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itsscatballou · 1 year

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The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 6

A Negan Series

Chapter 5 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings - guns, shooting, wounds, blood, violence, captivity, illness, and some language. 18+ only.

Feedback is welcome!

This was wrong.

There were too many. How had this happened?

She’d sent a note through a Savior to Simon earlier in the day to meet her for a drink at the fire after her dinner with Negan, which meant there should be three guys along the fence: Simon at the fire on the far end, and two guys on guard.

She counted 14 right now, maybe more, they kept moving. She looked at Daryl and Sherry, hunched down beside her, the three of them hiding behind a stack of wood crates. There were enough stacks and barrels between them and the hole she’d strategically placed in the fence that in the dark of night, they could get most of the way unseen. The last ten yards to the hole was so exposed that no matter how well they timed the run, with this many eyes looking around, they would be seen.

Everything else had gone perfectly today. Fat Joey didn’t question her at all when she told him Dwight asked her to tune up his bike and have it waiting outside the gate for him. She had a whole story ready to explain where Dwight was going and why, but he could not have cared less. He was just happy to be speaking to her. She smiled sweetly at him, and he handed her the keys without another thought.

She’d asked Sherry to deliver Dwight’s lunch to him in front of Daryl’s cell today, so she could get to her target practice early.

“Hey, before I forget,” she said to Sherry as she handed her Dwight’s tray with a BLT, pickle, and glass of iced sweet tea, “can you meet me in the stairwell after my dinner with Negan tonight? I just need to talk for a while.” Sherry agreed, happily, as she walked away with the tray of food.

Her dinner with Negan was normal, if not a little awkward after the events of the night before. They ate, they played Scrabble, and they drank. She needed the drink. She found herself a little too distracted by every move of his mouth, flashes of their encounter last night trying to make their way into her mind. She had to force herself to focus on her Scrabble tiles more than once. It didn’t help that Negan played suggestive words, with that wicked grin, every chance he got. She was starting to sweat. She offered to refill their drinks when they were about halfway through the game and left him staring at his tiles while she worked at the bar cart. She delivered a well-timed joke and they both chuckled as she tipped the small bag of crushed sleeping pills into his whiskey. Swirling the glass around as she walked back, she smiled to herself as the powder dissolved in the amber liquid.

He'd emptied the glass by the time the game finished, him beating her for the first time. She wished she’d purposefully let that happen. She bid him goodnight. She even kissed him on the cheek before leaving, and grinned again.

Dwight was passed out in his chair outside Daryl’s cell, as she expected. She’d put enough crushed sleeping pills in both his mayo and his sweet tea to knock Fat Joey out, but she couldn’t risk him waking up and ruining it all.

Daryl stared at her wide-eyed when she opened his cell and dragged the sleeping Dwight into it. She wanted to embrace Daryl, kiss him, and explain everything, but she had the escape planned very specifically. There just wasn’t time. She settled for one deep but quick kiss and held his hands as she instructed him to follow her closely, silently, and do exactly what she said.

They tiptoed as fast as they could down the halls, only having to duck into an empty room once to hide from a passerby. When they reached the stairwell, they found Sherry where she’d said she’d be. Sherry seemed to understand what was happening as soon as she saw Daryl, and without a word followed them both down the stairs.

“Wassat?” Daryl asked her as she grabbed a backpack from a dark corner at the bottom of the stairs.

“Supplies,” she answered, flinging it on her back and motioning for them to hide against the wall while she opened the door to outside.

They crouched, scampered, and crawled in the dark, finally making it here, where she was frozen, trying to figure out what went wrong. She hadn’t planned for this many guys; there shouldn’t be this many guys.

“Wha’s wrong?” Daryl asked her, feeling her stress.

“Just let me think for a second,” she whispered back.

She knew it wasn’t possible. She couldn’t get them all out without them being seen. If they were seen, they’d be hunted down. What would follow that made her stomach turn.

She knew what she had to do.

She turned to Daryl, kissed him hard and passionately. She handed him the bag of supplies and told him, “Stay low behind the row of stacks and barrels, when you get to the end, time it so no one sees you, and make a run straight to the fence. There is a hole cut out there, you can’t see it until you’re on it. Whatever you do, just keep going. When you get to the woods, follow the cuts in the tree like you taught me, you’ll find a bike ready to go. Do not wait for me, I will find you. Take Sherry wherever she wants to go, and then you go somewhere else. Daryl,” she held his face in her hands and looked hard in his eyes, “do not go back to Alexandria. Find another community to hide in until it’s safe to contact Rick.”

She looked at Sherry, “whatever happens here, keep going. Make him keep going.”

Sherry hugged her as she said, “I will. Thank you.”

Daryl started to argue, but she gently pushed him. She watched as they turned and slipped away into the dark.

When they’d gotten far enough away, she took a deep breath and stood, stepping into the flood lights. All the guys stopped moving and looked at her. She looked toward Simon, who should have been expecting her, and her heart stopped. Standing right beside him, with his arms crossed and Lucille hanging from one hand, was Negan. Well, his sleeping pills didn’t work, she thought.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” he shook his head, “well, boys, it looks like you were telling me the truth. Unlike Y/N here, who has been lying to me…”

When she said nothing, Negan turned to Simon, “I believe you two were going to be having a drink together? Well, what the hell? Let’s have a drink!”

And there it was, exactly what she needed. What Daryl and Sherry needed. “Negan, I’m so glad you’re joining us!” she exclaimed, seeing a flash of surprise across of Negan’s face at her response. “I love having drinks around the fire with friends! In fact, why don’t we invite everyone?”

She spun in a half circle, looking at each Savior in area. “Negan and I would like to invite you all to have a drink with us right now,” and when only a few moved toward her she added, “on Negan!”

They all moved at that, smiles spreading across their faces, and some swatting her arm in thanks as they passed. She smiled at Negan as they all filed in around the fire, far from the fence Daryl and Sherry should be approaching now.

She thought she heard the ting of metal moving. She smiled to herself.

She spent the next hour and a half making her rounds with the guys at the fire, joking with most of them, asking some of them about their girlfriends or wives. Everyone enjoying the beers she’d provided on Negan’s tab. When she felt she’d given Daryl and Sherry a big enough safety net of time, she said her goodnights and made her way back to the building.

She was almost to the door when Negan called from the group, “Y/n! You can’t go yet! You and Simon barely spoke, and I for one, would like to know what it was you wanted to talk about that brought you out in on this cold night, sneaking around like a rat, to talk in the dark…”

------

She braced herself for whatever he was about to say or do. She could almost see the fury radiating from him in waves. It no longer mattered what happened to her, she could handle it. Or maybe she couldn’t. That was fine, too. Daryl was out, he could be with his family again. He could do good, be good out there. Somehow, he and Rick would take Negan down, she had no doubt about that. Hopefully she would live to see it, she thought, as she saw the rage in Negan’s eyes directed at her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it wasn’t his voice that escaped his mouth, it was a boom. A gunshot. No, it didn’t come from his mouth, it had come from somewhere behind him. Was someone shooting? Time seemed to slow. She felt a pang in her thigh, she looked down. There was blood, dark and thick, insidiously oozing from a hole in her pants, where the sting came from. Her legs gave out in that moment, and she was on the ground. She could no longer hear anything around her, could only feel the pain. She was on fire. She gripped at her thigh, a wounded animal panicking. She needed to calm down, get help, breathe. When was the last time she took a breath? She willed herself to suck in air, her head clearing some with the effort. She winced as she forced herself into a sitting position and took another breath. Apply pressure, she told herself, stop the bleeding until someone gets the doctor. She pressed, screaming at the added pain, her vision fading at the edges. She breathed again and kept pressing. Why was no one coming to help? Her ears cleared, and she knew without looking that no one would be. She raised her head to see blurs of legs as people ran past her, she heard men yelling, some screaming in pain, more gunshots. There were others here, now. Their faces were covered with what looked like ski masks.

She needed to get somewhere safe or get to some weapons. She tried to stand, stumbled back down, vision almost completely black from the effort. She tried again. Successfully on her feet now, she raised upright to evaluate the best direction to go. She saw it happen from her peripheral, but not in time to stop the metal cylinder from connecting with her skull. She barely had time to register the pain erupt from her temple before she was unconscious.

She felt the pain before she knew she was awake. She’d never felt anything like it, she could barely breathe she hurt so badly. She couldn’t decide what parts of her hurt worse – her left thigh was still screaming with pain. Her head throbbed, a sharp pain radiating from her right cheek. She could taste blood, and guessed at her stuffy nose that she must have fallen on her face. The pain on her back was new – it stung, as cool air whispered against raw skin. She must have been dragged, she realized. Dragged where?

She opened her eyes. Well, she tried. Only her left eye would open, the swelling from her right cheek forcing that eye closed. Her head still drooping, she was looking at her lap. Her left pant leg was soaked in her own blood. She slowly lifted her hand to survey her head wound, but it wouldn’t move. She noticed then the ropes tying her hands behind her, uncomfortable as her elbows awkwardly tried to bend around the chairback behind her. She saw similar ropes restraining her feet to the legs of the chair she sat in. Do not panic, she told herself, assess.

As slowly as possible, to avoid blacking out, she raised her head. She saw a dark room lit by several camping lanterns placed on the floor. Concrete walls with no windows, some large iron equipment and pipes, possibly a boiler room? She and the lamps were the only occupants. She carefully turned her head, searching for a door. She heard one open behind her, and light flooded the floor in front of her, shadowed by her own hunched figure. “She’s awake,” a man’s voice said.

