadly glare of his friend. "Hey! I was only kidding! Don't look at me like that, Mels. You're creeping me out."

"Hah. But I guess you're right. My fault. And great— now I'm having more doubts than before and feeling.. tentative."

"The almighty Mello is nervous? Wow. I never thought I'd live to see this day!"

"Say one more word and I'll make sure it's the last you'll ever emit."

"HE-HE-HEY! Now you're just being belligerent. Don't worry. I'm sure you two will come back here as a couple. Swear it on my life. So stop doubting yourself. And just.. don't act awkward and dorky when confessing towards your little devil."

"Just how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know. Just don't."

Mello heaves a sigh. "Sometimes I do wonder if you're really the smart Matt they used to talk about back in the orphanage."

Matt only grins. He's about to reply, but then they both hear footsteps—angry footsteps—coming closer.

"Oh, speaking of the devil. Here she comes. In three.. two.. one.."

With that, you kick the door open and look around. You look like you're about to whip someone's ass and the men can almost laugh at your reaction knowing the reason behind it. You give them a steely look when they unknowingly start to curve their lips to a grin. They quickly change their reaction.

"This has gotta be one of the worse days of my life!" You exclaim as you slump on the sofa beside Mello. "I can't go with you. I've got a flat tire, and I have no idea why. Someone must've done it.."

"Who would do such a terrible thing? Especially to you, the devil no one else even bothers to approach?" Mello momentarily glances at Matt before taking a bite of his chocolate, which you then steals from his grip. "But don't worry, I gotcha. You can ride me... with me I mean! You can ride with me, NOT RIDE ME—good Lord I'm sorry."

'Aha, and there goes Matt's reminder that I shouldn't act awkward.' He looks away with a blush.

"I think [Y/N] is okay with either of that—"

You raise an eyebrow at Matt. "Oh, you mean you Mathematics. You can ride him all you want so don't be shy and put my name in your shoes."

"That's not—!"

"—ANYWAYS, Willy Wonka, you sure you okay with me riding with you? You won't mind?"

"Jesus, stop calling me that! And yes. You're my friend so I won't mind."

"Thanks mate!" To his surprise, you hug him from the side. And you are hugging him a little too much. "You know I've always wanted to ride your motor. It looks cooler than mine."

"Ah.. well— you're squeezing me a bit too much.. don't you think?"

You pull away and snicker. "Sorry. You're like a marshmallow that I just want to squeeze sometimes."

"EHEM. Pardon me, will you? I need to go to the restroom."

Matt stands up, thinking that his job here as cupid is done—or not quite yet. He has one last plan in mind. And even he isn't sure that that plan is going to make things better or worse.

"Enjoy taking another dump!" You shout as he leaves the room, making sure to lock it. Now you and Mello are completely alone, facing one another in utter silence. And it's too silent that you can hear some of the other mafia members arguing in a distant room. You can even hear someone moaning. Mello can hear it too.

You both give each other a look that only you two can understand.

"Oof. Must be nice. Err, so anyways," you start. "The usual place tonight?" And by that you mean stopping by to go atop a dilapidated building in a forsaken road to stargaze with him for ten minutes. You two make sure to always include going there to find tranquility in the stars and with each other. It temporarily removes all the problems and worries you have.

With Mello ruefully shaking his head, you frown. He puts an arm over your shoulder and nods reassuringly instead. You hide a smile.

"We can do that next week or earlier if we're not too preoccupied so don't be so glum. I'll be taking you somewhere new. I'm sure you'll like it."

"I hope so. Otherwise I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You'll be the one getting your ass kicked it if you don't give me back my chocolate right now."

"But I need chocolate too! Chocolate makes you happy. So I need it, 'kay?!"

"As far as I know that chocolate is mine and not yours???"

"But I'm your friend aren't I? You still have a lot of stock in there I'm sure."

"I'm running out of chocolates so give it back you little demon."

He hastily maneuvers before you can even stand up and try running away. He seizes your wrists and places your arms behind your back to prevent you from moving. Since you two are facing each other instead of him being behind you, the position is rather awkward. The proximity of your faces makes both of you blush and in an instance he backs away. You cackle in triumph as to his dismay of not getting his chocolate back.

You look at your wristwatch before taking a bite of the sweet. "Well Marsh-Mello, what are we waiting for? Let's hit the road! I'm already bored." You hold his hand the moment he stands up and you two run outside.

Mello throws the helmet to you which almost hit your face, earning an irked look from you. He then starts the engine as you wear your helmet.

When he starts to move just before you can take a seat, you panic. Of course he only wants to toy with you. He stops at a corner and waits for you, who's running and ready to smash his face. You pant as you finally reach him.

"You little bastard! Why'd you have to make me suffer?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You groan and then sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The closeness of your bodies make you both blush. He makes sure you're all set before once again driving in a high speed that made you hug him tighter. You've always known that he drives this fast, but to experience it yourself? It feels like your skin is being blown away and seperated from your bones.

"W-Would you mind slowing down, just a bit?"

"Come on [Y/N], that's not fun."

"So you call this fun? You're gonna kill us both. I'm too beautiful to die right now!"

"Tsk. You're no fun." You're about to make a rebuttal but he slows down reluctantly and matches the speed you will normally drive at. You sigh in relief and absently rests your chin on his right shoulder, looking at the stores, buildings, and a few people walking on the sidewalk which you are hastily passing by. On your left you see numbered vehicles and a few more buildings.

You're enjoying the ride, however, you hear the tire from behind pop. That is already bad, and worse comes when the front one pops too. He goes to the side before halting.

"Shit! Just our luck!"

"Haha seems like you and I share the same fate, huh? Goals."

Mello sighs as a realization dawns him.

'Matt.. you little shit.'

"Whadda we do now?" You worriedly ask.

"We're still halfway to the place I'm taking you and this happens.. I suppose I can just park this somewhere. You wouldn't mind walking, would you?"

"Sounds fine with me then."

He nods and parks the motor beside a bicycle and a car in front of a store, placing a tracker in it just in case it gets stolen. But if it ever does, he can just get another one. Legally or not. Doesn't matter.

In silence, you and Mello start walking side by side. Arriving upon a city bridge you can't help but stare at the river. The limit to what you can see on its side is a lively city despite the hour, with skyscrapers and billboard signs lit up. You can hear the occasional, distant sounds of car engines.

You avert your gaze back in the front, meeting chatty people on your way who are walking opposite to you and Mello. You realize that they're mostly couples who are matching clothes and openly talking, not caring if they're to be heard by others. Mello also notices, and not only that but the way you two undeniably look like one. Without any intentions, your clothes match. Not that it's a big deal since everyday you two wear black, but because of your surroundings, he might as well seize the opportunity.

Beaming from ear to ear, he holds your hand and intertwines your fingers together. You're confused, but at the same time liking it, a blush creeping on your face.

"Don't mind if I do. We don't wanna look like a couple who can't bear with each other after some kind of quarrel, do we?"

"But we're not a couple."

"No, not yet."

You stop and raise an eyebrow.

"Oop. Did I say that out loud? My bad."

He cheekily grins. It's only a joke, you think, but at the same time you wish that he's not joking—which he really isn't.

"Hey, how long are we going to walk?"

"Why? Are your feet giving up already? Want a piggyback?"

You completely turn red. He smiles at that.

"Nah.. I—"

"Don't waste the opportunity. I might change my mind later."

"I don't care. This is enough."

You squeeze his hand tightly—too tight that he swears he feel his phalanges breaking—but unexpectedly, he just moans. And people look at the two of you.

"The fuck was that?!? I didn't know you were some kind of masochist!"

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD?"

"AHA so you do admit being a masochist!!"

"WHAT? NO! I'M NOT!"

"Why so defensive now?"

"Because people are hearing you???"

"Let them! HAHAHAHA! MY BOYFRIEND IS A MASOCHIST! ISN'T THAT CUTE??"

But after realizing what you just said, you stop and gnaw your lower lip.

"Oh earth swallow me right now.. Sorry! God I'm embarrassed. You're not my boyfriend—"

"Didn't I tell you? Not yet."

You punch his shoulder playfully. "Stop joking around! I might actually believe you ya know?"

"Who said I was joking?"

"..Of course you are—"

"—OH, here we are!"

He diverts the topic, leaving you to slightly pout to yourself as he turns left to an unoccupied and dark area, pulling you to the railing where you two halt and see the perfect angle to view the city and the river from. The water and its light ripples glimmer under the moonlight as the brisk wind hits your skin, making you slightly shiver. Mello notices this and takes off his jacket, insisting you should wear it instead. You don't argue.

"Mello, this is.. magnificent. And a nice spot to stargaze as well! It's pretty wherever I lay my eyes on."

"Except behind us, maybe. You don't like trees that much."

You cackle. "They give me the creeps, especially during night. But at least we don't have to face that way, do we?"

He shakes his head as he laughs, inclining himself closer to you. He places his hands just beside yours on the railing, looking up and then looking at you, who's still busy admiring the sky.

He can't help but smile admiring you in your adorable placidity.

"The stars are pretty tonight." You say as you notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

"You always say that. They're always pretty. Sparkly."

"Mesmerizing to look at." You add. He nods, still staring at you.

"That's why I love the stars.."

"Uh huh. And chocolate." You grin.

"And you."

You stand flabbergasted, daring not to look at him directly. Your heart feels like it's about to jolt out of your chest. Your fingers begin to tremble on their own as you feel something intangible whirling inside your stomach. You know what it is—and he's making your heart flutter. But you can't trust this feeling as you aren't even sure if he's joking or not. And if he is, you kinda hate it. You want it to be real.

"Aye, don't flirt with me. That's so not you." You snap, rolling your eyes.

It doesn't take him too long to perceive what's on your mind. He taps your shoulder before sitting on the railing, inviting you to join him. You're a little hesitant for the fear of falling to the water. And when it comes to this kind of thing, you don't trust Mello. You're sure he'll eventually push you. The number of times he had done this to you in some places before is something you can't even count anymore.

"C'mon [Y/N]. Don't be scared. I won't push you. Or if I do, you're free to drag me as well."

"Tch. So you do intend to push me." Nevertheless, you sit beside him and grip the bars tightly with your clammy palms. Luckily the concrete extends six inches after the railing.

Mello feels like you two aren't physically close enough, and he thinks it's not 'romantic' enough, so he slides even closer to you until his palm is already above your hand and your shoulders bump.

"Oh, no. You keep your distance, Mr. Wonka."

"It's not like we're having social distancing here you know?"

"You're too close."

"And I'm going to get even closer.."

He whispers, his hot breath tickling the side of your neck. You sigh and face him, and your noses bump. You urgently back away and you almost slip if not for him.

"What's gotten into your system for you to act so flirty all of a sudden?"

"You."

"MELLO!! I'm damn serious. Like, all the jests can wait but for now, just.. don't flirt with me. I'm in no mood."

"Aww, trying to shoo me away huh? After stealing my heart and my chocolates, here you are suddenly breaking my poor, poor heart."

"One more attempt and I'm going to drown you."

"Heeeeeeey. Don't be so vicious now." He softly bumps your shoulder with his. You only click your tongue in annoyance.

"Seriously. Stop messing with me. I hate you."

"No you don't. I'm not messing with you. I'm serious—"

"Tch. Serious my ass."

"..You don't have one—"

"See? You little fucktard. You keep on messing with me. So just stop flirting with me. I swear I'll kill you if you continue."

"Whaaat? Seriously, I'm not messing with you. You gotta—"

"Mels, no, no, no. You can poke fun of me, push me off right now or anything but just don't flirt with me. You're a bastard for torturing my feelings. That's not cool at all. Damn it," you spat. He keep his silence, his mouth starting to gape.

"Don't make me assume things because I really, really, really like you!"

The words pour out unbidden. Your voice resonates and immediately you shut up and look down with a furious blush.

'That's it, congratulations for possibly ruining your friendship.' You think as you bite your lower lip.

Your blush vanishes as the fluttering feeling in your chest does, being replaced with instant regret, as if your heart has dropped to your stomach.

The look of surprise in his face turns to a cheeky grin. With much glee, he chuckles.

"I've always known this devil is a pure softie inside..."

"M-Mello.."

You are about to tear up, but then he says, "Do you know what you just did? You ruined my plans, [Y/N]! But I suppose I can forgive you for that."

"What?? Plan?? Damn you, damn you, damn you! I knew you were up to no good! Damn it, Mello! Pretend this night never existed. I'm outta here—"

"No no, it's not what you think. 'I like you' was supposed to be my line, not yours!" He can't help but burst out laughing, leaving you momentarily dazed, but then when you realize what he possibly meant by that, it's as if your heart has come back to life. Your face turns red.

"I was going to confess to you tonight, but it looks like the tables had turned. You are a.. partypooper! Do you know how many times I've practice saying that in front of Matt, just to end up with you saying it instead of me? Unbelievable!"

He wheezes, catches his breath, then looks at you. "And look, I'm not complaining, alright? Haha.. but the way things turn out to be in the end is just so.. whimsical. But I'm gonna say it anyway: I like you. I like you a lot."

You scrutinize his facial expression just to be sure that he's serious, and you confirm he truly is. He's absently smiling, and just from staring at you is the reason. Rapture dances in his eyes. He looks genuinely happy and candid at the moment. And here you are left speechless, only staring at him as a sheepish smile slowly invades your face.

You almost lose your grip on the railing when he briefly kisses your cheek. And again, nothing comes out of your mouth.

"Do I also need to say that I wanna be your boyfriend? Because, isn't it obvious?"

"Mello..."

