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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

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Stitches and Pucks

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

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

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

[17k]

Harry

I swear I’m gonna kill Zayn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that mean I get your number?”

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

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

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

Perfect fucking lips.

“I don’t shit where I eat,” she adds.

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

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

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

“The Athletic Trainer?”

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

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

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

She nods. “I’ve met her twice.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We all bark in laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come here. Come here. Come here.

Fuck, she goes with Sarah to the bar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From the seizure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, seriously... I like her laugh.

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

We’ll get there, I’m sure.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, I ignore his comment.

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

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

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

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

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

I shove him off with a chuckle. That bastard.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shake my head again. “Nope.”

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Doc,” I tell her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Got a hot date already?”

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

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

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

“How about tomorrow night then?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I close in on the goalie and juke left.

He goes left and I juke right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” I growl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Doc,” I smile at her.

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

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

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

“Do I have to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shake my head and say, “nope.”

“Clicking or popping?”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I ask incredulously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

She laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

And there she is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He can do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, huh?” She asks with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?” I ask, playing dumb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey, what are you doing today?

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

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

Want some company? I quickly type.

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

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

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

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

Give me half an hour.

Perfect.

—

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

Until today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“The chicken?” She murmurs.

“Among other things,” I reply softly.

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

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

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

“Good?” She asks with a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She laughs.

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

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

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

—

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

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

Wait? What?

Sleep.

Couch.

We fell asleep on her couch while watching a film.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can cook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What have you got planned?”

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

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

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

—

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

This is nice.

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

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

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

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

“Want another?” I ask her.

“No,” she groans. “I’m so full.”

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

She shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Fucking hopeless,” Matt mutters and Alex snickers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An autograph, then?” She asks.

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here.”

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

I tap my thigh, “right here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s nothing else but her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” is all I say.

“But-”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?”

“Just get in the car, Doc.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I look at her in confusion.

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

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

She snorts. “Shut up, I’m serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure. What time?”

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

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

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

YN,

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

No? Didn’t think so.

Have fun you two.

Callie

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re welcome by the way

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

I guess I owe those fuckers some beers.

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

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blu-joons · 3 years ago

Text

You Appear On KyuTV ~ Cho Kyuhyun

As soon as you noticed that Kyuhyun had brought his stove cooker into the living room, you knew that you were in trouble. A separate table had been set up just off the camera, filled with ingredients for whatever he had in mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ve picked an easy recipe for us to try,” he assured you, sensing the panic in your eyes as you scanned the room and all of his equipment.

“Easy for you maybe,” you frowned, walking across to sit beside him as his hand tapped the empty chair at his side. Several monitors were around the place, with two lighting sticks behind the table to make sure that you both looked as good as you could on camera.

Out of the two of you, Kyuhyun was by far the better chef, in fact, you couldn’t understand why he even asked you to get involved in a cooking video for him, when you would be less help then even Hyukjae would be.

As Kyuhyun began to turn on his cameras to start his stream, you sat nervously in your chair with your hands resting firmly in your lap. “There’s no need to look so nervous,” he promised as he glanced at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thousands of your fans watch these things,” you scoffed, pointing to the main camera in front of you, “if I end up making a mistake then they’re all bound to turn me into a stupid meme, or whatever it is that they do.”

“Trust me, no one will be making any memes of you.”

With one final check, Kyuhyun grabbed his computer and pulled it forwards so that his livestream could start. As you expected, it didn’t take long before the view count began to increase, passing the few hundreds, and soon moving into the thousands too.

“I thought seeing as I had the day off, we could make one of mine and Y/N’s favourite meals,” he spoke, introducing to the viewing fans were what his plans were.

You were left to sit and watch as Kyuhyun turned up the heat on the stove, grabbing his frying pan and placing oil into it. Just as you began to get comfortable though, he reached across to the table, grabbing two chopping boards and plenty of vegetables.

“You want me to chop these up?” You questioned as he placed one of the boards in front of you. “But you always moan how much longer I take than you at cutting veg?”

“It’s alright, we’ve got plenty of time,” he smiled, trying his best to keep you calm and relaxed, “just do as much as you can, I’ll take the more difficult vegetables because I’m nice and strong and can cut right through them all easily.”

Your eyes rolled as Kyuhyun rolled up his sleeve to flex his bicep before beginning to chop up the vegetables for the dish. You did the same, however unlike Kyuhyun, your eyes kept flickering to the screen and the increasing number of viewers that were watching.

“You’re doing good,” Kyuhyun complimented, “this dish is going to be amazing.”

Your head nodded in agreement with him. “That’s all because you’re such an amazing cook, it would be pretty poor if I made it alone.”

“We’ve made it plenty of times together, and we’ve not had a flop yet,” he reminded you, beginning to tip some of the cut-up vegetables into the frying pan. “This is a really easy recipe for the fans to follow along with too, don’t you think?”

As Kyuhyun began to fry off the vegetables, the two of you found yourselves engaging a little more with the fans. Kyuhyun continued to ask you questions to keep you involved, knowing how much the fans all loved when you were a part of their content too.

“Y/N loves all of my recipes,” Kyuhyun quickly interjected as you read through one of the questions, “there’s never any complaints from her guys.”

“Well, that burger that you made once was a little bit dodgy.”

“I thought we agreed not to talk about that, don’t go telling the fans that I can’t cook.”

Your head shook, leaving Kyuhyun to his own devices as he finished cooking, desperate to prove to everyone watching, and you that he definitely could cook. The smell that filled the room once he was eventually finished brought a smile to your face, your only regret being that the fans couldn’t enjoy it with you.

“And here it is,” Kyuhyun chimed as he placed two bowls in front of you, “I don’t want to toot my own horn, but as ever, I think I’ve done a pretty incredible job with this one. What do you think Y/N? Tell the fans how good of a chef I am.”

“You’re good, but are you as good as Leeteuk, that’s the question.”

His eyes widened as you laid down the challenge, shaking his head at your betrayal. “Maybe we’ll have to get him to come onto a stream soon so you can compare who really is the best cook in Super Junior. But just to warn you in advance, the best chef is most definitely me.”

“What about Ryeowook? Some of the meals of his I’ve tasted were amazing too.”

“Stop making me look bad on camera,” Kyuhyun scolded before you could speak again, “you’re supposed to hype me up in front of the fans Y/N.”

“I’m just being honest,” you protested, holding your hands up innocently, “now, can I eat this food before it ends up going cold, please?”

Kyuhyun’s head nodded, as the two of you continued to talk to the stream whilst eating your meals. Once you were finished, you sat back once again as Kyuhyun brought the live to an end before saying goodbye with his empty bowl in hand.

“I really enjoyed that,” you smiled as you watched the screen on the laptop go blank.

“You were a natural,” Kyuhyun complimented, offering you a warm smile, “even if you did try to throw me under the bus several times. Do you really think I’m not the best chef in the group?”

Your head shook as his arm draped over your shoulders, “I’m only messing with you, you’re definitely the best cook in my eyes.”

“I just hope I’m the best cook in everyone else’s too,” he frowned, “maybe a cook off with Jeongsu wouldn’t be such a bad idea too. We’re drawing at the moment for wins, so maybe we could have a decider and you could be the judge for it.”

“You and I both know that Jeongsu wouldn’t want me to judge because I’d be bias,” you pointed out, “and you know how much of a sore loser he’d be if I did pick you too.”

A soft hum came from Kyuhyun, “I’m sure I could get a few of the others here too, with the bribe of free food they’re bound to agree to coming along.”

“Write it down on your ideas board,” you encouraged, “you know the fans would love it too, they love seeing you guys altogether.”

“I think they loved seeing you more, my view count has never been so high,” he chuckled.

“Wow, maybe I am the favourite after all.”

---

Masterlist

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deancas-fanfiction · 4 years ago

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A Daydream Away

Chapter 2/?

Summary: After multiple couples go missing from a resort in northern Minnesota, Dean and Cas are forced to pose as a couple to investigate the mysterious entity. As Dean and Cas navigate their fake relationship, it leaves Dean questioning what's real and forces him to confront his feelings for Cas.

A story in which Cas is human, Dean is sometimes an idiot, and Sam acts as matchmaker.

Tags: fake relationship, case fic, sharing a bed, human!cas, Sam ships Dean and Cas, fluff, eventual smut

available on ao3 Read Ch. 1 here

Dean began to slowly stir from sleep. For the first time in years, he awoke feeling well-rested. No pounding headache from the aftershock of a hangover, no repressed memories rattling in his head from a recurring nightmare, and there was no dry feeling in his eyes from sleeping only a few hours. Instead, he felt warm and relaxed as he began to regain consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep as he took in his surroundings. Morning sun hazily streamed in through the gaps in the curtains and it was perfectly still and quiet. Dean sighed in content and went to roll over to fall back asleep. Except a weight on his chest prevented him from moving.

Dean tensed, realizing Cas was lying across him. His head was resting in the crook of his neck and his arm was flung over his chest in an almost possessive like manner. His right leg was intertwined with Dean's, sufficiently entangling the two so Dean couldn't easily tear himself away. Cas' breath softly fanned against his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, Dean quickly remembered they were both nearly naked, wearing nothing but their boxer briefs. This meant their bare skin was pressed together and that there was only a very thin material of fabric protecting Dean from a very embarrassing situation. He closed his eyes at that thought and focused on his breathing to calm himself down.

It was at that moment that Cas began to stir. Dean silently cursed whatever entity was at fault for this awkward situation he was about to be in. Cas flexed his fingers and he tightened his grip on Dean rather than pulling away in alarm, as he had expected.

"Uh Cas?"

"Hmmph."

"Buddy, I gotta go to the bathroom. Would you let up?" Dean tried peeling Cas' arm off him with that request but was unsuccessful.

"No."

Okay, so Cas was a totally unabashed cuddler. Dean added it to the mental list of social norms that Cas hasn't exactly picked up on yet. He internally groaned as Cas remained plastered to him. As Cas' breathing once again evened out and he fell back asleep, Dean's mind began to race.

He's always been the kind of guy that either completely ignored or repressed the hell out of complicated manners in his life. First, it was his sexuality. It was years of him ignoring his attraction to men and assuring himself it was completely normal for a guy to have a crush on other guys until he finally admitted to himself that yeah, okay maybe he's not all that straight. While it was freeing to finally admit it, he was bitter for denying himself that ability to explore that aspect of his life for so long. Then there were another few years of admitting his sexuality but refusing to actually admit it out loud to anyone. When he finally told Sam just a few years ago and was met with a "yeah, I know Dean," he realized that he did it again. He deprived himself of the happiness of being his true self. He delayed his own happiness due to his own insecurities and hang-ups.

Since they literally defeated God, Dean promised himself that he was done with delaying his own happiness. It was kind of a (for lack of a better term) come-to-Jesus type of moment. He literally died multiple times in the last fifteen years alone and it wasn't until that moment that he truly realized life is short and that he should make the best of it. Of course, it's now a lot easier to do that when there's no world-ending apocalypse or imminent battle with Heaven looming overhead.

While this new outlook on life was pretty great, it has certainly complicated things. Another thing Dean repressed the hell out of was his relationship with Cas. While Cas refers to it as a 'profound bond,' or whatever, Dean has a harder time labeling it. It's obvious they have a different relationship than Cas and Sam do, but it's just so damn confusing when he allows himself to think about it.

He just wishes that Cas was a little more transparent regarding what was going on inside his mind. With time, Dean has improved at reading his minimal facial expressions. The slight upward tick of his lips showed his amusement. His signature head tilt™ meant confusion or curiosity. The furrow of his brows indicated frustration and if accompanied with the head tilt it meant he was about to smite someone. The last time Dean saw that look, it was directed at him and Sam when they may have gotten Jack just a little bit drunk. But really, they couldn't be blamed. It was the night before they took on Chuck, and they were all under the impression it was their last night on Earth. Anyone else would have done the same thing. Well, except Eileen who signed "told you he'd be mad," with a smug look on her face. But that's not the point.

Regardless, Dean had gotten quite good at reading Cas. However, there was still a lot he didn't know. Sometimes Cas would look at him with an expression that was so foreign to Dean that he had no idea how to catalogue it. And it confused the hell out of him. Sometimes the expression would be so soft that Dean would entertain the idea that maybe Cas felt the same way as Dean does. But that look would be gone as quickly as it appeared, and Dean would convince himself he was projecting.

Dean sighed as his thoughts continued to spiral, unable to stop them. Instead, a loud pounding at the front door startled him, bringing him back to the present. Cas jolted awake as the pounding continued. He had a light flush on his cheeks as he removed himself from Dean.

His hair was sticking out in every direction, reminding Dean of that night in the barn when they officially met for the first time. He wondered what sex hair would look like on Cas, if that's just what his regular hair looks like in the morning. Dean shook his head, effectively stopping that train of thought before it could spiral out of control. The pounding continued, more incessantly this time.

"Who the hell..." Dean grumbled, forcing himself out of bed. He threw on his discarded shirt from the floor and made his way through the living room to the front door. He swung the door open and was met with Sam's annoyed expression. "What are you --"

"Jesus, Dean. Do you plan on actually working the case or are you just going to sleep all day?" Sam brushed past Dean and brushed snow off his jacket.

"What are you talking about? What time is it even?"

"Nearly nine, Dean." He said, pulling his best bitch face. "They stop serving breakfast at 10. I thought you were going to interview guests this morning."

"Well, yeah. We were just getting ready to leave, so chill." Sam looked unimpressed and walked past Dean to the bedroom. Cas was still sitting in bed, blinking away sleep with the blankets pulled around him, effectively proving Dean wrong. "Oh, you were just getting ready to leave? Then why does Cas look like he just woke up?"

"I -- don't you have an interview to prepare for?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I already had it. I start later today."

"That soon?" Cas asked, his voice gravelly and rough from sleep and oh. That sound went straight to Dean's groin.

"Yeah. They're really short staffed. From what I gathered, quite a few employees quit after the last couple went missing a few days ago. It seems like they were pretty freaked out. So now they're really short staffed and pretty desperate."

"Oh, so that's why they hired you," Dean jokes. "They're desperate."

Sam just looked unimpressed. "For the love of God, would you two just get ready and go to breakfast? We have no leads and I need you to talk to the guests. When I'm at the desk this afternoon, I'll sign you up for some activities so you can talk to more guests."

Dean opened his mouth to argue that hey, he's perfectly capable of signing up for his own activities but Sam shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks. "I'll make sure you're signed up for the bourbon tasting, if that's what you're worried about."

"I knew I could count on you, Sammy," Dean grinned. With that, Sam shook his head and headed out of the cabin.

It took equal parts pleading and the promise of coffee to coax Cas out of the warmth of the bed and out into the cold so they could make it to breakfast in time. The morning brought with it a light snowfall, so Dean had to quickly brush the Impala off before driving the short distance to the main lodge where breakfast was served.

Dean and Cas waved to Brenda as they passed the front desk and waited in line to check in at the host stand. Breakfast was served in the form of a buffet with a wide variety of items offered. Dean gave the hostess their cabin number and headed straight to the eggs and bacon. He loaded up his plate while Cas grabbed waffles and coated them with syrup and whipped cream.

"You should be grateful you married me instead of Sam," Dean declared, taking a large bite of bacon as he scanned the room for an open table. "He would have lectured you for all of the sugar you're loading up on."

Cas tilted his head, seemingly thinking that over. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I don't think Sam and I would be very compatible on a lot of fronts."

Dean, meanwhile, flushed at the possible implication that he and Cas are compatible. Cas didn't seem to notice and directed his attention towards a table where a young couple were sitting, enjoying their breakfast. "Should we sit with them? Maybe they could tell us something about the couple that went missing."

"Yeah, okay. It will also get Sam off our back for a few hours." Dean followed Cas as he approached the table.

"Mind if we join you?" Cas asked, good natured. "My husband, here, overslept this morning and it seems we arrived for breakfast at the busiest time."

Dean glared at Cas for throwing him under the bus when it was actually the other way around, but there was no heat to it. In reality, his stomach did that weird swooping thing when Cas referred to him as "his husband."

"Of course!" The young woman smiled at them over her glass of orange juice. "I'm Amy, and this is my fiancé Jake."

"Nice to meet you," Dean turned on his most charming smile. "I'm Dean, this is Cas. We just arrived last night and had no idea breakfast would be so busy."

Amy laughed and shook her head. "We experienced the same thing. We found that arriving at 8:30 is the sweet spot. It's right between the early and late risers."

"Another tip: if you arrive early enough, they have cinnamon rolls. They always run out by 8:00." Jake added.

"We'll definitely remember that. Cas has a sweet tooth, as you can tell by his side of waffles he got with his syrup." Dean joked. Cas just rolled his eyes and happily ate his sugar infused breakfast. "How long have you two been here?"

"Five days," Amy chirped. "We're getting married this summer, so we wanted to have a relaxing vacation just the two of us before things get too crazy with last minute wedding planning."

"We know how that goes. We ended up having a small wedding because the planning got to be too much work for us." Cas paused and chewed thoughtfully. "Wait - so you've been here for a few days. Does that mean you were here when that couple went missing?" Truthfully, Dean was impressed by Cas' nonchalance. While his social skills have significantly improved since becoming human, there were still times that Cas had some social awkwardness. It was endearing as hell but could make working a case a little difficult. But Cas seemed to be holding his own rather well.

Jake and Amy exchanged a look. "Yeah, we actually did a cooking class with Kevin and Raymond. They were so nice and were here on their honeymoon. No one seems to have any idea what happened."

"Did you notice anything weird?"

"No," Jake answered, furrowing his brows. "Like Amy said, they were really nice and gave us a lot of great wedding advice."

"Yeah, they weren't planning on leaving for another few days, so when they were suddenly gone it didn't make sense."

"We thought they had a family emergency and had to leave early or something, but then we heard they were actually missing. It's so sad."

"Did you do any other activities with them?"

Amy smiled wistfully. "Other than the cooking class, we only did the bourbon tasting with them. I have quite the bourbon collection at home, as did Kevin so we talked a lot about that. The tasting was the last we saw of them."