Two sets of footsteps approached behind her. Another voice said, “We know you’re in some considerable pain…” she didn’t respond. “We’d like to help you, if you want that.”

He waited for her to answer. She didn’t.

“We wouldn’t ask for much in return,” the first voice added, “just some information.”

“You gonna make me talk to the wall or come around and face me like men?” she growled, the effort of speaking sending the pain in her cheek rioting through her head.

One of them chuckled. “I would bet money that spirit is what attracted Negan to you,” he said as he moved in front of her and crouched to meet her eyes. He surveyed her face and whistled, “it might have been your face too, before this.” He touched her cheek on the last word, and she flinched away from him at the fire hot pain it sent through her.

“Shooo, I bet that does hurt.” He cooed at her. She glared as best she could with one open eye.

“We have some medicine, a doctor here, that could at least make that hurt less,” he said, “all we need to know is how many people Negan has working for him, and where they are stationed.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” she said nonchalantly. She couldn’t think clearly from the pain, but she knew she didn’t want to give these assholes anything they wanted. “I think I’m good.”

The man in her face smiled, the smile not unlike one she’d seen on Negan’s face plenty of times, before making a point. “Well, I guess we need to change that,” he said viciously, before his right hand made forceful contact with her left jaw, sending her head flying right, only to see the back hand of the other guy flying toward her wounded cheek. She went unconscious again.

When she woke the next time, she heard thumping. Unrhythmic, sporadic, and it was coming from several different directions. She heard her two new friends talking in low, panicked voices behind her. “I thought we’d have more time!” one of them said, “how did they find us after only two days?” “I don’t know, but we gotta do something.” “What? They have us surrounded, and they’ve already killed most of our people!” The pause in their conversation gave her mind a chance to catch up, to realize what she was heard was gunshots.

“Did you really think,” her words were slow, the effort of talking through her newly bruised jaw slowing her down, “you could hit him at home, and he wouldn’t retaliate?” The guys moved from the door to stand in front of her while she talked. “You didn’t even know how many people he had, and you thought you could beat him?” she forced a laugh through the excruciating pain.

“You think this is funny, bitch?” one of them responded. “Well I’ll show you what I think is funny,” he said, lifting his metal pipe, the one she assumed gave her the busted face, like a baseball bat.

“I would not do that if I were you,” a familiar villainous voice growled from the door behind her, and her heart fluttered. Negan was here. For her. She was surprised at the relief she felt. “Not that holding back now will save you.”

Two Saviors appeared from behind her, holding guns. Her captors raised their hands, and the Saviors forced them to their knees. She felt her wrist restraints cut and fall, and rubbed her arms as she watched Negan cut her foot restraints. He placed her arm around his shoulder and helped her to stand on her good foot. With most of her weight leaning on him, he helped her to limp toward the door. She stopped him before they exited and turned back toward the room.

“If I can’t be the one to do it, I need to see it,” she told him. He nodded in understanding, and then toward the Saviors. She didn’t flinch at all at the gunshots, or as their lifeless bodies hit the floor.

Negan picked her up, then, carrying her from the room. He rushed down passages, and out through double doors. Blinking her good eye against the blinding sun, she heard continued shooting, and saw bodies, both Saviors and not, on the ground as Negan ran with her toward a truck. He placed her in the passenger seat as easily as he could and made for the driver’s side. She heard him yell orders to whoever was near as he climbed in and started the truck, not hesitating before throwing it in reverse and speeding away from the battle.

------

The truck sputtered and steam flooded from the hood.

“Shit.” Negan grumbled as the truck came to a stop on its own. “It must have been shot before we got away.” He frantically searched the cab of the truck. “Of course there is no damn radio in here! Is everyone an idiot?”

He thought for a moment, and finally asked, “Can you walk at all?”

It was the first time he’d spoken to her since they’d fled, they had been driving for about thirty minutes. “I… um, I can try,” she replied.

She steeled herself. This was going to hurt, but she knew there was no alternative. With all the gunfire, they didn’t know how many walkers were on their way toward them, and who knew how long it would be until their guys started heading back. If there were any guys left to come back… she shook the thought from her head as Negan opened her door and helped her out of the truck.

Immediately she knew she couldn’t do this, but she refused to tell Negan that. Refused to let him see the severity of her pain. So she began trying to find a rhythm of step, lean into him, hop. Each hop sent a white-hot flare of pain through her whole body, but she kept going. She was grateful that he would stop often to let her catch her breath, using the time to also wiggle her jaw, which was getting stiff and even more sore from clenching her teeth.

She guessed they’d been slowly hobbling down the road for about two hours when they saw an old barn ahead, a short distance from the road, in a field. He jerked his chin in the barn’s direction and said, “we need to stop here for the night.” It was nearly dusk already, and she knew if they kept going, they would risk tripping in the dark. The thought of that pain alone made her flinch.

Inside the barn, Negan gathered a mound of hay and gently set her down on it. After securing the doors behind them, he sat down across from her, resting his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. She watched as he seemed to be calming himself down, if she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was meditating.

“Who were those guys?” she asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“One of the communities we own,” he said without opening his eyes, “we caught one of them at the Sanctuary when they took you. Took the bastard a whole day to break and tell us where they’d taken you. It took us half the next day to get there.” He finally lifted his head and surveyed her, lingering on her wounds. “It’s gonna be a long walk back…”

She nodded, fighting back the stinging tears at the thought of the long journey ahead of her tomorrow.

He moved to her, gingerly touching her wounded face and looking more closely at the wounds in the fading rays of light barn walls were allowing in. He met her eyes, still lightly holding her face in his hands. It hurt, but she didn’t mind.

“I saw you go down,” he said slowly, “from the first shot. But I didn’t see where they’d hit you. By the time I got to where you fell, you were gone. I thought you were dead, until Simon said he saw them load you up and take off.” His eyes shone with pain.

“I didn’t know if anyone would come for me,” she said softly. She hadn’t admitted it to herself in that boiler room, but she had not been hopeful of making it back out of there. “When I heard you…” her voice broke as her tears finally flooded. He gently pulled her into his chest and wrapped her in his arms as she wept. When she stopped, she said into his shirt, “we really gotta stop hanging out like this.” They both chuckled as they separated.

It was dark now, and the temperature was dropping. Negan made a dugout in the hay and helped her to lay down in it. Once she was settled, he settled in behind her, pulling her close for warmth. They laid that way for a long time, listening to each other breathe, when she eventually broke the silence.

“I believe I still have two free questions,” she said in lighthearted tone.

“You definitely used two already,” he quipped back.

“Yes, but you only answered one of them,” she said, lightly pressing him with her elbow. “So, I get the second one back.”

“I’ll allow it,” he said, pulling her a little closer and nestling her head under his chin.

She laid there a few more minutes before asking, “you showing up there today, was that… well, was that to find me? Or for retaliation for attacking you?”

He didn’t answer for long enough that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “It wasn’t about retaliation,” he said finally. “As for your other question… Lucille was my wife, before. And during. She died, because of me… because of my inaction. I wasn’t going to let inaction be the cause of your death, too.” Something in her ached at his response, some twinge beginning of understanding how he’d become the Negan she knew.

The cold crept deeper into her. She shivered, despite the warmth Negan wrapped around her.

As she succumbed to a pressing urge to sleep, she thought she heard Negan say, “you are burning up.”

------

When she woke up, she was in Negan’s bed in the Sanctuary. An IV in her arm snaked to two pouches of liquids hung from a metal pole beside the head of the bed. She couldn’t remember getting here. In fact, she couldn’t remember much at all following the night in the barn. There were brief flashes of trees rushing past while Negan carried her, the doctor holding her non-wounded eye open and flashing a light into her eye, and the occasional voice talking to her, or someone beside her. It was an unnerving feeling, remembering nothing between one place and the next, but somehow knowing that time had passed.

She realized suddenly how dry her mouth was, and how thirsty she felt. She looked around the room to find a glass of water on the nightstand beside her. Beside the nightstand, in the leather armchair that used to be in the sitting area, Negan slept. He couldn’t have been comfortable, she thought, with his neck at that angle against the back of the chair. He looked a little haggard. Dark circles under his eyes, his scruff longer than he usually kept it, his hair unwashed and a little unkempt. He stirred as she reached for the water glass, just slightly too far away, and sat up when he realized she was awake. He stood, handed the glass to her, and walked out of the room. A moment later, he returned with the doctor.

As he assessed her, she asked questions to fill in the gaps. Her bullet wound was a good one – all the way through, no major arteries nicked, it didn’t hit bone. It would take some time and some effort, but the muscle it pierced would heal and she’d be able to walk again. It had become infected while she was tied up, and the infection had gone deep. Her fever had gotten dangerously high, which explained her sleeping through the last four days. Her cheekbone was likely fractured, though he expected it to heal well, too. Her nose had been reset, and her jaw and cheek bruises were already turning shades of greens and yellows. The swelling had receded enough that she could open her right eye enough to see out of. She turned down the offer to see herself in a mirror. Negan listened intently, not saying anything and not meeting her eyes.

The doctor left her with orders to drink as much water as she could, eat as much as she could, and sleep as much as she could. Once the infection cleared and the gunshot wound had closed, she could start working on walking again.

She looked at Negan, who was staring at the door the doctor had shut behind him.

“I vaguely remember you carrying me through the woods… you must have nearly killed yourself carrying me that far. I can’t thank you enough,” she said, meaning every word. He did not turn his head.

“I can ask the doctor to help me move to my room, so you can have your bed back.”

“No,” was all he said, before leaving her alone.

