#That business with blade sounds super fucked up

[captain-lovelace]

Playing Nu Carnival and I haven’t started the recent event or gotten anywhere close to finishing the story yet (stuck on the bear fight in Blade’s chapter) but I’m gonna be honest Huey sounds like he fucking sucks

[tryingtofindava]

i saw the tyler fic u did where instead of him being impale, it was his gf! do you think u could do that but with aiden’s gf and the ceiling? 🫶

── SHE HIT THE FLOOR! NEXT THING YOU KNOW!

{[AIDEN CLARK X FEM! READER]}

A/N: is the title lyrics from Low by Flo Rida? Yes. Do I think I’m hilarious for this? Also yes.

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

Covering Ashlyn’s ears with your own shaking hands as she trembles from the crazily loud bangs coming from Taylor’s shotgun.

Watching as she shoots the ever loving fuck out of the creepy massive centipede. “… Yeah, uh- Tay, it stopped moving.” Aiden nodded with an uncomfortably big smile, though his semi assuring words fell upon deaf ears.

Giving her a thumbs up as he’s crouched right beside you while you help Ash, having a hand on your shoulder and giving you light squeezes to comfort you or himself, you couldn’t tell.

Taylor upon taking notice that creature is in fact dead…. Hopefully… She lowers the gun as Logan comes up behind her, grabbing her shaking hand soothingly. “We need to hurry in case it recovers.” He spoke reassuringly to the panting Taylor.

Watching the others rummage around the small office while you stood watch at the doorway, was a stressful experience having to keep watch to make sure no phantoms got in and keeping watch over Tyler (who was getting patched up by Ben).

.And no one could find the keys… “Where are they?!” Taylor seethed, slamming shut another keyless drawer.

“Coach must’ve moved them again!” The brunette complained while starting to sigh through another drawer. “Does he move them often?” Ashlyn asked doing her own searching.

“Yeah, because idiots like Jay and Conner keep messing with them!” She scoffed. You would’ve giggled at Taylor being so frustrated for what seems like the first time ever if it wasn’t for your current situation.

You were leaning against Aiden who was fiddling with his army knife, flicking the blade out and flicking it back. “I feel a minor sense of Deja-vu.” He murmured in your ear while smiling to himself. It never failed to amaze you how your boyfriend could always smile no matter what was going on around him. “We have 3 minutes left,..” Logan called out.

Ashlyn perked up at a certain sound her super hearing picked up on, she looked over at you and Aiden. “Guys, there’s a straggler.” Carrot-top warned. Aiden sniggers, nudging you “Yeah, I can hear it running.”

And with that he stabbed the smiling demon monster right in the face, making you cringe at the disgusting squelch sound it made pulling the knife out of the phantoms face. “Got it!” Aiden hummed enthusiastically, skipping over to Ash to show her the black substance it left on his knife.

She of course rolled her eyes, ignoring the blondes antics, her eyes falling back to you. “Is there anymore, Y/n?” She quipped in curiosity.

You peaked out the door, looking left and then right. “Uhhh… nope, we’re good.” You answered, looking over your shoulder at her.

The walls and ground shook, “Huh…?” You mutter to yourself in confusion. “EVERYONE GET UNDER SOMETHING!” You heard someone yell, you were too busy keeping yourself balanced to register anything else in the moment.

POP

The last thing you saw was Aiden reaching out to you, before the ceiling collapsed. “Y/N!” He shrieked, racing towards you. That’s when it all went black.

“C’mon! Get her under the table!” Taylor helped Aiden carry you to the table, everyone crawling under it. Logan, Ben and Taylor hiding under the desk on the other side of the room.

Aiden cradled your body in his arms, rocking back and fourth with he was staring at your face in horror. Blood was leaking from your forehead, and it was also trickling from your nose.

Aiden was on the verge of tears as she wiped the blood from your nose, that’s when he noticed your eyes were wide open and an unsettling grin stretched across your face.

In the real world Aiden shoots up from his sleeping spot, looking around the room until his eyes fell on your shaking form. “Y/N!” He yelled out again. Which caught the attention from the adults in the room over, including your parents/parental figure.

Before he could even get to you, the adults were already around you. Trying to assist your violently thrashing form. You coughed and wheezed, “I’m okay! I’m fine!” You assured the adults, while also trying to calm your heart and and breathing. “-M okay, really…!”

Aiden pounced on you, hugging you tightly, muttering incoherent words while pressing small pecks to your hair and forehead. You leaned into his touch, tears welling up in your own eyes just like his own.

“Don’t scare me like that again.” It was the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so serious…

[yeshnimwrites]

| smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | forbidden romance | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: this chapter contains sensitive content for the readers with a hint of sexual scene.

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩 Desperate Love

Previous Part: Part 1

Part 2:

“Why? Did they pick a fight with you?” June asked genuinely without taking his eyes off to the group of men standing in front of us.

“Isn’t that the Sabbath Crew?”

“Out of all places, they chose to come where? I wonder why…”

“Shit, is this a fight between the Hummingbird?”

“Where’s the teachers?!”

I noticed how the boys around me altered their stance, the dark aura surrounding them. As if they’re mentally and physically prepared to fight back.

Wooin’s eyes landed on me, I could feel his deadly glares on my body and it sent chills on my skin. His face was full of hatred, a sign that told me that I betrayed him. I clenched my fists and avoided my glance away from him. Joker and Vinny were here. And it seems like Vinny didn’t want to come here but he was forced to.

“What is it this time huh? Do you want to continue our unfinished business this time?” Dom said as he walked closer to them. Joker did the same, towering him over with this huge height.

“Shut up, moron. You got something that’s mine. Yeshina, come here now.” Wooin said as he turned his back, expecting me to follow them but I stayed on my feet.

“I don’t want to, just leave me alone.” I almost begged, they wouldn’t make a scene here right?

“Do you know them? Why would they want you to come with them?” June asked as he put his body in front of me, protecting me in case those guys would attack us.

“Are they harassing you, Yeshina? Tell us and we will beat them to death.” Dom said while cracking his neck.

Wooin didn’t like the sound of that. He froze, and I can tell that his fury is building in his system. He turned back to face us again. He looked at me with a warning and his yellow shades slid down a little. I swallowed and looked away. He scoffed in disbelief and he dropped his eyes on the ground as if he’s calming himself down. But when he started to occupy the distance between us, he pushed his hands in his pocket while glaring at us.

“Do you want this in a hard way? Didn’t I warn you already? I don’t have time for this shit.” he said and grabbed my wrist. I gritted my teeth and I’m about to push him away when Jay grabbed my other hand.

Wooin arched his eyebrow.

“You heard her, let her go.” Jay broke the silence. Wooin chuckled dangerously, his eyes widened in furious.

“You’re fucking out of this, super rookie. If you want to be stable for the incoming match, stay out of this, ya’ hear me?” Wooin glared at him.

“This asshole–” Dom was about to punch Wooin when Joker moved so fast to cover him. Dom was surprised and he was caught off guard that’s why Joker took that chance to throw a punch on his face.

“Hey!” June shouted but Dom already punched him back.

Jay was about to help Dom when Wooin went to him and punched him on the stomach. I told them to stop, my veins on my throat almost popped. Jay recovered so fast and he attacked Wooin with a punch but Wooin managed to dodge it.

“Fucking stop it! Hey, please stop this already!” I shouted. I threw a helpful look to Vinny but he was just standing in the corner, ignoring the commotion. I cursed under my breath.

“The fight is starting!”

“Are you taking all of this in a video?”

“Yeah, this will go viral!”

“Fuck! Alright, I’ll go with you just stop this!” I pushed Wooin away from Jay. His fist was in the mid air when I pushed him, the attack was supposedly for Jay but I covered him. His fist landed on my shoulder blade that almost made me fall back in pain. I squeezed my eyes shut but I ignored it. I saw Jay’s nonchalant expression break and changed into a real fury.

Because Wooin was still in slight shock, Jay managed to punch him on the face. Wooin clenched his jaw and panted furiously. Vinny decided to join in the scene, finally. He held Wooin back and his eyes landed on my shoulder. He glared at me as if he’s blaming me for shielding myself on Jay and it results in the throbbing pain on my shoulder.

“That’s enough, idiot. The teachers are coming.” Vinny said and threw a meaningful look to Joker who just nodded on his comment.

“Hey! We’re not finished!” Dom shouted to Joker but he was already beside Wooin.

“What are you still standing there? Fucking walk already if you don’t want have a bloody street here.” Vinny scowled at me. I glared at him. I started to walk with them and Wooin put his arm around my neck and shoulder possessively, pulling me closer to him. I groaned in pain.

Jay wanted to grab me back when I forced a smile on him telling him that I’m safe. When honestly, I’m not.

I remained silent when we got in the apartment. I bit my bottom lip as Joker opened the door and stretched his neck and shoulder. I pushed Wooin’s arm that surrounds on my shoulder. He just glared at me. Vinny went to the fridge to get something. They all ignored me like they didn’t do something shit today.

Vinny threw the bag of ice on Joker, Vinny pointed a finger on me.

“Treat that shit, we can’t afford losing the race because of that bruise.” Vinny said, leaving us.

He’s mad at me. It is not because I went to Jay and his former friends. It is because of my decision to stay with Wooin knowing how toxic he was. It’s one of the main issues why we separated a long ago. He said he couldn’t understand that bond between Wooin and I, and why am I not doing anything about it.

“You should have gone easier, you are not blind right?” Joker told Wooin. Wooin like an asshole he is, he just sat down on the couch playing with his lollipop.

“Careful, if it’s not because of her, I would have destroyed that man’s skull. She protected him against us, against us, asshole.” Wooin laughed in disbelief.

Joker just remained silent. He slowly pulled down the strap of my top, therefore my purple shoulder was exposed. He didn’t say anything when he gently pressed the ice bag on it. I hissed. I caught Wooin’s serious eyes while watching us, his eyes went to my shoulder. There’s no guilt or shame in his eyes, only emptiness. Such a heartwarming view.

“The next time you go there, I’ll stab each of you in your sleep.” I threatened them with a serious tone. Joker looked at me, obviously taking that as a joke. While Wooin just glared at me to death.

“Leave, the club needs you right now.” Wooin said to Joker. More like ordering him.

“If you add another of this, you’ll be my next opponent in the boxing ring.” Joker said with a low tone that sent chills down to my spine. He put the ice bag on the table, leaving us.

“That dipshit just threatened me and escaped right away. See what you have done? You’re turning him against me.” Wooin stood up and walked slowly towards me.

“No shit.” I said sarcastically. I walked past him, bumping on his shoulder intentionally and it satisfied me even a little.

“Try to walk out that door and I swear…” I cut him off. I faced him with tears forming on the corners of my eyes.

“What? You’re going to give me another bruise? Where would that be this time? On my fucking face?” I scowled at him. Wooin was stunned not because of my words, but because of my face. His eyes softened a little bit that I almost thought it’s just all of my imagination.

He sighed deeply and his eyes went upwards in the ceiling as if trying to think something. He licked his bottom lip with his cut tongue. His hand went to my waist pulling me but I slapped it.

“Don’t touch me, pig.” I hissed.

“You know it wasn’t my intention to fucking hurt you. You protected that asshole against me, me Yeshina, the only man who has been there in your whole life. If you want to hit me back do it, but I’ll not assure you that man will be safe around me, do you hear me?” Wooin said as he met with my eyes.

Everyone will never see this side of him but only me. I can’t say that he has a soft spot for me because goodness was never his motto. The sincereness in his eyes disappeared as his playful gazes met mine.

“Alright, don’t look at me like that, baby. There’s no way I would let you with that moron, Jay Jo.” he whispered as his lips went to my neck, he was teasing my neck with his breath while his hand crawled downwards my shorts.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m tired of these games, Wooin.” I said blankly. He scoffed.

“Just remember you did all of this. You fucking owe since then, there’s no way in hell you could get away from this.” Wooin gripped my entrance that I had to hold back my groan and shut my eyes down.

I heard someone enter the room and then I saw Hyuk was standing there. He immediately understood the situation I’m in. His eyes went to Wooin before putting his bag on the table.

“Don’t mind me.” he said as he continued to grab a drink from the fridge. I can feel the heat on my cheeks as I glared at Wooin.

“It’s all your fault I became like this, remember that.” he hissed as he removed his hand from down there and walked out the door. I had to catch my breath like crazy.

He didn’t have to remind me of all of that. I need to join Jay jo’s crew so I could get him off my skin.

[black-arcana]

MATTHEW GREYWOLF Talks POWERWOLF's 'Once-In-A-Lifetime' Ascension To Become One Of Europe's Top Metal Bands

By David E. Gehlke

Leave it to Europe and Scandinavia to produce the bands to take over when metal's legendary core of IRON MAIDEN, JUDAS PRIEST and METALLICA call it a day. Germany's POWERWOLF and Sweden's SABATON are legitimate arena and festival headliners across the pond, solving what is now a regular issue for Stateside promoters: Who can headline outdoor amphitheaters and large arenas once the old guard is gone? SABATON got the early jump on POWERWOLF in North America, but the Germans are slowly gaining ground after a quick run of sold-out shows last fall. They will return in August with a full slate of dates in the territory with UNLEASH THE ARCHERS in support.