Dean nodded, and steered the conversation towards bourbon and scotch, not wanting to raise any suspicion by asking too many questions.

After finishing their breakfast, Cas grabbed a to-go cup of coffee and they meandered back outside. With the fresh snowfall, the grounds looked serene and absolutely beautiful. A blanket of untouched snow coated the ground, sparkling in the sun.

"Want to explore the grounds a little?" Dean asked. "It may be a good idea to get a good feel of the layout."

"Yeah, I'd like that." Cas smiled in return and pulled his hat over his ears. The wind wasn't biting like it was the night before, but it was still December in Minnesota meaning it was fucking cold. Dean shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and followed the path around the lodge. This led to a large staircase down to the lakeside. Christmas lights were strung along the railing and there was a bonfire roaring near the lakeside, which was tended to by a few guests. Dean and Cas slowly made their way down the staircase, breathing in the crisp fresh air and enjoying the scenery.

Cas quickly finished his coffee and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Then he shoved his hands in his jacket, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a shiver. Dean fondly rolled his eyes at him and held out his hand.

"Give me your hand." He ordered. Cas looked at him questioningly but complied, nonetheless. Dean took his hand and shoved it in his pocket with his own. "Jesus, your hand is freezing."

Now it was Cas' turn to roll his eyes. "I had to finish my coffee," he reasoned.

"We need to buy you gloves."

"I'm fine, Dean."

"No, your hand feels like ice. Sometimes you forget you're human and actually need to worry about things like that."

"That's not true."

"Sure, it is," Dean snorted. "Within your first few days of being human you were dehydrated because you forgot to drink water regularly."

"You forget to drink water regularly, Dean."

Dean paused. "Okay, you have me there. But you also wore your suit and trench coat in 90-degree heat on that case in Arizona. We were in the desert and you were wearing like 4 layers."

Cas lips turned up at the corner. "Okay, you have me there." He echoed. "To be fair, I am getting better. I now dress 'weather appropriate' as Sam puts it."

"Yes, you do. I'm just sure being human takes some getting used to. But in the meantime, you need to let Sam and I help you out." Dean squeezed Cas' hand for emphasis, which was now at a much warmer temperature.

In response Cas smiled his full, blinding smile which made Dean feel warm despite the cold. "Thanks for letting me stay with you both at the bunker."

At that, Dean felt a pang of guilt. He completely mishandled the situation last time Cas was human and that was something he would never forgive himself for. "Cas, I'm sorry for --"

"No, don't apologize. I understand why you did that. You were saving Sam's life. I didn't mean to dredge that up. I just wanted to express my gratitude for allowing me to stay with you."

"You're family, Cas. We stick together." And just like that his blinding smile was back, with a certain softness in his eyes that Dean had trouble interpreting.

They now reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped at the fire to quickly warm themselves. Dean and Cas asked the few guests milling around the fire about Raymond and Kevin, but none of them had any information about the missing couple. Half of them weren't even staying at the resort when the disappearance occurred. After making a few minutes of small talk, they said their good-byes and headed back to the Impala. The cold officially seeped through their winter layers and Dean could feel his feet turning numb.

The walk back to the car was very quick and at last Dean was starting Baby and blasting the heat. He sighed in relief as warmth fanned over his red face.

"We should probably call Sam before he arrives back for work and tell him we haven't had any luck yet."

"Yeah, good thinking," Dean agreed as he pulled out of the parking spot. Cas dug out his phone and dialed Sam's number, putting it on speaker so they could both hear.

"Hey, Cas." Sam answered cheerfully. "What's up?"

Cas dutifully explained their lack of progress on the case and the dead end with the guests. "I know we haven't spoken to more than a handful of them, but I fear it will be the same with all of the guests. What are your thoughts?"

Sam hummed in thought. "I called the local law enforcement this morning while you were at breakfast, posing as a journalist and they said the same thing -- none of the guests had any helpful information. Maybe we need to switch tactics."

"What are you thinking? Cas and I pose as agents?" Dean questioned as he turned onto the gravel road leading to their cabin.

"No, law enforcement already spoke to the resort staff and they didn't get anywhere. I doubt it would be any different with federal agents." He paused as he thought for a moment. "Maybe you two should just really lean heavily into the whole married couple thing and focus on luring whatever it is that took the other couples."

"We're already doing that," Dean responded.

"No, I know. But I mean lean into it. Act so sickeningly in love so you become the obvious target. I'll see if I can get any other information from the staff, but I think that's our best angle at this point. Like I said, I'll sign you up for some couple activities over the next few days and you just need to act like you're madly in love with each other."

"Will you sign us up for the cooking class?" Cas asked. "Jake and Amy mentioned they took that class with Raymond and Kevin before they disappeared."

"Yes, I can do that. Stop by the desk after lunch and I can give you your itinerary. But I gotta go - I have to be at the resort in less than an hour."

"Are you sure that'll be enough time to style your hair?"

"Fuck off Dean," Sam retorted humorously. "I'll see you guys later."

Cas said goodbye and slid his phone back in his pocket.

Dean chanced a glance over at Cas as they pulled up to their cabin. His brow was furrowed and he was staring out the windshield with a faraway look on his face.

"What's on your mind, buddy?"

Cas' eyes flashed in frustration. "If we're going to make people believe this is real," He said, gesturing between them. "You should probably stop referring to me as 'buddy.' Married couples don't refer to each other as such."

"Right. Sorry." Dean chewed on his lip. Cas was right. If this plan was going to work, they would have to adjust a few aspects of their friendship, this being one of them. "That's a good point. I think we were just fine this morning, but like Sam said, we need to really lean into it. So we'll have to step up our game."

"What do you suggest, we become more physical?"

Dean flushed at the implications. "Uh -- yeah, I suppose. We could hold hands more," He suggested.

Cas nodded. "Or I could put my arm around your shoulder."

"Exactly. Just do what you see other couples doing. Really, we should be fine. Once Sam signs us up for all of the couple’s activities it will be even easier to act the part."

"What about kissing?"

"What about it?" Dean's face was flaming at this point. He shifted in the seat to get a good look at Cas.

"Should we do it? Other couples do it, and it may be odd if we don't." Cas tilted his head, studying Dean's expression. "Unless that makes you uncomfortable?"

"What? N-no, not at all." Quite the opposite, actually. "I mean -- that's fine, Cas. If it feels necessary for the case, then we can, um, kiss." Dean could not believe he was actually having this conversation. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to get his shit together. "Just do what feels natural, alright?"

"Alright." Cas agreed.

"So, we have a few hours until we have to be back at the lodge to meet with Sam. Want to see if there’s anything good on tv?”

A big smile took over Cas' face at the suggestion and he nodded in agreement. They got out of the car and made their way inside the cabin. The fresh snow crunched under each footstep but otherwise it was silent. Once they were back inside the warmth of the cabin, Cas took off towards the bedroom and muttered something about getting a blanket while Dean collapsed onto the couch.

He turned on the television and began searching through the channels, waiting for something to catch his eye. Within seconds he heard Cas’ light footsteps in the hall. He looked up just as he came into sight. Cas had their large comforter in his hands, but Dean was distracted by what he was wearing.

"Are those my sweatpants?"

Cas looked down, almost sheepishly. "Oh. Yes. You always tell me that jeans are not proper attire for movie nights. I assume the rule applies even if it's daytime, so I changed. I didn't bring any loungewear, so I borrowed yours. Is that alright?"

He eyed the pants which hung low on Cas' hips. It left a small sliver of tan skin exposed and Dean could see the sharp line of his hip bones. He inhaled sharply and forced his eyes back to Cas' face. "Yes, Cas. That's alright."

Cas' lips turned up at the corners and he flopped onto the couch next to Dean. He pulled the large blanket over the two of them and sat just close enough that Dean could feel the heat coming off of him, but they weren’t quite touching.

Since becoming human, Cas has taken to borrowing Dean’s clothes. After Dean convinced him to try on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Cas realized just how uncomfortable the suit and tie ensemble was. With that in mind, he began sneaking into Dean’s room and would snag a band shirt and sometimes a flannel, dressing like he’s a Winchester himself.

The first time he saw him in his clothes Dean nearly had an aneurysm. He had grown so accustomed to Cas in his suit and shapeless coat that seeing him in jeans that hugged his ass with the sleeves of his flannel rolled up his forearms was an immediate turn on. Maybe it was also the fact that they were Dean’s clothes on him that caused such a problem. Regardless, Dean abandoned his breakfast to immediately take a cold shower.

And now, seeing him in his own sweatpants that perfectly hug his ass and hang low on his hips was painfully unfair. Dean readjusted himself, ignoring the heat pooling in his gut. Now was not the time for inappropriate boners. He internally groaned and tried to focus on the nature documentary Cas put on but was unsuccessful because at that moment Cas rested his head against Dean’s shoulder and let out a little sigh of content.

This is going to be a long and tortuous week for Dean because it's just pretend.

#destiel fanfiction #deancas #destiel #destiel fluff #destiel fanfic #fake dating #dean and cas #fanfiction #supernatural #spn

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deadcactuswalking · 4 years ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 08/05/2021 (Billie Eilish, DJ Khaled)

Whilst this is slightly busier than last week, I am genuinely surprised with how little is actually going on here on this week’s chart, a lot less than I expected or predicted. With that said, the top of the chart is where our biggest story comes from and that is “Body” by Russ Millions and Tion Wayne taking advantage of a weak chart with its star-studded remix and peaking at #1 for its first week, replacing Lil Nas X’s “MONTERO (Call Me by Your Name)”. Not only is it the biggest hit for both of these guys and their first #1s, but it’s the first #1 for the entire UK drill genre, which kind of came out of nowhere for me since I think the song’s pretty worthless but with a TikTok challenge and streaming numbers that have even placed it in the American Spotify chart, it’s gearing up to be one of the biggest British rap songs ever. Let’s hope maybe this one doesn’t stall out as badly as “Don’t Rush” outside of the UK. With all that out of the way, let’s start REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

Our only new arrival from last week’s UK Top 75 (which is what I cover), “Come Through” by H.E.R. featuring Chris Brown, is gone on the next off of the debut. Well, at least we have more than one new song this week, as well as some interesting chart nonsense lower down, but also some notable drop-outs for “Mr. Perfectly Fine” by Taylor Swift, “Mercury” by Dave and Kamal., “Lemon Pepper Freestyle” by Drake featuring Rick Ross, “All You Ever Wanted” by Rag’n’Bone Man (which will rebound next week as that album makes its impact) as well as “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles finally making what seems to be its last exit. Our only return is in the form of “Confetti” by Little Mix getting a massive surge back at #15 after its Saweetie remix and the attached music video, though Saweetie doesn’t happen to be credited here.

We do have an interesting selection of gains and losses, as with the notable fallers – dropping five spots or more down the chart – we have “Titanium” by Dave at #23, “Wellerman” by Nathan Evans and remixed by 220 KID and Billen Ted getting ACR’d down to #29 (it had a surprisingly great run), “The Business” by Tiesto having the same happen to it at #32, “We’re Good” by Dua Lipa at #40, “drivers license” by Olivia Rodrigo at #43, “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd at #45, “Don’t Play” by Anne-Marie, KSI and Digital Farm Animals at #51, “Calling My Phone” by Lil Tjay and 6LACK hit hard to #54, the same with “Up” by Cardi B at #59, “You” by Regard, Troye Sivan and Tate McRae shaking off the gains #63, “Get Out My Head” by Shane Codd at #60, “Heat” by Paul Woolford and Amber Mark at #66, “Solid” by Young Stoner Life, Young Thug and Gunna featuring Drake at #69, “Paradise” by MERDUZA and Dermot Kennedy at #71 and, sadly, “How Does it Feel” by London Grammar at #75.

Where it gets a bit more telling about how the charts are going to adapt into the Summer is in our climbers as we have solid gains for “Another Love” by Tom Odell making another run at #60, “Sunshine (The Light)” by Fat Joe, DJ Khaled and Amorphous inexplicably at #57 and now we get into the top 40 where we have more potential future hits. “Way Too Long” by Nathan Dawe, Anne-Marie and MoStack is at #38, “Don’t You Worry About Me” brings the Bad Boy Chiller Crew their first hit at #37 (although the song is only ever worth hearing for that chorus) and “WITHOUT YOU” by the Kid LAROI returns to the top 40 at #30 thanks to a remix with Miley Cyrus who is again not credited by the Official Charts Company. Boney M. are granted their first new top 20 hit since the 1990s, even if it is just a remix of a song that went #2 in 1978, as Majestic’s remix of “Rasputin” is at #18. Our final gain is for a song first entering the top 10 thanks to the remix with Ariana Grande finally making an impact – yet once again not given the official credit by the OCC – as “Save Your Tears” by the Weeknd makes its way up to #8, becoming his tenth top 10 hit here in Britain. That’s not the only song to first enter the top 10 this week but we’ll get to that in due time with our... odd selection of new arrivals this week.

NEW ARRIVALS

#73 – “EVERY CHANCE I GET” – DJ Khaled featuring Lil Baby and Lil Durk

Produced by DJ Khaled and Tay Keith

Two of our new entries are from DJ Khaled’s most recent album Khaled Khaled, an album much like any Khaled album I found cheap and just dull. This record especially is just mixed horribly, with a budget spent exceedingly on getting big-name features instead of any worthwhile engineers to actually mix and master this 50-minute trainwreck. The album doesn’t have many highlights at all but if I had to choose some they would be the two debuting this week, the first of which is basically a Lil Baby cut, “EVERY CHANCE I GET”, with a verse from Lil Durk. Okay, so, yes, first of all, much like the rest of the record, this mix is compressed and just weak, with bizarre bass mastering and drums that sound like garbage, before we get to Lil Baby himself sounding even froggier than ever. I do think that gives the song part of its charm, though, as with a Tay Keith beat, it’s definitely going for a hardcore, old-school Memphis rap atmosphere, and with Lil Baby’s flow switches disguising paranoid lyrics about the typical gunplay and flexing, it does effectively make a pretty intimidating listen... okay, well, it would, if DJ Khaled didn’t have to pop in to convince Lil Baby to “keep going”. We also get a single verse from Lil Durk here, mixed like he recorded his vocals in his bath to the point where it’s clipping against the bass, but delivering a King Von-esque flow that sounds pretty great, and admittedly more detail than you’d expect. I also love that silly “mmm-mmm” flow he uses at the end. I do wish a song like this, clearly supposed to be menacing, did not have the ludicrous personality void that is DJ Khaled on it, and it’s not like they need Khaled to collaborate together – or with Tay Keith for that matter – so I don’t really see why the dude doesn’t just shut up and promote his albums as compilations instead. I understand it comes from his mixtape days, but if this is going to be a studio album, treat it like one and just be quiet for once.

#72 – “Oblivion” – Royal Blood

Produced by Royal Blood

Royal Blood got the #1 album this week for Typhoons and admittedly, whilst I am interested in this band, I haven’t gotten around to listening to it, so I’ll take this album cut as a preview of what to come. If I am doing that, I hope to be surprised by whatever else that album has in store as I’m not really a fan of this. That eerie choppy guitar loop being immediately crushed by this heavily distorted riff and stiff percussion just does not sound unique or interesting, especially if Mike Kerr is going to sound this soulless. The build towards the chorus feels pretty pathetic and unwarranted, and said chorus is just not catchy, before we get to content about how he knows his fate through how arrogant he’s been and he deserves what’s coming to him. I mean, sure, but there’s nothing that makes it obvious that these guys don’t care about what’s coming to them given the pained vocal delivery and monotonous instrumental. It doesn’t feel exciting, rebellious or whatever emotion this tries and fails to capture, just stiff and staggered in its execution. This does make sense for Royal Blood but seems to me like they’re resting way too heavily on ideas ran through the soil at this point. With all that said, this isn’t bad at all, just not as great as those other singles have been from the record. I think I’d be more forgiving if it didn’t come off as a Queens of the Stone Age tribute act writing “originals” that bomb at their shows.

#56 – “love race” – Machine Gun Kelly featuring Kellin Quinn

Produced by Jeff Peters, Jared Gudstadt and Travis Barker

I guess this might actually be a rock-heavy week – not that I’m complaining about more of a rock presence on the chart but God, I wish it wasn’t coming from MGK. I’ll have some choice words to say about this guy’s last attempt at a pop-rock hit by the end of the year, probably, but at least for this song he brought on someone with some kind of legitimacy. Kellin Quinn is the frontman of post-hardcore band Sleeping with Sirens, one of the most successful bands in their genre but not one unlike others that grew out of the metalcore-infused pop rock to anything more unique or experimental. With that said, Quinn is barely here and other than Travis Barker’s typical explosive drums, MGK is the biggest presence here in his raspy but borderline unlistenable vocal tone that I just can’t stand, especially if it’s going to stretch out “run” as long and as far as he did in that longing, desperate chorus. MGK barely even lets Kellin Quinn have his own verse, registering him as backing vocals throughout the entire song, dampening his vocals that sound a lot more unique and enthused, especially when he starts screaming. That bridge did give me trancecore flashbacks – not that I’m complaining if I’m fully honest – so I’ll admit the part of me that eats up emo-pop garbage did let this grow on me a bit, but, man, without a guitar solo to distract from pretty awful lyrics (not that I’d expect much more from this artist or genre) and without really letting Quinn loose on the vocals, it’s lacking a certain grit and punch I expect from post-hardcore. The song did, however, indirectly remind me of New Found Glory, for which I am thankful for.