"No pressure, [Y/N]. If we both like each other but you're not yet ready for a relationship, I understand and I can wait."

"Well.." You hide your face on his shoulder because you feel like the longer you stare at him, the more probable it is that you'll faint. "Uhm.. Err... Have you ever been.. in a relationship?"

"No, not really. You will be my first one. If you accept."

You smile. "Well, same as you here."

"Really? I thought you already had a partner or two before."

"I had no time to be in love. Add that some of the people I was acquainted with sucked, and the kind ones.. well, let's just say that they seemed to be missing something.. something that, I suppose, only you have. And.. it will really make me happy if you are to be my first," you lift your head up to meet his eyes. "So I accept."

"You serious?? Right here?? Right now??"

"Need I repeat myself, partner-in-crime?"

"Haha! Course not!"

You peck his cheek as your warm smile broadens. You then rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving the distant city as he wraps an arm around your waist, meticulous so that you two wouldn't slip from the railing and fall down.

"I think it's safe to assume now that you're the one behind flattening my tires. And just so I can ride with you. You're a cunning man, so I suppose you also did something with your own scooter just so we could walk together, like couples in movies. Haha I never thought you'd think something like that!"

"It was Matt's idea. Swear. He thought it was more romantic that way. And he's probably the one who rigged my scooter. He really can be a huge pain in the ass sometimes."

"Like you are."

"Aw come on. Take that back you little demon!"

"Noooopeeeee! Pfahahaha— AAAA SHIT!"

And with that, you both plunge into the frigid water with a loud splash.

[sgt-paul]

MUSICIANS ON MUSICIANS: Paul McCartney & Taylor Swift

© Mary McCartney

❝ During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. ❞

interview below the cut:

Taylor Swift arrived early to Paul McCartney’s London office in October, “mask on, brimming with excitement.” “I mostly work from home these days,” she writes about that day, “and today feels like a rare school field trip that you actually want to go on.”

Swift showed up without a team, doing her own hair and makeup. In addition to being two of the most famous pop songwriters in the world, Swift and McCartney have spent the past year on similar journeys. McCartney, isolated at home in the U.K., recorded McCartney III. Like his first solo album, in 1970, he played nearly all of the instruments himself, resulting in some of his most wildly ambitious songs in a long time. Swift also took some new chances, writing over email with the National’s Aaron Dessner and recording the raw Folklore, which abandons arena pop entirely in favor of rich character songs. It’s the bestselling album of 2020.

Swift listened to McCartney III as she prepared for today’s conversation; McCartney delved into Folkore. Before the photo shoot, Swift caught up with his daughters Mary (who would be photographing them) and Stella (who designed Swift’s clothes; the two are close friends). “I’ve met Paul a few times, mostly onstage at parties, but we’ll get to that later,” Swift writes. “Soon he walks in with his wife, Nancy. They’re a sunny and playful pair, and I immediately feel like this will be a good day. During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. We walk into his office for a chat, and after I make a nervous request, Paul is kind enough to handwrite my favorite lyric of his and sign it. He makes a joke about me selling it, and I laugh because it’s something I know I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. That’s around the time when we start talking about music.”

Taylor Swift: I think it’s important to note that if this year had gone the way that we thought it was going to go, you and I would have played Glastonbury this year, and instead, you and I both made albums in isolation.

Paul McCartney: Yeah!

Swift: And I remember thinking it would have been so much fun because the times that I’ve run into you, I correlate with being some of the most fun nights of my life. I was at a party with you, when everybody just started playing music. And it was Dave Grohl playing, and you…

McCartney: You were playing one of his songs, weren’t you?

Swift: Yes, I was playing his song called “Best of You,” but I was playing it on piano, and he didn’t recognize it until about halfway through. I just remember thinking, “Are you the catalyst for the most fun times ever?” Is it your willingness to get up and play music that makes everyone feel like this is a thing that can happen tonight?

McCartney: I mean, I think it’s a bit of everything, isn’t it? I’ll tell you who was very … Reese Witherspoon was like, “Are you going to sing?” I said “Oh, I don’t know.” She said, “You’ve got to, yeah!” She’s bossing me around. So I said, “Whoa,” so it’s a bit of that.

Swift: I love that person, because the party does not turn musical without that person.

McCartney: Yeah, that’s true.

Swift: If nobody says, “Can you guys play music?” we’re not going to invite ourselves up onstage at whatever living-room party it is.

McCartney: I seem to remember Woody Harrelson got on the piano, and he starts playing “Let It Be,” and I’m thinking, “I can do that better.” So I said, “Come on, move over, Woody.” So we’re both playing it. It was really nice.… I love people like Dan Aykroyd, who’s just full of energy and he loves his music so much, but he’s not necessarily a musician, but he just wanders around the room, just saying, “You got to get up, got to get up, do some stuff.”

Swift: I listened to your new record. And I loved a lot of things about it, but it really did feel like kind of a flex to write, produce, and play every instrument on every track. To me, that’s like flexing a muscle and saying, “I can do all this on my own if I have to.”

McCartney: Well, I don’t think like that, I must admit. I just picked up some of these instruments over the years. We had a piano at home that my dad played, so I picked around on that. I wrote the melody to “When I’m 64” when I was, you know, a teenager.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: When the Beatles went to Hamburg, there were always drum kits knocking around, so when there was a quiet moment, I’d say, “Do you mind if I have a knock around?” So I was able to practice, you know, without practicing. That’s why I play right-handed. Guitar was just the first instrument I got. Guitar turned to bass; it also turned into ukulele, mandolin. Suddenly, it’s like, “Wow,” but it’s really only two or three instruments.

Swift: Well, I think that’s downplaying it a little bit. In my mind, it came with a visual of you being in the country, kind of absorbing the sort of do-it-yourself [quality] that has had to come with the quarantine and this pandemic. I found that I’ve adapted a do-it-yourself mentality to a lot of things in my career that I used to outsource.  I’m just wondering what a day of recording in the pandemic looked like for you.

McCartney: Well, I’m very lucky because I have a studio that’s, like, 20 minutes away from where I live. We were in lockdown on a farm, a sheep farm with my daughter Mary and her four kids and her husband. So I had four of my grandkids, I had Mary, who’s a great cook, so I would just drive myself to the studio. And there were two other guys that could come in and we’d be very careful and distanced and everything: my engineer Steve, and then my equipment guy Keith. So the three of us made the record, and I just started off. I had to do a little bit of film music — I had to do an instrumental for a film thing — so I did that. And I just kept going, and that turned into the opening track on the album. I would just come in, say, “Oh, yeah, what are we gonna do?” [Then] have some sort of idea, and start doing it. Normally, I’d start with the instrument I wrote it on, either piano or guitar, and then probably add some drums and then a bit of bass till it started to sound like a record, and then just gradually layer it all up. It was fun.

Swift: That’s so cool.

McCartney: What about yours? You’re playing guitar and piano on yours.

Swift: Yeah, on some of it, but a lot of it was made with Aaron Dessner, who’s in a band called the National that I really love. And I had met him at a concert a year before, and I had a conversation with him, asking him how he writes. It’s my favorite thing to ask people who I’m a fan of. And he had an interesting answer. He said, “All the band members live in different parts of the world. So I make tracks. And I send them to our lead singer, Matt, and he writes the top line.” I just remember thinking, “That is really efficient.” And I kind of stored it in my brain as a future idea for a project. You know, how you have these ideas… “Maybe one day I’ll do this.” I always had in my head: “Maybe one day I’ll work with Aaron Dessner.”

So when lockdown happened, I was in L.A., and we kind of got stuck there. It’s not a terrible place to be stuck. We were there for four months maybe, and during that time, I sent an email to Aaron Dessner and I said, “Do you think you would want to work during this time? Because my brain is all scrambled, and I need to make something, even if we’re just kind of making songs that we don’t know what will happen…”

McCartney: Yeah, that was the thing. You could do stuff — you didn’t really worry it was going to turn into anything.

Swift: Yeah, and it turned out he had been writing instrumental tracks to keep from absolutely going crazy during the pandemic as well, so he sends me this file of probably 30 instrumentals, and the first one I opened ended up being a song called “Cardigan,” and it really happened rapid-fire like that. He’d send me a track; he’d make new tracks, add to the folder; I would write the entire top line for a song, and he wouldn’t know what the song would be about, what it was going to be called, where I was going to put the chorus. I had originally thought, “Maybe I’ll make an album in the next year, and put it out in January or something,” but it ended up being done and we put it out in July. And I just thought there are no rules anymore, because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, “How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?” If you take away all the parameters, what do you make? And I guess the answer is Folklore.

McCartney: And it’s more music for yourself than music that’s got to go do a job. My thing was similar to that: After having done this little bit of film music, I had a lot of stuff that I had been working on, but I’d said, “I’m just going home now,” and it’d be left half-finished. So I just started saying, “Well, what about that? I never finished that.” So we’d pull it out, and we said, “Oh, well, this could be good.” And because it didn’t have to amount to anything, I would say, “Ah, I really want to do tape loops. I don’t care if they fit on this song, I just want to do some.” So I go and make some tape loops, and put them in the song, just really trying to do stuff that I fancy.

I had no idea it would end up as an album; I may have been a bit less indulgent, but if a track was eight minutes long, to tell you the truth, what I thought was, “I’ll be taking it home tonight, Mary will be cooking, the grandkids will all be there running around, and someone, maybe Simon, Mary’s husband, is going to say, ‘What did you do today?’ And I’m going to go, ‘Oh,’ and then get my phone and play it for them.” So this became the ritual.

Swift: That’s the coziest thing I’ve ever heard.

McCartney: Well, it’s like eight minutes long, and I said, “I hate it when I’m playing someone something and it finishes after three minutes.” I kind of like that it just [continues] on.

Swift: You want to stay in the zone.

McCartney: It just keeps going on. I would just come home, “Well, what did you do today?” “Oh, well, I did this. I’m halfway through this,” or, “We finished this.”

Swift: I was wondering about the numerology element to McCartney III. McCartney I, II, and III have all come out on years with zeroes.

McCartney: Ends of decades.

Swift: Was that important?

McCartney: Yeah, well, this was being done in 2020, and I didn’t really think about it. I think everyone expected great things of 2020. “It’s gonna be great! Look at that number! 2020! Auspicious!” Then suddenly Covid hit, and it was like, “That’s gonna be auspicious all right, but maybe for the wrong reasons.” Someone said to me, “Well, you put out McCartney right after the Beatles broke up, and that was 1970, and then you did McCartney II in 1980.” And I said, “Oh, I’m going to release this in 2020 just for whatever you call it, the numerology.…”

Swift: The numerology, the kind of look, the symbolism. I love numbers. Numbers kind of rule my whole world. The numbers 13  … 89 is a big one. I have a few others that I find…

McCartney: Thirteen is lucky for some.

Swift: Yeah, it’s lucky for me. It’s my birthday. It’s all these weird coincidences of good things that have happened. Now, when I see it places, I look at it as a sign that things are going the way they’re supposed to. They may not be good now, they could be painful now, but things are on a track. I don’t know, I love the numerology.

McCartney: It’s spooky, Taylor. It’s very spooky. Now wait a minute: Where’d you get 89?

Swift: That’s when I was born, in 1989, and so I see it in different places and I just think it’s…

McCartney: No, it’s good. I like that, where certain things you attach yourself to, and you get a good feeling off them. I think that’s great.

Swift: Yeah, one of my favorite artists, Bon Iver, he has this thing with the number 22. But I was also wondering: You have always kind of seeked out a band or a communal atmosphere with like, you know, the Beatles and Wings, and then Egypt Station. I thought it was interesting when I realized you had made a record with no one else. I just wondered, did that feel natural?

McCartney: It’s one of the things I’ve done. Like with McCartney, because the Beatles had broken up, there was no alternative but to get a drum kit at home, get a guitar, get an amp, get a bass, and just make something for myself. So on that album, which I didn’t really expect to do very well, I don’t think it did. But people sort of say, “I like that. It was a very casual album.” It didn’t really have to mean anything. So I’ve done that, the play-everything-myself thing. And then I discovered synths and stuff, and sequencers, so I had a few of those at home. I just thought I’m going to play around with this and record it, so that became McCartney II. But it’s a thing I do. Certain people can do it. Stevie Wonder can do it. Stevie Winwood, I believe, has done it. So there are certain people quite like that.

When you’re working with someone else, you have to worry about their variances. Whereas your own variance, you kind of know it. It’s just something I’ve grown to like. Once you can do it, it becomes a little bit addictive. I actually made some records under the name the Fireman.

Swift: Love a pseudonym.

McCartney: Yeah, for the fun! But, you know, let’s face it, you crave fame and attention when you’re young. And I just remembered the other day, I was the guy in the Beatles that would write to journalists and say [speaks in a formal voice]: “We are a semiprofessional rock combo, and I’d think you’d like [us].… We’ve written over 100 songs (which was a lie), my friend John and I. If you mention us in your newspaper…” You know, I was always, like, craving the attention.

Swift: The hustle! That’s so great, though.

McCartney: Well, yeah, you need that.

Swift: Yeah, I think, when a pseudonym comes in is when you still have a love for making the work and you don’t want the work to become overshadowed by this thing that’s been built around you, based on what people know about you. And that’s when it’s really fun to create fake names and write under them.

McCartney: Do you ever do that?

Swift: Oh, yeah.

McCartney: Oh, yeah? Oh, well, we didn’t know that! Is that a widely known fact?

Swift: I think it is now, but it wasn’t. I wrote under the name Nils Sjöberg because those are two of the most popular names of Swedish males. I wrote this song called “This Is What You Came For” that Rihanna ended up singing. And nobody knew for a while. I remembered always hearing that when Prince wrote “Manic Monday,” they didn’t reveal it for a couple of months.