Therefore, the timing of POWERWOLF's ninth studio album, "Wake Up The Wicked" appears to be prudent. Perhaps not as over-the-top as some of their previous efforts, "Wake Up The Wicked" still exudes all of the POWERWOLF trademarks, but does it in a more efficient manner, thus explaining why it's their most effective release in a decade. Here to chat it up with BLABBERMOUTH.NET is guitarist Matthew Greywolf, who sounds like a man with his two feet planted firmly in the ground.

Blabbermouth: POWERWOLF made it to North America last year. Can you share the experience?

Matthew: "It was amazing. [Laughs] It's not only that Americans have waited; we have waited as well! We were really eager to tour the U.S. and it finally came true. We were really excited about it. Well, it couldn't have been better. We were overwhelmed by how we had been welcomed. Usually, touring the country for the first time is an adventure. You don't know what's going to happen or how people will react. But, I think from the first minute of the first show, we felt, 'Wow. This is amazing.' There was a very direct connection to the audience. The audience was very communicative. We enjoyed ourselves a lot."

Blabbermouth: Did you have any idea that the turnout would be like this?

Matthew: "I mean, we knew in advance that some of the shows were sold out within a few days, which was amazing. It even raised our excitement. Still, we've never been there, and you don't know whether it's going to click. Will the audience and the band connect? It was perfect. It was such a good time there. Then, we had a fantastic schedule when we came over. We went sightseeing in different cities for a few days. We enjoyed the entire trip."

Blabbermouth: The new album coincides with the band's 20th anniversary. Has it felt like 20 years? Is that a hard number to wrap your head around?

Matthew: "It feels like it hasn't been 20 years. [Laughs] It feels like it's been five years. It's been a super-busy 20 years. We've always been into the next project, so to say. We never looked back. When people tell us we've been around for 20 years, we go, 'You must be kidding!' But it's been 20 fucking years. [Laughs] But, no, we're busy all the time. It still feels like we're starting, even though 'Wake Up The Wicked' is our ninth album."

Blabbermouth: Moving over to the new album, where did you want to go musically? What did you have in mind when writing?

Matthew: "It's more direct and natural than the previous albums, especially the last one, 'Call Of The Wild', which was a pretty bombastic album with lots of orchestration. This time, we wanted to let the basics talk. One of the first songs we had written is the opening song, 'Bless 'Em With The Blade'. It's a very straightforward, very fast metal song that does not need any add-ons or larger-than-life orchestration. It's a statement song: This is the band, this is the energy. It's actually one of the songs we enjoyed so much when writing that it really gave a bit of attitude and direction for the rest of the songwriting."

Blabbermouth: Was it difficult to resist the bombastic side?

Matthew: "It was refreshing. [Laughs] This doesn't mean I dislike the albums where we had more orchestration. Still, 'Wake Up The Wicked', all the ingredients are still there. Falk Maria's [Schlegal, keyboards] orchestrations are still there. But it's done more dynamically. When the band is talking, let the band talk. When the orchestration is talking, give the orchestration a spot instead of piling up everything at the same time. That easily happens when you start working with these kinds of ingredients. On 'Wake Up The Wicked', we managed just to find the right balance. It makes the album more dynamic and raw.

"Falk loves to run around onstage in the live situation. So, he's almost begging me to bring passages to the songs where there's no organ and orchestration. That way, he has the time to run to the front of the stage and cheer on the audience. [Laughs] He's definitely not the keyboardist who wants to be busy all the time or tries to bring in more and more elements. There's no egos involved. It's like, 'Give the song what the song demands.'"

Blabbermouth: What made "1589" the right choice as the first single?

Matthew: "The storytelling approach of the song made it the song that was predestined to have a video. In the video, we really tell the story of the werewolf trail of Peter Stump. It was kind of a bold decision to take; let's say it's the slowest song on the album. It's the 'ballad' of the album. Having it as the first single is kind of, well, not the most typical choice. But we thought it was interesting. [Laughs] We thought, 'Let's confuse people a little bit and bring a more epic and slow storytelling kind of song.' That was done instead of taking the obvious choice, which is the opening song that blasts out a lot of energy. I feel like the song is very well received. People do enjoy the storytelling approach of the song. It's nice to tell the story with the song. We haven't done such a thing before."

Blabbermouth: The story of Peter Stump felt like a very POWERWOLF kind of topic.

Matthew: "Most of our lyrics and entire visual and conceptual approach is definitely based on a fantasy world. It's quite unusual to have some historical events in songs or songs about historical events such as '1589' or 'Joan Of Arc'. It felt like the right time to enrich our world a bit by telling some historical stories. We just enjoyed a lot. Every now and then, things like this happen. We just let it happen. There's no closed world to POWERWOLF. It felt refreshing to do that."

Blabbermouth: It reminds me of the cover you recently released of "Bark At The Moon" by Ozzy Osbourne. Where did that cover come from?

Matthew: "That was my idea. I was a huge Ozzy fan. When I started playing guitar, I was all about Ozzy and Randy Rhoads. They were my heroes. I just wanted to do it like them. But I'll say that it was a bit risky for me. I'm so much in love with the way Ozzy performs these songs. It was like, 'Let's give it a try, but I'm not sure if we'll enjoy ourselves,' but we did! It's not easy to cover an Ozzy song and do it justice. But I remember when Attila [Dorn, vocals] came to the studio and performed the song. It's like, 'Wow. He really has something to say about the song.' There's no such singer as Ozzy, but he made the version his own. That's what really got me then."

Blabbermouth: Are you a Jake E. Lee fan?

Matthew: "When you name the legendary eras, it's never going to be this one. But I love the songs. There are so many good songs. There's 'Shot In The Dark'. Jake's era has good songs. I also really like Jake E. Lee's guitar playing, but maybe Randy Rhoads's footsteps were larger than life. I enjoy all eras of Ozzy's career."

Blabbermouth: You and SABATON share some similarities, both in terms of your gradual rise in popularity and the fact that you both are self-managed. How is that working out?

Matthew: "We have been a do-it-yourself band, and we still are. It's kind of a challenge. The bigger the band grows, of course, there are so many aspects to be covered and so many things to consider. We refuse to let things out of our hands. I'm pretty convinced you never should. If you really want to make sure that the vision as a band gets realized in the way you want, then you have to do it yourself. It's as simple as that. The more people who are working on things, the more the vision gets blurred. That's why, for us, it's super-important to be in charge of everything. It can be a pain in the ass for people working with us. No matter the cost, you have to maintain your vision. For a band like POWERWOLF, our visual aspect is very important. We want it to be exactly like we have it in our minds. The only way to make sure it happens is to make it yourself. We get help here and there, of course. But we're involved in literally everything. The merch, the stage design — anything. And it's passion. To me, of course, writing and performing new music comes first. That's why we're a band. But I love all the side aspects. I love designing merchandise or being involved in every little detail of the tour production. It's really exciting. I always consider a gift to be able to take part in all these processes."

Blabbermouth: You've put in the work

Matthew: "We have. And what we've experienced is a dream come true — a once-in-a-lifetime thing. We're super grateful for that. We're happy to put in all the work and all the passion."

[tobiasdrake]

Flashback o'clock with Valere and Zale.

Staff Girl and Sword Boy are pretty standard tropes but I appreciate that Valere and Zale think they're being clever by coming up with it. Credit to Valere all the same for using her staff for martial arts instead of spellcasting.

I mean, we're supposed to learn to "use magic without using magic" so I assume they'll both be spellcasting at some point. But my point is, Valere isn't slotted in the Dedicated Caster role. By her own admission here, she picked the staff because she wants a beatstick to bludgeon her enemies with.

She's in the box, but she's being innovative about it.

NUH NUH NUH NUH NUH, you don't get off that easy. What's your weapon gonna be, Garl? We've got beatstick and slashy blade covered so might I suggest something long-range like a bow?

Is that our plan? Because I gotta tell you, I've been down that road before. And while the magical kingdom of Disney Animation is indeed a treasure trove of wonderment, it comes packaged with. Just. The wildest bull crap you've ever heard in your life.

She's nice, but a bit shallow in terms of personality. She was an early character when the writing wasn't all there. Her villain, however, is one of the all-time most popular in the brand.

Ohhh, you mean the Midgard Serpent.

Yeah. No. Don't frick with that. Bad things happen if he wakes up.

Somebody's going to block those holes at some point. I know it. You know it. Any sedative that relies on a geographic feature is easy to interfere with.

Um. Are. Are they.

Did we already harvest most of them? Because this is an awful lot of space for nine crops.

Does our village have problems and no one's telling me about it 'cause I'm just a little one?

And what the hell are these? They are not in the designated crop field.

Is our farmer skimming off the top? Are we going hungry so he can have his own secret blue melon stash?

I found an adult!

These two look like the Pokemon Legends ancient past leaders for Team Magma and Team Aqua.

Oh, she looks terrifying in sprite portrait. Any human being that has more bones outside their skin than in is not to be fucked with. General rule of thumb.

Are we about to see the "Zale smacks a sunball with his bare hand" incident? Because I'll be a little miffed if they repeat that joke but I'll also be too busy laughing to care.

I love her confidence. Valere only wants one thing out of life: Validation for how hard she can hit a person with a stick. She has feral goblin energy and I'm here for it.

Fucking rude. I hate this guy already. I'm going to drown him.

OMINOUS. Erlina has some damage that she's not talking about, on account of the fact that we're like ten. I'm starting to get the impression that this whole Solstice Warrior thing isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Do they pair a Sun and Moon person for every mission? Or do Sun people and Moon people have their own stuff they do on their own, and they only get paired up sometimes? I'm very curious to understand how that works.

Oh, sweet! THIS IS MY HOLY TIME. Sorry, Zale, but as a Moon person, the night of the full moon is my holiday. That means you have to do whatever I tell you to. Those are the rules that I just made up.

Go fetch me a blue-melon soda.

That sounds like a wonderful place to visit multiple times. I'm there.

Oh, shoot, this is the mistake that cost us Garl, isn't it?

Wait, that's our plan? B&E in a place literally called Forbidden and then run straight to the authority figure and brag about what we've done?

Yeah, I see that ending super well for us. This is a great idea. I'm happy to be a part of it.

Hahahahahaha we're so going to get banished. Well, I guess we might as well--

EVEN MORE SPARKLE MELONS in another random patch! Okay, so maybe he's not skimming off the top. Maybe he just doesn't freaking know how to plant them in the gosh darned field.

[saturnite0614]

Prompt idea I had recently while drunk;

Ghost returns from a super undercover/off-grid solo mission and tries to find soap before debriefing, but can't find him and notices everyone acting weird around him. When he is debriefing later with price he learns that Soap died recently on another mission and that no one was able to get in touch with him to tell him sooner

I worry about you if these are the things you think while drunk. Anyway, buckle in cause this is long.

Ghost groans, rubbing a hand across his stiff neck. That would be the last time he slept in a tree for some stupid mission that went nowhere. He's big enough to accept that sometimes, a mission goes nowhere. Shit, it could have gone worse. All he really needs is a long shower and a nap in his bunk. The entire helo ride back to base he's yawning like the kid staying up to catch Santa. It's unprofessional.

But the image of a bed no matter how shitty is too appealing. Much more appealing than taking that nap right here. It wouldn't be the first time he'd fallen asleep to the sound of whirling blades. The mistake in that had been doing it while Johnny was there.

He could have taken Johnny taking the piss out of him for sleeping on the job. What he couldn't take was the look on his face when Johnny had woken Ghost up after that mission. It had been soft, the corner of his lips curling up. His voice had been low, urging Ghost to wake up because they'd made it back to base. Even the friendly punch to his shoulder had been to sincere for Ghost's taste. His face had warmed uncomfortably under his mask and his throat constricted. All he could manage was a tired flustered grunt in his general direction. Then that Scottish bastard had the nerve to laugh at him.

Soap would be waiting for him back at base. Just like Price and Gaz, obviously. He'd probably be at the debrief. Ghost had to get his yawning under control by then.

And the fucking blushing. His face itches underneath his mask thinking back to Soap's smile and wide eyes, specifically the face he makes whenever he's listening intently. As if everything you were saying was important and he needed to memorize every bit of it. Maybe he did. Ghost had caught him more than once scribbling in a pocket journal, only the size of his hand. With those wide eyes he'd look at Ghost, then drop them quickly back down when Ghost made it known he'd seen him. He'd have to ask him one day what he wrote in that damn thing.

The base is dead when the infernal helicopter finally drops him off. Makes sense. It's late. So deep on the night that if it weren't for the bright lights dotted around the base, Ghost could study the stars. But what he really wants to study is the back of his eyelids. And maybe Soap's tired smile.