#53 – “I DID IT” – DJ Khaled featuring Post Malone, Megan Thee Stallion, Lil Baby and DaBaby

Produced by Ben Billions, Joe Zarrillo, DJ 360, Tay Keith and DJ Khaled

You wouldn’t expect an artist line-up like this to continue this trend of rock in this week’s new arrivals, but you’d be surprised, and personally I’m pretty happy with how much rock seems to be creeping up back into the public consciousness as if there’s one thing I got back in touch with the most over lockdown, it was the rock music I was raised on and it led to me even further appreciating a genre I had kind of lost touch with over the years out of just a lack of interest. With that said, this isn’t a rock song per se, but it does heavily and lazily sample a classic like much of this Khaled album, going for “Layla” by Derek and the Dominos. I’m not going to lie, either, it sets up a pretty effective back-bone for a trap banger about being awesome, especially with those squealing riffs in the chorus. Oh, yeah, and the mixing is horrible as expected, but to be honest to me it does not dampen the boasting, anthemic nature of this track, especially with Post Malone being a perfect choice to croon that infectious chorus. Megan Thee Stallion has a pretty embarrassingly by-the-numbers verse over a switch in the beat that makes it sound oddly stunted, but she does have that swinging rock charisma that people like Lil Baby do not have. With that said, I think I’m at the point where I eat anything Lil Baby says or does, because the flow switches combined with his frog-throat delivery is just impeccable. Content-wise, I think everyone here realises they’re being squashed by the clipping beat as they just go off about complete nonsense that goes in one ear and out the other apart from Lil Baby’s misguided but still pretty funny line about how he contemplated going vegan but sees no point in it because he’s got ten karats in both of his ears. Sure. At least DJ Khaled as something to do as he... harmonises, I guess, with Posty on the chorus. DaBaby is as distant as possible from the microphone to the point where I can barely hear him, not that it matters when his verse is that basic and short. This is kind of a trainwreck in all honesty, but with four choruses and a beat this heavy, it’s hard to be annoyed by it. Overwhelming maybe but these performers are all characters by themselves and throwing them in this three-minute chaos of squealing guitars and trap skitters just fascinates me if anything. Does it count as a posse cut? I don’t know. Either way, this is hilarious.

#5 – “Your Power” – Billie Eilish

Produced by FINNEAS

Decidedly not hilarious is this new single from Billie Eilish looking to be a smash from that upcoming album which now has a track listing and release date, with this functioning as I suppose the true lead single and her seventh top 10 here in the UK. It’s a brave choice too considering the lyrical content which is a pretty scathing attack on her ex-boyfriend and their abusive relationship, making several references to the gap in age and power dynamic that played into something really distressing for the both of them but especially a young, vulnerable Billie Eilish who found herself helpless in this relationship because of that “hero” quickly revealing himself as little more than his projected insecurities. The song’s detailed enough not to detach itself from Billie’s personal struggles but also works as what I suppose is a warning, as it’s retelling a story all too familiar with many girls of her age at the time who end up in these really scary situations. It does help that the song itself is great, relying on these layered acoustic guitars to form some kind of dejected groove behind Eilish’s vocals, whispery and cooing as always but in this case way too loud in the mix for my taste to the point where it kind of takes me out of the song as a whole. With a better master that blends her vocal take a lot better into the guitars, maybe going for a fuzzier, dream-pop angle, could work a lot better but with that said, I do understand the purpose of making it feel this intimate and minimal because Billie’s honest songwriting calls for a delivery like this, even if she ends up sounding shakier or even mumbling at times as a result. This is a big debut for Billie for a song not prepared to do as well as it did given its content and sound that is not exactly radio-friendly and oftentimes requires more heavy of a listen than a pop song would otherwise. I do love that final outro as her humming careens off the gentle guitars with just enough scratch but I do question how abrupt the ending is. Hopefully when the album’s out, we’ll have a bigger picture to as where this single in particular fits in.

Conclusion

With only five new arrivals and not much in the way of anything bad, I guess Worst of the Week goes to “Oblivion” by Royal Blood but giving a Dishonourable Mention would just end up as dishonest. Therefore, Best of the Week goes to Billie Eilish for “Your Power” but – and I cannot believe I am saying this for a 3/10 album with only fluke hits – but DJ Khaled – and Lil Baby for that matter – get a tied Honourable Mention for both of their songs, “EVERY CHANCE THAT I GET” with Lil Durk and “I DID IT” with Post Malone, Megan Thee Stallion and DaBaby. Now to distract from the fact I just did that, here’s this week’s top 10:

I can’t really make any healthy predictions for next week. Maybe we’ll get some songs from Lil Tecca, Rag’n’Bone Man or Bebe Rexha? Maybe we’ll end up with some fluke Weezer smash hit, who knows? Regardless, thank you for reading and I’ll see you next week.

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letterboxd · 5 years ago

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Ghibli Goes Digital.

We celebrate the explosion in Studio Ghibli activity on Letterboxd with Michael Leader and Jake Cunningham from the Ghibliotheque podcast.

LISTEN NOW: David Jenkins (Little White Lies), Tasha Robinson (Polygon) and Adam Kempenaar (Filmspotting) nominate their most magical Studio Ghibli moments in this new episode of The Letterboxd Show.

For all the ways that the coronavirus pandemic has dramatically altered the film industry, one coincidence that’s worked out extremely well for Studio Ghibli fans old and new is the roll-out of 21 of the famed studio’s films on streaming services.

It started in February for Netflix subscribers outside Japan and North America. Then in late May, HBO Max launched in the US with the Ghibli films as part of its offering. Finally, Canada got its turn with twenty titles available on Netflix right now, and The Wind Rises coming on August 1. For film lovers sheltering in place, the timing is as soothing as a nap on a Totoro’s belly; as wondrous as a Takahata sunset.

株式会社スタジオジブリ (Studio Ghibli) was founded in 1985 by directors Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki, and producer Toshio Suzuki, upon the success of Miyazaki-san’s 1984 feature, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. Huge acclaim, an Academy Award, and growing fandom followed, but the studio has long shied away from making its catalog available for digital consumption, preferring the films to occupy a larger canvas.

And then, all of a sudden, Suzuki-san announced the digital streaming plan—starting with the whole catalog being made available to own (via download) last December. “We’ve listened to our fans,” Suzuki-san said at the time. “In this day and age, there are various great ways a film can reach audiences.” This turn of events has been a very big deal—both for long-time fans and Ghibli newbies—and we’ve run the numbers to prove it:

The above chart shows the daily number of entries logged on Letterboxd for each of the Ghibli films, and clearly depicts the February, March, April and late May spikes as groups of titles were released to the two aforementioned streaming platforms (and mini spikes coinciding with weekend watches).

The Ghibli films included in the streaming deals stretch over four decades of the studio’s output, and include big-hitters like the Oscar-winning Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, Howl’s Moving Castle and the whole-family favorite My Neighbor Totoro. All of those films appear in the Official Letterboxd Top 250; Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service also made it onto a list of Letterboxd members’ top twenty favorite comfort films in a recent survey.

To get a sense of what this all means, we went to Letterboxd members Jake Cunningham and Michael Leader, hosts of Ghibliotheque, a podcast dedicated to the studio’s filmography, about the Netflix deal (“none of us could quite believe it when it happened”) and the clues Ghibli films offer us for how to have adventures inside our own homes.

Earlier in the pandemic, when we were all figuring out how to stay home, you hosted a joyous My Neighbor Totoro watch-along. What is it about the fuzzy, mythical creatures that feels so helpful right now? Michael Leader: In some ways, the world’s mum is in hospital right now. We’re all working from home. There’s the bit halfway through the film where the dad is trying to get on with his work in the study, and [his daughter] Mei is coming up and putting little flowers on his desk. That’s what everyone is doing right now, is trying to get on with their work whilst their kids are milling about, full of imagination and adventures.

With Totoro, I go back to a guest we had on the show, Helen McCarthy, who wrote the book about Miyazaki. And she described Totoro as something like “kindness and acceptance made furry”, and that’s really what it is. The idea of this creature being there for you, coming out of the surroundings that you live in, allowing you to not only come into a new space that you’re maybe scared of going into, but also dealing with tricky situations that you’re in.

You’re both deeply embedded in the London film scene, but the dynamic of your Ghibliotheque podcast is that Michael is the long-time Ghibliophile, while Jake is the novice. How did that come about? Jake Cunningham: Michael and I actually work together, and it came up that I hadn’t seen any of the films and then it happened to come up that Michael was one of the UK experts of these films and was having a go at me for never having watched any. This was the perfect opportunity to work on something with each other, and my ignorance has finally paid off, because all I need to do is watch the film and then I get this amazing history lesson.

Jake Cunningham with his ‘Only Yesterday’ poster, and with Michael Leader at the Ghibli Museum.

ML: It was really fun for me, because by that point—this is nearly two years ago now—I’d been writing about Ghibli on and off for almost a decade. There aren’t really many outlets to write about anime, Ghibli and animation in particular, in the monthly film magazines. Jake is the novice we can take through the library and invite people to join us on that journey. We have listeners who are so engaged, sending us comments every week. They had no idea how deep the rabbit hole goes.

That’s something that was personally for me quite important about the show. We want to show that this is one of the few studios that has ten five-star films. They had this amazing streak from the late 80s through the 2000s, just innovating on every film at the highest level, with multiple voices working in their own different worlds. We’ve really managed to show this whole world and invite people into it.

What did you make of the Netlix flex, and the subsequent explosion in Letterboxd activity around Ghibli films? JC: The graph is amazing! I was expecting a boost but not so big. They must be very happy with how well the deal has done for them. I think it’s a good place for Ghibli for sure. I want so many other people to be in the position that I was in two years ago. It is a whole world of pleasure to delve into for audiences.

I did think it was so funny that they spent fifteen years going “We’re never going to be streaming, this is never going to happen, stop asking us”, and then out of nowhere the announcement that they’re going to be online in two weeks! I think none of us could quite believe it when it happened, but what it’s meant is people are going back to the start of the podcast and listening along, because they can finally watch the films that they hadn’t seen before.

And it’s so exciting that people might watch Totoro, or Spirited Away, or Howl’s Moving Castle, these bigger tentpole releases, and that’s going to change their algorithm and they’re going to get presented with Isao Takahata’s My Neighbors the Yamadas or Tomomi Mochizuki’s Ocean Waves. The under-appreciated Ghiblis are suddenly going to get dragged out again.

ML: I’m really excited about it. It’s an interesting thing: it shines a light on what I think is more of a fandom problem, where something becomes rarified or scarce or special to a certain subculture, and that becomes part of its appeal. Sort of ‘Oh, Miyazaki doesn’t believe in streaming, he will never sell out’, and going on about how Netflix somehow cheapens it—but really they are completely accessible films that should be available in a mass market.

Also, and this is something we wanted to tease out in the podcast, they are business savvy. They’re not crazy geniuses who live in wooden shacks in the middle of nowhere. They’re a real company that needs to keep the lights on. There are so many ways to speculate on what this deal means. I think on the one hand they were happy because in the Japanese market they sell enough merchandise, they have a real home entertainment churn going, that they never really needed to do an international release.

There’s a really good book just out by Steve Alpert, who was their first international division lead. He was hired in the 90s to sort out their penetration into western Europe and America. Before the 90s, there were a couple of home entertainment releases and small theatrical runs, but they suddenly saw the business benefits in going global. In some ways I’m very happy for it because it’s a business deal that makes these films more available. They’ll always be special because they’re great films.

JC: The films streaming is extremely exciting, but something that’s gone under the radar a bit is that all of the music is now on Spotify. There are some of Ghibli’s shorts that you can only watch in the museum in Japan, but the scores for those films are now on Spotify, and everything is there. After having the melodies of some of these stuck in my head for months and months, you can finally actually go and deal with the earworm once and for all.

Is it possible for you to sum up for us the thematic essence of Ghibli films, and make a case for why Letterboxd members should introduce their children to the catalog? For me, in the context of the pandemic, it’s the corn on the window-sill in My Neighbor Totoro: the idea of presence despite distance; connection through gesture; the significance of nature. JC: It’s a lot to do with leaving things in an ambiguous space. Having kids watch things where there’s not a binary answer to everything. The studio moved away from the earlier films where a villain is a villain. In Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle, it’s less clear what a ‘bad person’ is and what a ‘good person’ is. I think it’s important that kids are gonna see that. Even with something like Kiki’s Delivery Service, on the surface it’s one of their simpler films. Kiki goes on an amazing journey and she meets amazing people, and at the end, she learns about who she is and what she can do. I think in a Western kids’ film that would be the end note. But there’s that note at the end of the film where she says that she still feels sad, and she still feels homesick, but that’s okay and that’s part of being alive.

ML: I think Miyazaki’s real magic touch across his films is that he’s able to really look at the world through children’s eyes. I’m not the first person to say that. It tends to be one of the first things that people say about him. The magical things about My Neighbor Totoro are when they’re just walking through the house, cleaning the house, cooking together. And for Kiki, when she gets her own [apartment], sweeps up and cooks herself pancakes. It is just as much about the magic of the everyday, about the world that you can see around you, within the four walls of the home.

JC: Now that you say that, I’m thinking about Ponyo, a key scene where the storm is hitting, and Sosuke and Ponyo and Sosuke’s mum just hunker down in their house and they have a generator going and they make instant ramen noodles, and the mum slips in little bits of ham. They also have some honey tea. Even though he’s a fantasy filmmaker, and he makes grand statements about geopolitical situations, these are the sequences now which will play most poignantly to people.

ML: Ghibli offers escapism, right now.

We got a glimpse of the next Ghibli film, Gorō Miyazaki’s fully-CG Aya and the Witch (see picture below), via the online version of the recent Annecy International Animated Film Festival. What are your thoughts? JC: Regarding the new images, I’m not as petrified as some fans have been. On the podcast I’ve mounted my defence for Gorō’s Tales From Earthsea, which is very much the black sheep of the family, and I don’t think I’d be doing him justice after that if I didn’t stand in his corner on this one as well. Until we see the style in motion, I think it’s unfair to judge, but it certainly is… different.

Jake, are you now a true Ghibliophile, or are you still just following along with what Michael’s got you into? JC: I would say I am now. I could definitely bore people in conversations with production stories! A lot of people will, I’m sure, have seen a lot of the films, but doing the podcast is the only thing that would have made me watch all of them.

Michael, how proud are you of this achievement? ML: Turning Jake into a new Ghibiliofile is really something. When we went to Japan in November last year—we managed to find change down the back of the sofa, and take the team out and visit the museum, visit Studio Ponoc, who are the spin-off studio founded by veterans from Ghibli—the thing that made me most proud was seeing how excited the rest of the team were. I think just out of shot of Jake’s webcam is a poster of Only Yesterday that he bought in Japan. It’s the only thing he wanted to find, was an original 1991 poster of that. There’s a picture of Jake just absolutely beaming with this poster.

Related content

Our Letterboxd Show Ghibli Magic Moments episode, with Tasha Robinson, David Jenkins and Adam Kempenaar.

Little White Lies editor David Jenkins’ Letterboxd review of My Neighbor Totoro.

The Official Letterboxd Top 250

Letterboxd members’ favorite comfort films.

#studio ghibli #ghibli #Isao takahata #Hayao miyazaki #my neighbour totoro #spirited away #Kiki's delivery service #howl's moving castle #anime #Japanese animation #Toshio suzuki #Jake cunningham #Michael leader #ghibliotheque #ghibliofile #letterboxd #netflix #hbo max

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theradicalscrivener · 5 years ago

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21 Dollar Foot long

It’s been a hot minute, but I have a new fic for youse guise.

Angus receives a new app from his buddy which claims to allow him to host his very own growth drive! Angus could use the money, and it’s not like the app can really grow his cock. It’s just trick photography and photo manipulation, right?

Angus was sitting at his desk when he heard the familiar chime of a file being sent coming from his desktop computer. Having nothing better to do, he quickly opened up the chat window to see who had sent the file and what the nature of the file was. Angus was not at all surprised to see the message had come from his best bud, Donald.

“Check out this latest program I made” read Donald’s message.

“What does it do?” Angus asked.

“Oh. You’re gonna love this. You know those growth drive things that have been going around on Twitter?” Donald asked.

“Yeah?” Angus replied.

“Well, I got to thinking. Why don’t we try making one of our own!” Donald said.

“You know as well as I do that neither of us can draw for shit.” Angus replied.

“That’s the beauty of it. We won’t have to! Just fire up this program, pop in a few parameters, and let the magic of modern technology do the rest!” Donald said.

The whole conversation was carried out via text so it’s not like Angus could really hear the tone of Donald’s voice, but the speed at which he was firing back responses as well as the various typos made it pretty obvious that Donald was beyond excited by his latest pet project.

“If this is such a great idea, why haven’t you done it already?” Angus asked.

“Well…. I was kind of hoping that you’d be the one to try it out.” Donald replied.

“Me?” Angus asked.

“Yeah. I mean… You’ve already got the looks. I bet you’d have people lining up to see what you can do.” Donald replied.

“If you wanted to see me naked there are much easier ways to go about it.” Angus teased.

It was obvious by the ellipsis on the bottom of the chat program that Donald was typing something, but the long pause in between Angus’s comment and Donald’s actual reply made it clear that Donald was having a hard time picking his words.

After what seemed like ages, Donald finally replied, “Just try it out. You said so yourself you were strapped on cash. This could be a great way to make a few bucks.”

Angus couldn’t argue with that… well, he could argue with that, but he didn’t see the point in it. Truth be told, he was curious about what Donald’s program could actually do, and it’s not like there was any harm in firing it up.

Angus shrugged and clicked the file. Once it had finished downloading, he fired it up and easily coasted through the installation options and eventually got the app up and running on his computer. He was amazed at how clean and easy to use the app was. All it took was a few clicks and a few permissions and the program was fully booted up and ready to go. It had even gained access to Angus’s webcams. The cameras had already fired up and were fixated on him. One feed was zoomed out to show his whole body, and the other was zoomed in on his crotch, although since he was currently wearing boxers, the second feed only got a good glimpse of plaid.

Angus took a moment to look through all the options. It didn’t take him long to get a feel for how this app worked. There were some basic parameters he could choose. First, he had to link it to an account that he would receive pledges from viewers, and then he got to choose how much he would grow per pledge. There were tons of options he could choose from as far as how much to grow for each dollar value, but most of them seemed too unrealistic. He could do something ridiculous like 1cm per $20, but that would take forever to see any growth, and he doubted anyone would pay money to see something like that, especially since it was all just going to be on the fly footage editing. Angus could just imagine how he would look during his cam show with a comically stretched out ten-inch-long dong that seemed to curve and distort every time it moved as if it was being viewed through a convex mirror.