She told herself not to stress about whatever that was. If it was about her, he’d eventually have it out with her, and if it wasn’t then it would go away. But sitting there, in his bed, with nothing to do but think, stressing about it is what she did. She went over every possible reason he would be pissed at her, when she was literally unconscious for four days. After an hour or so of spiraling, the door opened, and she was surprised to see Tanya enter with a tray of food. Tanya set the tray up on the bed and made her way to sit in the chair near the bedside.

“Um,” she said to Tanya, with a raised eyebrow, “thank you?”

Tanya seemed to know she wasn’t asking about the food and explained. “Negan sent me to sit with you for a while. If you need anything I can get it for you. Or I guess if you want to talk, that’s what I’m here for, too.” Then she added, quietly, “which will be a nice change of pace.”

“Wait,” she asked Tanya, pulling the tray of food closer, “what does that mean?”

“Oh,” Tanya pushed a breath out of her nose in a sort-of laugh, “you’ve just been asleep every time I’ve been in here before.”

“You... you came to see me?” she was surprised. She and Tanya weren’t exactly friends. With Sherry gone, she wasn’t sure she had any friends here anymore.

“Well… Negan didn’t want you to be alone. He sat with you almost all of the time, but if he had to leave for whatever reason, he sent one of us to be with you. Said we had to stay awake in case you woke up.”

“I guess that explains why he looked so rough,” she commented.

Tanya replied, “yeah, I don’t think he’s had much sleep since he carried you in.”

She contemplated all of this while she ate the food Tanya had brought her. It didn’t take her long, she found with the first bite that she was famished.

When she finished her meal, she asked Tanya to fill her in on what she’d missed. She put on her best surprised face when Tanya told her Daryl had escaped. As Tanya informed her that when Negan was gathering the troops to come after her and her captors, they’d discovered Dwight missing, and the wives had not seen Sherry for a while either. They assumed both had run away together. Then two days ago, Negan suddenly remembered Daryl was locked up and with Dwight gone, no one was making sure he was fed, but they opened the cell to find Dwight in there, half-starved and feral. He said Sherry had drugged his food, and he woke up in Daryl’s cell.

“Sherry and Daryl ran away together?” she asked Tanya, dumbfounded.

Tanya couldn’t believe it either, “Negan was furious. He sent Simon and a group to Alexandria to find Daryl, but they haven’t been able to find him.”

She didn’t let Tanya see the relief she felt. This had worked out surprisingly well for her. She had planned to deal with Dwight later, though she hadn’t quite decided how at the time she’d locked him up. And Daryl had listened to her and didn’t go find Rick, that, too, was a relief.

After a few more minutes of chitchat, and Tanya getting a couple of books for her to read while she was bedbound, she told Tanya she was feeling very tired. According to Tanya, Negan wanted Tanya in there anyway, so she got a book for herself, and moved to Negan’s couch.

Sleep quickly consumed her, and she woke hours later to find Negan gently shaking the foot of her good leg to rouse her.

“Dinner,” he grunted, motioning to the tray on the bed. He helped her into a sitting position before seating himself in the chair beside the bed.

“You don’t want to eat, too?” she asked him.

“No,” he bluntly replied. Still in a mood.

She ate in silence for a few minutes. She was trying to decide how to proceed in conversation when he beat her to it.

“Free question,” he declared. “And don’t lie this time.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “When did I lie to you?” she asked him, not looking away from her stew as she took a spoonful.

“When I asked you before why you were really here. You lied. I want the truth this time.”

Her food turned leaden in her stomach, and she suddenly had no appetite.

“You came here to get Daryl out, didn’t you?”

She looked up at him, held his hard stare.

“Yes.”

“And you succeeded, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I knew the moment we couldn’t find Dwight and Sherry was gone, too, there was more to it than them running away. They’d already tried that and failed miserably; Dwight is too spineless to try a second time. And that douchebag in Alexandria, Spencer, he’d let it slip that you and Daryl had a little thing going before you met me… so, I checked Daryl’s cell,” he confessed, “and who did I find, sleeping like a baby, not a scratch on him?”

“Negan,” she started, but he cut her off.

“Here’s the other thing, you didn’t just drug Dwight and get Daryl out… you tried to drug me, too. Didn’t you?”

She didn’t respond.

“I took one sip of that whiskey and could tell something was off about it. But I wanted to see what you were doing.”

She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t run, she knew screaming would be useless. All she had on this tray was a spoon and some hot stew… she could throw it in his face, but that would only piss him off… she had no option but to take whatever punishment he had in store for her.

“Are you going to burn my face?” she asked him, no fear in her voice.

He stared at her for a long time before responding.

“No,” he said, defeat laced his tone. “No. You covered your tracks well. Dwight believes Sherry drugged him, and everyone else believes it, too.”

She loosed a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wanted to thank him, but she didn’t think he’d receive it well.

They sat in silence for the rest of the evening, Negan removing her tray when she didn’t touch it for a while. He retreated to the bathroom, and she heard the shower turn on. She settled in, feeling tired again, and closed her eyes. Sleep didn’t come, but she kept her eyes closed, as Negan completed his shower and came back into the room. She heard him click lamps off, his footsteps moving around the room. She felt the bed dip as he climbed in beside her.

He'd found her out, revealed her plans, she had confessed it all, and now he was going to sleep beside her. She turned to her side to find his bare back facing her.

She knew she shouldn’t press her luck, but now curiosity was getting the best of her.

“If you knew when those guys took me… why did you come for me? Why lose all those guys to get me back?”

She watched his back decompress as she sighed, and then as he turned to his side to face her.

“How is the answer to that not obvious by now?”

She searched his eyes and watched as they moved to her mouth and then back to her eyes. He moved in close, their lips nearly touching. Then he kissed her. This kiss was not like the last time he kissed her. This was gentle, passionate, soft but powerful. She kissed him back.

When he pulled away from the kiss several minutes later, her silently cursing her wounds and the IV preventing them from going further, Negan said softly to her, “you will have to decide one of these days. You can try to survive with Daryl, or you can thrive here with me. You can’t be in my bed and his, too.” With that, he turned over and went to sleep.

#the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead x reader #negan x y/n #negan fic #negan imagine #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd negan

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

Text

Forbidden Lessons XXI

Masterlist

Somehow the longest chapter thus far.

Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion, mentions of suicide, depression. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.

Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!

Your mother doesn’t stay much longer. She’s bored, as she usually is when she’s not the center of attention. There’s only so much a single person can offer her. And her pathetic suicidal daughter is hardly a fond audience.

You take out your phone again. She insisted on getting your number, feigning offense that you hadn’t already texted her with your new one. It makes little difference, she isn’t going to call.

Your chat with Professor Barnes pops back up. ‘Sunshine?’

You forgot to answer. You type into the box, ‘sorry, fell asleep. Home.’ He sends back a smiley face almost immediately and you leave the cell on the night table. You don’t get how people can live their lives on those tiny anxiety-inducing gadgets. It’s probably easier when you actually know people.

You shut off the lights and let your laptop cast a dim glow around your dorm. You lay in the soft hue as your eyelids droop, the dialogue of actors soothing your mind. You latch onto their fictional issues, those are much simpler. You drift off into sleep, almost forget the cold river, the cruel professor, and your selfish mother.

When you wake, you’re groggy. It’s the deepest you’ve slept since the morning on the bridge. You assume it’s the panic attack breaking down the final slat of resistance or just the mountain piled high over the week finally overcoming you. It doesn’t matter, it was hardly more restful than any other night.

You eat a bowl of instant oatmeal and look over the outline for that day’s course. You skim through the articles listed there and count down the time until you need to leave. That class is easier, the professor doesn’t notice you, nor do the students.

You return in the afternoon. Your mother honks and startles you before you can start up the walkway to the front door. She leaves her car parked in the space against the curb and clomps up to you in her heeled boots.

“How was class, honey?” she asks but doesn’t wait for a reply, “oh, I had a marvelous time last night. So much fun. I met the dreamiest man at the bar. Mm, so handsome. I got a picture. Oh, but listen to me, like a girl again, all agog. Ugh, he is so nice. The way he calls me darling…”

She trails you inside, you, her silent sounding board. While she’ll hardly get the praise she desires, she won’t ever get anything less than tolerance. It’s enough for her.

“Anyhow, I had to come check on you, like a good mommy,” she preens as you climb the stairs, “I think I might be in town a little longer than I thought.”

“Oh?” you utter as you enter your dorm.

“I’ve got a date tonight! Oooo,” she squeals, “I can’t believe it. I thought this trip was going to be bust but I might’ve met my one. Can you believe it? After all these years, after your father ran out, all those stupid guys I chased around– means I can’t stay for dinner of course but I’m going to leave you some money to order in.”

“Okay, mom,” you say as you let your jacket fold over the back of your desk chair.

“I should go out and buy a new dress, shouldn’t I?”

“I guess,” you mumble. She doesn’t hear you, she’s on her stage, giving her monologue.

She falls onto your bed in a swoon, still gabbing about how she thinks red is her best colour. You go to the kitchen and put the kettle on. You wonder if it’s a compulsion. It definitely calms you just to hear the soft tremble of the water.

You turn and lean your crossed arms on the counter. You stare at the wall, humming to keep her talking, to keep her distracted. At least the skeez she met at the bar will give you a night to yourself.

💙

You stare at the phone. It’s your own mistake. You should have closed the app after you played scrabble. But no, you scrolled down socials and now you couldn’t breathe.

Your mother’s in red, her new dress, you see just the strap in the frame of the selfie. It’s not her that bothers you. It’s him. It can’t be but you know unequivocally that it is. The man she met last night, the one taking her to the oh so romantic dinner, is Professor Laufeyson.