His capability for rational professional thinking was beginning to quickly wane. He needed to find Price asap before he made a mistake and actually spoke to Soap.

He stops off long enough to dump his equipment at his bunk before finding his Captain. Strange that he hadn't been there when Ghost got back. Yes, they hadn't been in contact for weeks now, but Ghost had returned exactly on time. He'd met the pilot at the LZ without incident and the weather had been nice. He could just be busy or maybe he'd gone to bed early. The old man was smart like that.

The few soldiers who are awake don't meet his eye as Ghost heads for Price's office. The sooner he finished this debrief, the sooner he could return to the world of not thinking about Soap.

Ghost's heavy knock is met with a grumble from the other side of the door.

A single lamp lights Price's office, casting the tired man in a sickly yellow glow. He's nursing a drink, clutching something in his other hand. His grip is so tight that his knuckles are bright white. He doesn't meet Ghost's eyes.

"Rough day, Captain?"

"Sit down, Simon." His voice is rougher than usual. Quiet.

He does as he's told, sinking into the cheap partical board chair across from Price. The captain slides the drink to him. Half melted ice clinks around inside of the glass, "Drink up."

"Mission wasn't that bad. Boring, sure." Ghost is trying to play oblivious. Pretending not to smell the scotch on Price's breath or the stifling amount of cigar smoke choking the small room or even how bloodshot Price's eyes are. They were both tired. That's what this was. He'd already been through the worst parts of his life.

Price grabs a bottle from under his desk and sips from it, "Right."

He still hasn't looked at Ghost.

But he does finally set down whatever had been buried in his hand. It makes a sickening familiar sound as he slides it to Ghost. His fingers twitch as he questions whether to take the last step.

Ghost only has one question.

Who?

Price must sense this because he releases the dog tags. He jerks his hand back, as if the steel had burned him.

Ghost bites the inside of his cheek, comforted by the fact that Price can't see it. Both options are bad, but not picking up the tags wouldn't make it true.

His arm is shaking. It has to be from the helicopter ride, not anxiety. He's lost people in the line of duty. It happens.

Maybe someday he could convince himself it didn't hurt.

He brushes his thumb across the smooth metal, putting off the act of flipping it around and settling into a reality where yet another person he cared about was gone.

He does it. Maybe just to save Price from having to physically tell him.

John "Soap" MacTavish.

He wasn't John. He was Johnny. Was.

"How?" Ghost growls. He doesn't mean to. Whatever happened, it wasn't Price's fault. But tell that to his heart, tearing itself in two over something he can't even name.

"Don't go there, Simon." Price's voice is more unstable now, wavering under the weight of his crumbling resolve.

"How?" Price's resolve isn't the only thing wavering. Simon's own jaw trembles, wanting to scream at nothing and also wanting to freeze, to bottle every emotion about Soap up. If he could do that, Johnny would still be with him. Still, his eyes well. It would be better if he could stop staring at the damn tags.

"Sniper. He caught him before I did, pushed me out of the way. Died in the CASEVAC."

Simon is thankful for the darkness. It matched the mood. He wants to grab the bottle of scotch and chug it down, use the warmth of the alcohol to chase away the burning in his throat.

"He asked about you," Price continues. Simon's question had opened a well that the captain had wanted to keep closed. Now that it was open, he couldn't stop talking about it, "I'm not sure how there he was. He asked if you knew. Don't know what he means by that... Meant."

He digs around the top drawer of his desk and tosses one more cursed object on the desk. A brown pocket journal with edges curled by use. The edges are stained brown. This had happened long enough ago for the blood to have dried.

"Last page was addressed to you." He doesn't wait for Ghost to respond. Instead he snatches the scotch off the desk and storms out of the room.

That journal is dangerous, more than anything Ghost had ever handled before.

He settles Soap's dog tags on his neck, tucking them into his jacket. They're ice cold against his skin. Simon wasn't wearing his. You didn't for covert operations, in case the enemy got you.

He flips to the last page of the journal. Some of the pages are stuck together with dried blood. With a gentleness he wasn't even aware he was capable of, he peels these apart to see the words written within. He doesn't want to damage a single page. Doing that would hurt the memory of Johnny.

His handwriting is horrible, slanted and scratchy. It's heavy handed, begging to be seen but also unsure. Ghost skims past these, half expecting Soap to burst through the door and demand the stupid thing back. Ghost even looks, waiting for him.

The dog tags burn against his skin to remind him.

The final page is actually a group of pages, prefaced by a page with a single sentence. It reads:

For Simon Riley Only.

Can't believe I'm writing this but it feels right. That's what these things are for. Writing what you feel. You've been gone a few weeks now. Price is probably pissed at how many times I've asked about you. First I thought I was just being friendly. You watched after my ass in Las Almas. Seems only fair I return the favor. Then I started to get annoyed. Couldn't stop thinking about you. Missed seeing you around.

I'm embarrassed writing this like I'm some school boy. Might end this off with a yes or no check box. Knowing you, you'd find that funny. Maybe even add your own option that says fuck off or something endearing like that.

I care about all of you. Price. Gaz. Alejandro. Rudy. But you. You're something else Simon Riley. Feel cheesy as fuck saying this, but I might be in love with you. Only explanation I can come up with for why I like a guy who constantly wears a mask and literally hides in the shadows.

Probably going to leave this here. You're never going to read this. I wouldn't let you. You'd kill me if you found out. And I have to get ready. Price and I are leaving for a quick mission. Should only take a few hours. See you when you get home.

Ghost presses a fist into his eye, rubbing away the tears, begging for a numbness to settle in. Where is the shock? Where is the denial?

I might be in love with you.

So that's what that feeling is called. Doesn't fucking matter now, huh?

Thanks for the prompt anon, hope i did it justice.

[sedgewicke]

Mixed-up TWoK Reactions: Ch. 47

Kaladin: I can't take this Blade. There's blood on it. Unlike... literally any other weapon. And it would make me like one of them.

Well then! I guess continue to lie back and get fucked the ass by them at every turn, if it makes you feel like you're dragging your big dick on the moral high ground! Of course, I'm sure this will eventually be revealed as the True and Moral decision... somehow (and not just in a "well, then he wouldn't have done all the things he did and also character growth, etc" kind of way).

Also Kaladin: But I'm still certain that Dalinar and Sadeas are super legit guys.

I didn't realize the military paid well enough to fund a copium addiction.

Also, Merida? Dark green on burgundy? Has graphic design not been invented yet? Because somebody's doing all this glyph calligraphy, (and let me guess-- it's women, because we can't very well let boys do anything nice in this garbage culture), and I'm not sure they'd like knowing that the Amaram banner is the one people recognize at a distance as "the one we can't read, so by process of elimination--".

Yeah. Squint your eyeholes at that beaut. I wasn't even going to try and force this into the shape of a white-spine, which I assume is like a boar, but more crab. Not with a trackpad, I'm not.

How are you supposed to tell the difference between khakh and khokh (assuming there is one)? And why is Amaram being written with it anyway? Are glyphpairs some kind of different system, where you have the unpaired gylphs like with the Highprinces' that are just [name] written out (minus the vowels, because who needs those), while with glyphpairs, you've got the Kholins using khokh-linil, which are... the constituent glyphs than got compressed down into Kholin? Or the reverse, where the Kholins picked two glyphs that kinda sounded like their name and had meanings they liked?

I was surprised that, far as I've been able to figure, glyphs are an abjad (aka the "vowels aren't important" system of writing) and not ideograms/pictograms/rudimentary logograms. Because, golly, that sure makes it awful close to being a legitimate system of writing that one could use to communicate all manner of complex and abstract ideas. And we sure wouldn't want that... for... reasons, I guess?

Though, if you stylize an abjad into a pictogram, to the point that you can barely make out the letters, and people probably aren't bothering to read it beyond "Oh, tower-crown, that's the Kholins, look busy", what do you call that?

[looseratinthegarage]

Yautja x human reader

Reader is really good with the pups (Yautja babies/ children) of Yautja prim, there soft but still hold there own. It’s not uncommon for at least 2 older ones ( to a human a 6 yer old) and a baby or 2 that you carry or they hold onto you. So when a rouge Xenomorphs comes onto the planet your s/o and the other yautja see what happens when someone messes with your little buddy’s.

An example how Linda from mitchell vs the machines when she sees them take her son, so instead of “I am Linda Mitchell, mother of 2, LOOK UPON ME WITH FEAR!!! I was thinking of it being

“ i am little blade, protector of children LOOK UPON ME WITH FEAR!!!

And after the mothers are even more willing to let the pups be around them. And when alone a vary existed s/o

Y/n pupsitter kicks xeno ass

*wheezes* I’ve done it!! Hahahaha!!!! This was super fun to write!! thank you for the request 😊

The transition to Yautja living was not an easy one. You had lost many day to day common conveniences humans take for granted. The supermarket for instance, fast food, video games, Spotify, etc. Since you were too weak to hunt or traverse yautja prime by yourself, they stick you with babysitting duty.

The mothers of the village were busy working hard along with the males. Children often run amuck due to ill supervision, bothering the adults as they kept the clan going. So why not stick the pathetic ooman with the rambunctious pups? At the very least it would be entertaining.

To say they had no faith in you was an understatement. Some didn’t want their pups near you, so you had a modest five pups to take care of. Two were children, the other two were toddlers, and the youngest was a baby. The toddlers and baby didn’t have a problem with you, they stuck to you like glue. They loved you and would hang onto you like little monkeys. The children however disliked you, parent-taught racism had already polluted their minds. It was difficult to watch them, but you managed.

You now walk through the woods next to the village. The pups were rather rowdy today and kept antagonizing the newly blooded. Teens and younglings don’t mix. You cradled the baby in one arm and held a toddler on your hip. A little clawed hand held onto your pant leg as you walked. The two kids ran up ahead. One of them picked up a stick and hit his brother in the face. In retaliation, his twin ripped a rather large branch off of the closest tree. He swung for his siblings legs, effectively putting him on his back.

“bpi-de h'ka-se!” You shouted.

They began laughing and ignored your warning. The bigger twin tackles his brother into the bushes. You shake your head and sigh. You hear them roaring and playing with each other, then the sound of them screaming raises your head in a flash. They stumbled out of the foliage.

“kiande amedha! kiande amedha!!” They screamed frantically.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. They had to be joking, it was a prank, a very bad prank. But to your dismay it was no prank. A xenomorph crawled out of the shadows and snarled. The toddlers started crying, it’s attention shifting to you. The twins ran into your legs and grabbed onto you desperately. The xeno began stalking towards you.

“Fuck!!” You yell and pick up the pups.

Now holding five heavy pups, you begin to run in the direction of camp.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” You frantically chant trying to calm the crying children.

Then something hard and cold wraps around your legs. You land on your back to break the pups' fall. Looking down you see the xenos tail holding you tight. It picks you up, the children falling out of your arms, and throws you aside. Your back hits into a tree and you scream out in pain.

You shakily look up and see the beast approaching the crying children. Then something in you snapped. You were filled with one thing, pure rage. You stand to your feet with a groan, the xeno looking in your direction. You grab the nearest branch and charge at the evil incarnate. It rushes towards you and opens its mouth.

You use the stick to stop it from clamping down its jaw and reach into its mouth. With the help of your adrenaline boosted strength rip out its tiny mouth. It makes a shrill cry but before it had the chance to attack back, you shoved the stick down its throat. It gargled on its blood for a moment then fell over dead.

You look at the children but don’t only see them. Instead you see almost the entire village watching with wide eyes of disbelief. The scrawny twin held the baby and the toddlers by the bigger twin, they set the kids down and uncharacteristically run towards you.

“Ooman nan'ku!!” They yelled in unison and hugged your leg.

You shakily kneel down and go to pat their heads reassuringly but stop yourself. You look at your hand, it’s burned. Your adrenaline subsided and the pain hit you hard. You started to feel light headed and before you could process it you were falling over. Your mate rushes forward and catches you.

“My little sain’ja..” He proudly cooed to you and carried you bridal style.

The clan made way for you as your mate carried you back to the camp.

After a month of recovery you returned to the pups. Now, many more in your care. It seems you’ve impressed the mothers that didn’t trust you before. And the ones who did, trusted you even more with their younglings. The clan treated you with a new respect, even the elites and elders.

Word key:

bpi-de h'ka-se = end now

kiande amedha = hard meat/xenomorph

Ooman nan'ku = human alive

[imtooscaredforthis]

Unknown Caller

Ghostface x Reader Smut

Summary: Late at night, you start getting texts from the serial killer and your stalker, Ghostface.

Mentions of: Threats, Death, Stabbing, Sexting, Phone sex, Knife play, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, Recording w/out Consent and Danny being super horny

Word Count: 2.4K

With an exhausted groan, you collapsed back onto your bed, letting the mattress suck you in. It had been yet another long, shitty work day, leaving you mentally drained and wanting to sleep.