McCartney: Yeah, it also proves you can do something without the fame tag. I did something for Peter and Gordon; my girlfriend’s brother and his mate were in a band called Peter and Gordon. And I used to write under the name Bernard Webb.

Swift: [Laughs.] That’s a good one! I love it.

McCartney: As Americans call it, Ber-nard Webb. I did the Fireman thing. I worked with a producer, a guy called Youth, who’s this real cool dude. We got along great. He did a mix for me early on, and we got friendly. I would just go into the studio, and he would say, “Hey, what about this groove?” and he’d just made me have a little groove going. He’d say, “You ought to put some bass on it. Put some drums on it.” I’d just spend the whole day putting stuff on it. And we’d make these tracks, and nobody knew who Fireman was for a while. We must have sold all of 15 copies.

Swift: Thrilling, absolutely thrilling.

McCartney: And we didn’t mind, you know?

Swift: I think it’s so cool that you do projects that are just for you. Because I went with my family to see you in concert in 2010 or 2011, and the thing I took away from the show most was that it was the most selfless set list I had ever seen. It was completely geared toward what it would thrill us to hear. It had new stuff, but it had every hit we wanted to hear, every song we’d ever cried to, every song people had gotten married to, or been brokenhearted to. And I just remembered thinking, “I’ve got to remember that,” that you do that set list for your fans.

McCartney: You do that, do you?

Swift: I do now. I think that learning that lesson from you taught me at a really important stage in my career that if people want to hear “Love Story” and “Shake It Off,” and I’ve played them 300 million times, play them the 300-millionth-and-first time. I think there are times to be selfish in your career, and times to be selfless, and sometimes they line up.

McCartney: I always remembered going to concerts as a kid, completely before the Beatles, and I really hoped they would play the ones I loved. And if they didn’t, it was kind of disappointing. I had no money, and the family wasn’t wealthy. So this would be a big deal for me, to save up for months to afford the concert ticket.

Swift: Yeah, it feels like a bond. It feels like that person on the stage has given something, and it makes you as a crowd want to give even more back, in terms of applause, in terms of dedication. And I just remembered feeling that bond in the crowd, and thinking, “He’s up there playing these Beatles songs, my dad is crying, my mom is trying to figure out how to work her phone because her hands are shaking so much.” Because seeing the excitement course through not only me, but my family and the entire crowd in Nashville, it just was really special. I love learning lessons and not having to learn them the hard way. Like learning nice lessons I really value.

McCartney: Well, that’s great, and I’m glad that set you on that path. I understand people who don’t want to do that, and if you do, they’ll say, “Oh, it’s a jukebox show.” I hear what they’re saying. But I think it’s a bit of a cheat, because the people who come to our shows have spent a lot of money. We can afford to go to a couple of shows and it doesn’t make much difference. But a lot of ordinary working folks … it’s a big event in their life, and so I try and deliver. I also, like you say, try and put in a few weirdos.

Swift: That’s the best. I want to hear current things, too, to update me on where the artist is. I was wondering about lyrics, and where you were lyrically when you were making this record. Because when I was making Folklore, I went lyrically in a total direction of escapism and romanticism. And I wrote songs imagining I was, like, a pioneer woman in a forbidden love affair [laughs]. I was completely …

McCartney: Was this “I want to give you a child”? Is that one of the lines?

Swift: Oh, that’s a song called “Peace.”

McCartney: “Peace,” I like that one.

Swift: “Peace” is actually more rooted in my personal life. I know you have done a really excellent job of this in your personal life: carving out a human life within a public life, and how scary that can be when you do fall in love and you meet someone, especially if you’ve met someone who has a very grounded, normal way of living. I, oftentimes, in my anxieties, can control how I am as a person and how normal I act and rationalize things, but I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and what they do and if they follow our car and if they interrupt our lives. I can’t control if there’s going to be a fake weird headline about us in the news tomorrow.

McCartney: So how does that go? Does your partner sympathize with that and understand?

Swift: Oh, absolutely.

McCartney: They have to, don’t they?

Swift: But I think that in knowing him and being in the relationship I am in now, I have definitely made decisions that have made my life feel more like a real life and less like just a storyline to be commented on in tabloids. Whether that’s deciding where to live, who to hang out with, when to not take a picture — the idea of privacy feels so strange to try to explain, but it’s really just trying to find bits of normalcy. That’s what that song “Peace” is talking about. Like, would it be enough if I could never fully achieve the normalcy that we both crave? Stella always tells me that she had as normal a childhood as she could ever hope for under the circumstances.

McCartney: Yeah, it was very important to us to try and keep their feet on the ground amongst the craziness.

Swift: She went to a regular school .…

McCartney: Yeah, she did.

Swift: And you would go trick-or-treating with them, wearing masks.

McCartney: All of them did, yeah. It was important, but it worked pretty well, because when they kind of reached adulthood, they would meet other kids who might have gone to private schools, who were a little less grounded.

And they could be the budding mothers to [kids]. I remember Mary had a friend, Orlando. Not Bloom. She used to really counsel him. And it’s ’cause she’d gone through that. Obviously, they got made fun of, my kids. They’d come in the classroom and somebody would sing, “Na na na na,” you know, one of the songs. And they’d have to handle that. They’d have to front it out.

Swift: Did that give you a lot of anxiety when you had kids, when you felt like all this pressure that’s been put on me is spilling over onto them, that they didn’t sign up for it? Was that hard for you?

McCartney: Yeah, a little bit, but it wasn’t like it is now. You know, we were just living a kind of semi-hippie life, where we withdrew from a lot of stuff. The kids would be doing all the ordinary things, and their school friends would be coming up to the house and having parties, and it was just great. I remember one lovely evening when it was Stella’s birthday, and she brought a bunch of school kids up. And, you know, they’d all ignore me. It happens very quickly. At first they’re like, “Oh, yeah, he’s like a famous guy,” and then it’s like [yawns]. I like that. I go in the other room and suddenly I hear this music going on. And one of the kids, his name was Luke, and he’s doing break dancing.

Swift: Ohhh!

McCartney: He was a really good break dancer, so all the kids are hanging out. That allowed them to be kind of normal with those kids. The other thing is, I don’t live fancy. I really don’t. Sometimes it’s a little bit of an embarrassment, if I’ve got someone coming to visit me, or who I know…

Swift: Cares about that stuff?

McCartney: Who’s got a nice big house, you know. Quincy Jones came to see me and I’m, like, making him a veggie burger or something. I’m doing some cooking. This was after I’d lost Linda, in between there. But the point I’m making is that I’m very consciously thinking, “Oh, God, Quincy’s got to be thinking, ‘What is this guy on? He hasn’t got big things going on. It’s not a fancy house at all. And we’re eating in the kitchen! He’s not even got the dining room going,’” you know?

Swift: I think that sounds like a perfect day.

McCartney: But that’s me. I’m awkward like that. That’s my kind of thing. Maybe I should have, like, a big stately home. Maybe I should get a staff. But I think I couldn’t do that. I’d be so embarrassed. I’d want to walk around dressed as I want to walk around, or naked, if I wanted to.

Swift: That can’t happen in Downton Abbey.

McCartney: [Laughs.] Exactly.

Swift: I remember what I wanted to know about, which is lyrics. Like, when you’re in this kind of strange, unparalleled time, and you’re making this record, are lyrics first? Or is it when you get a little melodic idea?

McCartney: It was a bit of both. As it kind of always is with me. There’s no fixed way. People used to ask me and John, “Well, who does the words, who does the music?” I used to say, “We both do both.” We used to say we don’t have a formula, and we don’t want one. Because the minute we get a formula, we should rip it up. I will sometimes, as I did with a couple of songs on this album, sit down at the piano and just start noodling around, and I’ll get a little idea and start to fill that out. So the lyrics — for me, it’s following a trail. I’ll start [sings “Find My Way,” a song from “McCartney III”]: “I can find my way. I know my left from right, da da da.” And I’ll just sort of fill it in. Like, we know this song, and I’m trying to remember the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll just be inspired by something. I had a little book which was all about the constellations and the stars and the orbits of Venus and.…

Swift: Oh, I know that song — “The Kiss of Venus”?

McCartney: Yeah, “The Kiss of Venus.” And I just thought, “That’s a nice phrase.” So I was actually just taking phrases out of the book, harmonic sounds. And the book is talking about the maths of the universe, and how when things orbit around each other, and if you trace all the patterns, it becomes like a lotus flower.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: It’s very magical.

Swift: That is magical. I definitely relate to needing to find magical things in this very not-magical time, needing to read more books and learn to sew, and watch movies that take place hundreds of years ago. In a time where, if you look at the news, you just want to have a panic attack — I really relate to the idea that you are thinking about stars and constellations.

McCartney: Did you do that on Folklore?

Swift: Yes. I was reading so much more than I ever did, and watching so many more films.

McCartney: What stuff were you reading?

Swift: I was reading, you know, books like Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, which I highly recommend, and books that dealt with times past, a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I was also using words I always wanted to use — kind of bigger, flowerier, prettier words, like “epiphany,” in songs. I always thought, “Well, that’ll never track on pop radio,” but when I was making this record, I thought, “What tracks? Nothing makes sense anymore. If there’s chaos everywhere, why don’t I just use the damn word I want to use in the song?”

McCartney: Exactly. So you’d see the word in a book and think, “I love that word”?

Swift: Yeah, I have favorite words, like “elegies” and “epiphany” and “divorcée,” and just words that I think sound beautiful, and I have lists and lists of them.

McCartney: How about “marzipan”?

Swift: Love “marzipan.”

McCartney: The other day, I was remembering when we wrote “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”: “kaleidoscope.”

Swift: “Kaleidoscope” is one of mine! I have a song on 1989, a song called “Welcome to New York,” that I put the word “kaleidoscope” in just because I’m obsessed with the word.

McCartney: I think a love of words is a great thing, particularly if you’re going to try to write a lyric, and for me, it’s like, “What is this going to say to that person?” I often feel like I’m writing to someone who is not doing so well. So I’m trying to write songs that might help. Not in a goody-goody, crusading kind of way, but just thinking there have been so many times in my life when I’ve heard a song and felt so much better. I think that’s the angle I want, that inspirational thing.

I remember once, a friend of mine from Liverpool, we were teenagers and we were going to a fairground. He was a schoolmate, and we had these jackets that had a little fleck in the material, which was the cool thing at the time.

Swift: We should have done matching jackets for this photo shoot.

McCartney: Find me a fleck, I’m in. But we went to the fair, and I just remember — this is what happens with songs — there was this girl at the fair. This is just a little Liverpool fair — it was in a place called Sefton Park — and there was this girl, who was so beautiful. She wasn’t a star. She was so beautiful. Everyone was following her, and it’s like, “Wow.” It’s like a magical scene, you know? But all this gave me a headache, so I ended up going back to his house — I didn’t normally get headaches. And we thought, “What can we do?” So we put on the Elvis song “All Shook Up.” By the end of that song, my headache had gone. I thought, you know, “That’s powerful.”

Swift: That really is powerful.

McCartney: I love that, when people stop me in the street and say, “Oh, I was going through an illness and I listened to a lot of your stuff, and I’m better now and it got me through,” or kids will say, “It got me through exams.” You know, they’re studying, they’re going crazy, but they put your music on. I’m sure it happens with a lot of your fans. It inspires them, you know?

Swift: Yeah, I definitely think about that as a goal. There’s so much stress everywhere you turn that I kind of wanted to make an album that felt sort of like a hug, or like your favorite sweater that makes you feel like you want to put it on.

McCartney: What, a “cardigan”?

Swift: Like a good cardigan, a good, worn-in cardigan. Or something that makes you reminisce on your childhood. I think sadness can be cozy. It can obviously be traumatic and stressful, too, but I kind of was trying to lean into sadness that feels like somehow enveloping in not such a scary way — like nostalgia and whimsy incorporated into a feeling like you’re not all right. Because I don’t think anybody was really feeling like they were in their prime this year. Isolation can mean escaping into your imagination in a way that’s kind of nice.

McCartney: I think a lot of people have found that. I would say to people, “I feel a bit guilty about saying I’m actually enjoying this quarantine thing,” and people go, “Yeah, I know, don’t say it to anyone.” A lot of people are really suffering.

Swift: Because there’s a lot in life that’s arbitrary. Completely and totally arbitrary. And [the quarantine] is really shining a light on that, and also a lot of things we have that we outsource that you can actually do yourself.

McCartney: I love that. This is why I said I live simply. That’s, like, at the core of it. With so many things, something goes wrong and you go, “Oh, I’ll get somebody to fix that.” And then it’s like, “No, let me have a look at it.…”

Swift: Get a hammer and a nail.

McCartney: “Maybe I can put that picture up.” It’s not rocket science. The period after the Beatles, when we went to live in Scotland on a really — talk about dumpy — little farm. I mean, I see pictures of it now and I’m not ashamed, but I’m almost ashamed. Because it’s like, “God, nobody’s cleaned up around here.”

But it was really a relief. Because when I was with the Beatles, we’d formed Apple Records, and if I wanted a Christmas tree, someone would just buy it. And I thought, after a while, “No, you know what? I really would like to go and buy our Christmas tree. Because that’s what everyone does.” So you go down — “I’ll have that one” — and you carried it back. I mean, it’s little, but it’s huge at the same time.