You don’t understand it. You can’t. Does he know? How would he? Your mother certainly has no clue. She can’t see that far beyond herself.

You pace around, hitting the chair with your hip each time you pass, unable to stay still. When have your mother’s relationships ever lasted? This will just be another secret to keep. She’ll do the usual, ‘when will he call’ then shift to ‘maybe I’ll call him’ to ‘fuck him, there’s lots of fish in the sea’ as quick as usual.

Still, you’re worked up. That damn chair keeps getting in the way and you still smell her perfume lingering in the air. The over expensive shit that gives you a headache. She’d rather splurge on that then pay for the gas down to see you or upgrade your dorm. She couldn’t even pay for you to take the train!

Stop. Who are you mad at? Him or her? Both? Why can’t you just not care about either of them? Why can’t you be like them and just not care?

You steady your phone. It’s after nine. Later, you have another class tomorrow. Fuck it, you won’t sleep anyway.

You tap the only other name in your contacts and the chat pops up. ‘Awake? Meet me by the river. Pls.’

The short message reflects the shambles of your racing mind. You grab your jacket and slip your phone in the pocket. You pull on your thick wooly hat but don’t bother with mitts. You step into your boots and out the door, keys loudly jangling as you turn the latch.

You tramp down the hall to the stairs, clumsily descending and stumbling out into the wintery night. January’s almost over but February doesn’t look to be any better.

Around the back of the building and through the tunnel beneath the library, you come up on the busy street at the edge of campus. You cross at a slant with no regard for the traffic and pass between the barren hedges of the park.

The fountain is frozen over completely as you walk along the curve of its basin and carry on to the thick rail of the bridge. You look across to the yellow lights of the city buildings between blackened windows. You inhale the cold air wafting off the river and look down.

You hear the water, violent and hungry, swirling and swishing, crashing against the pillars of the short bridge. Black and bulging, the cacophony gets louder and louder in your ears as you peer down, leaning on the rail as the wind curls around your legs.

“Hey, hey,” Professor’s Barnes’ voice is laced with concern as he breaks your trance. He’s out of breath as he nears, “you okay? What are you doing here?”

You keep your gaze on the water. What do you tell him? That you couldn’t resist the urge to come here, to think about that morning, because it was the one time you felt in control. That your mother is going to fuck the man who drove you to this place and there’s nothing you can do.

“Sunshine?” he says desperately, gripping the cement rail.

“There was someone I thought cared about me. I thought they liked me. And they didn’t,” you say quietly as he leans in to listen, “I didn’t think they would after I jumped. I just couldn’t handle it. I didn’t want to live with my own stupidity. I didn’t want to go on knowing that no one would ever like me. That I’d never be special to anyone. I jumped because I’m still as stupid as I was.”

He’s silent. A long exhale softly escapes his nose. He gets closer but doesn’t touch you. You stare at the waves. That’s what they would’ve saw. Nothing. You would be down there, invisible as you always are.

“Whoever it is, they didn’t deserve you. They don’t deserve your energy, not like this. They’re the stupid one. The one who can’t see… you.”

You laugh darkly, “you’re nice. And as good a liar as they are. I’m okay, you know? There comes a point of being helpless where you just accept it because fighting it won’t do anything. So you just let everything happen. You’ll survive, not because you want to, but because life will make you.”

He slips his hand off the railing and turns to lean his back against it. He squeezes your shoulder with his hand, “I know there’s nothing I can say to fix or change what you’re feeling, but I know you texted me for a reason. I came because I know you need someone. You don’t have to say it if you can’t. Just let me be here and we’ll both pretend you don’t want me to be.”

You take a deep breath and look at him. He has a beanie pulled crookedly over his dark hair, a shank jutting out to his brow, his jacket is open and his boots undone. He must’ve raced down here.

“You should do your coat up,” you say as you step back and hug yourself, “it’s cold.”

“It is,” he sighs and chuckles, reaching to zip up his coat with shivering hands, “you like hot chocolate?”

“I have class in the morning. And I already feel awful that you came all the way down here.”

“So make it worth it,” he says awkwardly, “there’s this place, so cool, board game cafe, it’s at the other end of campus,” he turns and points above the sprawl of academic building, “it’s open til midnight. And you can play any game you want. Or that they have, and they serve stuff better than any Starbucks.”

You huff, a fog of air between you. It’s the least you could do and you’re not quite sure you should be alone just yet. Your teeth chatter as you lower your chin.

You don’t trust him, you can’t, but he’s not trying to lure you to his office or some hotel or a bathroom. He’s just being kind. Maybe it’s pity but you can live with it. He’s the one who made sure that you have to.

“Alright, one game,” you acquiesce.

“Yes,” he pumps his arm but quickly shakes away the show of excitement, “uh,” he offers his elbow, “let’s go. We might still get a good table.”

You shake your head with a tight-lipped smile, hidden in the shadows. You hook your arm around his and let him take you away from the river. You feel his warmth wrapping around you, radiating against the late chill.

“Just don’t make me play Jenga,” he says as you wait to cross the street, “it’ll be a short game.”

#bucky barnes #loki #dark loki #dark!loki #bucky barnes x reader #loki x reader #series #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #forbidden lessons #professor!loki #professor!bucky #mcu #marvel #ask drabble

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escapesvolo · 2 years

Text

Snap

Tim's supposed to be with you now. But no. Oh Yes. He's here now, with beers, and more fucking wounds. Sigh... you're gonna kill him.

Drake's supposed to meet you before early rise when the night it happened.

When he didn't come, you're sure as hell fucking pissed off.

It's 4 am, and you can't turn your head off. The last time you allowed yourself some gravity for a few hours of naps, your eyes barely snapped when you heard someone knock outside from your windows. No doubt, it was Tim open-the-Jackson-door-now Drake.

You swear you're gonna kill him the next second if he hadn't pulled up the beers he bought.

With him being part of the vigilantes, you both haven't really been on the same well term since. No, starting from the moment he's aggressively obsessed with the Batman thing, you have rarely seen each other.

He knows you can't stop him. No one can ever stop the Drakes from getting something.

A good example: toddler Timothy Drake has been entirely alone since he could talk, with the Drakes running around the world for some archaeological digs. Results? Well, not bad yet not good relationship, basic "I don't care about you" attitude without domestic violence, and let's pretend each other never exist. For this, it's enough for Timothy Jackson Drake to be Red Robin.

But he also mistook something. Since you can't stop him, you can make him regret it. All you need is a ticket to get involved in it, and it would be too late to prevent it when he realized it.

Two can play a game. It's funny that you don't mind it, given how you used to push anything with the label 'trouble' on it.

It's also immensely amusing, given how angry and intense he got when he found out.

*Snap!

You cleared yourself out with a snap. There's no reason to reminisce the past when it's another story to tell. At another time.

Grabbing your scarf around you, you let out a big sigh aggressively as you pull up the window as Red Robin scoop in, and… SMASH! There goes another day where you'll need to get a new vase.

Making sure you locked up the window, Tim stripped off his uniform, eyes not even looking you while you're away a few distance, constantly checking him out. He gulps, a bit tense under your eyes, more than ever.

"…I swear," The way your wrist hardens enough to pale, makes it easier to see the veins underneath. "If there's a law that could legally charge heroes for illegally hiring underage, I would make it up to the headline next week."

Chill down… "Don't you dare to try chill me down. Now, you better stay naked so I can treat your fucking upper wounds!"

"Also, no beers for you today."

Blue eyes widened as if belittled by what you had just said. Still, before anything could slip past his lips, Tim fell silent as he met your disapproving gaze, knowing that anger meant a storm brewing just a short distance ahead, even more, terrifying than Batman's level of rage.

No, if his memories have taught him any better, it is that you, his very dear caring old friend, are more terrifying than Batman when you are in the throes of anger.

Perhaps surrendering to his fate, or maybe it's your look of resignation, Drake sits down toward the edge of the couch and removes the top half of Red Robin's uniform. You rested your chin against one of the knees cradled in your hand and stilled, waiting for him.

Once he's done undressing, Tim pulls over the mask, covering only his eyes.

And you're dragged into his arms next.

You breathed, knowing well that today was going longer than usual. You inhale when the scent of rain and the bittersweet coffee with cinnamon spice hits you; it's good to have a towel beforehand. Not even surprised anymore since a long time ago.

Tim could feel the fluffing of the towel thrown before him as you began to scrabble throughout the whole damp wetness of his hair. "I… I couldn't save them." He turned his head, looking more miserable than usual, when the candlelights quickly caught the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline, given how skinny he looked. "Three kids, V. Three kids under… under…"

"Shh." Fuck. You scream your inner thoughts. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Never mind if your clothes are now drained with his blood. Who cares that you once paid over $100 to get these looks. To please some asshole who fired you. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm here, okay? I'm here."

It would be nice if you could take care of his wounds. The pressure of blood keeps going down and down. "Drake. Listen. I need to deal with your wound." Damn it. He wouldn't, and he just wouldn't. You force yourself to calm down.

It's all my fault. I should've been better. I know this far more than anyone else. No. I failed it. I fucking blew it off--

"Tim." He halts. He looks up at you, his eyes void.

"Keep still," You snapped, pressing the bandage on his wound. "If not, I gonna throw you off the balcony."

Ah. You're there. You're still there. At least… at least…

There's still someone familiar by his side.

You're always there for him.

Notes:

@batfam-horror-au told me it might be unclear, so, do remember that You is Volo, Tim's best friend, often goes by just V.