Eventually he decided to just click one inch per each $3 donation. This seemed like a safe enough bet. People did Ko-Fis all the time for growth drives so there were obviously people who would pay that much to see some trick photography do its thing. With the parameters set and his account linked, all that was left to do was to fire up the stream, and fortunately Angus had a site already in mind to host his little cam show. All it took was a few keystrokes, and he was logging and ready to go.

“Hey guys,” Angus said awkwardly and waved to his webcam. He could see the footage displaying on his computer screen of himself waving back at him as well as a second window of just a close-up of his still plaid-clad junk.

At the moment there was no one to reply back to his welcome, but that didn’t take long to change. Once his stream was live there was a steady trickle of viewers who popped in to check out what was up. The icon of the stream just showed an old photo of Angus flexing for the cam so a few people were there to see the hot, beefy stud wearing even less than he was in his avatar pic, but there were a few who had stumbled in because they were bored and looking for a few whack and a few who had stumbled in out of pure curiosity. His stream header promised dick growth, and that’s not something you saw every day.

There were only a few people in the stream by the time Angus got his first comment. “Now eventually you might have dicks on your dick stream, yes?” the comment read.

“Oh right. I suppose I ought to get right on into it,” Angus said. He got up from his chair and took a step back, all the while keeping an eye on his cam feeds to make sure that the cameras were still staying focused on him. Sure, enough one camera remained focused on his body and the other remained zoomed in on his crotch. Angus took just a moment to steel his nerves before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and shimmying them down. It didn’t take long for his perfectly modest five inches to spill into view.

Angus was just about to sit down on the foot of his bed and get to wanking when he saw another comment pop up on his stream, but he quickly realized a small flaw in his master plan. It was tough to keep an eye on the comments on his computer while he was seated at his bed. He quickly scooped up his phone which he had left beside his PC and logged into his own stream so he could read the comments. While he was scanning the newest comment a few more popped up, but they all said roughly the same thing.

“Nice.”

“Great cock, bro.”

The real comment that caught his attention though wasn’t even part of his actual stream. Angus phone buzzed twice alerting him to two new messages: One text message and one email. Angus checked the text first since he doesn’t normally worry too much about emails, but the nature of the text made him keen to check his email immediately after.

The message had come from his pal, Donald. “Looks like you could use something to get the ball rolling there,” the message read. It didn’t take Angus long at all to figure out what Donald meant. Angus almost immediately felt a strange sensation across his cock and balls. It was a slight warmth almost as if his junk was pulsing with energy. Angus instinctively glanced down at his cock and what he saw made his jaw drop. His bait and tackle were actually growing! It wasn’t just the fact that he was getting hard either. He was always more of a shower than a grower, but even ignoring that fact, getting a boner wouldn’t make his nuts swell up too.

Angus quickly checked his email to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, the recent email was from PayPal alerting him to a new donation of $3 from his pal, Donald, but that was just the start. Even while he was checking his new message his phone buzzed a couple more times, but rather than having a new email show up in his email list numbers appeared next to the PayPal alert email. First x2… then x3… then x4…

Angus checked the comments on his stream. He was too dumbfounded to do much modeling for his new fans, but his cock was more than happy to put on a show. He solid six inches was rock hard at this point and steadily creeping up in size as he read the recent comments.

“Woah! Did his dick just grow!?”

“No way!”

“I gotta try this out.”

“Same. I got three bucks to throw at this.”

“Me too. I got three bucks in my couch cushion.”

Sure enough, those commenters made good on their goal and tossed another $9 Angus’s way for a combined total of three more inches. Angus stared on in awe as his cock went from six inches… to seven… to eight… to nine… He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had gone from a perfectly average five inches to a porn star nine incher in the span of a few minutes! This wasn’t trick photography. This was real! Donald’s app actually worked! Angus was too stunned to think too hard on it. All he could do was stare at his cock. He had to be sure what he was seeing was real. He had to feel it with his own hands, and his audience was only all too happy to watch him do just that.

Angus plopped down at the foot of his bed and wrapped a hand around his fat cock. He could barely fathom how huge his dick was now. It was like gripping a water bottle. His cock used to only just barely poke out past his palm when he gave his rod a good tug, but now he had room to spare. He could almost get his whole other hand around his shaft, and judging by the buzz of his phone, he got the impression that would soon be possible.

Sure enough, Angus felt a familiar warmth pulse through his penis while he had his hand around his crank. He could actually feel his dick getting thicker in his hand. His had to loosen his grip as his cock grew fatter in the palm of his hand, but that wasn’t all that changed. His dick not only got thicker but longer as well, and his balls were growing right alongside the rest of his junk. His nuts had grown from the size of cherries to the size of cherry tomatoes and were showing no signs of slowing down just yet.

Angus continued to stroke his swelling cock with one hand while he held his phone in the other and glanced at the comments in his stream. The comments were really blowing up. His did a double take as he saw that his follower count had quickly climber through the double digits and were rapidly approaching triples, and it didn’t take him long to find out why. A few of the comments said it all.

“Oh man. He’s huge! I know a site that’s gonna love him!”

“Is his dick growing!? No way! I gotta show this to my server!”

“I gotta share this on Twitter. They’re gonna go nut for this guy!”

“God. They gotta see this on discord.”

Angus had gone viral, and more viewers meant more potential donators, which explained a lot about why his phone felt more like a vibrator than a minicomputer. Angus could scarcely fathom how fast his cock had reached porn star status, and it didn’t seem like his growth was going to slow down any time soon. Judging by all the new arrivals, he might reach absurd sizes in the very near future.

Angus stared at his cock as it continued to grow and swell. He was so shocked at what he was seeing that his mind was lagging. As his cock grew past a full foot of fat dong, he started to wonder if maybe he ought to pull the plug on this little pet project or at the very least turn off the donations. He was more than happy to spend a little bit of time exploring his newly enlarged cock and he was sure his audience would love to watch him do so.

Angus was just about to get up from his seat at the foot of his bed and put a cap on donations, but something was stopping him from doing so. It was like his body refused to cooperate. He knew he should stop this before it got out of hand, he really did, but at the same time this thought in the back of his mind wouldn’t shut up. His cock was already hot as hell at a full foot. How great would it look like when it got even bigger? It had just gotten hotter and huger and sexier with each added inch. Just the thought of packing on a few more points on his pecker had his dick drooling pre. He could soon have a world record shattering schlong! Angus didn’t know what the current record actually was, but he was sure he rivaled it already. Even as he sat there staring at his schlong, he could feel his phone buzzing and see his dick swelling. It had surpassed a solid foot, that was for sure, but how huge was it really? He could always do the math, sure. He had a list of all the donors and knew how much dick he had started with. It would be a simple matter of tallying to donations to see how huge his cock was now, but where’s the fun in that? It had no punch. No pizazz.

Angus quickly got up from his seat and scrambled for his desk, but he didn’t touch his computer. Instead he opened the drawer and fumbled through the various items inside. At first, he pulled out his trusty ruler, but after a quick glance at his computer screen he quickly changed his mind. The camera feeds now both showed a close-up of his cock and balls, and it was plain to see the foot-long standard ruler would no longer suffice. The tip of Angus’s rock-hard cock now poked well past his belly button. Just seeing how huge his cock looked on cam made Angus even more excited, and his excitement led to a great show for his adoring public. His dick dribbled pre for all to see. He was so hot and bothered that his hands trembled as he dug deeper into his drawer for something that would do the job better than his now too small ruler, and soon he found what he needed. A tape measurer.

Angus plopped back down at the foot of his bed and hurriedly unfurled a segment of the tape measurer and held it up to his humongous cock. His dick was already sixteen inches long and growing by the second! He had to have hands down the largest cock of any dude on the planet! Surely this would be big enough, right? But even as he thought that he could hear his phone buzzing on the bed beside him. The donations were still flowing in!

Angus once again argued over whether or not to call it then and there. He could pull the plug on the stream right now and cap donations. He already had a cock that was seventeen inches long and growing by the second! His dick was beyond huge! His dick was already so thick that he couldn’t even hope to wrap a hand all the way around it. His cock was about as fat as a two-liter bottle of Coke. He had balls the size of large, ripe grapefruit, but even as he debated, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be even bigger. His cock already looked so amazing, and it was just getting hotter as it grew and grew. Surely it couldn’t hurt to add a few more inches to his already amazing cock.

Angus watched the twin video feeds as he reached down and cupped his balls in how hands and gawked at what he saw. The tip of his cock now reached up to his pecs. His nuts were now so huge that either enlarged orb filled an entire palm and then some. At the rate he was going he was soon to have nuts the size of his head! The mere thought of it caused his nearly two feet of fat cock to buck and lurch excitedly. Pre flowed freely down his humongous cock and his massive nuts and dripped onto the floor below.

Angus knew he needed to dial things back a bit if for no other reason than he was close to cumming, and the stream had barely even begun. He wanted to give his audience a good show and maybe squeeze a few more inches out of his donors before he blew his load.

Angus reached over for his phone which he had dropped on his bed when he had decided to be a bit more hands-on with his cock. He quickly unlocked the screen and skimmed over the chat to see what he had missed. The answer to that was not much. Most of the comments seemed to be more of the same.

“He’s so hot.”

“That cock is fantastic!”

“He’s almost big enough!”

Angus had to smirk at these comments. Was he almost big enough or was he just beginning? That was for his fans to decide – and decide they did! For no sooner had Angus had that thought than the conversation took a drastic turn.

“Nothing says we have to donate in increments of $3, right?” Someone asked.

“Not that I know of, why?” came a reply.

“Well, I think this is going a little too slowly.”

“I can put down some money for a BIG spurt.”

“I’ll match it!”

“Me too!”

“Let’s see him get YUGE!”

Angus gasped at what he saw. Just how much were they talking about chipping in? He had already packed on nearly twenty inches. His once average cock was now full two feet long! His dick reached past his nips and was as thick as his beefy bicep! His nuts were now the size of cantaloupes!

Even as Angus pondered just what his donors had in mind his phone buzzed to alert him that he had a new email. His hand trembled as he opened the email to see just what it was. He was not surprised to see it was another PayPal notice, but what did surprise him was the amount.

“I just chipped in 30 bucks.” One commenter said.

Angus read it again to be sure. Thirty dollars! That’s ten whole inches! That’s almost half what he already has!

“I said I’d match it and I will!” came the respond.

Sure enough, his phone buzzed again to alert him to yet another email, but he didn’t need to read this one to see what it meant. The previous email alerting him to a thirty-dollar donor now had an x2 next to it to indicate a duplicate. Sixty dollars… That was twenty whole inches coming at him fast!

Angus stared in awe as his cock began to grow with renewed vigor. Soon the tip of his dick was at his collar bone, and then his chin, and soon it was eye level! It wasn’t long before his dick poked up above his head. Angus stared in awe at the behemoth as it towered over him. His dick was almost as thick as he was, and Angus was no slouch at the gym! He had to feel it with his own hands to be sure it was real. He ran his hands up and down along the length of his newly enhanced rod. His hands looked and felt so tiny against his nearly four feet of fat cock. It was hard to believe that just this morning he could easily wrap a hand around his dick. Now he could wrap both ARMS around his cock.

Angus peeked around his humongous cock to get a glimpse at the camera feeds. Both feeds were now basically showing the exact same footage – a giant cock with some arms and legs poking out from behind it. Angus could scarcely fathom how huge his cock had become. His nuts had swelled up right alongside his dick as well. His nuts were now as large as prize pumpkins! They hung off the edge of his bed and drooped almost down to the floor below!

Angus’s phone began to buzz once more. He couldn’t believe it. He was already so huge, and people were STILL tossing money at him? He quickly scooped up his phone, unlocked the screen, and perused chat once more.

“FUCK He’s huge!”

“That’s so fucking hot!”

“He’s almost more cock than man now!”

“Almost”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Angus gasped at what he saw. They couldn’t possibly be thinking what he thought they were thinking. Growing his cock even more so that he was more cock than man? That’s ridiculous! Yet even as the thought crossed his mind his massive schlong lurched with glee. Pre oozed down his four feet of cock, and his phone buzzed again and again.

Angus watched in shock and awe as his cock climbed higher and higher. It was coming dangerously close to hitting the light fixture above his bed and showing no signs of slowing down, and even without looking he could tell his nuts were growing too. He could feel the cool, faux-hardwood laminate of his dorm room floor against the underside of his swollen nuts.

Angus craned his neck around his monstrous cock and stole a glance at the video feeds. His cock now touched his ceiling. His nuts now rested solidly on the floor like a pair of massive, fleshy bean bag chairs. Angus knew for a fact he needed to stop this, and soon! His cock was thicker than full-sized punching bag! When he wrapped his arms around it his fingers only just barely touched on the opposite side.

Angus unlocked his phone once more and quickly typed a message into the chat. “Ok, guys. That’s enough for one day.” But his message was met with an automated message from the server. “Guests may not comment on this video. Please log in.”

Angus’s eyes fell upon the follower count in the corner of the screen. His cock was now so huge that it hit the ceiling! He had to angle it back to keep it from mashing against the light fixture above him, and he was still gaining followers and fast! He couldn’t believe there were so many people pouring in even this late into the stream, but it didn’t take him long to figure out why.

“I shared the link to this vid with some forums I lurk. I know for a fact they’ll love him there.”

“He’s almost a little small for some of the forums I linked him to.”

“We’ll soon fix that.”

Angus cursed under his breath and hurriedly typed in his username and password. Even as he did this, he could feel his phone buzzing and his cock growing even larger. Angus couldn’t believe how huge he had gotten nor that he was still getting bigger. He thought for sure his watchers were done with him, but even as he typed in his log-in credentials he could see the chat still going.

“Fuuuuuck he’s huge!”

“Hell yeah! So hot!”

“Bigger! Bigger!”

Angus finished typing in his password and groaned at what he saw. Invalid password. It must have been because his hands were shaking that he botched the password, but whatever the case may be he had to try again and stop this mess. He typed his name and password in again, this time being extra careful not to make a typo and hit enter.

Angus flopped back in his bed and waited with bated breath while the loading circle spun in the middle of his screen. His cock was now so huge that he had to angle it towards the wall at the head of his bed. His cock was already as wide as his twin sized dorm bed and quite a bit longer. His dick was so long that it angled from the foot of his bed all the way to the ceiling against the wall behind him. “come on, come on…” he groaned under his breath as he watched the circle continuing to spin. He was running out of room for his enormous cock. If he got much bigger, he wouldn’t even fit in his own dorm room! All he needed was for the stream to load in once more and he could finally dial things back, but it was not to be. A new error message soon popped up.

“That user is currently logged in in another device.”

Angus one again cursed under his breath. There was no helping it. If he wanted to stop this he’d have to get up and head towards the PC sitting on his desk, but that was easier said than done. For starters, his desk sat on the opposite side of a solid wall of cock and balls that kept him pinned to his bed! Angus slowly shimmied his way sideways off his bed. With each inch he moved he was amazed at just how incredibly heavy his cock and balls had become. His nuts alone weighed him to the ground like a ship’s anchor, and he couldn’t even imagine how heavy his dick would be if it wasn’t currently propped against the wall at the head of his bed. It took some finesse, but once Angus was off his bed, he was slowly able to crawl shift around his massive cock until he was now over top of it and crawl his way backwards over his massive nuts.

Angus stared in awe as he stood there with his back to his desk. His cock was now so huge that it filled almost his entire room. He was nearly pinned to his desk beneath the behemoth that was his cock and balls which presented yet another problem. He couldn’t get the drawer which housed his keyboard and mouse out from underneath his desk! He was pinned so tightly against his own desk by his gargantuan cock and balls that his own thighs were pinning the drawer shut!

Angus glanced over his shoulder at his desktop screen and gasped at what he saw. The audience was still cheering for him to get even bigger! Wasn’t he big enough already!? Sure, he couldn’t deny how staggeringly hot his massive cock and balls were, but how was he going to get through life attached to a schlong the size of a subway car?

Even as Angus pondered this another message caught his eye.

“Don’t worry, guys. I just sent him a BIG one.”

Angus could feel his phone buzzing in his hand. He had kept a death grip on his phone this entire time even without really realizing he had done it. He was almost afraid to look, but he unlocked the screen anyway. Sure enough, he had a new email from PayPal, but unlike the others this wasn’t a duplicate. This was a donation with a brand-new value on it. Angus was afraid to click the email and see what the amount was. Part of him wished that it was just another $3 donation… after all, he could see the $3 at the tail end of the email preview, but the … after the 3 worried him greatly.

Angus nervously clicked the email icon. It didn’t do him any good to hide from it. After all, he was going to be growing one way or the other. It was like ripping off a band-aid. Best to just get it over with.

Angus’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw the final value. Three… HUNDRED!? Who has that kind of money to throw at something like this!? But there was no denying what he was reading. Someone had thrown enough money at him to nearly double his already colossal cock. With the added eight plus feet of fat cock he was soon going to be at nearly twenty full feet of schlong!

“Oh, fuck…” Angus murmured under his breath. The sound of his own words sent shivers down his spine. It wasn’t a cry of shock or anguish. It was a moan of almost orgasmic delight! Even as he shuddered, he could feel his nuts tense up as if bracing for the largest load of his – or anyone else’s – life!

With his cock rapidly expanding once more, Angus soon found himself more than mashed against his desk. He was being pushed up and onto it by his own swelling cock and balls. Soon his ass knocked his monitor off the desktop. Seconds after that he was pinning against the far wall with his cock pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the room, and he still had several feet left to grow!

Angus wasn’t sure what he was going to do now. There was nothing he could do. All he could do was stand there and gawk as his cock outgrew his dorm room. Even now he could feel the wall begin to buckle under the onslaught of his swelling schlong. He could hear the plaster crumbling. He could see the lines spreading across the far wall as it cracked and crumpled. And then, as if a dam breaking, sunlight poured into his room as his cock spilled out into the open courtyard between dorm rooms.