I needed a table in Scotland and I was looking through a catalog and I thought, “I could make one. I did woodwork in school, so I know what a dovetail joint is.” So I just figured it out. I’m just sitting in the kitchen, and I’m whittling away at this wood and I made this little joint. There was no nail technology — it was glue. And I was scared to put it together. I said, “It’s not going to fit,” but one day, I got my woodwork glue and thought, “There’s no going back.” But it turned out to be a real nice little table I was very proud of. It was that sense of achievement.

The weird thing was, Stella went up to Scotland recently and I said, “Isn’t it there?” and she said, “No.” Anyway, I searched for it. Nobody remembered it. Somebody said, “Well, there’s a pile of wood in the corner of one of the barns, maybe that’s it. Maybe they used it for firewood.” I said, “No, it’s not firewood.” Anyway, we found it, and do you know how joyous that was for me? I was like, “You found my table?!” Somebody might say that’s a bit boring.

Swift: No, it’s cool!

McCartney: But it was a real sort of great thing for me to be able to do stuff for yourself. You were talking about sewing. I mean normally, in your position, you’ve got any amount of tailors.

Swift: Well, there’s been a bit of a baby boom recently; several of my friends have gotten pregnant.

McCartney: Oh, yeah, you’re at the age.

Swift: And I was just thinking, “I really want to spend time with my hands, making something for their children.” So I made this really cool flying-squirrel stuffed animal that I sent to one of my friends. I sent a teddy bear to another one, and I started making these little silk baby blankets with embroidery. It’s gotten pretty fancy. And I’ve been painting a lot.

McCartney: What do you paint? Watercolors?

Swift: Acrylic or oil. Whenever I do watercolor, all I paint is flowers. When I have oil, I really like to do landscapes. I always kind of return to painting a lonely little cottage on a hill.

McCartney: It’s a bit of a romantic dream. I agree with you, though, I think you’ve got to have dreams, particularly this year. You’ve got to have something to escape to. When you say “escapism,” it sounds like a dirty word, but this year, it definitely wasn’t. And in the books you’re reading, you’ve gone into that world. That’s, I think, a great thing. Then you come back out. I normally will read a lot before I go to bed. So I’ll come back out, then I’ll go to sleep, so I think it really is nice to have those dreams that can be fantasies or stuff you want to achieve.

Swift: You’re creating characters. This was the first album where I ever created characters, or wrote about the life of a real-life person. There’s a song called “The Last Great American Dynasty” that’s about this real-life heiress who lived just an absolutely chaotic, hectic…

McCartney: She’s a fantasy character?

Swift: She’s a real person. Who lived in the house that I live in.

McCartney: She’s a real person? I listened to that and I thought, “Who is this?”

Swift: Her name was Rebekah Harkness. And she lived in the house that I ended up buying in Rhode Island. That’s how I learned about her. But she was a woman who was very, very talked about, and everything she did was scandalous. I found a connection in that. But I also was thinking about how you write “Eleanor Rigby” and go into that whole story about what all these people in this town are doing and how their lives intersect, and I hadn’t really done that in a very long time with my music. It had always been so microscope personal.

McCartney: Yeah, ’cause you were writing breakup songs like they were going out of style.

Swift: I was, before my luck changed [laughs]. I still write breakup songs. I love a good breakup song. Because somewhere in the world, I always have a friend going through a breakup, and that will make me write one.

McCartney: Yeah, this goes back to this thing of me and John: When you’ve got a formula, break it. I don’t have a formula. It’s the mood I’m in. So I love the idea of writing a character. And, you know, trying to think, “What am I basing this on?” So “Eleanor Rigby” was based on old ladies I knew as a kid. For some reason or other, I got great relationships with a couple of local old ladies. I was thinking the other day, I don’t know how I met them, it wasn’t like they were family. I’d just run into them, and I’d do their shopping for them.

Swift: That’s amazing.

McCartney: It just felt good to me. I would sit and talk, and they’d have amazing stories. That’s what I liked. They would have stories from the wartime — because I was born actually in the war — and so these old ladies, they were participating in the war. This one lady I used to sort of just hang out with, she had a crystal radio that I found very magical. In the war, a lot of people made their own radios — you’d make them out of crystals [sings “The Twilight Zone” theme].

Swift: How did I not know this? That sounds like something I would have tried to learn about.

McCartney: It’s interesting, because there is a lot of parallels with the virus and lockdowns and wartime. It happened to everyone. Like, this isn’t HIV, or SARS, or Avian flu, which happened to others, generally. This has happened to everyone, all around the world. That’s the defining thing about this particular virus. And, you know, my parents … it happened to everyone in Britain, including the queen and Churchill. War happened. So they were all part of this thing, and they all had to figure out a way through it. So you figured out Folklore. I figured out McCartney III.

Swift: And a lot of people have been baking sourdough bread. Whatever gets you through!

McCartney: Some people used to make radios. And they’d take a crystal — we should look it up, but it actually is a crystal. I thought, “Oh, no, they just called it a crystal radio,” but it’s actually crystals like we know and love.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: And somehow they get the radio waves — this crystal attracts them — they tune it in, and that’s how they used to get their news. Back to “Eleanor Rigby,” so I would think of her and think of what she’s doing and then just try to get lyrical, just try to bring poetry into it, words you love, just try to get images like “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,” and Father McKenzie “is darning his socks in the night.” You know, he’s a religious man, so I could’ve said, you know, “preparing his Bible,” which would have been more obvious. But “darning his socks” kind of says more about him. So you get into this lovely fantasy. And that’s the magic of songs, you know. It’s a black hole, and then you start doing this process, and then there’s this beautiful little flower that you’ve just made. So it is very like embroidery, making something.

Swift: Making a table.

McCartney: Making a table.

Swift: Wow, it would’ve been so fun to play Glastonbury for the 50th anniversary together.

McCartney: It would’ve been great, wouldn’t it? And I was going to be asking you to play with me.

Swift: Were you going to invite me? I was hoping that you would. I was going to ask you.

McCartney: I would’ve done “Shake It Off.”

Swift: Oh, my God, that would have been amazing.

McCartney: I know it, it’s in C!

Swift: One thing I just find so cool about you is that you really do seem to have the joy of it, still, just no matter what. You seem to have the purest sense of joy of playing an instrument and making music, and that’s just the best, I think.

McCartney: Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?

Swift: We’re really lucky.

McCartney: I don’t know if it ever happens to you, but with me, it’s like, “Oh, my god, I’ve ended up as a musician.”

Swift: Yeah, I can’t believe it’s my job.

McCartney: I must tell you a story I told Mary the other day, which is just one of my favorite little sort of Beatles stories. We were in a terrible, big blizzard, going from London to Liverpool, which we always did. We’d be working in London and then drive back in the van, just the four of us with our roadie, who would be driving. And this was a blizzard. You couldn’t see the road. At one point, it slid off and it went down an embankment. So it was “Ahhh,” a bunch of yelling. We ended up at the bottom. It didn’t flip, luckily, but so there we are, and then it’s like, “Oh, how are we going to get back up? We’re in a van. It’s snowing, and there’s no way.” We’re all standing around in a little circle, and thinking, “What are we going to do?” And one of us said, “Well, something will happen.” And I thought that was just the greatest. I love that, that’s a philosophy.

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: And it did. We sort of went up the bank, we thumbed a lift, we got the lorry driver to take us, and Mal, our roadie, sorted the van and everything. So that was kind of our career. And I suppose that’s like how I ended up being a musician and a songwriter: “Something will happen.”

Swift: That’s the best.

McCartney: It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. It’s great if you’re ever in that sort of panic attack: “Oh, my God,” or, “Ahhh, what am I going to do?”

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: All right then, thanks for doing this, and this was, you know, a lot of fun.

Swift: You’re the best. This was so awesome. Those were some quality stories!

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.

Based on a wonderful song fic request I received from @itsametaphorbriansblog for the song Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat by Del Water Gap. I'd never heard the song before but trust me when I say it's awesome and my head was full with these lyrics. And yes, Alice in Wonderland is my favorite book.

Requested: Yes l No

CW: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of smut but nothing too explicit, some angst but happy ending.

Plot: Spencer wants to believe he can have a casual relationship with you. But just the thought of someone else touching you the way he does sends him into a tailspin. He wants you all to himself.

WC: 3.9K

—————————————————————

I do not want to fight this anymore

I just want to lay back

And watch you pin me to the bed

How he ended up here was somewhat of a mystery to Spencer but he had no intention of complaining.

He was sure he’d have time to think about it later, but right now all he was focused on was the way you pinned him to the bed, your soft hands wrapped around his wrists.

He was too enamoured taking in every beautiful curve of your body, the swell of your breasts and hips, the feeling of your silky thighs pressed against his own much hairier ones.

He drank you in as you kissed him, your tongue tasting like coffee and vodka. Your lips against his felt as though they’d found their rightful place in the world.

And when you finally lowered yourself on his throbbing member, everything else slipped away. The only thing in the world he could focus on was how fucking good it felt to have you wrapped around him.

It was as though all the stars had aligned and all his birthdays and christmases had come at once.

He never thought he’d have a shot with someone like you. This was better than even his wildest dreams.

I used to call you my best friend

Way back before you were my everything

Now I’m sucking on your neck

You’d worked together for several years and quickly became best friends. But there was always something more between you. Lingering glances, a few too many casual touches.

An odd tension that Spencer had never been able to put his finger on until the first time you saw each other naked and it vanished.

It had started after a few too many drinks at Rossi’s and ended in Spencer’s bed. That had been six months ago and since then the two of you spent all your free time between the sheets together.

It just made sense.

But you had made it clear it was simply sex, a means to an end. You were seeing another guy who knew about Spencer too. You told Spencer he was free to see other women.

He didn’t want to see other women. He only ever wanted to see you. He wanted to see you all the time, preferably naked and sitting on his cock.

He had agreed this was fine. He was ok with this arrangement. He’d told you he was fine with this other guy you were seeing if he was fine with you seeing Spencer.

Fine. Everything was just fine.

And you wrote my favorite song

Now I’m fucked up and carrying on

I do not know the words yet, oh

It had been a lie.

He thought he could separate the physical from his feelings but he wasn’t that kind of man. He wished he could be. But the idea of not having you all to himself made him feel sick.

And it hits me

I don't want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

He thought he was ok with it until he was lonely in his apartment one night. He text you asking you to come over.

Your response told him you were with your other man. And he spiralled.

He couldn’t help his mind wander over the things you would be doing together.

Did he kiss you on your neck the way you loved? Did he know the way you liked to be touched?

Did he make you feel the way Spencer did? Did he make you come the way Spencer knew how?

The thought of you naked being pleasured by another man made his heart ache. Images of you touching him, being fucked by him, screaming his name; it was too much.

He wanted to be the only one who got to touch you like that; to see you at your orgasms peak.

It really wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to share you. He didn’t want to be left alone in his room wracked with sadness at the thought of you with another man.

Is it okay?

That I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

Yeah

“What did you get up to with Matt last night?” Spencer asked as he made you both coffees the next morning.

You rolled your eyes.

“Mark.” you sighed as you spoke. You knew Spencer knew his name, he had an eidetic memory for god sake. He was doing it deliberately.

“Matt, Mark same difference.” he shrugged, pouring sugar into his cup.

“We just hung out.” you took the other mug he’d filled and twirled your spoon around in it. “You know, usual stuff.”

You leant back against the counter, holding the warm mug between your hands and inhaling the smell.

Spencer turned to look at you.

You had a noticeable hickey on your neck, one he certainly hadn’t left. You must know he could see it.

“The usual stuff you and Morgan would do when you hang out or the usual stuff you and I do when we hang out?”

You rolled your eyes again and pushed yourself away from the counter and headed back towards your desk.

Spencer followed close behind you.

“Just because you don’t speak doesn’t mean you didn’t answer.” he whispered as he caught up with you. “Nice hickey.”

He practically stormed to his desk and threw himself in the chair.

You sighed to yourself. You should have known Spencer would be this way.

A little while later Morgan passed by your desk as you had your nose buried in a case file.

“Ohhh looks like pretty girl got some loving last night! The size of that mark on your neck Miss thing!”

You looked up at him, your cheeks stained crimson.

You made brief eye contact with Spencer. If you weren’t mistaken, his eyes were filled with tears.

He pushed his chair back and stormed away from where JJ and Emily were now getting a good look at your hickey too.

“What’s up with him?” Morgan frowned.

“I don’t think he’s feeling too good today.” You replied.

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Tell me that nobody else touches you

Like I do, like I do

Oh, tell me that nobody else touches you like me

Tell me that nobody else touches you

Like I do, like I do

Oh, tell me that nobody else touches you like me

There was no case to take you out of the state and you were looking forward to going home.

Spencer caught up with you as you stepped in the elevator and shoved his way inside just before the doors closed.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked the second the doors shut behind him.

“Not tonight Spence, I’m exhausted.” you stifled a yawn as if to prove your point.

“Did you use all your energy on Mike?” he sounded so bitter.

“I did not use all my energy on Mark. I’m tired from dealing with a whiny, jealous baby all day.” you rolled your eyes yet again.

“I’m not jealous.” he scoffed. “Or whiny. Or a baby.”

“Sure you aren’t.” The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.

You patted Spencer on his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Goodnight Spencer, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He pouted a little as he watched you go.

Maybe it was time to just let you go entirely.

You’re pulling on my habit lines

The more I smoke the more I find

I can’t just fall asleep instead

One am and Spencer’s phone startled him awake. He was used to being called in the middle of the night for work so he was wide awake in an instant.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and put it to his ear.

“Reid.” he spoke, expecting it to be Hotch calling about a case.

“Hey,” your voice was low and sultry.

Spencer swallowed.