#volo escapéria #tim drake #dc universe #horror au #random drabbles #batfam #marvel universe #red robin #tim wayne #timothy jackson drake

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deancaskiss · 2 years

Text

cas thought the empty would be quiet. after it had begged for sleep, for peace, he thought he’d have forever in silence, too.

but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

cas heard his family.

all the time.

all the prayers they sent to him; he heard them all.

sometimes it was prayers from jack: ‘there’s a new area in heaven dedicated to bees. I’d thought you’d like that, dad. I’m working with gabriel and a bunch of other angels to get you out of there. we’ll find a way, I promise.’

or, ‘there’s some new cereal I found on earth today and I think you’d like it too. I got an extra box just for you. I miss you. things don’t feel right without you. I just want you to come home. also, I found one of your extra trench coats and now it’s mine.’

other times it was prayers from sam: ‘home isn’t the same without you, cas. i found some new books today and i thought you’d like the spells it talks about. there’s a lot of nature ones.’

or: ‘eileen wanted to play scrabble today. do you remember the scrabble matches we used to have against dean? he’d always lose and you thought it was the funniest thing. mostly because you always won. missing you today, cas.’

but the prayers cas hears the most are from dean. hundreds and hundreds of prayers every single day are from dean.

‘I found a patch outside the bunker to start a garden. I’m gonna start it, but you gotta come back here and tend to it. it’s your garden, cas. just like you always wanted.’

‘I was thinking about that last movie we watched together before…. before you… anyway you looked, god cas, you were so- handsome. the way the light from the tv flickered across your face. I think I contemplated kissing you every single minute of the entire movie. I wish I had.’

‘did I tell you today? I probably already did. I think I’m starting to tell you multiple times a day now. I don’t care. you need to hear it. I love you, too. should’ve said it to your face. prayers aren’t enough cas, goddammit. come home so I can tell you. I need to tell you. I love you.’

‘I found some new honey today. it’s got lavender in it. I thought you’d like it. I bought you a jar. it’s sat in your room, waiting for you. just like I am.’

‘when you come home, I’m going to kiss you. no, wait, gonna hug you first, then kiss you. wait, that’s not right either. I’m not good with words, cas. you know that. I don’t think I’ll be able to tell you immediately how I feel. but if I kiss you, you’d get it, right? you’d let me kiss you, right? please say yes. god cas, I dream about you all the time. about pulling you close and kissing you stupid. about us going to farmers markets and movie date nights curled up together on the couch. I really need you. please cas. this love for you, it aches. I just- please tell me you feel this too.’

‘I got out of bed today. I thought you’d be proud. I’m going to the grocery store to get some more supplies. tell me if you need anything.’

‘there’s a new western movie coming out this weekend. let’s go see it together.’

cas hears all the prayers. every day. all the time. nothing is silent. his family is right there. and that’s enough. it has to be enough. and if somehow he escapes from here, if jack really sets him free, then cas vows he’s never letting his family go. never ever again.

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lesbianjackies · 2 years

Text

Run Boy Run

Chapter Two of Book One of Riddle Me This

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,580

Warnings: language, violence

Summary: You and Five put your plan into action, but neither it nor Plan B seem to go as planned.

Taglist (lmk if you wanna be added!!): @insomniacwreck, @justbookworm

Vanya comes back with two mugs of coffee and a mug of tea. She hands you the tea and Five the coffee and takes back her seat on the couch. You deal each of you eight cards as Five recounts his experience in the apocalypse.

“We survived on scraps,” he tells Vanya. “Canned food, cockroaches, anything we could find.”

“I was able to find instant coffee and a couple boxes of tea,” you add. “Lasted us a couple years. The tea was pretty good.”

“The coffee was shit, though. At least it wasn’t as bad as that old box of twinkies I found.”

You shudder at the memory. “Oh, yeah. That rumor that twinkies have an endless shelf life is total poppycock.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Vanya says, her expression filled with horror and sympathy.

“You do whatever it takes to survive, or you die,” Five continues. “So we adapted. Whatever the world threw at us, we found a way to overcome it.” He holds up his mug. “You got anything stronger?”

Vanya nods, going to the kitchen and pouring him a glass of something alcoholic. She offers one to you, but you decline, pouring yourself some more tea instead. The three of you play your game without much conversation for a few moments, the shock in Vanya’s expression never leaving her face.

Five scoffs, noticing. “You think we’re crazy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you say, keeping your eyes on your cards. “I’m most definitely crazy, and I think it’s what gives me my whimsical charm.”

Vanya blinks at you but quickly shakes her head. “No, it’s just… it’s a lot to take in.”

“Exactly what don’t you understand?” Five’s voice seethes with a controlled anger.

“Why didn’t you just time travel back?”

Five scoffs again. “Gee, wish I’d thought of that. Time travel is a crapshoot. I went into the ice and never acorned.” He looks at her, pain glimmering under the surface of his irritated expression. “You think I didn’t try everything to get back to my family?”

Vanya nods, looking a little nervous. “If you grew old there, you know, in the apocalypse, how come you still look like kids?”

“I told you already.” The irritation in Five’s voice grows as he pours himself another drink. “I must have got the equations wrong.”

“I mean, Dad always used to say that…” Vanya swallows, “time travel could mess up your mind. Well, maybe that’s what’s happening?”

“This was a mistake.” Five slams the drink on the counter, alcohol spilling over the edge. “You’re too young,” he walks over to you and grabs your hand, leading you over to the door, “too naive to understand.”

“We didn’t get to finish our game!” you whine, scrabbling to pick up the cards.

“No.” Vanya walks after you. “Five… Five, wait.”

Five stops just short of walking out and turns around.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I don’t want to lose you again.” Vanya’s voice is shaky. “That’s all. And you know what, it’s getting late, and I have lessons early, and I need to sleep, and I’m sure you do, too. Both of you.” She walks over to the couch and pulls a blanket over the cushions. “Here. It’s small, and you’d have to share, but I don’t have a spare room. Please, just… sleep, and then we can talk in the morning.” She starts to walk out of the room. “It was nice to meet you, (Y/N),” she says to you before she leaves.

“You too!” You wave as she leaves. “Goodnight!”

“Night,” she says with a thin smile before disappearing into another room.

Five sits down on the couch and you plop down next to him, wrapping the blanket around you. “We’re not really going to sleep,” he says, noticing.

You frown. “Why not? I’m so very tired, Five, and you need sleep, too. We’ll talk to Vanya in the morning, just like she said.”

“Vanya doesn’t believe us,” Five says, trying to keep the frustration in his voice contained. “Talking to her will be no use.”

“Who are we going to get to help us, then?”

“We’ll do it on our own.” Five pulls the eye out of his pocket. “We have this, don’t we?”

“Okay,” you say. “Sleep first, though. I can’t save the world with no rest.”

“Fine,” Five relents, seeing the desperation and exhaustion in your eyes. “But we leave first thing in the morning. Before Vanya wakes up.”

“Alrighty,” you say brightly, then yawn. “Goodnight, Five.” You curl up in the blanket with your head in his lap, falling asleep almost immediately.

“Night, (Y/N),” he says quietly, softly trailing his fingers through your hair. He stares ahead, far too many thoughts in his head and too much coffee in his system to sleep himself. He looks down at your sleeping form. You mumble a bit in your sleep, something about talking cats and rabbits, and he chuckles a bit before placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, wishing he had the courage to say it to you when you were awake.

“What if you somersaulted?”

Five stared at you. “What?”

“I said ‘what if you somersaulted?’”

“Yes, I heard you. What do you mean by that?”

“Maybe if you somersault and then keep somersaulting eventually you’ll end up in your own time.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It’s an idea, though.” You tilted your head at him from your place upside down on a bar. “Maybe if you count back from the year it is now time will move with you. Like two thousand and twenty-two, two thousand and twenty-one, two thousand and twenty - “

“Why are you saying so much nonsense!?” Five turned to you in frustration. “If you want to help, give helpful suggestions.”

“I’m just saying what comes to mind,” you said, unphased by his anger. “If I think long enough I’ll come up with something valuable. And what’s the harm in trying nonsense? We’re stuck in the apocalypse. I’m sure anyone who’s never been stuck in the apocalypse before would say ‘Oh, what nonsense!’ were we to tell them we were.”

Five shook his head and turned back to his chalkboard. He paused before writing down another number. “What other ideas do you have?”

Your face brightened with a smile and you spouted off a dozen more nonsensical suggestions, including making a circle of breadcrumbs and performing a ritual, trying to pull 2005 out of a hat, and seeing if a rabbit hole would lead you to the right time (which was the most ridiculous idea of all, considering all the rabbits that had previously existed were dead). Five didn’t really believe any of your ideas would work, but it was true that the very fact of being stuck in the apocalypse was almost as nonsensical as your suggestions, so he decided to humor you for the next few minutes. Which turned into the next few hours, which turned into the rest of the day, and at some point Five had to accept that he was humoring you because he had fallen head over heels in love with you.

He didn’t know how he fell in love with a crazy girl, but maybe the fact that you were crazy was what made him love you so much. Maybe he was crazy himself, or maybe the fact that you were literally the last person on Earth had something to do with it, but it didn’t really matter why or how. What mattered was that Five Hargreeves was infatuated with your madness, and he thought it might kill him if anything killed you.

Five wakes you up at the crack of dawn, as he said he would, and immediately teleports the two of you to the Umbrella Academy for quick showers and clothing changes. He rushes you to the point where you feel time might literally be slipping out of his hands and down the drain and you’re at the hospital in such a short amount of time you get whiplash.

A man wearing a lab coat walks over to you. “Uh, can I help you?” he asks, looking confused.

“We need to know who this belongs to,” Five replies, holding up the eye.

“Where did you get that?”

“Five found it in - “ you start, but Five cuts you off.