Angus’s cock was free to extend to its heart’s content, but he soon found himself with another problem. His nuts had grown so much that he was now resting atop them. They were so massive that they almost pinned him to his own ceiling! His massive nuts filled up every inch of space in his room from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall! His entire dorm room was flooded with his own nut sack!

Angus groaned as he felt himself be pinned between his ceiling and his own swelling balls. For a moment he was sure that he was going to be crushed to death by his own package. He was just about to close his eyes and accept the end when he felt something quite peculiar. He wasn’t sure how and he wasn’t sure why, but he was sliding forward. The rough texture of the ceiling scratched against his back, but soon he felt the fresh air on his bare skin. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight, but when they did, he took stock of his surroundings and started to figure out what had happened. His cock had grown so huge and so hefty that the sheer weight of it was enough to pull his nuts right out of his room like the cork being popped off a wine bottle. He had fallen from his room on the second floor and landed with a thud on the grass below, but his cock and balls were just so damn huge that the single-story drop had felt like nothing more than an inch.

Angus was pleased as punch to no longer be in any mortal danger, but now he had a new problem to deal with. The arrival of a twenty plus foot schlong in the middle of campus had attracted a lot of onlookers, and there was nothing he could do to try and hide from their scrutinizing eyes. Fortunately, his phone had stopped buzzing, and so it seemed that he had finally reached his new, maximum size.

In part because he had nothing better to do while trapped atop his own package and in part because he wanted something to distract himself from the crowd that had gathered around him, Angus unlocked his phone once more and peeked in at the stream chat. It didn’t take long for him to notice that things had quieted down, and it was immediately clear why. The stream had been cut short. No doubt his PC had been knocked offline due to his growth spurt which had crushed his desk. Angus breathed a sigh of relief. At least this meant things would calm down now… or so he thought. No sooner had he breathed a sigh of relief than he saw a new comment in the chat.

“Dudes… you’re not gonna believe this, but I think this was real…”

“What? How?”

“Check the news!”

“This is on the new at my college! It’s real!”

Angus saw the previous poster link to a local news network that he recognized. He almost didn’t dare to click the link, but he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw the truth. Sure enough, as soon as the live feed loaded, he was greeted by the sight of his own gargantuan package splayed out across the lawn. While he gawked at the surreal view of his own cock from a third person perspective, he was soon alerted to something else. The viewer count was rising rapidly! It didn’t take long for him to figure out what was going on either.

“Looks like the growth stream is still on!” Said one of the new arrivals.

“Now that I know this is real, I can really crack open the wallet!”

“God, I wish that was me…”

“Fuck yes. Can you imagine being that fuckin huge!?”

“Huge! Huge! Huge!”

“Let’s make him even bigger boys!”

Angus didn’t know what to say or do. They couldn’t still grow him, could they? The PC was offline. The app was closed down! But even as he thought this, he could feel his phone buzzing and his cock pulsing.

“Oh fuck…” Angus moaned, but once again the tone of his voice betrayed his true feelings. Instead of being a groan of disgust his voice came out as a low, horny moan of carnal glee. His colossal cock gave a lurch of glee. Pre oozed from his person-sized slit. He couldn’t believe he was so turned on by this. He couldn’t move with a cock this big. There was no way he could walk around. His cock was bigger than a city bus and his balls were the size of bungalows. He had a cock that would make a blue whale weep with shame, and it was still growing! Angus was so hot and bothered by his swelling member that he could barely even focus on his phone, but he could see the alerts piling up. His missed emails now numbered in the dozens, and it wasn’t all just duplicates either! With each new email alert he received, the dollars being donated varied widely. Some people were chipping in the old fashioned three-dollar inch, but some people were really cracking open the ol’ check book. Some of the donations were in the triple digits! Some generous donors were adding entire feet to Angus’s already ginormous schlong!

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” Angus whined as he continued to try to dry hump the grass beneath him, but at this point his cock was so huge that his whole body could barely even budge it. Even if he rocked with all his might, his dick would barely even shift under his weight.

As he continued to grow the crowd around him grew and grew as well. Somehow all these viewers just made Angus even hornier. It was one thing to pose for a faceless crowd on a webcam, but it was another to have a huge crowd gathered around his dick as if it was some impromptu music festival in the middle of campus. With all the people turning out to ogle his growing member, it was shaping up to be a regular Woodscock on the dorm lawn. Soon it wasn’t just the local campus new team reporting on his swelling schlong. Soon he had the major new outlets from all over reporting on what some people were calling the story of the century. Some guy with a cock the size of ship was lying buck naked in the public park.

Some part of Agnus’s mind was still fighting against his own arousal. Some part of him still wanted to keep a level head despite his growing desire to paint the town white in one massive tidal wave of cum, but that part was quickly losing out to his growing libido. About the only thing keeping him even vaguely rooted in sanity was the phone which he clasped in his hand. He kept glancing at the newsfeed to try and take his mind out of the moment. Somehow seeing his cock in third person like this seemed to distance him from the truth at hand, but soon even this proved to just fuel the fire. As the chat continued to explode with chants of “Huge! Huge! Huge!” and “Grow him some more!” more and more links began to flood the chat. Some were to other news outlets filming Angus’s colossal cock from other angles, but others were from personal feeds from people who had gathered to explore Angus’s cock.

“Oh my god! They're actually going to do it!” said one of the posters as they linked someone’s livestream.

“the absolute madlads!” came a reply.

“I wanted to be the first to go in!” came another reply.

Do it? Go in? What were they talking about? Angus wondered. His curiosity got the better of him and actually managed to stave off his hormonal need to cream, but only for a moment. The view he was greeted to upon opening up the new livestream was enough to send his libido into hyperdrive all over again.

When the stream fired up, Angus was greeted to the sight of another student he was vaguely familiar with waving at the camera. The guy was clad in a damp, white t-shirt and a hardhat with a huge headlight attached to it. He looked ready to go spelunking but judging by the lighting the guy appeared to be out in the daylight instead of heading into a cave, but that soon changed. The guy lifted his phone further up to give a wider view of his surroundings. Behind the guy stood a large ladder which was propped against a large, fleshy looking wall. It didn’t take Angus long to figure out what said wall was, though. It was his own cockhead! The guy was actually about to climb into Angus’s dick and record the whole thing for all the watch.

Angus let out another horny whine. The flow of pre from the tip of his cock really began to ramp up, and after a few second delay he could see the flow of pre on the livestream begin to increase as well.

“I think he feels me.” The spelunker said in a corny accent as if announcing his actions in a comical parody of the Crocodile Hunter. The truth was, Angus COULD feel him, but only just barely. The guy crawling into his exposed cock head felt like little more than a tickle. The dude may as well have been a gnat compared to Angus’s whale-sized schlong. At this point Angus’s cock was so huge that his back and balls were pressed against the dorm building he had fallen out of and the tip of his dick nearly reached the campus admin complex across the large, open park. The park was nearly the size of a football field, and Angus’s dick damn near filled the whole thing! Just thinking about how huge he had become made Angus once again struggle to stifle a moan.

“Oi. This bronco’s really buckin’ now,” Said the spelunker a moment later.

Just the thought of having someone crawling around inside of his cock was driving Angus wild. He desperately wanted to cum, and yet at the same time he fought the urge with every fiber of his being. He couldn’t even say why he was doing it. It was almost as if some part of him was afraid this was all a dream and the moment he blew he would wake up and find himself back in his dorm with his old five-inch rod.

Angus watched the video stream and tried to make sense of what he was seeing through his hormone-fogged senses. At first glance it looked much like any other chasm some guy might go spelunking through, but the sides were soft to the touch and glistened pink. It was hard for Angus to comprehend that these chasm walls he was watching in the video were the insides of his own cock. As angus watched the video it almost seemed like the guy’s point of view was shrinking. The walls grew further apart and reached higher and higher, but it wasn’t the guy who was shrinking. It was Angus’s cock that was growing! Even now, Angus could feel the constant buzzing of his phone and feel the constant pulsing in his cock. He couldn’t even fathom how huge he had become. His cock was so huge that he nuts pressed hard against the side of the dorms. He was so high off the ground that his nuts now crested far above the torn-out hole that was his second-floor dorm room. His balls filled much of the courtyard that spanned from the dorm hall to the campus administration office. His cock was now so huge that had it not been for the curvature of his rock-hard cock, his cock would have long since crushed the multi-story admin complex. His cock now stretched so far that the head of it loomed over the science building halfway across campus. The puffy head alone of his massive cock now dwarfed the main lecture hall AND the connected labs. The pre leaking from his cock splashed down on the street below in giant, SUV-sized gobs.

Angus’s life as he knew it was effectively over. He had a city block sized cock, and still it was creeping up in size. He was so massive that even that large donations that had been pouring in barely made a dent in his colossal size, and yet, even if this was a dream he never wanted to wake up. He wanted to remain like this forever. He couldn’t get over how amazing having a cock you could land a 747 on felt. He couldn’t get over how amazingly hot it was to have such a massive cock and balls that no matter which direction he looked, all he saw was more and more cock and balls stretching off into the horizon. Even as his nuts got so massive that they crested at over roof of his dorm he wanted to get bigger and bigger. Even as he watched the video of the dude spelunking inside his cock and watched the light of the guy’s headlamp fade to nothing as it shone down the impossible depths of his colossal cock, Angus reveled in his own hugeness. If his fans never ran out of cash to throw at his constantly growing cock, he would be OK with that, but already he could feel the constant buzzing of his phone slowing down. His donors had nearly reached their limit, and Angus too was reaching his limit in a very different sense.

Angus moaned and writhed. His monolithic schlong shuddered. His mountainous balls tensed up. He was going to blow soon, and everyone could tell. In the throes of ecstasy, Angus’s phone fell from his hand and landed with a plap on the soft flesh of his colossal nuts. Somehow the impact knocked web browser back a page. It was no longer focused on the spelunker’s livestream and was back to the newscast. The newscaster was eyeing the teleprompter intently and let out a gasp.

“This just in. Apparently, this situation is the result of what has been called a “growth stream.” If my understanding is correct. People have been paying money to see this guy grow. Is that a thing?” The newscaster asked. Then something happened that made even Angus, in his addled state that he was, gasp with shock. The URL for his stream was displayed underneath the reporter. His cock was now an international news story. His humongous cock was being displayed to people all over the globe, and now those people knew of his stream!?

As if to answer his unspoken question, his phone began to buzz even more intensely than before. He had just gone international. Now even people who don’t lurk the specific parts of the internet that had wanted to see him grow knew of his story and how to make him even larger. Whether it was out of genuine horny desire to see him grow, some kind of morbid fascination, or just the good old internet troll wanting to cash in on an already absurd situation, the donations were rolling in faster than ever before.

The video feed on the newscast changed. It was now no longer focused on the reporter who stood in the shadow of his colossal cock. The view was now zoomed out from up high. No doubt this new video was taken from some news helicopter circling far, far above. The helicopter was so far above that Angus could neither see nor hear it, but he couldn’t deny what he saw. He recognized the area shown in the feed. It was his campus! … or what was left of it. His cock and balls now eclipsed the entire region. A solid square mile of academia had been completely eclipsed by cock. His cock was so massive that he couldn’t even see himself atop it. He may as well have been an ant atop an ambulance, the size difference was so severe, and he could still see his cock growing and growing on the news feed. At the rate he was going he would no longer just eclipse the campus. He could cover the entire town surrounding it!

Angus almost chuckled at the thought, but he didn’t get the chance. The imagery was too much for him to take in. He gritted his teeth and let out a loud, low moan. His cock shuddered with enough force to shake the ground surrounding it. Car alarms went off for miles around, and then the dam broke. Gigantic spurts of cum, each jet with enough jizz to fill a reservoir, arced through the air, and everything went white for Angus.

It wasn’t just the streams of cum that caused his vision to fade though. Truth be told, Angus was relatively unscathed from his perch atop his mountain-sized stones, but the sheer intensity of the pleasure that coursed through his miles of cock caused his mind to short circuit. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. All he could do was moan and writhe in ecstasy as he came and came again. There was no telling how long he was cumming for. It could have been seconds. It could have been hour. Time had no meaning to Angus while he was in the throes of ecstasy. All he knew was that by the time he finally started to come down from the high, it felt like it was all over far too soon.

As the fog slowly started to lift from his mind, Angus looked out over his surroundings. All he could see was flesh spread out as far as the eye could see. His cock and balls filled the entire landscape. It was impossible for him to grasp the sheer size and scale of his package from his current position. Fortunately, he had a way to get a different perspective on the situation.

Angus strained with all his might to reach his phone which had slid away from him during his climax. He was only just barely able to get his fingertips onto the edge of the phone, but it was enough to awkwardly fish the phone back into range. Once he had his phone back in his hands, he opened up the newscast from earlier. He watched in bemused fascination as the newscaster stood in front of his cock and balls and described the scene for the audiences at home, but what Angus really wanted wasn’t words. What he really wanted was video. Fortunately, it only took a moment for the feed to shift back to the bird’s eye view of the city. Angus marveled at how massive his cock had become. His cock and balls had completely eclipsed the entire campus and had spilled out into the surrounding city. His junk covered several city blocks. His dick had to measure in miles at this point. It may have just been the afterglow still in effect, but Angus couldn’t really consider what this meant for the long run. All he could think about for the moment was how amazing his colossal cock looked and felt, but there was someone out there thinking about the future…

Meanwhile in the suburbs, Donald gave a whistle of approval as he watched the aftermath of his new app. The size his buddy Angus had reached exceeded even Donald’s extreme expectations.

Donald tabbed over from the local news website over to the master copy of the growth app. He waited for a moment for the most recent donations to be processed before finally pulling the plug on this little experiment. Now that he knew what kind of market there was for a growth drive of this sort, Donald figured it was time to make some adjustments to the programming before his next test run.

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#hyper #hyperphallic #hyper cock #cock growth #growth #story tag #Hyper (Search Tag)#Cock Growth (Search Tag)

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haloud · 5 years ago

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all grown up

for michael guerin week day 1 -- welcome to the party ao3

“It’s my year to pick what we do for our birthday,” Isobel says one afternoon.

Michael looks down at her. He’s standing on Max’s coffee table in order to get enough height to fiddle with the ceiling fan, which Max claims has started randomly changing speeds. He could easily use his powers for this, but it’s also vastly more fun to see Max’s face scrunch up when he walks into the room and sees Michael standing on his furniture.

Isobel flicks to the next page of her magazine, looking uninterested, but Michael knows she’s waiting for his response. Just a few inches from where he’s standing, her fuzzy-socked feet jiggle anxiously.

They haven’t celebrated a birthday in a while. Not together, at least. For lots of those years, Max and Michael could barely be in the same room with each other, let alone find anything to celebrate. And that’s probably a big part of the reason why Isobel’s own birthday became a subject of gossip as the one occasion she wouldn’t throw a party for.

Her math is right, though. This would be her year, if that was still a thing they did.

“Got any ideas yet?” Is all Michael says.

“I’m working on it. How do you feel about pedicures?”

“I live to be pampered.”

“Good to know.”

When Max comes home thirty minutes later, Isobel doesn’t bring it up again, just tosses her magazine aside and goes to help him unload groceries. Michael goes back to his tinkering, a smile on his face.

Isobel doesn’t live in the house she shared with Noah anymore. It’s empty at the moment—someday, she’s been saying, she’ll make Michael knock all the walls down and make it an open-concept office for her expanding business. They’ve already made a bonfire of the furniture—it kept them warm while they waited for Max to wake back up again.

It’s the best gift Michael can think of for her, and besides, their birthdays have almost never been about things. Still, just in case, he flexes his eBay skills and makes his way to the party with a two foot tall plushie of Littlefoot buckled into the seat beside him.

They do the party at Max’s house this year. As Michael pulls up to the driveway, it hits him in an unexpected way. This is the first time they celebrate out in the open. The first time there’s no one to hide the truth of Michael from, the first time they’re having an afterparty with other people, people who love them. Isobel has stayed meticulously silent for two months about her plans, but the afterparty she set up right away. She wouldn’t deny Max a chance to get sappy with Liz on his birthday, nor Michael a chance to get his birthday spankings. Given, however, that she picked the Wild Pony as the location, Michael can sense the truth underneath the teasing.

Michael climbs out of his truck and waves at his sister, waiting for him on the porch with her arms crossed. She stalks across the yard, and Michael frowns at the pinched look on her face, worry bubbling up from his stomach.

“Happy birthday?” He says, his voice rising like it’s a question, spreading his arms out either for a hug or to make himself a bigger target if she wants to hit him instead.

“Okay, yeah, happy birthday,” she says, then her jaw clenches, then she throws herself into his arms.

Michael squeezes her tightly, and she squeezes back, tension in every line of her. “You’re scaring me, Iz,” he murmurs into the side of her head.

“Okay!” She pulls back until he’s holding her at arm’s length. “Just first thing’s first, you are absolutely not allowed to laugh, because if you do I will—”

Her eyes flick over Michael’s shoulder, making eye contact with Littlefoot still strapped into the bench. A strangled noise, part shriek, part gasp, part delighted squeal leaps out of her throat, and all at once she shoves Michael aside and throws her upper body through the open window to retrieve it.

She buries her face in the short, soft fuzz for a long moment, and Michael’s face bursts into a smile. What he can see of her face is red and splotchy; her ponytail is coming undone; her outfit is perfect as usual. She’s Isobel, and god, it’s their fucking birthday.

Suddenly, Isobel jerks her head up again, shooting Michael with a squinting glare. “Did you cheat?”

Michael shakes his head vigorously, holding his hands up in surrender. “Cheat at what? Buying the perfect birthday present?”

“No, the theme of my party.” Her eyes drop, and she picks at one of the dinosaur’s smooth spots. “Seriously, Michael. Don’t laugh.”

“Iz, I’m not gonna laugh. I promise.”

After a second, she nods sharply, turns on her heel, and stalks back towards the door, Littlefoot tucked under her arm.

The second Michael walks through the door, he’s assaulted by a wave of—bubbles? The cheap, dollar store kind.

“Happy birthday, brother,” Max says, and blows another stream in his face.