“What?” he knew what. He knew exactly what you were calling for.

He had to say no. He had to stay strong. He couldn’t keep giving in to you. Not anymore.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb Spence, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Well I’m touching myself.” you moaned softly. “But I do wish it was your hand between my legs.”

You heard a breathy sigh leave his lips. You knew that was enough to make him hard.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groaned. “I’ll be over in a half hour.”

You grinned as you hung up the phone.

Spencer wished he wasn’t so weak. He wished he could say no to you.

He wished he could tell you it was him or Mark. You had to choose.

He would if he didn’t fear the answer.

And you’re not my protector

I hope you know it wasn’t her

That kept me off your side of the bed, oh

He put his all in that night. He wanted to make you feel the best you’d ever felt so the next time you saw Mark you were thinking of him.

He made you come seven times, you honestly didn’t think you would walk for days after. By the time the sun came up you were so sensitive you didn’t know if you’d be able to dress for work without your clothes flustering your sensitive skin.

“Jeez Spence, I hope we’ve got another office day today.” You ached all over. “I don’t know if I’m going to be any good in the field like this.”

He felt an odd sense of pride. You’d remember this, you’d remember how good he’d made you feel.

He hoped he’d fucked Mark right out of your head.

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like I do

Like I do

Like me

“Jesus pretty girl, your hickeys have hickeys!” Morgan chuckled as you walked into the BAU with no sleep and only one coffee in your system.

Spencer tried to hide the smug look from his face.

“Another night with your lover boy aye?” Emily nudged you in the arm as you made a beeline for the coffee machine.

He felt very good about himself right now.

“Speaking of your lover boy,” JJ piped up. “You had some flowers delivered this morning.”

Spencer’s face fell. No. No that wasn’t fair.

You forgot all about the coffee and headed to your desk where a beautiful array of red roses awaited you.

Spencer wanted to take them and stomp on them. The way you were stomping on his heart.

“Oh wow.” You smiled as you read the note. “How sweet.”

“If you ask me he’s trying too hard.” Spencer tried not to sound bitter or sad as he spoke. He failed miserably.

“Well good job no ones asking you.” You shot him an annoyed glance.

The tension suddenly grew thick. You and Spencer glared at one another while Morgan, Emily and JJ stared on in confusion.

“We have a case.” Hotch’s voice broke the stare off.

Thank god you thought. Saved before you had a chance to say something you’d regret.

You put the flowers down and headed towards the round table room. You heard Spencer shuffling behind you.

“What was that about?” JJ frowned.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Emily shrugged.

“I think I’ve got an idea.” Morgan smirked as the three of them started to follow. “Pretty boy has a crush on pretty girl.”

It is okay?

That I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like I do

Like me

You barely said two words to Spencer in the four days you spent in Missouri unless it pertained to the case.

Everyone could tell something was amiss between the two of you. The team was so used to your playful banter and inside jokes you had with one another. It was painfully obvious something was going on.

It was late when you arrived back at Quantico so Hotch sent you all straight home.

Spencer caught up with you in the parking lot.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“No.” You didn’t turn back to look at him as you headed to your car.

“Y/N please we need to talk.”

“I’m sick of this.” You groaned as you reached your vehicle. “You said you were ok with us seeing other people Spencer.” You spun back to look at him.

He was playing with the strap of his messenger back in an awkward fashion.

“Well...I’m not.” He shrugged.

“No shit.” You scoffed. “I’m sorry Spencer but I can’t do this anymore. I like Mark, he’s nice. We have fun.”

“So I’m not nice? You don’t have fun with me?” He stepped a little closer to you.

“You’re draining Spencer.” You confessed. “I once thought maybe you and I could be more than, whatever this is, but it’s exhausting Spence. With Mark it’s just easy. We spoke yesterday and he said he wanted us to get serious. No seeing other people. I told him I’d like that.”

Spencer’s heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. He felt as though you had punched the air from his lungs.

He fought for a breath, stumbling on his feet a little.

“You’re...you’re choosing him?”

“Yes.” You chewed your lip guilty. “I’m sorry Spencer but honestly, you’re too much like hard work.” You turned away from him and opened the drivers door, closing it quickly behind you before you changed your mind.

You watched Spencer in your rear view mirror as you pulled out of your parking space.

He hadn’t moved. He just stood there, dejected and sad staring in your wake.

You were barely out of the parking lot before your first tear fell.

You’re in his living room

And it may not mean much you

But your plates are in his sink

And your sweaters on his bed

Won’t you text me when you’re home?

My baby, spare me all the rest

It had been little over a month and Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He wouldn’t speak directly to you. He wouldn’t even be in the same room as you if he could help it.

At this point the whole team knew something was up. Hotch had pulled you both up on it but you’d both lied and said everything was fine.

Everything was far from fine.

Every night for just over a month Spencer had cried himself to sleep. He’d spent his waking hours in his apartment imaging what the two of you were doing.

Were you laughing at movies? Reading together? Having romantic dinners or walks in the park hand in hand? Were you making love over and over again?

His sleep was haunted by thoughts of you too. No where was safe. He’d started wondering if he could even work with you anymore. Maybe it was time to go into teaching?

Being around you every day just didn’t seem like an option anymore because every time he saw you, his heart broke all over again.

Please just tell me

That nobody else touches you like I do

Oh tell me that nobody touches you like me

It wasn’t just that he’d lost the woman he had started developing feelings for, he had lost his best friend too. He wanted to talk to someone about the heartache he was feeling and usually that someone would be you.

He wanted his best friend back. It was killing him.

He didn’t know how to deal with losing you so he didn’t. He didn’t know how to talk to you anymore so he stopped talking to you altogether.

The flower deliveries stopped after a few months which made it slightly easier for him to forget about you dating another man.

After about seven months your demeanor shifted a little. You stopped talking about Mark as much and were more vague about your weekend plans.

By the time it was coming up to a year you stopped talking about him entirely. When Spencer overheard you speaking to JJ or Emily about your weekend plans it was always along the lines of “TV and pizza for one.”

For Garcia’s birthday the whole team was going out for drinks at a local bar. Since you ended things with him Spencer avoided hanging out with the team outside of work when you would be there. He would always come up with some kind of excuse.

But Garcia was not the kind of person to take no for an answer.

So reluctantly he went along. Emily helped him pick out a gift for her, a unicorn charm for her bracelet. Certainly not something Spencer would have chosen but Emily insisted the tech analyst would love it.

Whilst in the jewelry store a delicate silver necklace had caught his eye. It had an intricate charm of a bottle with a little label with the words “Drink Me” etched into it.

It had taken him back to a conversation from years past.

You were still new to the team and trying to keep your head down and not get in anyone's way. The team was all so close and you didn’t want to step on any toes.

On the way back from your latest case in New York you didn’t sleep like the rest of the team. You were wide awake, probably on a high from the adrenaline brought on by the case.

You sat at the back of the jet alone with your head buried in a book. You didn’t notice someone watching you or approaching you until you heard the leather seat opposite you squeak a little as your company sat down.

You looked up to see Spencer smiling softly at you.

“What are you reading?” he asked with genuine interest.

You blushed a little chewing your lip, turning the book over in your hands.

“Alice in Wonderland.” you slid the old book across the table to him.

He picked it up cautiously and turned the worn pages.

“First edition.”

“Yeah.” you nodded as he looked back up at you. “It was my dad’s. He used to read it to me when I was young. He passed away a few years ago and it helps me feel close to him.” it was the most open you’d been since joining the team.

Spencer smiled at you sadly and handed you back the book.

“I’m sorry about your dad. But that’s nice you have that.”

“Yeah I suppose it is.”

Emily had stepped out of the store to take a phone call and he had found himself purchasing the necklace. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t help himself.

Garcia had loved her charm, she’d squealed and hugged him so tightly Spencer felt the air being squeezed from his lungs.

She opened the rest of her presents while the rest of the team drank. You and Spencer kept making accidental eye contact and each time you would both smile awkwardly at one another.

You got up from the table to buy a round of drinks. Spencer watched you go. It would be his perfect chance to get to talk to you. He needed to know what was going on. Had you and Mark split up? And if you had, did that mean there was anyway he still stood a chance with you?

He’d wanted to ask for so long but every time he went to say something, the words got stuck in his throat, refusing to leave.

But this time he was determined. He needed to know where he stood once and for all.

At the very least could he get his best friend back?

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like I do

Like me

“Thought you might need a hand.” Spencer sidled up next to you. It was the closest you’d been to one another in almost a year.

“Thanks.” you smiled softly, a little awkwardly.

You looked at each other for a moment, neither of you sure what to say to each other.

Not so long ago the two of you could talk about anything and everything until you were blue in the face. You never ran out of things to talk to each other about. So much had changed.

Spencer reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the small jewelry box. He turned it over in his hand a few times before he held his hand out.

“I saw this when I was getting Garcia’s birthday present and I couldn’t help myself.” he shrugged like it was no big deal.

You chewed your lip as you cautiously took the box from him. You ran your fingers over it for a few seconds before you slowly opened it.

Tears immediately sprang to your eyes as you looked down at the little Alice in Wonderland themed necklace cushioned inside the box.

You looked back up at Spencer with a sniff.

“Spence,” a small tear escaped your eye. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything about you.” he shrugged again.

You sniffed back any more tears that might fall and gently lifted the necklace from the box.

“Could you help me?” you held it out for Spencer who nodded and took the necklace from you.

He unclasped it as you turned around. He gently draped it around your neck and secured it.

You turned back to face him, you fingers on the necklace charm.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I love it.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled. “I hope Mitch doesn’t mind you wearing it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“We broke up.” you didn’t bother to correct him on his name. “A few months ago.”

“Oh.” Spencer tried not to look too pleased about this. “Do you mind me asking why?”

“I think you know why.” you stepped a little closer to him. “He wasn’t the right man for me.”

“Oh.” he squeaked a little. “That’s uhm...I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you aren’t.” you laughed, stepping even closer to him.

You placed your hands carefully on his shoulders and you felt him practically melt into your touch.

“Anyway I’m the one that should be sorry.” you whispered.

“For what?” he croaked, feeling weak at your proximity.

“For choosing the wrong man. I should have known better.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, your body so close he could feel your warmth. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this before, but I have a guilty pleasure for rom-coms.”

“You’ve definitely never told me that before. I would have remembered giving you a hard time for that.” he laughed a little and so did you.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” you nodded. “Anyway, with my extensive knowledge of rom-coms I should have known.”

“Should have known what?” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“That the girl always ends up with the best friend.” and with that you pressed your lips against his.

Spencer immediately took hold of your face in his hands and deepened the kiss.

You didn’t care that your whole team was probably watching. You didn’t care the whole bar could have been watching. All you cared about was Spencer.

When the kiss broke you both had tears in your eyes. You kept your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist to keep you close.

“I never want to have to think about someone else touching you the way I do again Y/N. I want to be the only person who gets to touch you.”

“Ok.” you smiled brightly at him. “But only if I get to be the only person who gets to touch you.”

Spencer laughed, kissing you again.

“That my love,” he smiled. “Is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Is it okay?

That I don’t want

Anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

—————————————————————

Taglist (find my tagist form here if you want to be added) -

All ships and genres -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl

@measure-in-pain

@ptrs-prkrs

@sexy-dumpster-fire

All SR x Reader -

@boxofsparklingmuses

@frickin-bats

@reidandhisgourd

@ukai-hoe

SR x Reader one shots -

@seasonfivereid

@willowrose99

[bangtaninink]

double prompt: “you said there’d be cake. where’s the cake?” + “make me.” + jimin + any au!

DRABBLE NUMBER......... 016 MEMBER............................ park jimin (jimin) AU......................................... sugar daddy

a small bell rings above your head when you walk into the café, which is the first and last bit of normalcy you're going to experience for the rest of the day. the café is almost eerily quiet; there aren't many customers in the vast array of leather seats on the floor, and for the few that are, they sit alone with a newspaper, tablet, or book keeping them company.

it's not hard for you to spot jimin. like always, he's chosen a table close to the corner, but not too far from a window.

"can i help you, miss?" a waiter asks; you don't miss the way she gives you a once-over, the corners of her lips twitching, the question snide and condescending. you're well aware that your messy bun, flannel shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers stick out like a sore thumb in this café, sitting right in the heart of gangnam of all places, but you barely bat an eyelash at the waiter, already used to this.

"no, i'm good; i'm just meeting up wi--"

"_____."

you don't even get to finish your sentence when jimin calls out your name. you marvel, however, at the way the waiter's expression falls in an instant when it dawns on her that you're here for their wealthiest patron, that it's him calling for you, and not the other way around.

"coming," you call out, smiling sweetly at the waiter as you walk past her, leaving her at the front of the café, lips parted in shock, cheeks colouring with embarrassment.

jimin stands when you walk over to his table, smiling, arms outstretched to pull you into his embrace and press a soft kiss to your lips.

"hi," he says.

"hey," you reply, chuckling and sitting down in the seat across from him.

"i'm surprised you said yes to coming out today."

you shrug, saying, "you said there'd be cake. where's the cake?"

jimin rolls his eyes but chuckles, calling for one of the waiters; much to your delight, it's the same waiter from before, clutching a notepad close to her chest.

"how can i help you, sir?" she asks, avoiding meeting your gaze.

"a slice of the red velvet cake, please," jimin says. "and... drink, _____?"

"peppermint tea sounds good," you reply.

"a peppermint tea. that's all, thank you."

the waiter turns to leave, and you flash her a wide smile when she inevitably looks at you, holding back laughter when she lowers head and quickly walks off.