The only thing that kept you from sleeping was how gross, sticky, and sweaty you felt from walking around in that shitty waitress uniform. It was a summer day in Florida, after all. Of course you would be burning your ass off. And somehow, the urge to take a shower overpowered your fatigue.

So after an extra moment or two of laying down, you got up, grabbing your phone and a towel, heading into the bathroom and locking the door behind you, just in case any unwelcome visitors came in. You knew exactly who that visitor was.

You tried to shake the thought of the masked murderer, not even daring to think his name. The last thing you needed tonight was having him come around. Maybe he would just give you a break for once and leave you alone. Maybe…

Sighing, you tapped at your phone, playing some music and stripping down. Stepping into the shower, you turned the heat all the way up, letting the hot water pour down onto your skin until it turned red. You washed off all the stress and trouble from the day, finally being able to relax.

Once you got out of the shower, you slipped on a black lacy bra with matching panties, using a robe to cover it up. You had grown used to spending the nights alone, with no one to take home, no friends to speak with.

You lost them all, since they all thought you were being crazy and paranoid about being stalked by Ghostface. Even after one of your dear friends died, (the only one who believed you) they still thought you were crazy. In fact, they thought you killed him. And the cops were no help either, thinking all the threats were just some prankster or copycat.

So now, here you sat on your bed, scrolling through social media, when you got a text.

Unknown: Evening, gorgeous

You stared at the message blankly, feeling your heart drop in your stomach. It was him.

You cast a protective glance over at your bedroom window, which had the curtains drawn and the blinds shut, as an attempt of giving yourself some sort of privacy from the stalker. Was he out there? Waiting outside the window to peek, or behind your door to jump out at you. Even though he’s been doing this for a while, you’d still never get used to it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you began to type up a message to respond to him. You learned the hard way to answer his texts and calls.

(Y/N): What do you want to torture me with now?

Even though you were still quite afraid of the killer, there were times where you found him a complete nuisance, and got the guts to told him. This was one of those times.

Unknown: C’mon, don’t be like that. I have fun with the games we play. But I want to try something different tonight.

(Y/N): Like what?

Unknown: Like how I can see what you’re wearing and can’t help but wonder if you put all of that on just for me

You felt your face go a bright red, looking around and grabbing the hem over your robe, moving it over, attempting to cover up your body.

Unknown: There’s no use in covering it up now, I’ve already seen everything and it’s gotten me so hard

Looking at the text, you blinked a few times, making sure this was real. Maybe it was just some weird sex dream. You pinched yourself. Nope. This was real. The feared serial killer of Roseville was sexting you.

Unknown: You look so cute like that, all surprised and scared, it makes me want to cut you up and fuck you until you can’t walk.

Unknown: You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Your mouth went dry as you tried to think of something to text him back with, your body running hot with arousal. You can’t believe this is turning you on. It really shouldn’t be.

Unknown: There’s no need to be so shy, (y/n). You know we can be honest with each other.

(Y/N): Yes I would

Unknown: Good girl

Unknown: My cock is just throbbing thinking about how nice and tight you would be, how good you would squeeze me, how I’d love to fill you up with my cum. And you’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you, baby?

(Y/N): Fuck yes

You rubbed your thighs together, feeling how drenched you were getting, a silent moan leaving your lips, not even realizing he was paying attention to every little detail.

Unknown: Shit, that was so hot. I’m really turning you on, aren’t I?

Unknown: You want to touch yourself don’t you? Want to get off on the dirty things I’m telling you? Well you can’t. Not unless you beg for it like a good girl.

You would object, but you knew you were too far in to stop yourself. It had been quite a long time since you had done something like this, and a part of you felt desperate. So, you did it. You begged.

(Y/N): Please, Ghostface. Please let me touch myself.

Unknown: Good. Go ahead, but take off that robe. You won’t be needing it.

Moving your arm out, you shrugged the robe off your shoulders, spreading your legs ever so slightly. Might as well give him a show.

You ran your hand down your stomach, moving it down to your hips, and then your thigh, while your other hand stayed high on your chest, running your finger over your clothed nipple. After a moment or two, you dipped your finger under the fabric, running it up and down your drenched slit. You played with your clit, leaning back and moaning softly.

Unknown: Fuck, I just want to run my knife all over the curves of your body

Unknown: Put two fingers in

You did as told, pushing two fingers into your opening, thrusting them in slowly. You didn’t even notice the distant flash of a camera recording you peeking out from behind your window.

You shut your eyes, biting your lip and arching your back, as you began to pick up the pace. The sound of your phone chiming managed to make you open your eyes, and snap out of your little fantasy, looking down at your phone.

Unknown: You look so fucking hot right now, I want to come in there and ruin you

(Y/N): Why don’t you?

Unknown: It’s tempting, but I need to do one thing first.

Unknown Number is calling…

You picked up, slowing your fingers. “Why’d you- why’d you stop?” He questioned between groans, his voice strained. So he was touching himself too.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to-”

“Keep on going. Don’t stop. Add a finger.” He instructed.

An image of Ghostface stroking himself popped into your mind, making you pick up the pace. A string of mewls and whimpers left your mouth as you went even faster, feeling yourself grow close.

“You sound- shit, so nice babe. Makes me want to- even more-”

“Fuck, I’m g-going to- ah” Your body froze up, feeling yourself clench around your fingers.

It seemed like he was close too, considering how much he was panting, low groans and grunts. There was a brief silence on the other line, and you wondered if he hung up on you. But then, he spoke. “I’m coming in.”

He ended the call and you felt your heart leap in excitement, calming down from your high, and preparing for him to come in. You looked from the window to the door, wondering where he’d be entering.

A few minutes went by, and he still hadn’t shown up. A part of you wondered if this was some sort of sick game to humiliate you. If he was just going to leave you all alone.

“Miss me?” A familiar voice whispered into your ear, making you jump.

“Jesus don’t scare me like that.” You muttered, turning to face him.

“Why so grumpy? Is it because I kept you waiting? So impatient, so needy. I love it.” He grasped your chin, tilting your head and making you look up at him. He ran a gloved finger over your lips, tracing your cupid’s bow.

You felt your body grow hot at the contact, your thighs clenching together. He noticed, moving his hand away to finally give you what you so desperately craved. Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you down on the bed, straddling you.

Slowly, he ran his knife over your skin, tracing it from your throat, down to your collar bones, and to your chest. It seemed he was being merciful tonight, because you could barely feel the blade against your skin, only a light tickle.

Moving his weapon to the middle of your chest, Ghostface sliced open your brassiere, splitting it in half and revealing your breasts. Well, there went your good underwear.

He ran his finger over your nipple, watching it harden under his touch, pinching it softly. The killer studied your expressions closely, taking in every single detail. The way your lips parted slightly, the way your cheeks heated up, and the way your eyebrows knitted together. God, you were so adorable.

Ghostface shifted his attention to your panties, cutting them off on the side, and pulling them down to your ankles slowly. He moved his hand back up to your opening, running his finger up your wet slit, feeling how soaked it was.

“So wet, all for me? I must’ve really left you waiting. Guess I better get to it then, huh?” His voice was smug, low, and full of mischief. You knew he was playing with you.

He rutted against his hips against you, making you whimper slightly. You knew he wouldn’t do anything, until you said it. “Please, fuck me, Ghostface.”

“Danny.”

You felt your eyes widen at his words. “What?”

“Call me Danny.” In all the time that you had known him, you never got a name out of him. But he was telling you it now. Why? Why was he doing this?

You were too busy processing what just happened to notice the sound of his buckle clicking, and his knife dropping onto the floor, while he was now holding his phone instead. The flash of a camera burned into your eyes, making you look up at him and snap out of your thoughts.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, squinting at the light and covering your eyes with one hand trying to hide the glare.

“Makin a little movie.” He grabbed your hands with his free one, moving them from your face and pinning them above your head. “And you’re the star. Aren’t you excited?”

“I- shit-” Before you could even respond to what he was saying, you felt his cock press up against your soaked folds.

He moved his camera down to your breasts, watching your chest heave, before moving it back up to your face. “Now what’s the magic word? C’mon, you know what to say. You’ve been saying it all night.”

“Please, Danny.” You begged, bucking your hips up against his hardened member. “Please what?”

“Please just fuck me.” You rolled your head against the pillow. He was driving you crazy at this point with how much he was teasing you and making you beg.

Finally, he gave you what you had grown desperate for, entering you with a rough thrust. It was painful at first, the killer not showing any mercy, but you forced yourself to grow used to it.

You moaned out, the feeling of fulfillment overcoming your already sensitive hole. You arched your back, grabbing onto his forearm, digging your nails into his muscle under his robe.

Tears began to stream down your face as you babbled, incoherent words slipping from your lips. It was too good, and you couldn’t think of something, anything, to say to describe it. He was fucking you stupid.

He zoomed in on your tears, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Damn, baby. Is it really that good? Do you love getting fucked by my cock that much?”

You didn’t speak, not even sure if you could. He pinched your nipple, making you yelp. “Y-yes! Its- it’s so g-good.”

Danny moved his free hand to your clit, thrusting even deeper, until he hit just at the right spot. You cried out, clenching around him. Moaning out for him to please never stop, to keep going.

“Oh baby, you think I could stop? Not with the way you’re clenching around and calling out my name, begging for- shit.” He grunted, feeling your walls begin to massage him, you were getting close. And so was he.

He nestled his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder, pulling his mask up his face, and biting down, breaking your skin and drawing your blood, his movements growing even harsher. While you dug your nails into his back, reaching your orgasm, Danny not too far behind.

The half-masked killer wiped the blood from his lips, grinning down at you. “There, I marked you as mine. You’re my little slut, got it? Say it.”

You nodded, eyes still shut, your mouth open with only moans and gasps escaping. You forced yourself to speak, voice all hoarse and raw. “I’m your slut, Ghostface- Danny- whatever, I’m all yours.”

“That’s it. Such a good girl. Fuck-” His thrusts grew sloppy, and he rubbed at your clit even harder, making you climax once again with him. He pulled out, releasing on your stomach, and ending the video.

He pressed a rough kiss to your lips, before readjusting his mask, cleaning himself off, and fixing his clothes up. All the while you laid there, nude, panting, and coming down from the intense high you just had. You felt another flash blind your eyes, and the sound of a camera clicking, knowing he just took another picture.

Moving aside your curtains and blinds, Ghostface unlocked your window, pulling it up and stepping through. “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime. See you soon.”

[zachsreaderinserts]

c! philza and c! technoblade x reader who has a panic attack

i can’t even say that im upset with how specific this is bc it just works (also i kinda changed it a lil up for phil’s bc i was inspired to do something)

tw for abuse (mental and physical) and panic attacks

wc: 1,150

C! PHILZA

you normally don’t argue with anyone! in fact, you have a tendency to avoid arguments for the sake of your mental health. and phil was typically a more passive person, so you two had gotten on pretty well.

however, one night you’re late to come home. like, incredibly late. almost three hours pas the time you normally come home.

phil? he’s super stressed. from the loss of wilbur, he’s grown to be more protective of his family and friends and that includes you. his foot would not stop bouncing and he couldn’t help that his head keeps snapping to the clock next to the couch.

the front door finally opened and you stumbled inside, looking deliriously tired. phil shoots up off the couch and meets you before you could start heading towards your room.

“where have you been? i asked techno, ghostbur, and tommy and they all told me they haven’t seen you since you entered l’manberg earlier!”

you looked down, unsure of what to say. you can’t exactly explain what was happening, it would just bring more danger to everyone involved.

so you flounder for the words, not looking phil in the eyes as he waited for your reply. and when you just settle for a simple shrug, he feels irritation build in his chest.

“you’re not even gonna tell me?”

you steel yourself. you can’t let him know. so you look up with a glare and shake your head soundlessly, telling him that you weren’t gonna budge. and phil is now officially pissed off.

at every attempt he tries to pry an answer out of you, you respond with hostility, practically asking him to just drop it.

the fight escalates slowly as you go up the stairs and you turn around just in time as phil gestures passive aggressively at you.

you can’t hear anything, you can’t see anything other than a faint glimpse of a hand hitting you at one point and you crumbled backwards, eyes wide and tearing up.

“pl-- please don’t hit me, i didn’t-- i didn’t do anything, i swear!”

phil recoils backwards at your shriek, watching as you scrambled away from him and into the nearest wall, curling into a ball. 

“dream, pleas-- please, i promise!”

and the sound of a name he was far too familiar with, everything clicks in his head. this has something to do with a certain blonde manipulative mother fucker.

he walked forwards softly and crouches in front of you, noticing your tears and the fact that you’re shaking so hard he could feel the ground moving slightly. he settles his hand lightly on your knee, shushing you when you jump.