“We found it at a playground,” he tells the man. “Must’ve just…” He clicks his tongue. “...popped out.”

“Your name is Five?” the man asks, growing more and more confused and suspicious by the second.

“It’s a family name,” Five tells him. “We wanna return the eye to its rightful owner.”

“Oh…” says a woman sitting at a desk, “what thoughtful kids.”

“Yeah.” Five gives her an irritated smile. “Look up the name for us, will ya?”

The woman’s smile disappears, taken aback.

“Uh, I’m sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential,” the man tells him. “That means I can’t tell you - “

“Yeah, we know what it means.”

“But I’ll tell you what I can do,” the man continues. “I will take the eye off your hands and return it to the owner. I’m sure he or she will be very grateful, so if I can just - “

“Yeah, you’re not touching this eye,” Five cuts him off.

“Now, you listen here, young man - “

Five grabs the man by his lab coat. “No! You listen to me, asshole. We’ve come a long way for this, through some shit your pea brain couldn’t even comprehend, so just give us the information we need, and we’ll be on our merry way. And if you call me ‘young man’ one more time, I’m gonna put your head through that damn wall.”

“Oh, dear.” The woman picks up a phone.

“Call security,” the man whispers to her.

“Yeah.” She dials a number.

Five reluctantly lets go of the man and grabs your hand before storming out of the building. “Well, that was a complete and utter waste of time.”

“We could come up with something else,” you suggest. “Do you want a riddle?”

Five sighs. “If you think it’ll help.”

“We’re children right now

“So we’re not allowed

“To do anything without adults around

“If we had a parent with a goal like ours

“They’d help us achieve it with their adult powers”

“You want us to get some adult to pretend to be our parent?” Five says.

“Mhm! One of your siblings, probably.”

“No one is gonna believe us,” Five deadpans.

“What about your crazy brother?” you suggest. “He seems like he’d be up for just about anything.”

“Klaus?” Five thinks for a second. “I’d hate to fund his drug habit, but he might be willing to help if he paid him.”

“There! We have a new plan,” you say triumphantly.

“As long as it doesn’t go downhill like the last one.”

“Oh, stop being a Negative Nancy!” you scold him. “This plan will work.”

“Stop being a Negative Nancy!?” Five explodes. “The world is ending in a week, and you want me to be positive!?”

“Are you finished?”

Five fumes.

“Yes, I want you to be positive. I want you to be positive because the world is ending in a week. There is absolutely no point in being negative because all it does is waste time we could be using to try and keep the world from ending in a week.”

Five’s anger seems to fade, and he sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you say with a smile. “Now, it’s time for Plan B.”

Five teleports you to the Academy where you conveniently find Klaus in the living room, rummaging through the liquor cabinets. “Klaus,” Five calls.

Klaus swivels around and laughs at the sight of his brother. “Oh, hey, little bro! Looking to have a chat with your big brother? Need me to teach you how to shave, to give you relationship advice?”

“We aren’t here to play games, Klaus. We need you to do something for us.”

“Oh?” Klaus saunters over to you. “And what would that be?”

“We need you to pretend to be our dad,” you tell him.

Klaus laughs. “You’re kidding. Nobody’s gonna believe you two are related.”

“That’s not the point, Klaus,” Five says. “We need information from the hospital and we’re more likely to get it with the help of an adult. And you are the only adult unhinged enough to possibly get us what we need.”

“Why, thank you, Five. But if you want this to be believable she can’t be your sister. You look nothing alike, it’s just unrealistic.”

Five huffs. “Couldn’t she be adopted or something?”

“No,” Klaus says with a devilish grin. “She’s your girlfriend.”

Five rolls his eyes. “What? Fine, whatever.”

“And one more thing,” Klaus adds. “I expect generous compensation for my valuable efforts.”

“You can have twenty bucks if you do this for us. Deal?”

Klaus holds his hand out for Five to shake, who leaves it in the air. “Deal.”

“Find something professional to wear,” Five calls as Klaus leaves the room. Klaus salutes him. Five leads you up to his room.

“I told you it would work,” you say, plopping down on his bed.

“It hasn’t yet,” he replies, looking out the window.

“It has so far.”

Five doesn’t reply. Vanya walks into the room a few minutes later. “Oh, thank God,” she sighs. “I was worried sick about you.”

“Sorry we left without saying goodbye.” Five turns to her.

“No, look, I’m the one that should be sorry,” Vanya says. “Yeah, I was dismissive, and… I- I guess I didn’t know how to process what you were saying. And I still can’t, to be honest.”

“Maybe you were right to be dismissive,” Five says, and you sit up, confused. “Maybe it wasn’t real after all. It felt real. Well… like you said, the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind.”

“I was there too, though,” you speak up. “I saw it.”

“Yes, and when we met you told me you were prone to hallucinations,” Five points out. “Maybe we both made it up.”

“We both had the same hallucination!? Five, that’s - “ He gives you a look and you cut off your sentence. “That’s… possible, I suppose.”

“Then maybe I’m not the right person for you to be talking to,” Vanya says. “Look, I used to see someone. A therapist. I could give you her information.”

“Thanks, but… I think we just need to get some rest,” Five says. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a good sleep.”

“Okay.” Vanya exits the room.

You and Five start to leave after her but then Klaus falls out of the closet. “That’s so…” He holds a hand to his heart. “...touching, all that stuff about family and Dad and time. Wow!”

“Would you shut up?” Five hisses. “She’ll hear you.”

“I’m moist,” is Klaus’s reply.

“I thought I told you to put on something professional.”

Klaus is wearing a hideous floral suit with gold buttons and a hot pink lining. “What? This is my nicest outfit.”

“I quite like it,” you comment.

“Thank you, Five’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Five says, annoyed. “We’ll raid the old man’s closet so you can wear something actually nice.” He walks out of the room, you and Klaus close behind.

“Whatever,” Klaus says. “As long as I get paid.”

“When the job is done.”

“Okay, but just so we’re clear on the finer details, I just gotta go into this place and pretend to be your dear old dad, correct?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“What’s our cover story?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I mean, was I really young when I had you? Like, sixteen? Like, young and…” His voice takes on a mocking tone. “...terribly misguided?”

“Sure.”

“Your mother, that slut. Whoever she was. We met at… the disco.” Klaus chuckles. “Okay? Remember that.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh my gosh, the sex was amazing.”

“What a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain.” Five grabs your hand and starts walking down the stairs.

“Don’t make me put you in time-out,” Klaus says, following after you.

Five leads you into what you assume to be Reginald Hargreeves’s room and digs through the closet, pulling out a nice suit. “Change into this,” he instructs Klaus. Klaus begins to take off his clothes and Five snaps, “Not in here.”

Klaus sticks his tongue out at him and leaves the room. “I like your brother,” you say. “He’s fun.”

“You’re one of the first I’ve heard say that,” Five says.

“Really? That’s kinda sad.”

Five shrugs. Klaus comes back, finally wearing something nice. “Good. Let’s go now.”

“Goodness, you’re in a hurry,” Klaus comments.

“Yeah, well, the world is ending in a week, so…”

“The world is what?”

Five doesn’t respond, just grabs you and Klaus and teleports to outside the hospital. You walk in and meet the doctor you met earlier in his office. He sighs irritatedly but allows you to have a seat. “Like I said to your kids - “

“My son and his girlfriend,” Klaus corrects, earning an eye roll from both Five and the doctor.

The doctor sighs again. “Like I said to your son and his girlfriend earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential.” He knows why you’re there before you get a chance to say anything. “Without the client’s consent, I simply can’t help you.”

“Well, we can’t get consent if you don’t give us a name,” Five says through clenched teeth.

“Well, that’s not my problem. Sorry, Now, there’s really nothing more I can do, so - “

“And what about my consent?” Klaus speaks up.

“Excuse me?”

“Who gave you permission…” He fakes a sob. “...to lay your hands… on my son and his girlfriend?”

“What?” everyone but Klaus says in unison.

“You heard me.”

“I didn’t touch your son, or his girlfriend,” the doctor says.

“Oh, really? Well, then how did he get that swollen lip, then? And how did she get a bruise on her cheek?”

“He doesn’t have a swollen - “

Before the doctor can finish his sentence, Klaus stands up and slaps Five across the face. You almost scream and then his hand is on your face too. Five runs over and cups your chin in his hands, eyes full of worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You look at him. “Are you?”

He nods and lets go of your face, turning to Klaus indignantly. Klaus inhales sharply and leans over the desk to talk to the doctor. “I want it. Name, please. Now.”

“You’re crazy.”

Klaus chuckles. “You got no idea.” He picks up a snow globe sitting on the doctor’s desk. “‘Peace on Earth’. That’s so sweet.” He smashes it over his head. “Oh, that hurt!” he groans.

The doctor picks up the phone. “I’m calling secur - “ Klaus rips the phone out of his hands. “What are you doing?”

“There’s been an assault,” Klaus says into the phone, “in Mr. Big’s office, and we need security, now. Schnell!” He throws the phone down. “Now, here’s what’s gonna happen, Grant.”

“It’s… Lance.” The doctor stares at him, eyes wide with fear.

“In about sixty seconds,” Klaus continues, ignoring him, “two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they’re gonna see a whole lot of blood, and they’re gonna wonder, ‘What the hell happened?’ And we’re gonna tell them that you… beat the shit out of us.” He fakes a dramatic sob. “You’re gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I’ve been there. Little piece of chicken like you. Oh my gosh, you’re gonna get passed around like a… You’re just- You’re gonna do great. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Jeez, you are a real sick bastard.”

“Thank you.” Klaus spits out a shard of glass.