"what was that all about?" jimin asks, eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"hmm? oh, nothing." he waits for you to continue, unconvinced. "okay, fine. she gave me... 'the look' earlier when i came in. no big deal. i was just doing that 'kill them with kindness' thing you told me to do."

jimin puts his cup down, looking calm as ever, but you can see the way he clenches his other hand into a fist, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs.

"she gave you 'the look'?" he repeats, fixing the pleat of his slacks. you laugh softly and shake your head.

"chill."

"no one's allowed to give you any kind of look."

"except you, i assume."

that seems to appease jimin, if the way he settles back into his seat is anything to go by, the corners of his lips turning up slightly.

"except me," he repeats with a soft hum. "how was class?"

"boring," you reply, groaning and thanking the waiter - a different waiter, you both notice - when he sets down your cake and tea. "i'm almost tempted to switch my major entirely."

"i thought speech pathology was, and i quote, 'your calling in life'."

"yeah, well, i'm starting to think twice about that because my professor's a dick."

"one professor shouldn't discourage you from pursuing your greatest passion."

"but it does when it's a mandatory class." you sigh, picking up a bite of cake. "i swear he has it out for everyone. he might be an expert in the field, but the man really needs to work on his people skills. maybe i should switch to business."

"oh, honey, you wouldn't survive business," jimin coos, reaching over to place his hand on yours.

"shut up."

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

"thank you," jimin says, taking back his card, slipping his wallet back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket before taking your hand, leading you out of the café.

"aww, i didn't get to say goodbye to my friend," you say, holding back a grin. you end up laughing anyway when jimin flashes you a look the minute he understands who you're referring to.

"you know, i was gonna say we should go shopping and kill some time before dinner, but i think i'll cancel our reservation and drop you off at your place so you can study."

"tch. make me." you stick out your tongue, scrunching up your nose. "it's friday. you don't study after your last class on a friday. how long has it been since you went to college, old man? surely you're still aware of the unspoken rules of college."

"who're you calling 'old man', grandma?"

"'grandma'?!"

"mhm, i can see a few wrinkles starting to form at the corners of your eyes there."

"wow."

you pull a face, letting go of jimin's hand to walk ahead, ignoring his high-pitched, almost childlike laughter, and the frantic steps that take him back to your side.

"okay, okay. i'm sorry. i was just kidding!" he says, his arms wrapping around your waist and pinning your arms down to your sides as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, where you can feel his smile against your skin. "there are no wrinkles to be seen, i swear to you."

huffing, you turn away from him when he lifts his head up to look at you. with a hum, he dips his head to press kisses all over your neck, chuckling softly when you flinch as his lips graze over the spot he knows you're most ticklish at, loosening his hold on you when you smack his arm.

"you're one to talk about wrinkles at the corner of your eyes," you say, eyes narrowed.

"mmm, but i only have wrinkles there because i'm so busy smiling at you all the time," jimin replies, nosing at your cheek.

"tch. you tell all your girls that?"

"there are no other girls, babe. there's no one else i'd spend eight and a half million Won on a new chanel bag for than you."

"wait. i don't have a chanel bag though," you say, eyebrows furrowed.

"yes you do."

"no, i don't."

"yes," jimin says, chuckling and nodding to the driver to open the car door for you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "you do."

you watch the driver bow his head in greeting before opening the car door, eyes growing wide at the sight of the matte black box, tied with a thick white ribbon, waiting for you on the leather-lined seat.

[justoneofthoseghosts]

Break me + brettsey

A/N: To the anons who requested for this, I tried my best 🥲 Also, you know I love fluff so wow, this was really emotional to write but I do love a challenge so er, grab some tissues maybe.

Warnings: character death

Throughout the years, Sylvie has learned that life isn’t always fair.

No matter how hard she studied for the 2nd grade spelling bee, someone studied harder and got that big, shiny trophy. She had her first kiss at seventeen with a boy she thought she’d love forever but he ended up being a manipulative jerk, just the first of many who turned out to be frogs instead of princes. Her birth mom sought her out and just as they found their footing, she died at child birth.

But this one, it really takes the cake, Sylvie thinks.

She pleaded with Matt to get his cough checked out weeks ago, asking him politely when she noticed it getting more and more frequent. It crept in especially late at night in bed when they were supposed to be sleeping, instead, she would hear him try to stifle it so as not to wake her. He shrugged it off and told her not to worry, which is classic Matt. She should have known. Even after all these years, her husband is still so stubborn.

One night, when the coughing won’t stop, she manages to get through to him and he agrees to go to the ED. Sylvie grabs the car keys and leads him out the door.

They greet the new charge nurse, who brings them into a treatment room. Sylvie doesn’t think much of it as Ethan comes in and they make small talk and catch up with the ED chief, who at 70 seems to show no signs of retiring. He orders a few standard tests. They wheel Matt off to get an x ray while Sylvie goes to grab a snack from the vending machine.

When Ethan finds her forty minutes later, his face is grim. Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach and she knows it’s not just an ordinary cough.

Stage 4 lung cancer.

Matt Casey, retired CFD battalion chief has stage 4 lung cancer.

It’s like a cruel joke. Matt’s never smoked a single cigarette in his life but his career as a firefighter has finally caught up with him - all the fumes, the smoke, the dust have made their way into his lungs. Sylvie doesn’t cry while the oncologist takes them through their options. She’d gladly sit through a hundred rounds of chemo with Matt if needed.

Except he doesn’t want that.

They argue about it for several weeks. Matt says he wants to spend the rest of his days at home, maybe they can rent a cabin in the woods in Michigan where the air is fresh, the sky is blue and they can just be, waiting for the inevitable.

“Matt,” she starts to say, an edge in her tone. They've been going around in circles and Sylvie is ready to put her foot down.

Matt shakes his head, taking her hand and gently telling her what he's been repeating since that day they found out, “I’ve lived a full life. We have these great kids and grandkids. I can’t ask for anything more.”

Sylvie yanks her hand out of his grasp. She's had enough.

“What would you do if it were the other way around?” She yells, her voice trembling slightly. She doesn’t think she’s every screamed at him this loudly in all their years together but she doesn’t want to give up. She needs him to understand.

Matt sighs, running a hand through his now grey hair. After a beat, he looks her in the eye. She knows he can't lie and say he'll take it lying down if she were to tell him what he's been parroting.

“I’d be begging you to get the treatment because I couldn’t bear to live a day without you,” he admits quietly.

They hold each other’s gazes, neither willing to concede.

“Please, Matt,” Sylvie whispers as she feels the tears threatening to fall. She grabs hold of his arm, squeezing it. She needs him to fight, if not for himself then for her because she doesn't think she can handle life without him, not quite yet.

He finally relents, “okay, okay, we’ll get the chemo.”

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. Sylvie burrows deeper into his embrace, sobbing. She cries for the first time since they found out about the cancer and Matt rubs his hand over her back, comforting her.

Sylvie drives Matt to the hospital for his rounds of chemo while he jokes about shaving off his hair. One night, she wakes up to find his side of the bed empty and the light in the bathroom on. She peers in and sees him kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting. She takes a seat beside him and quietly helps him, remembering their wedding vows.

In sickness and in health.

On the side, she starts to volunteer for the CFD’s firefighters cancer network, trying to raise more awareness on the dangers of such a noble job. She cheers with Matt one Spring morning when Gallo, Violet and Ritter decide to run the half marathon in full firefighter gear, in support of the cause. She’s glad that even if they’ve both retired, 51 still remains to be a part of their family.

Six months in, the doctor tells them that the chemo isn’t working as well as he hoped and the prognosis isn’t good. Sylvie still wants to continue but Matt sits her down one night after dinner.

“I think it’s time we just wait this out, Syl.” He tells her gently, interlacing his fingers in hers.

Sylvie wants to say no because this can’t be how it ends for him, someone spent his life saving people is about to succumb to a deadly, incurable disease. It really, truly is unfair.

But at the same time, she understands his request. He doesn’t want to put their family through another roller coaster ride of emotions, of uncertainty, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s saying he wants to take the reins and do it his way.

It reminds Sylvie of that quote from Harry Potter she read when she was younger.

To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

She didn't understand it at all at thirteen but she does now, glancing over at Matt and seeing the steely resolve in his eyes.

They’ve been together for over 30 years. They’ve built a home filled with love and kindness, full of laughter and running blonde children who all grew up to be exceptional adults with thriving careers. They have two wonderful, adorable grandchildren. She remembers what Matt told her, how he’s lived a full life.

She feels a tear slide down her cheek and Matt’s other hand brushes it away. She knows the next word coming out of her mouth will break her heart but she says it anyway because it's what's right.

“Okay.”

There’s something in the air, Sylvie thinks and her soul begins to fill with dread. Today, it seems, is the day. Matt’s been in bed for the last three days, not really able to move or eat much. Without the chemo, the doctor told them he had about three months to live and with each day that passed after that, Sylvie started to feel hope that maybe he had more to give.

It’s been a little over a year since the diagnosis. Sylvie’s trying to read a book while Matt is taking a nap. She’s distracted by her thoughts but hears him whisper.

“I think it’s time.”

She nods, her lower lip quivering. She approaches him and kisses the top of his head before making her way out of the room to make a few phone calls.

The house starts to fill with family and friends arriving to say their last good byes. Their kids are here, surrounding their dad and telling stories about how Matt always put them first no matter what. The remaining members of their second shift at 51 start to trickle in one by one. Sylvie told them it was going to be a celebration of Matt’s life, how she didn’t want them to mope around because it isn’t what he would want so they laugh and jest until late in the evening.

Matt kisses his grandkids one last time before they leave and Sylvie climbs into bed with him. He rests his head on her shoulder as she holds his hand and watches his eyes flutter close and his breathing gradually stop.

Sylvie recollects their many years together - growing from friends to something deeper, the first time Matt swung like Tarzan from the aerial after they got together and Sylvie telling him never to do it again and of course he did many more time and she never really stopped worrying, buying a house, their wedding day, the birth of their children, sending off each kid to preschool up until watching them graduate from college, meeting their grandchildren for the first time, celebrating personal and professional milestones together, cheering each other on.

She looks at her husband’s still form thinking yes, it has been a full life.

[theliterateape]

We Killed Jason Todd

By Matt Markman

In 1988 my friends and I killed a kid.

He was just a boy really. We had help it wasn’t just me and my pals. there were adults involved, lots of them. I mean we were young we were just thirteen and really couldn’t comprehend the ramification of our actions, the adults knew what they were doing. I’m painting it to sound way more sinister than it was, and in today’s society, wouldn’t trend on Twitter but maybe in the ’80s, it was probably considered quite ominous.

To set your mind at ease, it was Jason Todd. You know, Batman's sidekick, The Boy Wonder, Robin—well, the second Robin anyways. And I helped kill him.

I was big into comic books but my favorite was, The Dark Knight, The Caped Crusader, The Batman… He donned the best costume, he had all the money and was the most intelligent of all the superheroes. That last trait right there, the fact that he was considered a superhero and he had no actual super powers made him cooler than the other side of the pillow. You know how The Big Bang Theory has convinced the world it’s an Emmy-winning sitcom worth watching? I think it’s the fact that Batman was someone any one of us could actually be. Sure we needed to start with a base coat of genius followed by a splash of handsome billionaire playboy then train overseas in martial arts for several years, but if you had those things you, too, could be a vigilante. You ask me today and I'd stand by the fact that Batman would beat Superman in a fight, say ten out of ten times. This is not debatable because super beings from another planet are not real.

My favorite thing about Batman, though, is his ability to balance out good and evil. He spawned one of the greatest comic book villains and fictional characters ever created, The Joker. They have tried and tried again but in my opinion never got close to the Clown Prince of Crime—maybe Negan from The Walking Dead, he's pretty ruthless. The Joker is what would happen if a stand-up comedian became a criminal mastermind, so basically the plot of the 2019 film Joker.

My love for Joker made sense because growing up I was always more into the bad guys than the good guys. Watching and playing with G.I.Joe, I was always on the side of Cobra Commander, the twins Tomax and Xamot, and Zartan because they were always more glamorous and eye-catching than the boring ass Joes. Just once, I’d like that “knowing is half the battle” part at the end of the cartoon to have been Storm Shadow giving us kids a tip on how to fuck up Shipwreck and his stupid Parrot. Megatron, Skeletor, Shredder, Mumm-ra…

The list goes on, but the antagonists always resonated with me. they had a much better and more intriguing agenda than the good guys did. I know that wasn't the purpose, we were supposed to cheer on the good guys, like the idea of saving the world and all, but the mayhem… It’s like Alfred Pennyworth said, “Some men just want to watch the world burn.” It’s odd because the bad guys in my life were real, the bullies and I didn't like them at all. They tormented me daily unprovoked because I was short and had big ears. Perhaps my love for the dark side stemmed for my desire to be on that side because in real life there was no Superman swooping in to rescue me from the clutches of Lex Luthor. 

There were two sides, and good had a lack of champions looking out for the weaker, smaller good guys. The bad guys in my neighborhood, well, they were real and never really foiled and more importantly, they always got the girl in the end. Fuck the good guys!