“i’m here. it’s only us, and i will make sure nothing ever hurts you. you’re safe with me.”

he keeps repeating the words, until they finally reach your muddled mind and you begin to breathe softer and slower. after five minutes of him calming you down, you lean into his touch and wipe away your tears.

now that he knew you were in the right frame of mind, he didn’t hesitate to lunge forward and pull you into a smothering hug. with your head on his shoulder, he tucked his own into your neck and let out tears of relief.

“please tell me what’s going on.”

how can you say no to that?

you spill out that dream has been threatening you, him, and the rest of his family, and has used it to make you fulfill tasks he felt like he didn’t want to do. you admitted to the mental and physical abuse, watching phil get more infuriated as you said this.

at the end, he pulls you in for hug again and sears that he, tommy, and techno are going to handle this.

C! TECHNOBLADE

you and techno are relatively okay with communication, considering he’s not too into being super vulnerable with you and you’re the same way

but the next few days, you notice that techno wasn’t coming home as often as he used to. he would come late at night, covered in blood and just take a shower and go straight to bed.

obviously, the first few times, you let him go without confrontation. if he wanted to tell you, he can. you weren’t obligated to know everything he does. that’s how your trust works.

but after almost a week of it, you were growing curious and worried. what could he be doing?

one night, you stopped him before he could move up the stairs by grabbing him by the wrist.

“hey, blade, are you alright? i’m worried about you.”

he turned around and looked at you, jaw tensing slightly. that was the first sign he was hiding something from you.

“i’m fine, why?”

you weren’t just gonna take that for an answer and began to pester him the entire way to your hared bedroom. he would respond in short and choppy answers, shaking his head the entire way.

eventually he just snaps out of irritation and whirls around, face contorted angrily.

“just drop it! fucking drop it, it’s none of your business where i go or what i do!”

techno was unaware of this, but when he got angry, his body language got extremely aggressive and defensive.

so when he turned on you with hunched shoulders and eyes glinting dangerously, you stumbled back so hard that you bashed your elbow into the wall.

techno would’ve gone on with his day had it not been for the fear in your face and how quickly you slid down the wall and cradled your head, with muffled begs of him not to hurt you.

he was on knees instantly, awkwardly holding your hands and attempting to ground you and make sure that you were okay. though he was covered in blood, you found comfort in the texture of his hands against yours and slowly eased into his embrace.

by the time you could think clearly again, you found your tears being wiped away and techno hunching over you as if he were protecting you from anything and anybody else.

“i’m so sorry i caused you to react like that.” he hums when he sees you in the right state of mind. “i’m so, so sorry.”

you do your best to comfort him back, telling him it wasn’t his fault. that night was when you unloaded past trauma, telling him about an abusive past that you were trying to move away from

he’s never felt guiltier about anything before.

techno helps you to stand and you both take a nice, long shower together (mostly to get the blood off of you both but also to make sure you’re well cared for) before heading off to bed.

once again, techno is curling his entire body around yours protectively and holding you with such an iron grip that you know nothing bad will ever come to you again.

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Stark!Fem!Reader) — part two

I’m backkk so sorry this took forever, my idiot/goblin brain wanted to hold onto this part for longer?? Anywho

Summary: The one in which you meet Bucky Barnes for the first time. Also the one in which you want to ram Tony Stark’s skull into the wall.

Warnings: angst, mentions of past violence, mentions of death, Tony is still pretty douchey (I know y’all don’t wanna hear this but he is a giant asshole 99% of the time)

Series Masterlist

You can’t sleep.

It doesn’t help that you haven’t had a real bed to sleep in — let alone one that has memory foam or whatever the hell that is on this mattress — for some time now. But the Tower is too quiet.

You can’t open your window and Tony must have the place basically sound-proofed because you can’t hear any of the city sounds that you’re used to. The late night traffic, the sirens, the footsteps, the voices, the fights, the snoring. You’re alone in here and it’s eating you alive.

You’re still wearing Wanda’s clothes. Pepper said she’d let you pick out some clothes today and they could be delivered. She offered to go shopping somewhere with you, but you don’t want anything fancy. You’ve never even been to a mall, not to shop, so that idea alone felt too much.

Grabbing a pillow from the bed, you move to the floor in front of the window. Laying on your stomach, you rest your elbows on the pillow, staring out at the city lights.

After some time, you give in and lay your head down, hoping it’ll bring sleep around. Luckily for you, it does.

Unluckily for you, sleeping on your stomach on the hard floor has your ribs feeling properly bruised by the time the sun rises. You roll over onto your back, letting your shoulder blades take the weight for the next couple hours.

By the time late morning rolls around, you open your eyes, feeling exhausted. Restless sleep is the only kind of sleep you know.

Dragging yourself off the floor, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You’re not used to having one, but you’ll gladly use the toothbrush here. That’s one thing you missed more than the others while you were homeless.

You exit the bathroom and head out into the hall, down to the living area and kitchen. It’s quiet, so you figure everyone is gone or out.

You’re busy climbing on the counter to look in the top cabinet when you hear footsteps on the hall, but they’re sort of far away, or they sound muffled like they’re a distance away. You halt your movements for good measure of listening, and you definitely feel like someone is down the hall.

But, your stomach growls, so you go back to rummaging through the cabinet.

The person you sensed steps around the corner into the kitchen and freezes. He has no idea who you are, but you’re standing on top of the counter, and that’s when he realizes you’re standing on top of the counter.

This is around the same moment that you vaguely sense the same presence from the hall behind you, and you jump when you see someone is actually standing there.

He is next to the counter in a split second, holding his Vibranium arm out in case you fall. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get cereal, what the fuck does it look like?”

“It looked like you were about to fall on your ass.”

“Lucky me, I didn’t,” you snort, resisting the urge to kick his face. He’s at the perfect height for you to do it, too. “Who the hell are you?”

“Bucky,” he answers. “Who the hell are you?” He fires back.

“Y/N,” you reply, turning to go back to looking in the cabinet. It’s mostly random things, nothing you particularly care to eat. “Do you know where everyone is?”

Bucky leans back against the opposite counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Probably asleep. We just got back an hour ago.”

You hum. Right, Tony said a few of them were out. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Don’t want to mess up my schedule.”

“Hm.” You smell bullshit.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you huff, closing the cabinet and hopping down. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As you’re making your way toward the hall, you’re stopped by Tony’s voice.

“Munchkin. Get back here. You and I have some things to discuss.”

You spin around. “What now?”

“What now is right,” Tony deadpans. “Come on. My office. And Barnes, go the fuck to sleep for once.”

Bucky snorts, flipping Tony off, but only you saw it. You grinned, mouthing thank you.

Bucky smiled boyishly in return.

+++

Tony conveniently waits until his office door has shut before he starts in on the questions.

“When did your mother pass away?”

“A month ago,” you reply slowly, really too exhausted to deal with this or Tony right now. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I wanted to see if you’d continue to lie to me, and you have.”

“What are you talking about?” You gathered that he was a pain in the ass, but delusional, too? Jesus.

“She didn’t pass away a month ago. Her funeral was a month ago.”

“Okay? And? What the hell does it matter?”

“The funeral was delayed because the police think you killed her.”

Fuck. He found out. “Well I didn’t.”

Tony looks ready to scream at you. “So you knew there was a warrant out for your arrest?”

“Well, yes, but—” This time Tony does cut you off by a million cuss words, but you continue over top of him. “I thought they gave up!”

“You knew they were looking for you and you walked in here instead. I should turn you in right now. In fact, I don’t know why I haven’t called the police yet.” He’s waving his arms wildly, no doubt trying to control his anger at the absurdity of this situation.

You cross your arms over your chest. “They have no proof.”

“Clearly they have something or there wouldn’t be a warrant.”

“They don’t have shit, Tony. I wasn’t even near my house when it went up in flames, alright? I was a mile away.”

“Where? Where were you?”

“At a gas station.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Are you interrogating me?” Is he recording this? Your eyes search briefly for cameras before you remember he’s a tech genius, so his cameras are probably hidden.

“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of why you have a warrant and why you decided to waltz in here. Do you know how much trouble this could get me in?”

“I’m sure you could pay your way out of it.”

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers at you, “I’m being serious.”

“Me too,” you snap your fingers back at him, too fed up with him to care, “Mr. Billionaire.”

The two of you stare at one another, unblinking, unflinching, anger seeping through your skin. Tony has realized quickly that no matter how hard he pushes your buttons, you’ll push his right back, just as much if not more.

Maybe you are his.

“I’ll ask one more time,” Tony starts. “Did you start that fire?”

“I was too busy getting stabbed to start a fucking fire, okay?”

This has Tony reeling in shock instead of anger. “Stabbed? Are you fucking nuts? What do you mean you were getting stabbed?”

“I mean I was getting stabbed. What else do you think that means?”

Tony sighs tiredly, frustration making him clench his jaw. “Where?”

You gesture to your abdomen. “Just in a couple places.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “A couple— Alright, you know what, we can finish this later, because right now,” he points his index finger at you, “you need to get to MedBay.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about getting stabbed, munchkin. It can cause internal damage. And if you never went to the hospital—”

“I stitched myself up, it was fine—”

“Uh-uh, shut it,” he snaps. “Come on. Come with me.”

+++

You run into Bucky once again when you get off the elevator at MedBay. He’s talking with Steve who is checking on Natasha who is a little bruised, and all three of their heads turn when they see you dragging your feet behind Tony.

Bucky gives you a questioning look while Steve and Natasha look plain confused, both having not met you until now.

“FRIDAY,” Tony calls out. “I need a full body scan on Y/N.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

You roll your eyes as Tony gestures you into a room. You can still see everyone through the glass walls as you step on a small circle in the floor, presuming it’s where you need to stand for the scan.

Steve asks the million dollar question. “What’s going on?”

“Got stabbed,” you reply with a shrug, making Tony’s blood boil even faster.

Natasha snorts at your nonchalance, Steve gives Tony a baffled look, but Bucky seems weirdly concerned. “You what?”

“It was a long time ago,” you tell Bucky.

“No, it was a few months ago. And she never went to a hospital,” Tony adds, right as FRIDAY finishes the scan. “What have we got FRIDAY?”

“Evidence of internal bleeding that has since stopped, but nothing else. Everything has healed properly.”

“Well thank god for that,” Tony deadpans.

You nearly flip him off right there, but you settle on a glare. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” Tony says. “But we’re not done.”

“For fuck’s sake, I did not start the fire!”

“Oh no, I believe you there,” Tony says. “I wanna know who stabbed you.”

“Some random idiots,” you shrug, walking out of the room and past Tony, back toward Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. “Leave me the hell alone about it. Goddamn.”

Tony lets you walk this time, watching you storm off toward the elevator. Meanwhile, he has two super soldiers and a spy staring at him like they just found out his darkest secret.

“So...that’s Y/N,” Natasha comments. “She’s got fire.”

“She’s also got an attitude,” Tony retorts.

“It’s just like yours,” Steve fires back, raising an eyebrow.

Tony ignores him.

“Here’s my question,” Natasha says. “If she was stabbed that many times in that many places— How did it heal? That’s not normal.” And when Tony gives her a confused look, she adds, “You know what I mean.”

“Wait,” Steve catches on. “You don’t think she’s…” He looks over at Bucky.

“She knew I was standing behind the wall earlier,” Bucky says, a realization crossing his face. “She could sense me. I heard her, but I was too far away for any normal person to hear me.”

“Okay, let’s not jump to these conclusions right now,” Tony interjects. “It’s bad enough she has an arrest warrant and a habit of getting stabbed. I don’t need to worry about her being like you two knuckleheads.”

“It’s still worth looking into,” Natasha comments.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “We need to know if she is, Tony.”

“Well right now, she’s being a hormonal teenager, so I don’t think I’ll be able to ask her about it,” Tony deadpans.

“She just lost her mom,” Bucky says, remembering when Steve told him, and his heart broke for you. “Give her a break.”

“If you want to talk to her Barnes, go right ahead.”

“I might,” Bucky retorts, already heading toward the exit so he can find where you went. “Just to apologize for your attitude.”

+++

It takes Bucky a full ten minutes of searching for you before he remembers he can just ask FRIDAY.

“She’s currently in her room, James, but it is on Do Not Disturb.”

“Can you override that for me?” Bucky asks the AI.

“One moment.”

Bucky has no idea why FRIDAY needs a moment, but he waits. He’s in the living area so your room is just down the hall, but knocking does no good when Do Not Disturb is live. He knows because he uses it every night. No sound gets in or out.

“Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course.

He heads down the hall to knock on your door, but you don’t respond. Because of the circumstances, Bucky goes against his better judgement and opens your door.

He’s met with a pillow hitting his chest.

“Oh,” you say immediately after. Bucky is surprised to find you sitting on the floor in front of the window, facing the city skies with a blanket over your shoulders. “Sorry. FRIDAY said Tony overrode it so I thought it was him.”

“Nope, just me,” Bucky replies, holding out his hands. He reaches down and grabs the pillow, tossing it back on your bed. “What are you doing down there?”

“Looking,” you shrug, turning back around to face the city.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure.”