The party? It’s perfect. It’s perfect in a way that has Michael in the bathroom three times that day to grip the sink and try not to bawl like a baby. It’s perfect in a way that has Max and Isobel red-eyed and sniffly too, on and off. Isobel is a genius, in a way that breaks all their hearts.

What do they do? They party. They eat too-sweet store-bought cake and drink lemonade they made themselves (out of powder from a jar, of course—what do you take them for?). They play Dance Dance Revolution on an old PS2 Isobel found in her childhood bedroom, basically untouched. They have a blindfolded telekinetic Nerf war across half the desert—which Michael wins, thank you very much, having a much more evolved grasp of telekinetic awareness than his two siblings, who are essentially fragile baby deer in the face of his mastery (says Michael, shortly before getting a dart to the mouth).

They have every birthday party they never had from 1 to 27, every single one in a day.

And after, as the sun starts setting late into the summer night, the three of them shove themselves into Michael’s truck, because it’s the car they can take with all three of them in the front seat. Isobel still has blue frosting on her cheek; Max leans his head on the window like he’s just being his pensive self and like Michael can’t see him tearing up in the reflection.

They’ll have a few beers with the people they love, and then the day will be over. Michael almost wants to take a page out of his brother’s book, but he has to keep his eyes on the road.

When they walk into the Pony, though, it’s to an explosion of confetti and a massive birthday banner—from some old birthday of Maria’s, most likely, because the year number has been cut out and the banner stitched back together—strung across the ceiling.

Max really is crying now, as Liz tugs his hands away from his face and laughs, leading him to the dance floor. Michael stands rooted to his spot, frozen by this, this earth-shakingly simple gesture, he just can’t, can’t get his brain to move his muscles again. They’ve got people here. They’ve got—Kyle and Jenna strung the banner up, probably, while Alex moved tables and chairs out of the way and made glib comments about how it would be an easier job for someone tall, like Max. Maria would have stayed behind the bar, mixing punch; Liz probably brought in food from the Crashdown, the best comfort food anywhere in Roswell. Michael can see it all play out so clearly, but it doesn’t make it any more real.

He wishes time travel was a power they had, just so that kid he used to be could know, could know even just a flicker, that this was gonna be his one day.

“It’s your birthday, you can cry if you want to, Guerin,” a teasing voice says at Michael’s shoulder, and then Alex is there, taking his hand.

And Michael lets him, follows him into the crowd, into the circle of his family.

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #michael guerin #isobel evans #max evans #siblings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#fluff!!!!!!!!!

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suga-kookiemonster · 5 years ago

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Girl japan have 6 shows for this up coming tour.... korea and japan get secret content from bts and the only way we find out is want their want to flex on us lol. They get muster and fan sign, so please let us enjoy the crumbs we are getting right now. The only “advantage” we have is the fact that U.S market is the biggest one that’s why bh is promoting so much plus when they one to the states they only acknowledge California anyway. I can’t complain though other countries have it worse.

☝🏾☝🏾☝🏾 ny and california lol. but you can’t fault them for that—those are the places usually depicted in movies and also where the entertainment industry tends to be headquartered (aside from atlanta). i remember when i was studying abroad and had to explain to people—and more specifically, my korean friend—where i was from. she was like “california? new york?” and i was like “between that” 🤣 who i really feel bad for is latin america. they need more shows, and in multiple countries!!

but anyway, i think japan is technically one of their biggest markets? or, at least, traditionally. they show up and show out for kpop, which is why they tend to get so much exclusive stuff—more likely to financially support them. i wonder if that’s different now that more people in the west are into bts tho. i’ll drop $45 on an album because i remember and long for the CD days and understand the appeal of collector’s items, but idk if these western 14 year olds will do the same—they’ll probably just stream it 🤷🏽‍♀️ me and korea/japan will drop the big bucks, but i’m curious about what numbers will look like in the western market with younger fansduring this streaming era

#...i think i just started rambling what were we talking about lmao #asks

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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years ago

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XVI.

"You will manage to keep a woman in love with you, only for as long as you can keep her in love with the person she becomes when she is with you." C. JoyBell

Rockin' around the Christmas tree, let the Christmas spirit ring. Later we'll have some pumpkin pie, and we'll do some caroling…

Naturally, my own vocals lightly meshed in with those of Brenda Lee while my head bopped back and forth to the infectious Christmas tune as it blared from the Beats Pill, I gifted to my mother a couple of months ago. To take advantage of the majority of my weight being pressed against the kitchen island, I slowly flexed my toes and extended my aches in an effort to minimize the throbbing in my feet. Short hisses turned into a deep sigh of bliss but unfortunately it was short lived once I grasped a knife in my hand again.

“Pass me two stalks of celery out of that bag, please.” My precise instructions were pointless. With her eyes intently focused on the phone in front of her, Celeste aloofly tossed the plastic bag in my direction as if I were a nuisance interrupting the ridiculous number of hours she spends interacting on Facebook. If anything, I avoid it, because once you reach a certain age, Facebook is nothing more than a scroll fest filled with engagement and pregnancy announcements, weddings and post-birth pictures, garbage hot takes from people about the most trivial of topics, and finally older relatives who have nothing better to do other than to be in everyone’s business, including yours.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” If she’s not going to be in the kitchen either helping me or doing something of her own, then the better choice would be for her to exit. She hasn’t been much company because we’re barely spoken since she arrived and I’d rather not be distracted by her sitting there in a trance with a phone in her hand like a mindless teen.

“Not really. You always do Christmas Eve, I do Christmas breakfast, and mommy does Christmas dinner. Don’t act brand new now.”

“I’m not acting brand new. I just see no point in you being in here.” Celeste does Christmas breakfast because it’s the easiest task to handle and I don’t have much of a problem pushing her dry ass pancakes around on a plate in anticipation for dinner later on the evening.

“For someone who claims to be so demure in the manner that you carry yourself, I’m super confused about why you have streams of diamonds glistening and circling around your neck.”

“What?” Thoughtlessly, I stretched my unoccupied hand up to the exposed skin and lightly brushed my fingers over nearly sixty carats of brilliant round cut diamonds that do not belong to me.

The manner in which O layers his many necklaces always grabs my attention and it’s something about the showiness in the midst of the simplicity of them that I continue to compliment whenever I see him donning them. This morning, for whatever reason, he randomly placed two of them around my neck as I stood in the mirror attempting to figure out just how festive my attire would be for today. Once I’d gotten past three unwarranted outfit changes, I found myself admiring the jewelry as it glimmered in the natural lighting cascading into his master bedroom beyond the curtains. I’d forgotten to remove them.

“They’re not real. It’s just costume jewelry.”

“They look pretty damn real to me.”

“Well, they’re not. There’s this new spot that opened up over on West 47th Street. I grabbed them in there. I just thought they looked cute and they reminded me of something Lil’ Kim wore one time. You know Kimberly Denise Jones is one of my spirit animals. They’re not something you wear everyday but it’s the holidays and I’m on vacation until after the New Year, so why not? I’m glad they look real though. That just means they were well made.”

“You seem to have a million alter egos. One minute you’re Florence Joyner, the next minute you’re Lil’ Kim, on another day you’re Angela Bassett, and then you’re Michelle Obama. We can’t forget you being the Oprah of sports journalism, oh and there’s Rihanna and Beyonce, who else?”

“Phylicia Rashard, Eartha Kitt, Regina King, Janet Jackson, Cari Champion, Lisa Salters, Pam Oliver, Jemele Hill. And I’ve never considered any of those women to be my alter egos. They’re women that I admire due to their drive, success, and character. I’ve taken bits and pieces from all of their careers and used them as lessons for my own. What you’ve mistaken is me saying that Lil Kim, Rihanna, and Tracee Ellis Ross are my style icons. Oh, and Mary J. Blige is my boot icon.” I think all women have a mood board of aspirations and inspirations. It doesn’t always have to be specific people. A portion of mine just so happens to contains who I believe are some of the greatest black women of the past and current generation. They’re not alter egos who I attempt to mimic but rather stories of triumph that keep me driven.

“What’s up with you and Kyle? Why are you interested?” I nearly cut into the flesh of my finger while dicing the stalks of celery. Briefly, I paused to gather myself, and immediately moved on to the three cloves of garlic.

“Nothing at all. I’m not interested so please stop pressing me about that. I’m not going to date your husband’s brother. I don’t do that all in the family stuff.”

“He’s really into you.”

“Or maybe you’re just exaggerating things. We’re just cool. We always have great conversations whenever we’re around one another and that’s good enough for me. I’ve already spoken to you multiple times about my disdain for your matchmaking bullshit. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a fan of it?”

“You continue to hold Shamel against me. Things didn’t work out. Okay. Shit happens. That doesn’t mean that every guy that I attempt to introduce you to won’t be compatible with you.”

“Compatibility? It’s deeper than that.” Parsley and cilantro were next for the wrath of the knife in my hand. I’m going to have to med onions next. I should have just bought all of this stuff chopped already.

“What’s deeper?”

“Celeste, you don’t know shit about what I went through with Shamel. You know the shortened version of years’ worth of bullshit. You think we just had a couple of typical couple disagreements to the point of us coming to terms with the reality that we could no longer be together? I wish it were that fucking simple, so don’t sit in here on your high horse with that matchmaker shit. Focus on your man and your marriage. I’m fine.”

I internalized so much of what I went through with the man. I was never the one to take my household troubles and spread all of it in places that it didn’t need to be. Anyone with the vision could see the tension between the two of us whenever we were out and about together and if you couldn’t see it, then it was thick enough to be felt. As my career began to take off, I chose to move as a single woman, often leaving him behind whenever I was out and about at industry events whether they were sports related or not. Shamel had a tendency to spend way too much time at the open bar, tossing back shots of tequila while slyly entertaining any woman that fawned over his deep mocha presence. He’d then cause a scene if he caught any men paying even the slightest attention to mine.

Beyond the decision to mask our toxicity as best as I could, I yearned to make my mother proud by being the quintessential woman; brains, beauty, a reputable career, and a good man standing alongside me. The pride she wore on her face at Celeste’s wedding stood out beyond any and everything that went on that summer night in Brooklyn. Since my father’s death, that wedding and all of the events leading up to it sparked a liveliness in her that I hadn’t experienced in quite some time although it had absolutely nothing to do with me. I’m not sure if she was vicariously living through my sister or she was simply just thrilled to see her began her own family, but in observing her response to it all, I wanted to give that to her.

After a short lived around of sex that left tears of mental exhaustion pouring down the sides of my face as I lie under him, he whispered in my ear that he intended to make me his wife. I’ll never forget the wave of nausea that rushed over my body and sent me dashing into the bathroom to empty out of the contents within my stomach. I thought of marriage as something beautiful until then. Just the thought of spending the rest of my life in misery with him left my mind in an emotional frenzy as I attempt to figure out when and how I’d end our relationship. Less than three weeks later, I finally mustered up the courage to get it done.

“You want to be alone forever?”

“Whether I do or I don’t, it’s my decision. You may be older, but we’re not kids anymore. We’re no longer in Brooklyn, under mommy’s roof, trying to figure out what we’re going to do with ourselves. You have your life and I have mine. I have time to figure that relationship shit out. I’m not stressed about it. Being single doesn’t bother me at all. For whatever reason, it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me that you’re single. I just think you deserve happiness.”

“And you think that I don’t have it without a man? You give them way too much credit.”

And she always has. Celeste has been a serial monogamist for as long as I can remember her dating history. As soon as one relationship of hers would end, she’d be in another one within a week or two. I can recall a couple of overlaps, but that’s none of my business.

“Don’t put the whole bonnet pepper in there.”

“I know that. I’m only doing half.” The last thing I want is to give our mother heartburn on Christmas Eve.

In the midst of me pouring olive oil into the deep red pot I already had on the stove, I reached into my back pocket for my vibrating phone.

Mrs. Claus, I’m missing you. When are you coming home?

Home? To mask my budding smile, I slowly pulled my lip in-between my teeth.

Home?

This man knows how to put a smile on my face by saying the simplest things.

Anywhere I lay my head is just as much yours as it is mine.

I should have known that when he gave me keys and the security codes last night. I’m still in disbelief about that.

I should be finished here really soon and I’ll be right back at the North Pole to keep your lap warm, Santa.

It’ll be the first time I’m spending Christmas Eve anywhere other than here and to say I’m nervous would be an understatement. Usually around this time of the year, O would be in the midst of the season so his family would make the effort to come to New Jersey to be with him. Even though he’s currently not playing, they still decided to come up and enjoy the chilled weather. For the past couple of days, he’s convinced me to rid myself of my reluctance and to be with him and a few people I’ve yet to meet like his grandmother Mille, his uncle Mike, his aunt Pat, and his step-father Derek.

Naked right?

And don’t even get me started on the lie that I had to tell everyone in this house so that I’d be able to get out of our Christmas Eve tradition of my cooking and us sitting around watching our favorite Christmas classics while bundled up under quilts that we’ve had since Celeste and I were toddlers. That lie involved Taylor, who’s actually in Atlanta right now, and Scott who actually did invite me to his Christmas Eve game night over at his place.

I can make that happen. Not while the elves are awake though. That’s a bit inappropriate, Santa.

My snicker wasn’t soundless. It was loud enough to alert Celeste and her eyes slowly panned in my direction and raised in curiosity at what tickled me.

“It’s Taylor.” I said it before she could ask.

Baby, don’t be mad at me but I already cut the red velvet cake. It was just sitting there and I couldn’t help myself.

I knew he’d do it. The fume enticed him by itself, so his response to the finished product was of no surprise. I didn’t even make him promise me that he wouldn’t touch it because I knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself just as he said. It’s why I made two of them.

I knew you would. Enjoy it. That’s why I made it.

I spent the morning baking as a part of his Christmas request. Renee’s handling everything else, but all of the sweets are my task. When I return, I’m going to make my mini eggnog cheesecakes and cookies.

Try and make it back before the snow starts. I don’t want you driving in that.

It’s not supposed to be enough snow to keep the east coast hiding inside of their homes, but it will be enough to leave traffic dragging and the roads hazardous. I’ve never been much of a fan of driving in the snow, so I do want to be out of here before those flurries began to fall.

Will do. I’ll see you in a bit love.

“I can’t believe you’re about to go and spend Christmas Eve hanging out with your co-workers. Don’t you get enough of seeing them at work?” This is her second time making commentary about this since I’ve been here and I’m not even sure why. Celeste and I barely say much of anything to one another whenever I’m around, unless she’s scolding me about some area of my life that she assumes that I need to improve. It’ll be no different tonight as they’re all curled up in the living room watching classic holiday films while enjoying the dinner that I’m preparing and a shit ton of junk food we bought at Walmart the other day. Besides, her husband is here and when he’s with her, nearly all of her attention is on him.

“What’s the big deal? We’re not kids waiting around on Santa anymore. There are no babies here in the house that we need to be extra festive for. I’ll be back in the morning for breakfast and then we’ll all open up the presents together like we usually do. You won’t even notice that I’m gone.” Maybe my mother will, but she certainly won’t. Whenever her husband’s around, her attention remains solely focused on him. She parades herself on being a so-called traditionalist as a wife; whatever that means. Either way, her head is up his ass and luckily for her, his is just as far up hers.

“What time are you getting here in the morning? I figure I’ll at least be considerate enough to start making breakfast around them so by the time you’re here, you won’t have to eat cold food.”

“Most likely around nine or a half hour after it. It won’t be much later than that.”

“That’s if you’re not hungover, huh?”

“I won’t be. I have no plans to drink, unless it’s like a half glass of some spiked egg nog. Can’t go to a Christmas function and not have some egg nog. I’m driving, so it won’t be much.” I’m not irresponsible with my life and in addition to that, if O smells the alcohol on my breath, he’ll be scolding me all night long for having the audacity to drink and drive.

“Okay.” I never thought she’d leave the kitchen. She’s been in here since my arrival and comfortably settled at a spot in front of the island, while watching my every move. Initially, I thought she was doing it simply to be a critic of whatever I intended to prepare in the kitchen, but now I know she sat there as a mean to try and find her way into my business as she always seems to do. I’ve never been interested in what she has going on with Preston since she met the man. Even when we all went out to dinner a few years back and she first introduced him to both my mother and I, I didn’t have much of anything to say. All I could make of their connection was that she was obsessed with everything about him and luckily for her, he was smitten enough to feel the same way about her. She needed a man who could and world be a bit of a pushover for her and he is exactly that.

My father’s beloved stewed chicken or as he called it, poulet creole, was a breeze to prepare because I’m the only one in our home who learned every single aspect of that recipe directly from him. On a random summer day, while my mom and Celeste were out at the hair salon getting curls put into their hair for Sunday service, he interrupted me from watching ESPN, and called me into the kitchen for yet another one of his many lessons. The manner in which he taught me wasn’t by me looking on at his every task but instead me doing all of the work while he closely directed so I’d my hands would familiarize themselves with the process as he claimed. It was the same method that his grandmother taught him to cook with.

I preferred learning to cook under his guidance far more than my mother’s because she’s like a drill sergeant in the kitchen; barking down on her subject for any mistake or mishap with her directions. He and I laughed, danced to whatever he chose to play in the radio, and compared and contrasted our opinions on any topic we could think of. I will always hold him in the highest regard for allowing my self-expression to flourish. As a West Indian father of two girls, he could have easily chosen the overprotective and absurdly sexist route in raising us, but he didn’t. Rather than doing his best attempt to blind me from life beyond the doors of our home, he chose to listen to my perspective and then teach me about what life has to offer whether good or bad; easy, moderate, or difficult.

I miss him. Actually, that’s an understatement. During the holiday season, that pain that lies dormant within my soul flares up into an intensity that I have to stoically mask for the sake of getting through. As much as he emphasized the need to prepare both Celeste and I for the day that he was no longer with us, none of us ever expected it to be as soon as it was. I want to be the strong and independent woman that he raised me to be, but in some ways, I still need him. My mother needs him because she hasn’t been quite right ever since. Celeste needs him just as much, because there’s a part of her that has always sought him out in the men that she chose to allow into her life since his death.

“Celeste, I’m heading out.”

“Nice coat and hat.”