My admiration for evildoers achieving their agenda was tested in 1988, Batman was running a four-part series called A Death in the Family. It was your typical Batman arc. Somehow, The Joker was going to get the upper hand on The World’s Greatest Detective only to be bested in the end by Batman. But this time, the third comic decided to do something nobody had never seen in the industry. The writers were going to give the fans the opportunity to decide where they were going to go with the story, only it was an option between two different roads, one quite unconventional. Apparently a few years earlier, one of the writers, Dennis O'Neil, had seen a sketch they did on SNL where Eddie Murphy held up a Lobster—Larry the Lobster—and was asking viewers to decide whether Larry was boiled and eaten or was to be set free. The choices were offered in the form of two phone numbers both costing fifty cents a call. One number was a vote for him to be freed and the other number was a vote for Larry to be murdered, smothered in butter, and devoured by Axel Foley. Ultimately, after nearly 500,000 calls, the people voted for Larry the lovable lobster to be pardoned with a 12,000 call margin. The popularity of this bit intrigued O'Neil and A few years later he decided to implement it in his Death in The Family storyline.

In the third book, The Joker had taken Batman's sidekick, the Boy Wonder, hostage. He’d beaten him bloody with a crowbar leaving a cliffhanger to be wrapped up in the fourth book. The last page of the comic was full page and at the top read in true ’80s Do the Right Thing fashion: “Robin will die because The Joker wants revenge, but you can prevent it with a telephone call!” They even phrased it to steer you down the hero’s path, like you can literally be Batman with one phone call. Underneath the imploring verbiage were two numbers, dial one number; The Joker fails and Robin lives, Batman would once somehow saves the day. However, call this other number and The Joker succeeds and Robin dies. Gruesomely.

Wow! They were going to let the fans decide the fate of Robin, really this was one of my earliest introductions to a reality voting competition type show. In my opinion, it was a bad idea. Robin was always the worst. Go back and read through an adventure or two involving Jason Todd and tell me he wasn't always whiney and bellyaching. He was never going to be iconic or cool like Bruce Wayne or even his predecessor Dick Grayson—the first Robin. See, Dick got pissed off, decided he was tired of being in Batman's shadow, ditched the Robin costume, threw on a black blue and gold costume, moved to another city and became Nightwing. Dick was a go getter, ambitious. Grayson’s Robin was a winner, Todd's Robin was an irritating little bitch; he was not an innocent lobster.

I went to my mother and asked if I could make a call that was going to cost just fifty cents and I would pay her back or she could just take it out of my allowance. She wanted to know what it was for and mostly wanted to confirm it wasn't for an adult sex line, which costs more than fifty cents a minute, but that’s a different story. It was nothing as tawdry as phontercourse, I just wanted to help murder an annoying teenage sidekick. My mother response was “Oh, yeah, that’s fine.”

I think after it was exposed that it wasn't phone sex anything else I said went in one ear and out the other, surely she didn't think I was actually voting for a plucky comic book sidepiece to be murdered by The Joker. So that’s what I did. I cast my vote along with a majority of DC comic book fans that shared my detest for the boy wonder. Ten thousand votes were recorded with a narrow margin going to Robin dying. I think the writers never suspected that fans would go that route.

O’Neal himself voted for Robin’s stay of execution. A man of his word, Batman issue #429 was released and Robin was killed by The Joker in an explosion and we were to blame for it. Sad to say but you give a bunch of comic book nerds the power I think it would go bad every time. That day we were all proud to be The Joker's henchmen. I felt like a soldier at the end of Star Wars cheering madly while The Joker received his metal shouting, “I helped that happen!”

So many shows these days embrace our fascination with the anti-hero with the success of The Sopranos, The Shield, Breaking Bad, hell Narcos had me rooting for Pablo Escobar—Pablo fucking Escobar. I wouldn't say I was a bad person growing up. Quite the contrary, I was a shy nerd with no power to do anything but pick my books up after they were smacked to the ground. What I’m saying is don't give me the power to make important life or death decisions with your franchise because myself and the other dorks will have the bodies of Orko, Snarf, and Jimmy Olson lying in a shallow grave, just tell me what number to dial… or text.

Matt started performing standup comedy in 2004 in Las Vegas and is now a regular at every major comedy club on the Las Vegas strip. He released his first comedy album in 2016 titled Uncut available on iTunes. More about Matt and his upcoming appearances can be found on MattMarkman.com.

[procrastinatorimagines]

What If...

Fandom: Chicago Fire / One Chicago

Pairing: Matt Casey x Severide!Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 2,060

Request: Hi would it be possible if I requested a Matt Casey one shot where she’s Kelly’s half sister and she’s new paramedic the firehouse. One night she tells Blake how she’s always had a crush on Matt and he overhears her. What happens when he kisses her in front of everyone at the firehouse?

Being Kelly Severide’s half-sister meant that the entire firehouse treated you basically the same; even though you weren’t that much younger they looked out of you like you were their kid sister. 

Kelly had just started working at 51 when you’d found out about him. Your dad, Benny, hadn’t exactly always been around, but when you’d told him you were moving to Chicago, he’d finally told you about your brother. It had been a shock, and you’d been angry that he’d kept it from you for so long, but you were glad to have a sibling, and you and Kelly had clicked right away.

Eventually he’d started to introduce you to the guys at the firehouse, including one Matt Casey, and you’d been crushing on him ever since. You’d tried not to, he only saw you as Kelly’s sister and nothing more, but you’d always been pretty close with him since you met, and you’d never been able to get over the feelings.

Now you were a paramedic there, and it had just gotten worse. You hadn’t applied for 51 specifically when you’d made it through training, moving from your nursing job at Med, but Boden had requested your transfer there to fill a spot on ambo 61. 

Everyone had welcomed you to 51, especially Casey, although Kelly had originally been hesitant about his little sister being out on the frontlines and in the line of literal fire. But you were a natural, and he’d soon put those fears to rest. 

It had been a few months now, and you found yourself lying on the bunk next to Gallo on a particularly slow shift, discussing his complicated relationship with Violet. “You asked her to marry you?” You laughed in disbelief, turning your head to face him from where you had been staring at the ceiling. Gallo was filling in on ambo with you for the day, Sylvie taking some personal time out to visit her new sister, and you’d both crashed in the bunk room to chat after a couple of very boring wellness checks. 

“Look, it wan’t- I wasn’t serious, it was the heat of the moment- I don’t know okay?” Gallo rambled, definitely kicking himself for being so stupid. “I should just fake my death and move to a different country, I’m such an idiot.”

You laughed even more, glad you weren’t in his shoes as he tried to navigate whatever his relationship with Violet was. “Okay, enough about me, what about you? You got anyone? I won’t tell your brother I swear,” Gallo promised with a grin, changing the subject away from his embarrassment. You might have called him out on it and kept the conversation going, but you knew he was already getting it from Ritter and Cruz, so you didn’t push it anymore.

“Me? Nah, living the single life,” you answered, mind going to your ever present and annoying crush on Casey as you picked at the cuffs of your sleeves, grey CFD sweater a size too large.

Gallo caught the distant look in your eyes, “...but there is someone you like?” He asked slowly, your turn to feel embarrassed as you felt your cheeks heat up. Were you that obvious? “Oh, there totally is!”

You and Gallo had become good friends, both having joined the station at around the same time, even though you’d known everyone else for years, you’d still been navigating the place together. Could you tell him this? You hadn’t told anyone, especially not your brother, but you wanted to get it off your chest. 

Gallo gave you an encouraging look, and you knew he wouldn’t let it go now, and you didn’t want him trying to find out when you weren’t alone, so you took a breath and told him after casting a final look to Casey and your brother’s dark offices. 

“I might... have a little thing for Matt,” you said quietly, nervously awaiting his reaction as he eyes went wide.

“Captain Casey!?” Gallo gasped as he sat up, way too loud for your liking. You put your finger to your lips and shushed him, sitting up so that you were facing him.

“Would you keep it down? I don’t want the entire firehouse to know,” you slapped his knee a little and he nodded, still visibly amused. “Look, I- I’ve had feeling for him for a long time, but it was never going to happen then, and it certainly isn’t going to happen now, I mean, I’ve always just been Kelly’s kid sister and now I actually work at the firehouse.” 

“Why did you never go for it before?” He asked, and you couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it. What if he said yes? What if he said no? You’d played countless scenarios in your head as you’d had a drink with him at Molly’s, worked with him at Med or spent time with him at 51 and Kelly’s, but reality was a lot more daunting. 

“Because he’s... Matt, even when he wasn’t my superior he was still my brother’s best friend, I’d have better luck at trying to cross a mine field with an aweful lot of mines unscathed,” you told him, running your hands through your hair. You’d untied it when you lay down, but now you figured your put it back up for something to do with your hands other than self-consciously pick at your sleeves.

“Maybe he likes you too and he has the same fears as you do, namely the wrath of Lieutenant Severide, not that I could blame him,” Gallo suggested as you shook your head.

“Oh yeah, because that’s likely,” you said sarcastically and he raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘you never know’, “I’d rather just try to get past it without making anything wierd, it’s my problem not his.”

Gallo was about to reply when the alarm bell sounded, a pile up that required all vehicles to attend. You and Gallo jumped up and headed for the door, but not before you caught sight of Casey emerging from his quarters.

Your stomach dropped at the realisation that he’d been in there the entire time. His light had been off and his door had been open a crack so you’d naturally assumed he wasn’t in there, but he must have gone in there for a nap before you and Gallo got back from your wellness checks. 

Praying he had been asleep the entire time you made your way to 61, Gallo giving you an ‘oops’ look as Casey headed past you both to Truck, but the look in his eyes when they briefly met your told you that that was wishful thinking, he’d heard you alright.

You did your best to compartmentalise that as you climbed into the drivers seat next to Gallo, you had a job to focus on, you’d have time to think about faking your death with Gallo and fleeing the country in embarrassment later. 

-

Fires out, people safe, no casualties; one crisis averted, one more to deal with. Gallo had tried to reassure you that Casey hadn’t heard any of it on the drive back, but he wasn’t even managing to convince himself, let alone you. 

So you’d made a beeline straight for the showers when you got back, going out of your way to avoid Casey in what little time you had left on shift. Who knew, he might just forget all about it?

Alas, he didn’t. You’d nearly made it out, making your way into the crisp morning air as the sun came up, just wanting to get back to your car and bury yourself under your covers, forgetting all about what had happened. Then Casey had caught up with you.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up a second,” Casey called from behind you, the sound of quick footsteps approaching as reached you. You swallowed, ignoring your feeling of dread as you turned to face him.

“Hey... er... what’s up?” Smooth Y/N, really subtle, you thought to yourself as you mentally ran through potential names to put on your fake passport. Casey gave you a small, conscious smile, and you knew he wanted to bring up what he’d overheard you say earlier, but didn’t know how. Neither did you, which led to a very awkward few seconds where you imaged the ground swallowing you whole. 

Finally, Casey spoke up. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I heard my name and I was going to come out but then I heard... more and I thought it would be better if I just stayed in my office, and then the bell went off-” He stammered. 

Turns out it wasn’t the whole firehouse that heard Gallo practically yell Casey’s name, just Casey himself. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t try to- I don’t know what I’m trying to say honestly, obviously I never meant for you to hear that and I don’t want this to be weird or anything so if we could just like pretend I never said anything and-” You were talking way too fast but you couldn’t help it. Casey had said your name a couple of times as you spoke, to try and get you to slow down or stop but you’d just kept going.

So instead, he’d tried a different method of shutting you up, and he kissed you. You stumbled back a little, very much surprised and caught off guard, Casey stepping back quickly as your brain tried to process what had just happened, mouth moving slightly but no words coming out. You probably looked like you were short-circuiting.

“Just to clear up any doubts about how I feel,” he told you, hand still lingering on your arm as you regained your senses. In all the fantasy scenarios you’d run through in your head, Casey kissing you was better than you could have expected. 

“Wow, okay,” you said, unsure of how to respond but Casey chuckled a little and you began to relax, matching his smile, very much forgetting that you were both still just outside of the firehouse. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” a voice said intentionally loudly and you and Casy jumped, looking away from each other towards the source, Kelly. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw clenched as he stared at his best friend, and then his sister. 

You risked a glance behind Kelly, to see that your kiss had been very public indeed, basically the entire firehouse kind of public. Gallo even gave you a thumbs up and you would have laughed if your brother wasn’t standing so close, looking like he was debating punching Casey.

Stella was giving you a look that was a mix of support and sympathy, but she rightfully wasn’t inserting herself into this, the rest of the firehouse seemingly waiting for Severide’s reaction before they said anything. 

“The hell took you guys so long?” You brother said finally, to the shock of both you and Casey as a smirk spread across Kelly’s face. Casey’s shoulders visibly relaxed and you let out a little sigh of relief. Were you confused? Yes. Were you going to dare question it? No chance. 

“You’re not... mad?” Casey did dare and Kelly laughed, shaking his head.

“Why would I be mad? Okay, sure, in the beginning when I realised you guys were into each other? Yeah, I was mad, but I’ve had years to get over that,” he told you both as you caught Cruz reluctantly handing Stella what looked like a twenty. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, glad he wasn’t mad as you glanced at Casey, a grin on his face as Kelly offered out his hand to shake as some kind of sign of approval. 

Casey shook it as Kelly added: “hurt her we’ll all bury you,” he informed his Captain matter-of-factly with a head nod towards the rest of the firehouse who sounded their agreement.

“I’d expect nothing less,” Casey replied immediately as Kelly winked in your direction. 

“Walk you back to your car?” Casey offered, probably wanting a little bit more privacy to talk, and you quickly accepted, going red from the attention, following him away from the firehouse as Kelly jokingly made a sign that meant ‘I’ll be watching you’ in Casey’s direction. 

All in all, not the day you had been expecting, not that you were complaining.

[eddsworld-headies]

i was wondering if u could do a tord/tom with a female reader that dresses really baggy-VERY TOMBOYISH but is decked out with all types of rings and chains. doesn’t dress girly but still barely wears makeup and likes to have pretty nails at the same time.