Bucky shuts the door. “FRIDAY, put Do Not Disturb back up please.”

“Of course, James. Do Not Disturb is now active.”

“It’s really weird,” you say. “Having an AI in this place. Doesn’t it creep you out?”

Bucky lets out a laugh when he kneels to the floor to sit a little distance away from you, putting his back to the window. “There’s a lot of tech I don’t understand. I kinda had to get used to it quick when I was in Wakanda, though, so nothing phases me anymore.”

“Right, you were...gone for a while,” you pause, not knowing how to approach the subject. “You and Steve both were, right?”

He nods. “Steve was frozen, I was brainwashed.”

He says it so bluntly that you don’t know how to respond at all.

“I’m not anymore,” Bucky continues. “But I did a lot that I’m not proud of. And I was framed for something I didn’t do.”

You half-hum, half-scoff at that. “So you know what it’s like.”

Bucky nods, leaning his head back against the window. “I do.”

“Who were you brainwashed by again?”

“HYDRA,” Bucky replies, tensing a little. “Why?”

“Just curious,” you shrug. “The name sounds familiar, though.”

Bucky lifts his head from the window. “How familiar?”

You shake your head, unsure. “I dunno. It was all over the news, though, right? That’s probably why.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bucky replies slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them.

“Do you know why you were stabbed?”

You don’t move a single muscle. You don’t even blink.

“Tony was an asshole,” Bucky says. “He shouldn’t force you to talk about something that recent.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you do ever wanna talk about it,” Bucky pauses, “I’m here. No pressure, though. I get it.”

You nod slowly, watching him from your peripheral vision. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Just not right now,” you continue, surprising yourself and Bucky. “Maybe later.”

“Whenever you want,” he shrugs. “I’ll give you some space, though. Do you uh...want your pillow back?”

You perk up a little. “Yeah, thanks. If you don’t mind.”

Bucky pushes himself to his feet, walking over to the bed to grab your pillow. He tosses it back to you gently.

You smile softly and hug it to your chest, but Bucky knows that once he leaves, you’ll lay down and sleep, right there in front of the window. Because your bed must be too soft.

He gets it. His is, too.

[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.

[cgspirl]

i'm polluting this tag with my headcanons and there is nothing any of you can do to stop me; some of them are nsfw i'll mark as such also these are all about the film(s) and they are in no particular order okay okay cool here we go:

deacon is trans. there i said it i said it out loud and none of you can make me take it back. pronouns are he/it

both quinn and mercury are nonbinary; mercury is afab they/she while quinn is amab he/they. literal mirrors

(nsfw)^all three above are fucking. it's all like. extremely unspoken but they are fucking and no one brings it up because why the fuck would they? none of their business. also mercury pegs. she just does; damn good at it, too

deacon is something of a vampiric cannibal; i (personally) have never watched the vampire diaries or whatever but i've stolen that blood-drinking from another vampire is an extremely intimate, yet extremely taboo, act; deacon, however, is not a purveyor of sanctity and will drink from whoever he damn well fucking pleases

^addition to the one above but it's specifically taboo in the house of erebus (the one that frost belongs to in the film), the other houses have their own policies and procedures about it but it's essentially Gross™️ to do/frowned upon in erebus

blade is autistic. no i will not elaborate.

scud is trans. no cis person dresses Like That, nor names themselves 'scud' as a nickname. i refuse to believe he's cis. i refuse

^yes i know his actual name is 'josh' but my point still stands

vampires are actually quite animalistic when given the opportunity; most of them just sorta. Don't. they want to blend in (as stated in canon), and those who refuse/choose to act on their impulses are seen as 'wrong' or 'defiant' (like frost); because of this, most vampires in power are massive hypocrites, only acting on these compulsions in private and/or with others of similar power status

vampires can actually drink other types of blood; it just. doesn't have the same nutritional value as humans. so yes, a squirrel can be a juice box if so desired (pro tip: they don't taste great)

certain vampiric powers like hypnosis, super strength/speed, etc., etc. are still common, but manifest differently in each vampire (i.e. deacon being as 'charismatic' (if you wanna call it that) as he is can actually be attributed to having mild verbal hypnosis that is, yes, affected by his emotions sue me, quinn being able to take a beating like we see in the film due to having abnormally high durability/a faster more effective/durable regenerative healing factor, and mercury having abnormally high speed/stamina)

deacon was a familiar before rising through the vampire ranks (possibly dragonetti's before being turned and letting his ambition take precendent over being a subordinate)

deacon can cook, but not particularly well; can use the blender like a motherfucker though. quinn is banned from the kitchen. mercury is the only one with any sort of cooking prowess/skill that can actually make something edible

scud can't cook. you look at him and tell me he can do more than use a fucking microwave, and even that's a stretch on a good day

blade can, but usually whistler takes care of meals and yes blade will forget to eat and have to be reminded he's got a lot going on alright cut this man some slack

blade dissociates from time to time, and if you could hear his thoughts during these points it would 100% sounds like the tetris theme

^he also laughs at dad jokes. only when whistler tells them, though

scud is also autistic. i don't think i need to elaborate

had scud lived, he wouldn't have lived long enough to do anything particularly meaningful for the vampire nation, probably being fed to any experiment failures had damaskinos succeeded in his plans to harvest blade's blood (i swear i don't hate scud i just don't think they would've like. needed him for a whole lot? after figuring shit out and i wouldn't put it past eli to pull some bullshit like that tbh)

blade has had to hose scud multiple times due to the latter forgetting to shower (like that picture from wikihow you know the one)

if i think of more, i'll reblog this but also please feel 100% free to add onto this with your own stuff i wanna know what the hell goes on in y'alls brains let me in please i'm begging a lil

[flowerflamestars]

i remember that you once said something about privateer nesta could you elaborate? please? *shrek cat eyes*

WHO TOLD YOU I AM COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TO THE CAT EYES??

okay, so admittedly I don't remember the context in which I said this?? But I still SUPER super love the idea

and it matches with what we'll call the Dream ACOTAR Extended Universe Plot, almost canon.

We begin with the final battle against Hybern. Tamlin dies, closing the loop of his tragic, misspent life. Amren stays dead, a magical being on to the next adventure.

Rhysand stays dead.

He functionally (magically) threw himself on a bomb, and took the whole blast. He's not the Cauldron- and no one man could repair what it once was, but he could contain the fatal, drastic implosion of an object that was meant to endure forever, fractured into more and more peices.

Why is this important?

Because it leaves a world where Feyre Archeron- twenty-ish, romantic hero, prop, prisoner- becomes High Lady in her own, true right.

(I don't think she's necessarily good at this job, because why would she be? It's not even her fault- Feyre has no idea about how faery politics work, no real tangible knowledge of her own inherited kingdom.)

But both the men who stole her and defined her and loved her and hurt her are dead.

And it not only sets her on a journey to become, on her own, an actual character in her own life, but it galvanizes the Archeron sisters.

Feyre's basically fucking comatose after the battle. Elain has been a mess this entire time, but after that last fight with Grayson, walking into the war and stabbing a king in the throat- she is as vital and herself as Nesta has seen her in years.

Nesta just watched her father die and felt nothing- and she hates herself for it. She and Elain had taken the head of the man who stole everything from them- and she doesn't have a single regret.

Feyre screamed until she could no longer- there's so much magic seething out her it hurts to look at-

There's a dark well inside herself that could rise. But why should Nesta let it? So what, if she doesn't mourn her father? He'd never cared about her and Elain- not when they were young, too busy and important to even speak to his own children. Not when they lost everything, and he'd tried one last time to sell them both into marriages to recoup the family loss. Not after, in the starving cold, no matter what she'd tried to force him into action.

Nesta had been mourning all along a human girls human life- what is an absent, neglectful, shitty in the most ordinary of ways human parent if not a part of that lost future?

Their sister owns a fucking country- their sister is, at this minute so hemmed in by her followers no one can see her, much less comfort her- there's a war camp falling apart around them- there's Nesta, Elain, and Azriel, unhurt, upright, alive.

(she does not let herself think that an hour before she'd been ready to die and thought it right, the ending the meant to be conclusion of her story. she does not think about how she'd wished Cassian healed beneath her hands and that he had healed, that she'd wept to learn she could do more than destroy.

that she'd still been weeping, her mouth bright with his blood, when he'd pulled away, dragged himself to Morrigan's waiting arms)

Nesta Archeron is alive. Her sisters are alive. They're free, and she'll be fucking damned if this all falls apart before Feyre can heal.

Nesta turns to Azriel and asks if he can take control of the legions.

She has no time for his blank, angry eyes- she knows he's hurt, he's mourning, he's lost- but she needs him. Cassian's...down. Rhys is dead. Feyre and Morrigan are not coming out of that tent.

And he just listens. Thoughtfully. Asks what Nesta intends to do.

And Nesta looks at Elain- soft, kind, gentle Elain who'd never once wavered now when life was on the line. Who hadn't cried a tear for their father, or for the man who'd kidnapped and then married their baby sister.

The danger wasn't over- and neither had the steel faded from Elain's spine.

Nesta tells Azriel she's going to find Keir.

Nesta isn't blind- she's walked the Hewn City, spoken to the eldest darkness. She was also at the joke of a Summit- Autumn wants new territory, Keir wants to rule Night. And here Night is, weakened, a lamb to slaughter.

Nesta's not going to lose again- she's not going to give these ancient, cruel lords another chance.

Elain grabbed her hand and squeezed- the one person, always, who Nesta never need explain herself to.

Aren't the High Fae technically Morrigan's Elain asked, a bare whisper as they walked through the camp.

It went without saying yes, but Nesta had never seen any indication they respected her enough to listen to her. She made a face, and Elain made one right back, rueful. She had eyes too, after all.

They're not going to listen to us in these clothes, Elain also told her.

She was right, of course. They were High Fae, and that mattered to those vile pricks, but they'd been outfitted for flight. She would do almost anything, actually, to be free of leather pants.

Which Elain, a gleam in her eye that Nesta was learning meant magic, dreamy and happy- led her precisely to a gold topped tent, stepped inside, bowed, and asked without a trace of hesitation if Helion Spellcleaver, Lord of Day, would perhaps do them the favor of loaning them some garments.

Solid gold eyes gleaming against blood and smoke tinged dark skin, beautiful, glorious Helion, smiled.

Day-white against Night- but also, Nesta knew, taking care with her crown of a braid, the splatter of blood left on her throat, her mouth, her cheeks like fine paint- white was the color of death.

Elain covered herself completely- shawl wrapped over her hair, tucked around her neck, breathing easier now, in human modesty- but hung from a golden belt that Helion, with the clear air of someone who knew something about seers, had found, metal hammered with stars and flames, was Truthteller, the long blade without a sheathe, black metal swallowing up light.

Keir was easy to find, and in fine form, surrounded by Darkbringers, who looped back behind the sisters the second they were close.

Nesta was not afraid- she'd thrown power into the sky and it had hurt. Not in depth, but because she was still holding on- it wanted out-it wanted to devour-

Elain dipped a flagrantly rude, swallow bob of a curtsey. Nesta didn't even bother- just let Keir hail them, royal family that they were. He liked the sound of his own voice, but he was also clever- they'd come here of their own volition and now they were trapped.

She could smell the reinforcements, the utter Autumn reek.

Nesta interrupted, and asked Keir to come and swear fealty to her sister.

It was never going to get the right answer, but it had to be said. It had to be heard.

She'd been right- they'd been right- Keir enjoyed the cruelty of getting close to Nesta, denying straight to her Archeron face that no, Rhysand's bloodline was ended. It was time, it was right, for the House of Truth to once more hold their throne.

He spoke his treason aloud, looming over Nesta- close enough to touch.

So Nesta did.

She'd willed Cassian alive and whole. It was so, so much easier to remember fire, death, drowning, to push and want the revolting man's destruction.

And when he fell, silvered fire that had filled his lungs spilling from his throat, Nesta did not flinch. She looked to the next lieutenant, a frankly indistinguishable golden haired pale-eyed blandly handsome man in black armor, and asked, if he, as the new commander of the Darkbringers, would like to give a different answer.

He did.

Azriel met them halfway back to Feyre, grim mouth flickering for a second at the sight of Elain, before looking, stone-faced, at Nesta beside her, leading a crowd of the highest ranked Night Court faeries she could find.

Keir? He asked.

Dead, Elain answered, and that was that.

The Shadowsinger fell in step with the Seer, a threatening shadow to two pale beacons.

It was Azriel who actually went inside the tent. Who said what needed to said, what made Morrigan splutter loudly enough to be heard outside, before she burst out the tent in a whorl of hair, before blanching.

Nesta had just enough control not to roll her eyes. They come to swear fealty.

And Morrigan, chewing her lip with all the dignity of a child- Elain and Nesta had been trained out of such gestures at eight, what did she think was happening here? - shook her head. She's not well, it can wait.

No, Azriel said, from behind her, it can't.