Lance leads the three of you into the file room and looks up the owner of the eyeball’s name. “Oh, that’s strange,” he says after a moment.

“What?” Five demands.

“Uh, the eye. It hasn’t been purchased by a client yet.”

“What?” Klaus jumps down beside him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, uh, our logs say that the eye with that serial number…” His expression turns into confusion. “That can’t be right. It hasn’t even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?”

Five sighs and shakes his head. “C’mon. We’re leaving.”

“Wh- what? I asked you a question - “

Five ignores him and leaves. You and Klaus follow after him. “Well, this is not good,” he says as you walk out of the building, defeated once again.

“I was pretty good, though, right?” Klaus says. “‘Yeah. What about my consent, bitch?’” He explodes into hysterical laughter.

“Klaus, it doesn’t matter.”

“What? What? What’s the big deal with this eye, anyway?”

“Whoever owns it causes the end of the world,” you tell him.

“Yeah, can I get that twenty bucks, like, now, or what?” he asks dismissively.

“Your twenty bucks?” Five repeats incredulously.

“Yeah, my twenty bucks.”

“The apocalypse is coming, and all you can think about is getting high?”

“Well, I’m also quite hungry. Tummy’s a-rumblin’.” Klaus imitates the sound of his stomach growling.

“You’re useless. You’re all useless!” Five grabs your hand and starts walking away.

“Oh, come on.” Klaus follows you. “You need to lighten up, old man. Whatever her name is - “

“(Y/N),” Five tells him irritatedly.

“(Y/N)’s all loose and fun! Why can’t you be like her?”

“Because I’m not like her,” Five says darkly.

“Five is sane, that’s why he’s no fun,” you tell Klaus.

“That is an excellent point, (Y/N). Hey, you know what, why don’t you come with me? We could have so much fun away from Mister Uptight over here.”

“We could,” you say. “But I like him. And we also have to save the world.”

“Goodness, what is all this about saving the world?”

You open your mouth to respond but Five grabs your hand. “We’re leaving,” he says. “And you’re not getting your money,” he tells Klaus.

“What!?”

Five teleports you and himself into a passing taxi cab before Klaus can say anything else. “Don’t stop, just keep going,” he tells the driver. The driver falters for a moment but does as he’s told, a bewildered look on his face as he continues to drive. Five tells him to take you back to the Academy.

“Do we have another plan?” you ask.

“Rest,” he says. “You need it, I need it, and I’ve been putting way too much pressure on you.”

Your eyes flutter in surprise. “Oh. Can we… Can we find Delores tonight?” you ask quietly.

Five smiles and squeezes your hand. “We can. But for now, we’re just going to rest.”

You nod, smiling back, and he puts his arms around you before teleporting to his room. “Will you read to me?”

He nods. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?” Your smile widens. He truly knows you as well as you know yourself. You nod. He grabs the book and lays back on his bed, pulling you close to him so your head is resting on his chest. “‘Chapter One,’” he reads, “‘Down the Rabbit Hole. Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversation?”’”

You’re asleep before he can make it to the next sentence; even though Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is your favorite book of all time and you would never dream of falling asleep during a reading of it, the small bit of sleep you got last night was not nearly enough and you were too exhausted to stay awake even for Alice and her mad Wonderlandian friends.

When you’re shaken gently awake it’s dark outside, and Five whispers, “Do you still want to get Delores?”

The sleep immediately leaves your body and you sit up excitedly, nodding. Five smiles and teleports you outside, getting in the car and driving to Gimble Brothers. He teleports inside the now-locked store and grabs a flashlight off a rack so you can see more clearly. You walk through the store, searching for your beloved mannequin friend, and eventually spot her in between two other mannequins.

You smile. “Delores!” You run toward her, Five following close behind. “It’s so good to see you,” you tell her. “Five and I have missed you so incredibly much, isn’t that right, Five?”

Five nods with a small smile. “It’s been a rough couple of days,” he says softly.

The moment is perfect, for a second, and then it’s ruined by gunshots completely destroying your newly found friend. “No!” you scream, and Five grabs you, teleporting you out of harm’s way.

He peeks out from behind a rack of clothes. “Oh, shit, it’s them.”

“The Commission?” you whisper.

“Hazel and Cha-Cha.”

You press your hands to your mouth in horror. Hazel and Cha-Cha are the Commission’s most skilled assassins now that you and Five are gone. And they wouldn’t be here unless they were trying to kill you. You dart out from behind the clothes rack and grab the now broken Delores.

“(Y/N), no!” Five yells, pulling you back right after you get her. “Stay here,” he tells you, but you shake your head, not willing to let him fight Hazel and Cha-Cha on his own. “Please,” he whispers. “I can’t let anything happen to you.” You open your mouth to object but he teleports away, leaving you behind. You sit there, covering your ears and breathing heavily and hoping it’s over soon, and then Five comes back and he grabs you. “We’re getting out of here.” You hold on tight to Delores and he holds on tight to you, running and teleporting through the store to avoid the bullets.

He eventually stops behind a large desk, holding you and stroking your hand with his thumb until Hazel and Cha-Cha leave. You hear police sirens and take it as a sign to leave; he teleports out and back to the Academy. You run into Luther and Allison on your way upstairs.

“Five?” Allison says, concerned. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Are you okay?” Luther asks. “Can we help?” He reaches his hand out but Five grabs his arm before he can touch him.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Five says, voice shaking. “There’s nothing any of you can do.” He releases Luther’s arm and pulls you the rest of the way upstairs.

He pulls you close to him and buries his head into your shoulder, and after a moment you realize he’s crying. You wrap your arms around him and rub his back as he sobs, saying nothing until he finishes.

“We’ll worry about everything later,” you say softly, wiping his tears away from his face. “Right now you need to sleep. I know you haven’t been while I was.” Five swallows and nods, letting you pull him to his bed and curling up close to you, falling asleep almost instantly. “I love you,” you whisper, something you wish you could say while he was awake.

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rubyinasnuggie · 3 years

Text

Random Headcanons No One Asked For:

-Both Ruby and Weiss are left handed

--Yang was 100% prepared to tease them about it when Blake very pointedly uses her left hand to write something

--Blake is ambidextrous

--which makes Yang the only right-handed one on the team

--until the fall of beacon oops

-Ren is fully color blind

--once baby Nora figured that out, she made it her mission to explain to him what colors are based on other sensations (sue me I love this trope)

--she describes pink as the quiet comfort they share in each other's presence

--Ren finally sees color for the first time when his semblance upgrades, and he can finally see the pink petals with Nora

-Blake likes to climb on things and find random nooks and crannies to read

--it turns into a game of reverse hide-and-seek when someone needs her: depending on how urgent it is the entire squad will drop everything and look for her

-team STRQ won the Vytal tournament their first year, specifically Summer was the champion

--Yang was more upset about the disqualification than she'd ever admit, because she secretly imagined Summer was out there somewhere watching the tournament, proud of her babies

-Tai pulled himself out of his depression by gardening: having a routine helped him, so he encouraged baby Ruby and Yang to get similar gentle hobbies

-Ruby raises chickens at home

--she very lovingly feeds them corn and calls them her ladies

--Yang affectionately calls them creatures and cluckers and other such rude things to get a rise out of Ruby

-Ruby deeply wants a cow

--this is her one and only retirement dream

--although honestly she can never imagine herself living past her 20s

-Yang struggled with picking a hobby, she gets bored easily and hates the expected

--its only post-Beacon that she understands the benefits of a routine

--thats why she ends up with a ton of chores, just some structure to help her through the day

-Ruby will drink any type of milk, but Strawberry milk is her favorite

-Sun is allergic to bananas but he doesn't know

--he thinks bananas are supposed to be spicy

-Weiss loves sour apple

-Pyrrha loves chocolate almonds

-Yang thinks fish are creepy, she just generally doesn't love the ocean

--she thinks Neptune is a little clown though

-Oscar gets dressed by putting on his left sock, left boot, then his right sock and right boot

--RNJR made it their mission to interrupt him during this just to see him walk around with one boot on

-Ruby likes to bake, it's one of the few solid memories she has of her mom

--one night Weiss was feeling homesick and Ruby taught her how to make mug cakes

--"its probably not that good compared to your cake butler, but it's pretty simple, and I like them!"

--Weiss secretly makes them at least once a week, even back home in Atlas

-Weiss has taken flight lessons, at one point Ironwood really pushed for her to become a pilot in the military

-Blake has a field journal of the different types of Grimm she's encountered

--team RWBY & JNPR have spent several nights sitting in a circle talking and adding to the journal

--while traveling across Anima, Ruby sketched and took notes on all the Grimm she saw, just in case she ever found Blake again

-Weiss collects rocks

--no, not crystals. actual rocks

--shes rarely spent time in the real outside, but whenever she has, she picks up little rocks and puts them in her pocket before anyone can see

-Jaune never actually stopped writing left and right on the bottom of his shoes actually

-Weiss had never been allowed to paint her nails as a kid, she'd always get weekly French manicures instead

--by the second semester at Beacon, Ruby, Weiss, Nora, and Ren would have weekly manicure nights where they'd paint each other's nails

--there were several times they'd rope the rest of the teams into it, especially during the Vytal tournament where they'd write team names on their nails

--during the singles round they'd write Yang on one hand and Pyrha on the other

--"we couldn't make it fit without cutting one of the R's!"