Oh wow what a coincidence my-- OC IS JUST LIKE THAT HAHA WELL SINCE YOU ASKED MIGHT AS WELL RIGHT??

--------

Tom huffed loudly, not noticing that Tord had helped himself to sitting at the kitchen table to watch him press his forehead to the window, looking outside. He simply stayed silent, watching the brit get frustrated while opening and closing cabinets.

"Lose something?"

Tom groaned, slamming the cupboard door and turning round and facing the Norwegian with a sneer. "Screw off. I don't need you chewing my ear off." He replied grumpily, moving towards the living room and giving a quick glance around. " What, did you lose something in the bottom of your flask? Other than your self-worth?"

"EDD!" Tom shouted, making Tord roll his eyes as he stood up, following Tom as he moved up the stairs. "Jesus, don't be such a tattletail. I'll stop bothering you." "This isn't about you, Commie."

The two stopped in Edd's doorway, Tom holding onto the edge of the door trim as he leaned in. The leader of the group was jamming to some tunes at his drafting table, tablet pen in hand and hoodie wrapped around his waist.

His room was messy, seeing as he wasn't the only one occupying the room now that their newest addition moved in from America and needed a place to stay.

"Hey," Tom said loudly, moving in and lightly slapping Edd's shoulder, the tallest of the group shifting his eyes over before lifting his left earbud out. " Where's your sister?" The black eyed man asked." Huh?" "Your sister, dude, where is she?" " I dunno. She's your girlfriend, keep better track." "It's not like I have a tracker on her or something." "Then maybe you should invest in one." Edd retorted, settling his earbud back in his ear.

"Thanks for the help." The dirty blonde scoffed, pushing the second ginger of the house to the side and moving past him. "Oh!" Edd said, pulling out his earbud once more. "If you figure it out, let me know!" "Whatever!"

"You seem ever worried today," Tord started, continuing to follow the other-- much to his annoyance. " What? You fuck something up again?" " Fuck off. I haven't seen her all day. I'm just worried, Dick." "It's not like she can't take care of herself." "I know that. But she's a fucking dumbass with an impulse disorder and a can of pepper spray. Plus 4 years of law enforcement and dumb fucking defense classes in a tiny 5 foot package. The girl thinks she's indestructible and that doesn't go well with her--" "Tendency to do dumb fucking shit?" "That's putting it lightly. I guess getting into trouble runs in the family."

Tom perked up when the front door opened, Matt walking in with his hands behind his back as a much shorter figure following behind.

"Fuck, there you are-- What's with your hair?" Tom asked, moving toward his girlfriend, who's impossibly short cut hair almost replicated her brother's. " It's windy. And of course someone had to put the top down." She said, green eyes narrowing at the freckled ginger who was smiling brightly. "Oh, but look how good my hair is!" Matt whined, trying to get a bit of sympathy from his best friend's sister.

It was times like this that Tom realized, without her snake bites and brow piercing, their were only a few differences to Edd and his sister. Besides the accents, they could be twins if her eyes were a different color. And you know... If she wasn't a fucking twig.

Tom can remember how hilarious he thought the two were where they were younger. Sure, they weren't as big as they were now, but seeing this skinny short stack next to a guy like Edd and claiming them to be siblings was hilarious. But they looked a like, identical traits in each but separate none the less.

He had to admit, seeing his girlfriend without her hair pushed back was a little odd. She rarely wore it in a cowlick like her brother.

"Okay. Where did you two go off too?" He asked, noticing that the only girl in the house hand her hands shoved into the pockets of her blue zip up hoodie. The red long sleeve down to her wrists while the blue sleeves of her jacket were up to her elbows, and her tan pants and sneakers were slightly muddy. Practically all the cuffs of her pants were dirty, since she usually liked to go through puddles and mud rather than walk around a foot or two.

"We went to the mall!" Matt exclaimed, suddenly thrusting his hands into Tom's face. The shorter flinched, grabbing Matt's wrists and pushing them away to get a look at his hands. His nails were long, at least an inch and a half, and bright purple with butterflies and hearts. They were rectangles at the top and wrapped pretty nicely in a white french tip. "Aren't my nails gorgeous?"

"Yeah, their great," Tom said, letting his wrists go. " And why did you need to get your nails done?" "They were so dull before! I can't be this perfect and have dull nails! Plus, we got a 5% coupon!" Matt explained. Tom looked over to his girlfriend. " And how much did this cost?"

" 63 pounds each." She answered, her boyfriend raising a pierced brow. "Each?"

"Ah! Well yes, of course! I simply couldn't have a spa day all to myself," The ginger said as Tord took a seat on the couch, messing with his phone. "Sooo, I invited Bridget to come along!" He said, grabbing her hands out of her own pockets and revealing her nails. Long and sharp, deep blue with little piercings on them and a little blue marbling.

She smiled guiltily as Tom's eyes widened. "I mean- I couldn't not." She defended. "Bride- Baby, You're an All-star, really-" "Ah yes, just what every girl wants to hear." She teased lightly, fully knowing neither were at the "I love you stage" yest so finding a compromise was hard. "Yeah yeah- But... You're the clumsiest person I know. And you chew nail polish off your nails. In what world is this a good idea?"

Bridget blew air as her ran her hands through her hair, the front lightly sticking up in her normal do but half deflated without hair gel. " There is none- But! Listen to this!" She said excitedly, moving towards the wall and clicking her nails repeatedly on it with a wide smile, the noise loud and slightly satisfying. " Eh? Right? Isn't that great?" She asked. Tord sat up, laughing lightly. "You game for a living and the first thing you do is get acrylics-?" Bridget shushed him, moving over and running her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp as his face scrunched up.

"Don't think about the future, think about the now." "OH gOd that's horrible!" Tord groaned, cringing but laughing at the odd feeling. "Fuck it feels like your scratching my brains!" Tom rolled his pitch black eyes. " You're gonna hate those in two hours." He insisted, watching her creep closer. "Okay. I'm hearing you," She said. " But in my defense...."

Bridget moved forward, wiggling her fingers in her boyfriends face. "These are fucking sick." She whispered, her nails lightly scratching at his stubble and making his laugh and pull back from the ticklish feeling. " Fuck that's absolute shit." He chuckled, face scrunching as Edd jumped down the stairs.

"Hey! I knew I heard you-" His eyes widened as they landed on his sister, the siblings locked in a staring contest as she slowly moved her hand away, this time towards her brother.

"What the hell are those?" "Edddyyyy," "Don't you dare." "EEEEEddddddyyyy," "Bridget, I swear to god if you touch me with those things-" " I think you need a back scratch, Eddy bo' Beddy." "Get away from me you fucking dwarf!"

///////////

Tom groaned as he scratched his stomach, lazily flipping out the band of his sweatpants so he didn't have to tie them as he went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door, goosebumps forming over his chest as he reached in to grab the milk. He kicked the door close with his foot and turned to fill his glass, jumping out of his skin at the figure in the arch way to the living room and hall.

"Jesus-! Damn it, Bridget! The hell are you doing?" He asked, hand over his chest as she stared at him, eyes slightly bloodshot and wide as she stood in the arch way, his blue hoodie down to her thighs and the peaks of dinosaur boxers underneath. Her hair was spiked up now, only slightly ruffled. " Did you just finish your stream?"

"Seventy-eight," She said shakily. " Seventy-eight fffffucking run-throughs, because my fucking nails! Keep getting caught!" She whispered- but it was more of a stage whisper with her theatrics as she held her hands out awkwardly. " I want them off, Thomas." Tom stared at her for a moment, eyes wide as she looked at him with a death glare.

"..Uhhhhh," He dragged. ".... There's a Buzzsaw in the attic?"

//////

haha I really just wrote a short with my Oc in it cause I have that kinda power so suck it

( But if ya'll really want an x reader one I can write another one. It'll litterally be the same though I have a bunch more asks to get through)

[secretshinigami]

Tangle

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: Near/Mello/Matt Rating/Warnings: G Prompt: “mello with even longer hair, braided in some cool style” + “mello x matt x near college AU shenanigans (can be ship or gen)” Author’s notes: ok so you have no idea how hard i hand flapped when i saw your prompt - and then your name. aka i wrote a thing for you last sse which was a very very perfect companion piece for the one i’m gifting you rn. lots of love <333333333

————————

“Matt. Are you trying to tell me something ?” Mello asks.

“Me ? Communicating ? I’ll have you know that hasn’t happened since the great fire of the library of Alexandria. I was devastated and vowed to never speak again, which I would have fully respected had you not decided to spawn a few centuries later to torment me.”

Mello is tempted to chuck the pair of scissors to his face, but that would probably be dangerous. They are adorned with a little bow and a note that says “Put them to good use !” in tidy, loopy letters.

A snicker rises from the then-two-now-triple bed, a small white head emerging from under the blanket. “I see you’ve found my present.”

“Near, I’ll ask this once and once only: why in hell would you ever think I’d cut my hair ?”

They’ve been growing it out very, very patiently ! It took months ! After the incident and the fact that the hospital had to shave most of it off, adding to the fact there’s now a bald scar patch on the side of their head, Mello tried really really hard to gain a sense of… self-love ? Looking at their face in the mirror was never a chore before.

Feeling the wind blow through their now quite long hair had been amazing.

“It goes into my mouth when we sleep,” Near answers. “I’m tired of waking up and having to spit it all out.”

Mello has half a mind to tell him that if he doesn’t like it that much, he just has to not cuddle up to them in his sleep, but that’s unfair - and also unwanted. Mello quite likes waking up to Matt and Near snuggled up so close to them that they feel loved in a way only kids can feel, with their utmost certainty in the good of this world. It’s a nice warmth, spreading from their chest to their toes.

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll tie them up.”

“What ?” Matt almost yells from his place on the floor, a true cave troll. “I’ve been trying to make you do that for months and you always said you hated it ! And Near doesn’t even have to ask ? I haven’t lived that long to be disrespected in this way. I am appalled, I am betrayed, in my own home-”

“You don’t even go to this uni,” Mello usefully provides.

“Fiend. Rascal. I’m looking up hair braiding tutorials right this instant.”

“Oh, let me join,” Near asks, and soon enough, the two friends are completely ignoring Mello’s fuming, too busy looking at EveryDayHairInspiration videos on Youtube, her chipper voice filling the room with detailed instructions.

Nothing more comes of it. Or at least, that’s what Mello thinks, because they haven’t been jumped on and tied to a chair, where Matt’s deft fingers - and Near’s less deft fingers but keen memory - will wreak havoc on their admittedly finicky strands. They have thin, blond hair, though they know not who in their family passed on those genes. The woes of being adopted. It is almost impossible to comb, in spite of their best efforts and the KeraCare Hydrating Detangling Shampoo that Matt surreptitiously bought and sneaked into the bathroom, but that does not deter them.

Nor does the ever growing “Mello’s hair collection” that Matt keeps, like a creep, “So I can sell it when you become a best-selling author of course !” Mello thinks it’s for doll-making purposes, should he take offence to something they did and want to stab them in a more discreet fashion.

In any case, it’s been a few weeks when Mello comes back to the dorm room to find it in a state of upheaval it hasn’t known since Near arrived. There’s at least three cans of hairspray, a million and a half elastic ties of various shapes and sizes, and an office chair. Mello has been complaining about not having a chair to be able to work at the table, but Matt had always whined that it was “unnecessary, and would take up too much space”.

“Mels ! You’re here !” says the obvious culprit. “I borrowed Mikami’s chair, I hope he doesn’t mind.”

Incredible. The chair isn’t even going to stay !

“Will you come in ?” Near smiles, absolutely delighted at Mello’s crumpled features. “We’ve set up the hair salon.”

“Wow, you two have ambition,” they mock. Mello does feel a little bit of terror at the twin gleams in their eyes.

Near simply ushers them towards the seat, detangling lotion ready, and he begins applying ungodly amounts of it while Matt combs through their hair with vigour. It does feel quite nice, Mello muses, to be pampered like they’re worth it. The amount of sappiness can be felt in the air, the love pouring from their friends right onto them making them feel giddy.

“You okay, Mello ?”

They don’t even know who said it. They startle awake, wondering when they even started to doze off, and Matt laughs heartily at their dazed-out face.

“Oh my god, Mels, you look like you’re in heaven.”

“Mrrgh,” they muster the courage to say. 

“Eloquent.”

“Shut up, Near…” 

The energy isn’t quite there, though.

A few moments pass by while Near and Matt keep twisting their hair in weird ways, the tingling sensation on their scalp never nearing pain with how careful they are. And then-

“Ta-da !” Matt says, happy as can be.

“We did good work,” Near concurs. “Wait, I have a mirror.”

Mello sure hopes so. Truth be told, they’re quite curious to see what the other two managed to do. Matt makes them close their eyes, spinning the chair for good measure, and Near laughs airily in the background, hands flapping a little.

“Open your eyes !”

They do. At first, they almost don’t see it - their hair is gathered on their right side, as usual. But then they notice the subtle ways in which their hair glows under the light, a small black hair tie at the bottom keeping it together.

Somehow, they manage not to let those annoying tears flow.

“They like it !” Matt whoops.

Near relaxes - he seemed unsure of their reaction, but Matt knows how to read them perfectly, and he knows, he just knows. The force of habit.

The braid stays on for about two days. Mello keeps forgetting it’s there and running their fingers through their hair only to have them tangled in the braid, or turning too fast and flinging it in someone’s face. Near eventually undoes it when they whine about washing their hair, though it returns soon after. He cuddles closer now - Mello feels their heart jump each time they wake up to their two loves, if they can say the word, and they remember that moment throughout the day when they play with the twists.