He was supporting what looked like the entirety of Feyre's weight. Dead-white, blue eyes a blaze, Feyre looked blearily out at all of them like she recognized no one.

Elain, treasure that she was, came forward to take her sister's other hand, whispering both condolence and explanation.

And so the High Houses of Night knelt in battlefield mud, and swore eternal loyalty to the youngest Archeron.

It was only after they were gone that Nesta hugged her sister- hard enough Feyre protested, a fresh batch of tears soaking Nesta's shoulder even before Elain joined them.

It's Azriel, voice a little less like a phantom, who tells Feyre they're handling things. That if she wants to rest more, that's fine.

She was so clearly shattered- Nesta half wondered how much of that Azriel can literally feel/hear with his shadow...things.

Feyre protests that there's things to do- Feyre makes it halfway through a sentence about plans before she says Rhysand's name like he's still alive and collapses in on herself like a wave crashing.

Nesta and Elain tuck Feyre back into the blanket pile. Nesta manages to kiss her forehead before Morrigan is there, hugging Feyre putting herself bodily between the sisters.

They leave, and outside, Azriel is waiting.

To hand Nesta a gaudy, enormous platinum ring. The seal of the Night Court- Nesta recognizes it from shipping manifests, but she'd never actually seen it as an adult. Here, as a faery.

Her thoughts on Azriel's powers hold true, as he answers the dismay: Rhys only used it when he had to. It had passed between the whole Court of Dreams hands, there had not been a vizier, a lord of stars, since the time of Rhysand's father.

Nesta puts on the hideous ring, barely flinching at the brush of magic, it resizing to her hand.

Elain grasps her other, squeezing, and asks Azriel who is next.

They work ceaselessly, pausing only to sleep. Azriel, Nesta is quite sure, isn't sleeping at all- until she goes looking for him with a question and finds him finally, finally out cold, face tucked in Lucien Vanserra's neck.

In silence and gestures, they come to something of an agreement- and when the Night Court comes to the table to talk peace, it's with Lucien. Jurian, who Nesta immediately liked.

By the time they return to the North, there is not a Lord one who does not know the names and nightmarish qualities of all three Archeron sisters.

Feyre mourns, and learns to govern slow. Cassian goes back to Illyria and does not return for a long, long time. Morrigan becomes Feyre's second- Nesta laughs, not altogether kind, when Lucien tells her this. No one has been able to answer her as to why, if Morrigan is so powerful, why did she not fight? what does she actually do?

What answers to her questions she does find are appalling. Why does Winter block our every turn? oh, Rhysand killed more than a dozen children. Why is Summer refusing our trade? Well, Rhysand stole their ancestral pride. Why is the Hewn City so wrathful at even the slightest form of intervention? Because Rhysand had left Keir to rule alone.

Nesta doesn't want to rule the fucking court. She thinks she could leave all of these politicians to rot- but she won't let Feyre misstep her way to death, shouldering a burden of her dead mate.

There's nothing they can give Winter but apology and so that's what Nesta does. On her knees, in a gilded palace of ice, stars caught in her hair and the seal on her. Kallias, bright and young, seems to know something about inherited problems- he does not ever forget, but he forgives, at least, the Archerons.

Summer is more complicated- but Nesta does what she can. Gives them every melted, ruined piece of the Book. Offers reparations for the next millennia. Ends up paying for what she is appalled and embarrassed to learn is a two hundred year old debt for a building the head of the Night Court's armed forces- Cassian, fucking Cassian the ghost haunting Nesta- had destroyed. During a brawl. At a solstice party.

She deals only with Cressieda, and they come to understand each other very well.

Nesta was not raised for politics and bullshit- her mother wanted her to marry a crown, but Nesta wanted the family empire. Trade. The Archeron legacy, denied to a girl. She likes Summer more than any place in Prythian, and she doesn't hide that. She relearns old lessons of tide and routes in secret, before Cressieda reveals that of course, she knows who the Archerons were.

It goes well, until Morrigan finds out what she's been doing, and tells Feyre.

The youngest Archeron had been doing better. Morrigan has been right by her side, through everything. Cassian is in Illyria, and Feyre understands why, writing him letters. She writes letters to Rhys too, if only to have a way to direct the words.

Azriel, spectral and busy she sees the least of, but Feyre never doubts his presence, keeping her safe. Elain comes, drags her out into sunlight, brings Lucien and it makes Feyre happy to see them together. Nesta comes too, with them both and alone, with papers from Feyre to sign, with affection sharp-edged but true.

Feyre knows she owes them all more than can be said- she's not stupid, she knows they're keeping Night together. That slowly those responsibilities will fall to her, when she's ready.

She does not think about how much of those responsibilities is cleaning up the tangled mess of betrayal Rhysand left behind. In her head, there is only Rhys- beloved and shadowed, kind and tortured.

Until Morrigan tells her that it's been acknowledged, in public, by Night, that Rhysand was a thief, and a murder of children.

Feyre loses her shit.

Rhysand had done what he had to. Who was Nesta, to say such things? She'd always hated Rhys. Rhys had always hated her, maybe he was right- the children. Rhys had mourned them in screaming nightmares, but he hadn't hurt them-

(Feyre does not stop to think it strange, that Rhys could have nightmares of memories not his own. That he might have fractured just a bit, under Amarantha. That the Red Lady had no daemati- that was why she'd kept Rhys all along.)

The fight is as ugly as can be imagined. And what proceeds is of course, worse. Feyre says terrible things she will ultimately regret and apologize for, but what becomes clear is that Morrigan thinks that Nesta means to hold power forever.

That she's taken advantage.

And Cassian, called home by rage, believes her.

That is, more than her ungrateful sister, more than the ongoing weight of cleaning up after a man she despised for good reason, the end of Nesta Archeron's Night Court career.

She'd thought she loved him- she'd been willing to die with him- but they'd lived. This was the life, the next life, and what did he think of her? That Nesta was a power hungry snob. That she was paying too much heed to politics.

That Nesta belonged quietly at home. That she should have learned to fight somewhere along that way- a point so convoluted it made Lucien laugh- that she hadn't learned anything that mattered.

That she had no right to kill Keir, because it had hurt Morrigan.

Had he ever, Nesta would wonder later, even liked her? Enjoyed anything about her but for that magical tether, telling him he was blessed with something special?

Nesta was something special, and she knew it.

And so she returned the ring to Azriel, packed up her possessions, and left.

First to Day, where Elain had bought a house. Fury and tears both met the explanation of what happened- fury and tears that turned to getting inadvisably drunk in sunlight, when Lucien and Azriel snuck away to join them.

For the first time in Nesta's adult life, she had no obligations. Magic, money, freedom- the whole world was out there.

She stopped wearing black. Learned pants where actually lovely, when they fit correctly and weren't made of leather. Learned Azriel could laugh, and Lucien was as clever as she'd always thought.

She read books, she ate fruit, she took Helion up on several of his more lascivious offers.

She thought of Cassian, and it ached, but not enough to go backward.

Elain's house was by the sea, right on the water. The scent of salt reminded Nesta of Summer- but also of her oldest, most secret dreams. The warehouses of goods, like mysteries to solve. The account books she stole, learning by candlelight the trade in her blood.

Ten years after the war, Nesta bought a ship.

She set out to be a merchant, use what she knew, but what happened was this: Nesta Archeron did not care anymore for rules. And so when she came upon Hybernian remnants-for they were an island kingdom, even more one with the water than Prythian- pillaging a Summer town, she destroyed them.

She stole their treasure, gave much of it back to the people.

Found, unexpected, that she had much more of a taste for marauding than she would have expected. There was still trade of course- proft made and shared- but Summer needed someone willing to do some destroying out on the sea.

Twelve years after the war, Nesta Archeron became a privateer under the Summer flag, pearls in her hair and a true smile on her lips.

Things grew, as all things do. Feyre wrestled herself the reins of government, stymied by the councils Nesta and Azriel set up as much as she often was by Azriel himself out of truly petulant action. Morrigan remained second, golden blades bright as her gowns within reach. Cassian became a sort of seneschal, reigning over Illyria in Feyre's name cold and alone as the wind through the mountains.

(Feyre thought he might never get over the war, but Azriel knew the truth.)

Elain took herself wherever the future led, a sort of mediator and councilor, walking in all Courts- but always back to home, that isolated green, green cove, where Nesta would land.

When war came again, there was no great Lordly alliance, no cut-throat summit. There was a fleet of ships whose sails where edged in purple, whose announcement across the water was silver fire, whose accompaniment were monsters of old.

Violence did not touch Prythians human shore, because Nesta Archeron did not let it.

She was death on the tide, and she remembered what shores had borne her.

She had a home in Summer, a place in Day, her family across the continent- she had her ships, full of faeries from every walk of life, who wanted as she did the freedom as much as the profit, the endless, endless blue, where sea meets sky.

It was eternity, and the Archeron sisters, free, had made it their own.

[jawabear]

Marcus Moreno NSFW Alphabet

Not my GIF

A/N: You know I had to write one for this boy. It would be wrong not too. As with the others, these are just my interpretations of his character and may differ to yours, but please be respectful of others’ views. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: smut

Warnings: fem!hero!reader, mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly described, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: An A-Z of Marcus Moreno’s bedroom antics...

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Marcus is such a kind man. He’ll make sure you’re okay. And he’ll make sure you don’t need anything before pulling you into his arms if you’re in bed. If you’re else were, he’ll still make sure you’re alright, making you look perfect before you get to where ever you’re meant to be.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, he finds your neck irresistible. Other than your lips, it’s his favourite thing to kiss. He loves to mark it with bites that show everyone you belong to him. He loves to bury his face into your neck while he fucks you, he loves the way your fingers feel in his hair when he does.

On him, he’s rather fond of his arms and his tights (so am I). Mainly because he likes it when you grip his arms when he fucks you, and he loves when you ride his thighs. It’s one of his favourite things, and you always seem to enjoy yourself when you make yourself come on his thighs.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves to come on you. Over your breasts, your stomach...

And he loves to come in your mouth, he loves to see you swallow his come.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you two got together, and after his wife died, he would find him self in need of release. And being one of Heroics as well, there were many clips of you online doing awesome super hero things. He loved watching those. He loved watching the way you moved. The way your muscles flexed. The way you beat up the bad guys so effortlessly. And it was so sexy. He’d watch them in the dead of night while getting himself off. But he doesn’t know if he should ever tell you, because it is a little weird.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I mean, he’s got a kid. Clearly he knows what he’s doing.

He certainly does know what he’s doing. He knows where exactly to touch you to make you feel good before you even know.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He’s a big fan of the classic missionary because he can see your face and kiss you as well as being able to hold your hands which is a big thing that he likes to do.

He also loves when you are on top. Riding him, facing him or not or riding his thighs. He also loves 69......

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be more funny then serious depending on his mood and the circumstances for the sex. He likes to enjoy it and wants to make sure you are enjoying it as well so if he needs to make you laugh he will. But he is mostly serious when it comes to sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s pretty neat down there. It seems he takes more care of his hair down there than he does on his face or his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Marcus is a very romantic person. He wants to make sure you are happy. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and worships you. So he will do whatever he can to put those points across to you as he makes love to you. This would usually be by kissing you for an extended amount of time or just simply telling you how much he loves and adores you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

As stated before, in the time he was on his own, he would jack off quite a lot at night or in the shower (mostly to the thought of you). But now, less so. He’ll still do it on the odd occasion, say if your out on hero business, but you’re usually there to help him out if he needs it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He wants to be your hero. So he’s a big fan of role play. He loves when you decided to put yourself “in danger” for him to have to come and rescue you. Or you acting as someone who is evil and he has to stop you...and punish you.

And he has a slight weapons kink. He would never hurt you with the blade but something about seeing you with his katanas and nothing else drives him mad.

And I’m not saying he has a daddy kink, but I wouldn’t put it past him....

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bedroom. Or the shower. He doesn’t really have a preference between the two. But he’ll go anywhere as long as you are comfortable and happy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

A lot of things came get him going. The main ones being when you are in your hero uniform or when your fingers with lightly brush over any part of him.

But mostly the uniform. Definitely the uniform. Yours or his....

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

As much as he loves the role play and the weapons, he’d never actually use it to draw blood or cause you any sort of discomfort.

And he wouldn’t want to have sex in a public setting where people could see. He’s not so much against say touching you under the table or what ever, but if it came down to him having to fuck you in front of someone he wouldn’t do it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Marcus loves to be between your legs. He’ll eat you out at any given moment. He’s all about pleasing you. And he loves the way you squeak, moan and whimper as he eats you. As well as the way you grab at him to hold his head closer to you.

But he’s an absolute sucker for you sucking him off. As mentioned, he loves to watch you swallow his come. And he loves the feeling of your mouth and tongue on him. You can easily turn him into mush the second your tongue touches his dick.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s kind of in the middle. He can be both extremes (favouring slow and sensual) but he falls some where in between. He’s not exactly slow, but he’s not exactly fast. But somehow it’s the perfect balance that gives you the best orgasms of your life.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not too against them. Sometimes that’s what it will have to be, what with his job and Missy being around.