The caramel wool cashmere single-breasted silhouette was an unexpected gift from Kobe before we went on break for the holiday. Everything about the hand-embroidered embellishments and the manner in which it loosely accentuated my frame instantly made me fall in love with it with the Burberry piece. He encouraged me to open it up while we were standing there in my dressing room so I’d be able to see if I liked it, but I voiced that it wouldn’t be right to open it before Christmas. My curiosity nipped at me all morning long until I fed into its urge by opening it up and like a kid whenever they’re given anything new, I had to wear it immediately. The matching beanie hat is the cherry on top. Before I’m off to bed tonight, I intend to thank him again.

“Thanks. It’s my Christmas gift from Bean.”

“Who?”

“Kobe.”

“So, you’re going to be here around nine, right? You better not be late because I’m not defending you when mommy snaps.”

“Yes. I’ll be here. When she gets in from church, tell her to call me if she needs me.” I still can’t believe she went to Christmas Eve service. Actually, I’m quite surprised that she didn’t pressure Celeste and I into attending.

“Will do. Enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas Eve.” Unexpectedly for her, I leaned in and planted a soft peck on her cheek. We’ve never been the type of sisters who shower one another with a lot of love whether it be physical or verbal, but on there are those random occasions when I do show or tell her how much I love her. I’d like to think in all the ways I help her or come running when she needs me, it’s a reflection of what I feel just as much.

“Merry Christmas Eve. Have fun.”

“Will do. You too. Since mom isn’t here, maybe you and Preston can get a little practice in on that baby that you want.” With a slight scoff, her eyebrows raised.

“Since when are you on the wild side?”

“I’m reserved, not virginal. See you in the morning.”

A gust a wind slithered through the open space as soon as I opened the door to step outside and very faint sprinkles of snow filled the air as they lightly cascaded down to meet my frame. I thought I would have been out of here before it all started but the beauty of it ceased any complaints that I usually would have if it weren’t Christmas Eve. If anything, the snow makes the spirit of tonight even more fulfilling. I don’t have to dream of a white Christmas because it seems like the city is being gifted with one this year. “Happy Holidays stranger.” I didn’t see his car parked across the street nor had I noticed him jogging across the street after locking the doors behind himself and yet here he is, stepping up onto the sidewalk and inching closer to the steps of my mother’s porch to trigger a slight downward spiral of my mood with his presence alone. I don’t know what it is with Quinton and his purposeful choice to remain all in the family despite my resistance towards whatever he and my mother thought they had planned for my love life. Initially, I believed he genuinely viewed us as an extension of his own family and supporters in the neighborhood who he knew he could count on, but now, I’m not sure what the fuck this is or where he’s going with it. “Happy Holidays.” “How have you been?” “Well. You?” I was better just a minute ago. “I’m well enough.” “What brings you around? The holiday? You seem to always show up around here whenever there’s one.” In his hand, he held a gift bag that I’m going to assume is for my mother. It’s not that I mind that he buys her gifts, because deep down, I don’t. I’m mostly concerned with what they mean. “I don’t just show up here on holidays. I come over and check on your mom from time to time. You know I love Mrs. Nazaire.” My scoff was loud and clear. Any time we speak now, he sounds like nothing more than a fame hungry politician, who uses manipulation tactics to garner allies and supporters. I’m sure his antics are no different with my mother. It’s why she holds him in such high regard no matter how much I don’t give a fuck. “Yeah? It’s starting to feel like you’re screwing my mother. I’m not looking for any step-dads within our age range. Sniff around women your own age Quinton.” The sarcasm flowed from my mouth and into his ears; leaving a flustered expression on his face that quickly transitioned into one of annoyance. “I’m not. I’ve only been to bed with one Nazaire woman.” “I’m glad you used the past tense. I barely remember that one and done situation; but I’m glad that you do. She’s not here, but Celeste and her husband are. You’re more than welcome to wait for her and I’m sure that you will.” “I don’t know what it is that Shamel did to you, but you’re so bitter now. Not all men are hood gym owners who fucked you over repeatedly while dipping into women who bought memberships to be trained in doggystyle position rather than on treadmills. All I wanted to do was be a good man to you, but you’re coming at my head as if I’m your enemy.” He said all of that and yet I’m the bitter one? If anyone asked me anything about this man’s personal life, I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything aside from what I know from the days when we’d actually hangout with one another. I haven’t kept up with much about his life story since then and I’d prefer not to know now. That’s the difference between he and I; he remains invested in what doesn’t concern him while I can’t seem to find a reason or the time to concern myself with what he wishes I would concern myself with. “I’m growing a bit confused about who has the pussy between the two of us. Only bored and lonely women concern themselves with what was or wasn’t going on in another woman’s relationship. Damn, you were more invested in what Shamel was doing with his time than I was. I’m bitter because I don’t want to play your political trophy wife or are you bitter because despite my firm no, you’re still sniffing around here and chasing me? Find your dignity Quinton. Don’t go out like a wack bitch, aight?” “I hope you don’t go out like one either. Make sure you keep it classy by not fucking with all of those athletes that you’re constantly around. How many have you been with thus far?” “All of them.” I’m usually not the type to laugh at my own jokes but I couldn’t help but to chuckle at his facial expression. I’ve been slut shammed more times than I can count. It happens every day when random people hiding behind social media accounts on apps decide to accuse me of using my body in order to keep my job, so Quinton doing it isn’t offending me any more than it does when strangers are doing it. Initially, I used to be extremely irritated by it but I’ve come to terms with the reality that people are going to say and assume whatever they want no matter what I do or feel about it. No matter who I do or don’t have in my bed, my bills are paid. “Excuse me. I have some place to be.”

Stepping around him wasn’t the problem; it was the oddness of him standing there and watching me slip into my car. Like a lost puppy, he trudged up the stairs to the house door and continued to burn a hole into my foggy windows with a scowl on his face that I couldn’t see but I’m sure is there. Maybe one day he’ll get it or maybe he won’t, either way, I’m not responsible for what he feels. I’ve been clear with all intentions and lack their off.

No matter how much snowfall happens in the northeast year after year, as soon as flakes of any size begins to fall out of the sky, the snail-paced traffic is an immediate effect and it drives me insane. It’s one of the primary reasons why I was in no rush to get a new car and am currently wishing I had a driver taking me to my destination. Not even the holiday tunes that I love so much are distracting me from wanting to roll my window down and shout at the drivers in front of me who are missing green lights and evoking slight amounts of fear within me with their skidding. What would usually be a forty-five-minute commute turned into nearly an hour and a half.

The relief that washed over me at the sight of the double entry driveway was well received as I slowly inched my way in and focused in on the three bodies standing in the driveway. I reached out to him just a few minutes ago to notify him that I’d need help getting bags out of the backseat of the car, so we wouldn’t have to make multiple trips in the brisk weather. Unlike the other males standing alongside him, the handsome one who belongs to me was hilariously covered in an oversized Santa coat with a black hood covering his blonde mane.

“The traffic was so stupid as I was on my way to the Lincoln Tunnel. I will never understand how people who have been living on the East Coast since forever still fear the damn snow. It’s not even snowing that hard.” My right hand latched onto his and he carefully pulled me out of the driver’s seat and into his awaiting arms. My complaint went into one ear and right out of the other as he endearingly snuggled my frame as close to his as possible while nuzzling his chilled face into the nape of my neck. Admittedly, I needed to feel him in this exact manner for the restoration of the joy that this night is supposed to be and bring.

“And don’t even get me started on this ass wipe in this big ass Navigator who kept slightly skidding. I was caught in between being worried for my damn life and wanting to kick his ass for driving so stupidly. Oh and…” His peck was sweet; subtle and yet enough to leave me yearning for so much more.

“Give me your keys.” To oblige his request, I dropped them into his hand and turned to both Kordell and Derek who were looking on and most likely extremely bored with my rant.

“Hi guys.”

“You finally made it. This guy was about five minutes away from hopping into his Rolls Royce and driving all the way to Brooklyn for you.” I’ve only met his step-father Derek once and in my quick assessment of him I understood that he was more of a reserve man who somehow had a humorous side to him that couldn’t be ignored. He can crack a joke and it usually comes at the right time.

“I told him I was coming. I would have been here if it weren’t for the traffic.”

“And he wanted me to get in the car and go with his lame ass.” After a shared hug with Derek, I threw my arms around Kordell and pecked his forehead despite his maneuvers to avoid it. He’s not exactly the most physically affectionate person so I purposefully shower him with some of my own to worsen whatever annoyance his oldest brother sent his way.

“You weren’t going to come looking for me with your brother? I thought you and I are good friends now?”

“We’re family or whatever, but you and bro are old. I have a lot more life to live. I wasn’t about to catch hypothermia messing with the two of you.”

“It’s not even that bad out here. You haven’t seen a real blizzard yet Louisiana boy.” His dramatics earned a light mush to his head. I’d love to see how he reacts to a couple of feet of snow covering the ground and maybe even a power outage to go with it. Now that’s hell.

“Sarai, what is all of this?” The bewildered expression on his face and him using my first name evoked me to widen my eyes in a confusion about what I could possibly be in trouble about. I don’t believe there’s anything incriminating in my trunk and if there is, I didn’t place it there.

“Gifts.”

“All of this?” Like a nagging elderly man who borders between obnoxiously cheap and being frugal with his money, he extended his arm towards the overflowing trunk and placed his idly hand on his hip to await an explanation that he’s not going to receive.

“What? I told you that I was coming with gifts. Don’t be ridiculous. Just grab them. Oh, and don’t forget the ones in the backseat. I’m going inside. It’s cold.”

“This is crazy. You went overboard.”

“I know you’re not talking about overboard. There’s a Rolls Royce parked right over there. I can start there and keep on going for hours. You really want to do this right now?” If there’s anything I’m ever ready for; it’s to prove somebody wrong. Debating is an essential part of my profession as an analyst and I haven’t lost a debate yet if you let me tell it, so I can and will give him an extensive five minutes of dialog about his spending habits and how he is by far one of the biggest spenders that I know. This man doesn’t even use his washer and dryer. He dry cleans every damn thing and never wears the same underwear, socks, or t-shirts twice.

“Nah, baby, you got it.” Without any further questions or concerns, he extended his arms into the trunk and began to retrieve a few of the many bags that they all needed to bring inside.

“Wow. You know how things go in arguments. Good job, man.”

While on my way to the warmth, my laughter at Derek’s commentary was loud enough for me to hear it but low enough so that the man of my affection couldn’t make it out. Sometimes it’s just best to keep quiet about the reality that your man is willing to put himself aside to please you and, in this case, it was his mouth.

“Sarai!”

Sometimes I’m stunned by my sincere acceptance into his family dynamic. We’re anything but traditional and we’re navigating in a manner that I’m sure they don’t understand because we certainly don’t. Aside from my overwhelming emotional affection towards the man who belongs to them more than he does to me, they’ve been unknowingly responsible for making me feel like I deserve the joy that I feel when I’m with him and around them. In my transition from hugs with Heather, Jazzy, and those who I’ve been led around the first level of the house to meet, I haven’t been able to ease away the smile gracing my face.

“Your outfit and pajamas are upstairs in the room.” I know pasta when I smell it. The fumes coming from the kitchen appealed to my senses quickly and left my stomach turning in knots for nourishment.

“Outfit?”

“Wait until you see what your guy bought for you.” Her amusement was my fear. I tend to like to make him the butt of a couple of my jokes, but I don’t want to be the one on the other end of his tonight.

“Is it a onesie?”

“No.” Suddenly I wish this glass of egg nog were spiked.

“I’m going to head up and see it. If it’s a disaster I’m pulling the feminist card and blaming the both of you because we’re supposed to be united against these men.” I waggled my finger back and forth to point out the mother and daughter duo who found my apprehension to be amusing and began slowly inch my way up the spiraling staircase that leads to the upper level of the house. Though I could hear his voice loud and clear from the foyer, O hadn’t brought my personal belongings upstairs and I’m already up here so that’s out. With that in mind, it seems even more logical to take him up on his offer of my own closet space so that I no longer need to keep trekking overnight backs to and from here.

A blend of the Italian bergamot and clay sage from his beloved cologne meshed in blissfully with the gingerbread scent that I know he purposefully misted into the room just for me. Since December came in, he frequently made note of how my home smelled like cookies whenever he came over and accused me of trying to toy with his already slightly ridiculous appetite for junk food, especially candy. Despite my love for Bath and Body Works and Yankee Candle’s holiday scents, he deemed them to be exceedingly sweet and overdone. Now look at him.

Flutters filled my core at the sight of his master suite’s fireplace being utilized for the first time ever. Unlike my obsession with them, it’s a feature within the house that he hasn’t concerned himself with since moving in. There’s something about the way the flames are curling and oscillating, flickering like gleaming lights, and cascading hues of scarlet onto the wall that naturally warms the space.

“Your stuff is on the bed.” I knew he was in the doorway. The chills trickling onto the back of my neck spoke before he did.

“You put the fireplace on.”

“I figured you’d like it. Thank God it’s electric. I’m no fireplace expert.” As his feet trudged against the wooden flooring, he dropped my monogram Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière duffle bag near the entry way of his closet.

“It’s beautiful.” If it were just us, I’d curl up on the floor in front of it with a good playlist going.

As soon as my Ugg boots were kicked aside, I inched closer to the bed and alongside three bags, was a Snoopy and Woodstock perfectly wrapped present that I certainly wasn’t expecting to see. My curiously instantly peaked but in a swift second, I checked myself for discarding the waiting rule I’ve grown up with. Celeste and I weren’t even able to open one gift at midnight on Christmas Eve.

“You forgot to put that under the tree?” Instead, I reached for the crimson red gift bag and snickered as soon as my hand silky velvet material that is identical to the kind covering his frame. My Mrs. Claus coat was that of something I’d be waiting for Santa in the bedroom in rather than keeping an eye on the elves. It’s lace-up front called for a good cleavage while the pure white faux fur trimming and flared skirted bottom were more along the lines of tradition until anyone notices the split open front. What exactly is supposed to go under this?

“No, that’s for you to open now. You probably thought I was playing when I mentioned it before but I really am impatient on Christmas Eve. I like to open presents the night before and just sleep on Christmas morning. Since it’s our first one together, I figured I’d be fair to your traditions and my own. So, we can open some tonight and then open the first in the morning. Fair?” Like an eager child hoping to get his way, his narrowed eyes slightly widened with hopes that I’d agree to what he calls fair. I don’t see what the big deal is. It all has to be opened either way.

“Fair.”

“So open that.”

Lazily, my body flopped down onto the plushness of the bed and I grabbed the box with a bit of shaking to increase his growing anticipation. The contents inside only slighting moved, throwing off just about all of my potential guesses for what it may be. My first donned a smirk as I commenced with tearing through the wrapping paper to uncover the infamous Christian Louboutin box under it. Shoes? Infinite brownie points already. Much like himself, I adore footwear. I stand by the law that a shoe can make or break a look more than any other article of clothing.

“You didn’t.” Instantaneously, thoughts of a random conversation I was having with Taylor came to mind. Christian Louboutin collaborated with Indian Couture Designer Sabyasachi Mukherjee on an extremely limited-edition collection featuring hand-embroidered sari fabrics and jaw dropping embellishments that left me in awe upon the sight of it online. Every piece of material used to craft the shoes were taken from Sabyasachi’s private archive, leaving only a few pairs of each design to be created.

“Didn’t what?” His confusion was intentional. The grin called his bluff. The lid to the box went flying behind me in an instant and in dramatic fashion, I dropped back onto the bed in astonishment and bliss at the sight of the exquisite thigh high boots that I fell in love with. Their golden delicate leather straps were specially designed harness and highlight the leg. On top of it, they’re made to measure.

“Is this real life?”

“I feel pretty alive, what about you?”

“How the hell did you get these? I called everywhere. No, literally. I e-mailed fucking Hong Kong for them. Supposedly only like six pairs were made.” “Those have been in my closet since October.” The nonchalance in his tone evoked a moisture lightly seep into the seat of the lace under my jeans. I don’t know whether to jump on the bed in joy or discard everything covering my frame allow him to twist and flip me into any position of his liking. Maybe both? Both can certainly be done.

“Come and give me a hug please.” With the box now resting alongside me, I opened my arms and awaited his presence. Like a weighted blanket, a wave of tranquility washed over me at the mass of his body now being closely hard-pressed against mine. My fingers found their way into the platinum blonde curls and few loose dreads dangling from his scalp and our lips met for a kiss that I’d been yearning for since I opened my eyes this morning. The sweetness of his supple lips intoxicated me far more than anything alcoholic ever could and the way his length fingers dug into the skin of my hips nearly blurred the actuality that we’re not home alone.

“I love them so much. Thank you, handsome.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Get up so that I can get one of yours from downstairs.”

“I can wait until after you’re dressed.”

“No, I insist. Let me get it.”

“Another kiss first?”

Without hesitation, I once again pressed my lips into his own for a deep peck and moved in a fluidity with his body as we eased off of the bed. I made it downstairs and back up, with a promise that I’d hurry up and change so the festivities could really begin. I need a quick shower first before I do anything else.

“I hope that you like it. I saw it and you instantly came to mind.”

“Can I just warn you that I didn’t wrap all of your gifts. The only reason why your boots were wrapped is because the boutique did it for me.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care about all of that.” The last thing I expected him to do is be frustrating himself with wrapping paper. His patience would never be able to handle it. For some odd reason, I enjoy doing it. I’ve been the designated gift wrapper in my family for years.

Though it may seem childish to some, I wrapped everything I bought him in Dr. Seuss’ “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” wrapping paper that I randomly spotted and happily picked up from a Hallmark store in Rutherford, New Jersey. Since he deemed it to be his favorite holiday classic, I imagined it would be festive to bring an element of it into the fun.

With my phone in hand, I snapped a photo of him as he tore through it to reveal the Louis Vuitton box, I knew it to be. Within seconds, its lid was on the floor and he drew away the protective paper to reveal the tan cowhide and calf leather “Christopher Backpack” backpack I bought for him. Unlike his ridiculously vibrant Supreme bags, I fell in love with the timeless style of the backpack and the classic solidness of its color. It’s a perfect choice for those game days when he’s more dressed up than down and needs something that’s subtle while still somehow being a statement piece.