Sometimes it will have to be a quick fuck in the supply cupboard at HQ. Or a quick one in the kitchen before Missy comes down for breakfast.

But he much prefers to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He used to risk his life every day fighting the dangers of the world, and that mentality does transfer to the bedroom.

If you want to try something, he’ll do it. Unless it’s super dangerous or really really risky.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s not a young as he used to be so he can’t go for that many rounds. In a row that is. If you spaced them out over the days he could got for quite a few. But in a row he’s good for about two.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s never really needed them so he’s never really owned any. But when you brought your trusty little purple vibrator to the party, he grew embarrassingly fond of it. He loves to watch you use it on yourself and he loves using it on you while he eats you out, making you scream. And he likes it when you use it on him, teasing him with it or taking him all the way.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He not necessarily a tease with actions, more with faces or words. He’ll constantly be whispering dirty things into your ear whenever he gets the chance and he’ll send you sexy looks or winks from across the room. He’s very good at getting you worked up with our having to touch you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

With Missy in the house, it’s very much hush hush. For multiple reasons that are pretty obvious. But when she’s gone, he doesn’t hold back. He lets out every sound he had to hold in. He’s not exactly loud, he just makes a lot of noises. But they’re amazing to listen too.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Marcus does find it difficult to make the first move. Even when he does, when just charges at you or something, he will always backtrack or stop to ask you if you want it. You will always want him and you’ve told him that on many occasions but it doesn’t seem to stick in his head. He’s just too sweet to let the beast inside him run free for once.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty decent. He’s longer than he is thick but he’s perfect for you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

To be fair, it’s not all that high. He has a lot on his plate and sex is usually quite far down the list. He’s so busy all the time that he barely even has time for sex. Which is kind of sad and annoying for both you and him, but most of the time you’re pretty busy as well.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

His mind never stops so he finds it difficult to sleep full stop. But sex always seems to relax him enough to make him feel comfortable in getting some sleep. But he is a very light sleeper. And he won’t fall asleep until he has checked you are okay and he’s given the house a once over to make sure everything was locked and everything was where it should be. He’ll take a quick peek into Missy’s room to make sure she is okay before he comes back to bed and eventually falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms.

28/12/20

Taglist: @linkpk88​

[itsagrimm]

Imperial!Tech 2

Is it even romantic without murder?

Imperial!Tech is a delight and I am worried why I have fun writing a murderous lost nerdy boi. will likely do a part 3.

about 2.000 words

part 1

Part 3

CN insults, violence, murder, discriminatory behaviour, very toxic behaviour, soldier life in a fascist state, tiny bit of fluff or Manipulation depends on your perspective, blood, pain, talk of injury. imperial!Tech is a bit of a tease but he will come around

Imperial!tech X they*them Y/N reader

“This will not suffice. Repeat.”, Commander Tech ordered.

His command was calm and detached, a contrast to the exhausted and heavily panting Elite Squad soldiers.

They looked at each other. None of them having the strength to continue their practice. But also none of them having the will to argue with their commander.

Y/N looked up to the observatory deck. Commander Tech was up there, his black armour contrasting with the white walls.

“Is there a problem, ONCE?”, the voice of the commander echoed in Y/N helmet, using the moniker the elite squad had given Y/N.

“No sir. Can we get a short break before a new try?”

The commander glanced down before looking at the holopad in his hands again.

“The elite squad endurance and recovery time is miserable as expected. I calculated your performance to be at least on par with regular clone troopers. I see now that it was a mistake, and I will have to lower my expectation further & readjust my strategies to your … lacking skill level.”

“I am sorry, sir.”

“It is not your mistake to be born inferior.”, the commander stated flattly, “Your next round will be in 5 minutes standard.”

The Elite Squad looked at each other. Their commander was in a mood. Since his injury on Bracca the Squad had not been in action and commander Tech worked them into the ground with his bone breaking practice runs.

“It is impossible.”, ES-02 said using a private chat without the commander, “Who is he comparing us to? The commanders’ expectations are inhuman. Only some kind of super squad could execute his mind-boggling plans in the time he gives us.”

They nodded in agreement.

“He expects us to be at least as good as the regular clone troopers.”, ES-04 stated.

ES-03 laughed: “Yeah we are better than thosemeat droids. And what does he mean with regular clones? Is there even fancier cannon fodder out there?”

“Commander Tech is noticeably different from other clones. Maybe there are more like him out there?”, Y/N pointed out.

“Oh maker, imagine more copies of that pretentious smart mouth up there.” ES-03 rolled his eyes.

“Get in position and execute plan 8C.3 .”, the commanders voice cut through their chatter. ONCE felt as if they got caught bad mouthing Tech.

“Yes sir.”, they replied and got into position.

A ping from a private channel ringed. It was ES-03.

“You are quiet protective of our commander Tech, my dear ONCE. Is there something I need to know?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, … it is always ‘yes sir’ and ‘of course sir’ and sometimes you are both gone in the night. And our dear commander got a lovely visit in the med bay when he was wounded. You even bring him caf somet-“

“ES-03, mind your business.”

“No need to get so aggressive. I am sure it is nothing. And I am sure it is just a coincidence that he leaves you out of punishments or giving you the safest positions in his strategies…”

ONCE said nothing.

Since that time in the hangar the commander had some allure and to admit that meant a defeat ONCE could not afford.

“Well my dearest ONCE, got nothing to say about that? I-“

Static cut through their transmission.

“ES-03, I must inform you that I am very disappointed by your unprofessional behaviour within the Elite Squad which I will not tolerate anymore.”

“Commander? Is that you?”

“Yes of course, who else did you expect?”

ES-03 turned around and looked up to the observatory deck.

Commander Tech’s expression was unreadable, his eyes hidden by the reflecting glasses.

For a moment none of them moved. Then ES-03 took of his helmet and started shouting.

“Are you spying on us? Are you listening to all our private conversations???”, he screamed with a red head.

The commanders lips moved but up there and without his helmet ES-03 could not hear the commanders answer.

“Calm down”, ES-04 tried to defuse her squad member’s anger.

“I am NOT calming down! The sick dirty clone listens to our private channels!”

“Mate, it is not worth it to start a fight like this now.”, ES-02 added, “put your weapon down and think about it.”

“Are you serious??? Do you think I am a threat with this crappy old DC-17? A danger to any of you?! No, it’s this meat bag of a clone who should be afraid of me!”

ONCE flinched at ES-03’s words and readied their weapon.

He was out.

An angry man was a dangerous man.

ONCE former life as a bounty hunter had taught them this lesson well.

Static cut through their helmet again before ONCE heard commander Techs voice.

“Tell ES-03 that the Empire has issued an order to all commanding officers to listen into all communication of their soldiers. It is also very much encouraged to record it.”

“Are you sure that will calm him down, sir?”

“I don’t care about that. He either learns how to live with imperial command or he does not.”

“You are testing him.”

Tech paused.

“Follow your orders, soldier.”

He cut the transmission.

ES-03 was still shouting. His spit landed on ONCE helmet when he turned toward them.

“What did that clone say, my dearONCE??? You two just talked, didn’t you?!”

He sounded furious. His eyes burning like laser blasts into ONCE body.

“He said, checking all communication between soldiers is the new imperial standard to which the commander simply has complied.”

“Fuck that!”

ES-03 stepped closer, his DC-17 blaster still in his hands.

“Fuck that! Fuck that clone! Fuck the Empire! Fuck YOU, you little imperial whore!”

He raised his blaster, aiming for ONCE.

ONCE got cold. Trained instincts kicking in. They rolled sideways behind one of the training blocks to avoid the shot.

A blue blast slightly grazed their helmet, but the adrenaline made it impossible to tell whether or not ONCE got hit.

“ES-03! Stand down!”, Tech’s voice commandeered from somewhere close. He must have left the observatory deck.

“HA! What are you going to do, little nerdy boi? Do you want to protect your little pet over there?! Don’t even try! You are not even a real man!”

Another blue blast shot through the air.

ONCE could hear the Tech and other Squad members taking cover.

“He really did go full rage.”

“Not everyone is cut out for the soldier life.”

“Not everyone is cut out for the Empire!”

“What do we do?”

“Cut the chatter, soldiers”, Tech commandeered, “Take ES-03 out. Shot to kill.”

“Sir?!”

“We can stun him!”

Instead of an answer Tech jumped over the training block he was couching behind and kicked ES-03. ONCE heard the blaster slide over the floor and the sound of fists colliding with skin.

Over and over again.

The sound got wetter.

ES-03’s screams turned into pleas before going silent.

XXXXXXX

Another rotation on Kamino. Another dark night in the bunk room of the Imperial Elite Squad. Another nightmare.

Y/N woke up and looked around. Everything was calm except for the rain knocking at the window and the slow breaths from their fellow soldiers. Commander Tech was missing as always.

Weeks since the Commander had been hurt on Bracca. Days since ES-03 s death. Hours since he – since Tech – had looked at y/n. Why was that such a painful thought? He was a horrible man, a murderer!

He is just a good soldier, he follows orders. Just like you.

Y/N closed their eyes. Pictures of Tech beating ES-03 to death flashed before their eyes and with them the realization that whatever crimes and murders Tech committed, Y/N committed them alongside him. Two monstrous beings in service of a monstrous Empire.

The door to the bunkroom opened silently, only a light draft giving away the silhouette in the door frame. Y/N glanced to the door. It was the commander. He looked at the sleeping elite squad members and through the room as if he was searching for something.

Y/N got up on their elbows and looked at the commander.

Their eyes met.

“ONCE”, he whispered, “Come with me.”

Y/N got into their boots and followed the commander. The long white halls of Tipoca, the kaminoan capital, were empty and quiet. Tech lead the way but surprisingly they passed the hangar and soon arrived at his little office.

He turned around.

“I require your assistance, ONCE.”, he explained in a calm voice, using the moniker the elite squad had given Y/N.

“Now?”, ONCE answered.

“Yes, now.”

They looked at each other. Tech looked horrible. He had dark circles under his eyes so prominent, that even his glasses couldn’t hide them. His head wound from Bracca had left severe, still bloody scars and his hair was unkept and in patches from the burn he survived.

“What is it, commander?”

Instead of an answer he opened the door to his office. It was a little room, full of unfinished projects and gadgets, a wall scribbled with complex formulars ONCE was not in the mood to fathom and a littered table with various unfinished reports.

The workspace of the commander surprised ONCE. It was a stark contrast to the thoroughly planning and executing commander they knew.

“Can you cut my hair?”

“Sorry, sir?”

ONCE turned away from the room and faced the commander. His face was reserved but his voice had a telling neediness in it. The commander, Tech, he needed help.

“Well, I cut my own hair. I can try cutting yours. But I am no professional.”

He nodded.

“I noticed.”, he paused and smiled apologetically for his ambiguous phrasing, “That you cut your own hair, I mean.”

ONCE was speechless. He had smiled.

“I have my personal reservations towards the imperial service corps and their droid hairdressers. And the other option is to ask another trooper since I do not have the skill to cut my hair. But quite frankly the thought of trained regular soldiers having blades near my throat and more importantly my still healing wounds being opened up by some well meaning yet bad practising self-learned barber, is distressing which is why I require you to cut my hair.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I was not aware of the need for sunlight in order to cut hair. Can you elaborate?”

ONCE suppressed a smile.

“I am sorry, sir. The circumstances are just a bit unusual. But I can try cutting your hair. And I do not plan on cutting your throat.”

“Good to know.”

He nodded casually, satisfied with ONCE’s answer, and produced a hair clipper from somewhere before seating himself on a chair with his back towards them. It was a captivating moment. ONCE looked at the hair clipper in their hand with its tiny blades and the commanders turned back to them. He had defined yet narrow shoulders for a soldier and a muscular back, visible through the thigh blacks. His bare neck was visible, and his occipital moved under his skin when he turned and looked at ONCE.

“It is alright. Feel free to give me whatever hair cut you choose to be fitting. As long as it is functional, I am content.”

ONCE breathed in. That was the commander. And they were about to cut his hair like they were good ol’pals or family. Like they were more. It was a sign of trust so unusual on Kamino, yet he had asked for it.

“You will need to take your glasses of.”

He complied and waited.

ONCE touched his hair to feel its texture before cutting. It was soft. Like a child’s.

They started cutting both sides to even out the burned parts and help with the sensitive skin around his scars before shortening the rest. Burned curls after curls fell on his shoulders and he brushed them away with his hands.

His hands. His murderous hands. They were large and had long fingers with little cuts from tinkering around. How did it feel being touched by them?

ONCE finished cutting, walked around Tech to look at the commander and squatted to see him from an even perspective. He looked good.

“This will work, sir.”

Instead of an answer he stretched his arm out and grabbed ONCE’s jaw.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

He got up and turned away.

Part 3