“Damn, this is clean. This is perfect for when we’re traveling because they usually want us a little more dressed up.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Yeah, I love this baby. I don’t know about waiting until next season to wear it though. I’ll have this on within a couple of days. Watch.”

Knowing him, he will. If it’s new, he’s in it shortly after receiving it. I don’t know him to be that person who saves things for later. Why should he when he’s constantly either buying or receiving things?

“I’m going to take a short shower. It’ll be quick.”

“You already smell good. What you need a shower for?”

“I was cooking. I can smell it on me. It’ll be quick. Ten minutes.”

“Your showers are never ten minutes.”

“This one will be. I assure you.”

The fib didn’t go without being grumbled about when that ten-minute duration I assured him up turned into an additional ten simply because of the feel of the warm water cascading over my skin left me in damn near a state of slumber as I stood there. My lotion lathering came with assistance and so did pulling up the opaque plaid patterned tights over my thighs. By the way of their fit, they were clearly sewn together to cater to an extremely slender woman’s shape but by the grace of God and my man’s hands they were up and over my ass without a snag or hole in sight.

“I really can’t believe you bought all of this.” We look like we work in the middle of a mall. Instead of having crying babies sitting up on his lap for photographs, he’d have lusty women beating one another to a bloody pulp for daring to cut the line to ruin their chances of sitting upon his lap and asking for his genitalia while I’d be called Santa’s Slore.

“Let’s go outside.”

Intricate patterns of the weightless ice floated downward from the darkened sky. Each flake whirled and twirled as a faint wind blustered them in our direction. Much like the silly man alongside myself randomly dancing for his personal media guy’s camera, I joyfully tracked footsteps into the barely there bed of snow covering the grounds of his driveway and took satisfaction in the sound of it squishing under my boots. I’m no longer camera shy, but being on one with him has awoken what used to be a part of me. I already knew that George would be documenting all of this just as he does for a lot of milestones and random moments of his life, but what happens if I’m no longer what he wants and he randomly comes across this Christmas video and the pictures to go with it one day? How awkward would that be?

“Hey, look.”

“Huh?” Though he only spoke two words, the thick cloud of breath still lingered as I faced him. In following his eyes as they slowly panned up, mine met the mistletoe idly hanging on the door with the red bows that were already there.

“That was not there when I got here.” I saw the bows, but the mistletoe? No. Laughter spilled from our lips at what I knew to be true. I’m slightly fatigued, but I can remember what I did and did not see.

“It was.”

“It was not.”

“Come and kiss me so that we can go inside, open up more stuff, and play cards with grandma.”

“That tone. I like it.” I’m alright with a man taking charge every now and then.

“Come here.”

The frost of the winter air was of no match to the warmth radiating from our bodies and serving as a shield around our affection. I’d often fantasize about moments like this; having a companion to comfortably, and most of all safely, bare my all to without any guards or painful baggage weighing me down. I believed the advice of allowing it to come to me was standard and cliché, but I undoubtedly understand it now. It’s when you least expect it that the unexpected happens in the best way possible. I ruled him out of my life as soon as we had that initial conversation and yet the universe continued to cross our paths, naturally coercing me to allow him in. In the midst of all of my fears from the past and present, I want only him.

“Okay, let’s go. I want to see everything that you got me.”

“You can’t open everything tonight. That’s breaking our deal.”

“Huh?” I trailed behind him as he dashed back into the house and towards the living room.

“You heard me!”

I chose the kitchen counter top as my designated seat for what turned into the most chaotic gift giving presentation. Like a hood Santa Claus, all I could pay attention to was my man and his slightly sagging plaid pants zipping through his home pulling out gifts from seemingly everywhere. They jokingly talked about how much of a grinch he was last Christmas but he’s certainly redeeming himself this year.

I can’t remember the last time I thoughtlessly splurged on luxury designer goods but I don’t need to do so any time soon because he covered that and then some. Being overwhelmed was an understatement. Chanel, Versace, Bottega Veneta, Balenciaga, Saint Laurent, Fendi. I lost track of the rest and the process of just how I’m going to be able to organize all of it in my closet.

In watching him, it’s so easy to understand human purpose. In the midst of being here to seek fulfillment within our own purpose, we’re just as much here to look after our loved ones and even those who aren’t. Fortunately, he’s been blessed to have more and because of it, he spreads not only his love but also the benefits of his wealth among them. There’s a pride within it that has been radiating from him for over an hour now. I too, can relate. I’ve been given just as many hugs and kisses of thanks that he’s been given and I expect that it’ll continue when I am with my own family in the morning.

“Draw 4, blondie.” What he thought was going to be a swift Uno out moment turned into him having fifteen cards in his hand and a scowl on his face that is hysterical. He’d beaten me to the point of embarrassment at Spades because I’ve never been that great at it despite the many times my dad taught me how to play, so I had to somehow coerce him into playing something that I could play by pretending that I didn’t know how to.

“You know what, I’m going downstairs to whoop Kordell in some hoops because you’re cheating.” A snicker slipped past my lips at the playfully aggravated scowl on his face as he used his body’s strength to push his chair away from the round table. In a manner to taunt him, I held out my hands before me and wiggled my fingers to signify my lack of cards and the reality that I’d just won yet another game of UNO. My man being a sore loser isn’t something that he’s modest about. I and many others have known that about him for quite some time.

“Don’t be mad.”

“You’re cheating. You keep making up imaginary rules that don’t exist.”

“Seriously? The directions are in the box. Look at them or look them up on Google. It’s not my fault that you don’t know them all. You just suck.”

“I suck?” The amused expression on Mille’s face tickled all of us as she glanced back and forth, to take in every shit talking word as they left the both of our mouths. She’d been quietly observing the two of us since we joined both she and Jasmyne at the table for a round of card games.

Initially, I thought I’d been intruding on her time with her grandchildren, but the sly smirks and eventual huge smiles gracing her angelic face swarmed me with a warmness that I needed to further soothe me into a comfort zone around those who I do not know well just yet. Every couple of minutes or so, she’d give me either a gracious caress to the hand as a sign of her welcoming or a pat of encouragement to continue beating her oldest grandchild at Uno. I’m going to accredit that to the feminism within her.

“If the shoe fits, babe.”

“I’m going to remember that baby. The mental note is made.” He used his index finger to tap his forehead as I wordlessly ogled over his exterior.

If anyone looked at his attire, it wouldn’t be deemed as anything impressive; a black Supreme sweatshirt and a pair of black loose shorts to keep him much cooler than all of that velvet he had on. Simple. Why my eyes are continuing to embarrassingly bulge out of their sockets every time they land on him is beyond my comprehension. I’ve never seen anyone’s facial structure be as chiseled to perfection as his is. The silhouette of his jawbone is completely shielded by the blackness of his thick beard and yet just the hint of it sends unwavering shivers down my spine.

The glimmer in his faintly slanted and ever so narrowed eyes illuminates any room when that priceless smile arises on his face and every aspect of myself begins to figuratively melt into liquid form; between my thighs is the worst of it. In the midst of his sleep, I love to plant soft pecks down the finely lined bridge of his nose until my lips are gently pressed into the suppleness of his own. I’m addicted. I lose all sense of who I am whenever his warm tongue meets mine.

Handsome is an understatement; it isn’t enough to compare. He is beauty personified. I don’t believe there is another man in sports entertainment who has left me gasping for just a slight breath of air upon my every sight of him. It never gets old. I don’t believe it ever will.

Sometimes I have to wonder if he’s truly mine or if the universe is playing some type of sick joke on me.

“I don’t mind you remembering that.” Whatever payback he has for that may come with pleasure that I am more than willing to accept.

“Alright.” The sly smirk tugging on his lips was enough to leave me on the borderline of tickled and embarrassed as soon as he leaned over to plant a knowing and warning kiss on my lips. Despite the presence of his younger siblings and the elders within his family, he didn’t harbor not even an ounce of regard or bashfulness when it came to his need to have his hands touching some part of my body or any other display of affection, he bestowed upon me at random moments. His actions remained consistent with all that he does when we’re alone; barely any discretion involved.

“I’m not sure if my stomach is churning because of you two or because I want some cake, but I’m going to get some cake anyway. Y’all want anything?”

“You just mad.” And just like that, her brother’s large palms were lightly meshing into the side of her head for a playful mush and she instantly pushed him out of her way.

“I’m just fine with my egg nog.” Mille opted to keep hers virgin along with the other underage beings around. The rest of us had just a teaser of rum to give it a subtle kick.

“Me too. I’m fine.” I stepped on the scale a couple of days ago and I’ve gained five pounds. Between the man in my life constantly feeding me and the holidays, I’ve been overindulging on just about everything that’s offered to me. I need to get my life together.

With yet another shove to her brother’s side, Jasmyne darted away from the table with him hot on her trail with jokes about the size of her head which is no different from his own, but I’ll leave him be. They left the matriarch of their family and I at the table with decks of cards and a “Snow Place Like Home” five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle that she’s beginning to open so that we can attempt to put it all together before we’re off to bed. The peacefulness on her face evoked a solace within me that I’ve been seeking since this day began. My internal mourning subsided for the meantime as I observed her joy in being surrounded by family and most of all, because they’re all doing quite well in all aspects.

“My daughter went from telling me that you have my grandson’s nose wide open to telling me that he’s completely lost into your world and I couldn’t believe it. Odell would always laugh me off when I asked him about girls or women and he’d tell me that myself, Heather, and Jasmyne are the only ladies of value and importance in his life. From the way he’s been floating around here since your arrival and the way he looks at you, there’s officially a fourth.” My mouth moved to speak but the words remained stuck in the pit of my throat as her ash white eyebrows arose in a satisfaction at the believed accuracy of her all too knowing spirit.

“You don’t have to be modest. He’s not sitting next to you anymore.” Immediately, giggles spilled from her rosy lips prompting my shoulders to sink in a relief that I’m not sure why I needed.

“I’m not being modest. I just don’t know what to say. It feels like a lot of this is unfamiliar territory for me but at the same time, it evokes the shy and bashful side of me.” She’s been making little comments since we were introduced. I guess they were all leading up to this moment.

“That’s a good thing dear; a great thing. I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since his momma showed me a video of him working out with his physical therapists and trainers. You’ve built him back up. She gives you most of the credit for that.”

“I wouldn’t give myself any credit. His determination did it. You can’t keep someone with his determination down and he certainly wasn’t going to do it to himself.”

“Determination goes a long way, but often time, there has to be something or someone to ignite the fire behind that determination and that has been you. You cared for him, physically and most of all mentally, during what he calls one of the most disappointing and darkest times of his life thus far. So, don’t sell yourself cheaply because he talks about you like you’re priceless.”

“I believe in everyone having a person; that person that they can go to for laughter and good times or to lean on for a cry session. Whether it’s a close relative or a friend, you just need that person. I wanted to be that person for him because I know what it’s like to not have that person. He didn’t need pity. He needed encouragement that the injury is just a small part of his journey and most of all, he just needed someone to simply be there. That’s what you do for someone you lo-“

My tongue pressed against the backs of my top front teeth as I halted an admission that I’ve been withholding for a short while and coming to grips with on my own. I’ve been overly analyzing what that means for myself and how to navigate it going forward because it’s never felt quite like this before. As with all that I’ve been sharing with him, it’s new and I’ve jumped off of a cliff and into a pit of fear that I’m doing my best not to drown in.

Acceptance needed to come first and now that it has, I’ve been in a wonderment of whether or not those feelings are reciprocated on his end and how I’m going to handle my ever-going emotions if they are not. I cannot berate him for what he may not feel nor can I resent him for not sparing my feelings with lies if he does admit that I am in this alone.

I want to do nothing more than protect him. It’s almost odd because I’ve felt compelled to do that prior to even knowing him. Every attack and biased commentary that came his way felt like a personal attack on the character of a man who the world refused to understand. Now that I’ve experienced him in ways that are far beyond what were in my imagination at that time, I stand firm in what I knew all along. He’s not perfect and yet his imperfections are too what I love about him. He’s the embodiment of a security in his personhood and masculinity that I am irrevocably attached to.

“You could have finished that. Words are powerful but so are body language and actions. Yours have said it all. You know, I used to call you the young lady on TV that he likes so much, but now I call you the young lady on TV that he loves so much.”

Faint tingling nipped at the nape of my neck and the lined crevice of my back as certain aspects of her statement entered my ear like a vibrating echo; hypothetically repeating themselves for an emphasis to my thoughts. The last man I remember genuinely loving me laid down with my mom to create me. Shamel did not love me; I was something to do.

He rarely ever used the word and when he did, it was to emphasize something that he loved for me to do for him. In poor judgement and a lack of character, I accepted that because I was too emotionally exhausted to be combative with him or myself about it. Eventually, I didn’t even want him to love me. There didn’t need to be anything that kept us attached beyond an ignorant familiarity that I clung to for far too long.

“You really think so?”

“I know so dear.”

In an effort to help her, I reached my arms out and used my hands to spread out the many pieces all over the table so that we could begin a strategy to get it done. It’s been quite some time since I’ve done one of these and I’m not even sure my tired body can concentrate enough but I’m willing to try.

“Merry Christmas.” Yet again, the scent of his Sean Jean cologne slithered up my nose as the heat radiating from his body left me leaning back against my seat, relishing in it. His long arms extended over and he placed a navy-blue box down on the table directly in front of me. Upon my eyes landing on it, the all too famous Harry Winston initials were engraved in a bold gold on its surface.

“What’s this?” Along with him, Mille, and myself being in the room, there was also George who was continuing to document every aspect of this holiday celebration.

“Just a little something for my Brooklyn girl to rock with her Timbs.”

“Shut up!” Our regional teasing never ends. He tends edge me out with the Brooklyn jokes because I don’t know how many other ways, I can talk about how country he is. Technically speaking, he’s not even as country as some of the other athletes that I’ve spoken with over the last couple of years. Even his accent, that nearly melted me out of my heels the night we first conversed with one another, isn’t heavily ingrained with that Louisiana flare.

“Open it.” Without any bickering or hesitation, I slowly pulled up the lid on the box to reveal a pair of hoop earrings that instantly left me in a state of breathlessness. The emerald and round cut stones circled their platinum setting with a glimmer that one could not ignore. Every aspect of their make oozed a meticulousness to his taste and Mr. Winston’s talent. Any figure of price that came to mind could not match up with what sat before me and I know better than to ask him for specifics. I can admit to being a gold hoop wearing girl while I was back in high school, but I never imagined myself having a pair quite like this.

“Oh my God.” Circling my fingers over their surfaces solidified the reality of them now being within my possession and his supple lips pressing against my forehead widened the smile I was already donning.

“You like them? They seemed like they were very you when I saw them. Hoops for when you rock those buns in your hair.” Whether it’s a well done or sloppy bun, he always compliments how “cute” it is on me and he takes it a step further by enjoying the open access to my neck while my hair is out of the way.

“I love them. Thank you, babe. Thank you so much, they’re beautiful.” Just as I’ve done with every gift he’s given me thus far, I leapt out of the chair and threw my arms around his body in a physical showering of the love that I have for him. It’s beyond the gifts but rather the reality of him thinking of me and being so intuitive with what I desire and need that has taken his endless gift giving over the edge tonight.

“George did you get that? Now that’s a picture-perfect moment.” Mille’s face glowed in pleasure at the sight of us. I wonder if we’re reminiscent of those old black and white films that I secretly love so much. I hope so, but just in color. Everything about us is vibrant.

“I have it all Mama Millz.”

“I’ll be back.” I couldn’t take another moment of being in that unbearably warm coat or the tights.

I did change. The crimson red fair isle long john was a perfect touch for tonight. Much like earlier, the fireplace distracted me and I found myself sliding down onto the floor to marvel in its heat and beauty. If there were a pillow down here with me, I’d be asleep within minutes. Though he moved into this house not that long ago, for some reason it feels more lived in than my own. Maybe it’s because it’s filled with family right now or it may be the dogs, but I enjoy the way I feel here. There’s an eerie loneliness in my home that can be difficult to ignore sometimes.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the fireplace.”

“Why are you acting like you don’t have one?” Once inside, he closed the door enough just to leave a crack in it.

“I don’t have one in my bedroom.”

“We can fix that.” Yet again, the nonchalance tone and now shrug awoken parts of me that I’ve been mentally taming since my arrival. He talks like he’s more than willing to give me the world in a silver platter if I were to request it.

“I have something for you.”

“I want something for you too.”

“Me first.” Rather than hanging it to him, I nudged the velvet gift bag towards his feet and he flopped down onto the floor to meet it. He dropped his gift for me, Cartier from what I observed, into his lap.

“Patek Philippe? Oh wow.” With no response, I allowed him to have the moment to himself as he pulled the chocolate toned leather box out of the bag. Our eye contact was brief as he pulled open the lid and his silence intrigued me instead of rattling my already racing nerves. Just as I’d done to the hoop earrings, his fingers ran over its surface while his lips parted to leave his mouth agape. It may not be on his arm now, but I’ve envisioned just how incredible it’s going to look on him over and over again.

“The blue isn’t only representative of the team but it also takes me back to the night we both spoke for the first time. You were wearing blue and black. In New Orleans, when we made things official, you were wearing blue. Blue makes me think of you. I know most associate that color with sorrow, but you give it life and joy. You give it character.”

Only the sound of the fire crackling against the wood served as a tune dancing in the air of stillness between the two of us. His reaction to so many of the other things I gifted to him were boisterous and comedic, but this stole his words and left him to wallow in speechlessness.

“Sarai, I love you.”

The wholeness of his words filled voids that I neglected and accepted as everlasting destruction. His patience has sealed my gaping wounds and rid me of the leftover scarring. The acceptor of my deficiencies and the protector of my delicate soul, in his eyes, for the first time in such a long time, I recognize myself. The duality of being able to love myself and him is as synchronized as my breathing.

“I love you too, Odell.”

Undoubtedly. Irrevocably.

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