-Pyrrha and Weiss became each other's default plus one's for fancy events, to the point people began to speculate that the two were dating

--Jaune was somehow jealous of them both and it was very confusing to him since he had poor self awareness

-Yang cuts Ruby's hair, but after she lost her arm she lost the fine motor skills to do a good job, so Blake started to do it

-Blake is always there to help Yang with her phantom pains and residual limb pain

--she helps massage Yang's arm while leaning close and purring

--Yang cried the first time Blake did this because she's not used to being taken care of

-Nora never gets sick and is the designated nurse when a bug goes around the teams

--the electricity incident was the first time Nora has ever been bed-ridden

-Weiss took ballet as a child

-Jaune is actually pretty good at the guitar

-Pyrrha is not musically inclined at all its a miracle she managed to do the iconic JNPR shine dance

--jk but actually she's a decent dancer when she has the steps choreographed for her but she has no natural rhythm

-in the last few months before Pyrrha's death, she and Jaune would waltz on top of the roof together

--there were several almost kisses

--maybe a few successful kisses who knows

-there are occasions (obv extremely rare) when Ren actually takes the bulk of the energy from Nora

--this leads to thrilling game nights where Ren makes multiple 40pt remnant-equiv-of-scrabble plays while Nora naps

-Oscar is the only person who can beat Ren in scrabble, although it's very closely matched

-Oscar is amazing at chess and will play it against himself like a little square

-Yang and Ruby are experts at the tabletop war game they play in the library

--9 times out of 10, the winner is one of them

-Oscar is the only one who also knew about Compost King, which was very exciting for Jaune

--Compost King is a common game night activity while they were in Haven because its so hard to say no to Oscar

-Yang is a straight-A student and has always been

-Blake never had any formal education and she finds a lot of the classes incredibly dull or ineffective at teaching the material

--she's always the one convincing Yang to skip a class and lie in the sun-warmed grass with her

--she still gets Bs easily

-Oscar is a very fast reader and will devour any book he's given

--his aunt would frequently bring home books from town just to keep him entertained

-Ruby has suffered from migraines and nightmares her entire life, post-Beacon they only got worse

-Weiss shops at local dust stores whenever she can, even though she could get shipments for free

--however she does have Ron Swanson's "I know more than you" energy when she's shopping

-Blake and Ren will sometimes take naps together

--not cuddling, just occupying the same general space

--wake them up at your own risk

-if Ruby isn't engaged with something, she can start to scatter and dissolve into rose petals

--its a very slow process and someone has always snapped her out of it before she's fully vanished, but Yang is worried about what would happen if no one caught her in time

-Ren is afraid of horses

-Blake hates being cold

-Yang naturally radiates heat cause semblance duh

-Weiss glued the tiniest gravity crystals to the underside of Ruby's bed to ensure it never falls

-JNPR likes to push their beds all together so they can sleep in one big pile

-Nora can only sleep if she's holding someone's hand

Hope u guys enjoyed! These are in no particular order, sorry that I kinda jumped around a lot 😅

Feel free to reblog and add your own ideas and headcanons! ❤

#rwby #jnpr #oscar pine #ruby rose #jaune arc #weiss schnee #nora valkyrie #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #yang xiao long #lie ren #rwby headcanons #rwby headcanon #rwby thoughts #bumbleby #renora #rwby redesign #long post #im sorry

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savorysatori · 3 years

Text

— 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. ✗

“choke me, spank me, look at me, thank me.”

— sypnosis: working as a maid in a new house is very exciting, you get the money and everything goes well. although, once you’re introduced to the son of the parents, everything goes down hill.

cw, warning: size kink (?), creep!ushi, pictures without consent, nipple play, gn!reader, non-con, somnophilia, sloppy sex, dry humping, praise, panty stealer ushi.

% wc: 2234.

↷ a/n: y’all have no idea how long this was sitting in my drafts, for fucking 5 weeks plsssss- anyways I hope you all enjoy! this was rlly fun to do. also! shoutout to daisy, this collab was really cool! congratulations on 1K bb. <//3

— @daisy-bakugo, PORNSCAPE EVENT! ilyy.

You were everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about.

[1,000.]

That’s how much they were paying.

It was enough to have you accept the job immediately. It was enough to have you choose between two of the slightly revealing maid dresses and enough for you to be standing in front of the wakatoshi mansion. Briefcase in hand with a bucket of supplies you were instructed to bring. Everything was just right, you were prepared to clean, everything would go well.

The frilly material of the skirt swayed around your thighs and glided against the softness of your thigh-highs. Glistening jewels of your gold bracelets glimmering in the hot sun shining down on your skin. The thin line of thread held up the damp clothes, shredding any of the excess water soaked into them. All of the Wakatoshi’s clothing were fancy. Gold lining stitched in the middle or at the end of the cloth, it was clear they were wealthy. But, it somehow amazed you when your eyes glided to the very end of the line — some shirts & shorts were childlike. Pictures of guns and cars were painted onto a black shirt, it looked like something a 5th grader would do. ‘Maybe they had a child?’ You didn’t know, you only met the parents. Folding up the dry ones, you’d stuff them into the cart and push them towards the other line of clothes swishing in the breezy wind.

You finished doing the daily chores, slipping into their kitchen that was designed well with a beautiful interior. Cold marble was felt up against your skin as you tipped the bottle of wine into your glass, clacking against it. Your glossy lips propped up against the cup and took small sips of the fruity flavor. It slid down your throat and surged a zing of bitterness back up to take in the taste, so sweet and yet so unpleasant at the same time. You’d lick the juice off your lips and place it down steadily on the counter, looking up to see a heady gaze sharped on you.

6’2 and steady build towering over you with dark olive hair — was the wakatoshi’s son. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Your body stayed still, unmoving. He wasn’t anywhere near a 3rd grader - more like a full grown adult. Tongue peeking out from your teeth to lick the dryness seeping between the cracks, your eyelids hooded.

“Uh- Hello! You must the wakatoshi’s son, I’m the new maid.” Extending your hand out to meet his; his hand stayed at his side, not seeming to shift to engulf yours. You’d drop it back beside you and nipped at your lip when the silence between you both continued.

“Well, I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you.. Ushijima! Your parents told me about you.”

You’d excuse yourself away from his intimidating gaze and close the door behind you. Maybe it’s a good idea to introduce myself another time.

The same look from before followed you out of the kitchen, watching you as you’d take up the laundry basket. His eyes kept gawking at your every move. Staring with every bit of emotion nobody could decipher, Toshi wasn’t a very talkative man and it was visible. He situated himself in the shadows and looked from above, staying out of any scandals his parents were exposed to. He did keep his eye on you. Stepping out of his secure area and making every note to try and approach you without seeming like a creep. His creep intentions did creep up back into his system when you started staying at his house, sleeping in a guest room 8 feet away from his room. It was easy; so easy to sneak into it when the moon raised in the dead of night.

Soft thuds of his feet against the carpet thankfully didn’t alert anyone, giving him the time to steal peeps at your sleeping state. Comforter pulled up. Oversized shirt to cover up the intimate parts of your body he dearly wanted to explore. Soft breaths left your pink lips to breathe it in again, his cock stirring at the sound of it. Toshi knew what was right from wrong, he knew that doing something like this would cost his life — but, dear god you were everything he dreamed of. He couldn’t stop now.

His calloused hands raised the shirt for him to be able to see your tummy, sliding his fingers down to the waistband of your panties. They were so simple and adorned your skin beautifully, keeping the heat between your legs warm just for him. His free hand unzipped his jeans and let them pool at his ankles, such as his boxers. You stirred slightly at the foreign touch, brows creasing forward. He stilled until you relaxed back into slumber, his fingers separated your thighs, and slowly slid the oozing head of his cock between them.

“Ah, princess, f-fuuck.” breath ragged, eyes shut closed to take in the bliss. Contentment streamed through him, his hips rocking against you to feel more, more of you. He was greedy. Toshi was insatiable, he wanted everything of you. He didn’t just want — he needed you. It was a plea. A whine for you, a need. The selfishness ran through his family, that’s how he inherited it. From his family. Was he ashamed? No. Not when you felt so good right now, not when he was about to reach the orgasm he was climbing to.

Sweat fanned down his toned chest, abs glistening with droplets of precipitation. His hips rocked forward one last time, cum spurting from his head and between the soft flesh of your thighs. It was sticky and slimy, rolling down to cover every little spot.

The sight of you sleeping soundly while his cum leaked from between your thighs, made the flaccid touch of his cock stir. You were just so pretty, a pretty little something he wanted to scoop up for himself. And he would do it with no trouble whatsoever. His hand slid down to grab his phone from the floor, lying face down. Toshi aimed right in the frame, snapping a picture for later. He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans and scurried away from your room, not bothering to clean up the mess of his dry cum smeared on you.

Pressing the ‘start’ button you watched the clothes in the machine swirl with bubbles of soap clouding over them. One hand on the machine and knocking it occasionally to make it turn on again. “Barely working.” You’d mutter.

Despite the Wakatoshi’s being filthy rich, their laundry room wasn’t at all cooperative. There were brown pieces of wood peeling off the wall with stains of what seemed to look like dry substance splattered on it. A bunch of plastic bags and socks were pushed to the corner of the room, dirty ones to be exact. Not much laid in the room other than the things you had listed — except for the posters of lewd manga hanging from the cluttered shelves.

The cool air of the basement door opening brushed up against you, your eyes drifting to see who it was. Standing there was Toshi. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His expression was the same as always, stern and uninterested. You were both met with the silence from yesterday, uneasiness creeping up back to you.

Bothering not to talk, you turned back to the machine to see it at twenty-one minutes. It was almost done and you could leave to wrench away from the awkward silence you were sitting in. You could still feel his presence, you knew he was there and it was uncomfortable. So many questions were left unanswered in your head, you couldn’t understand them.

The back of your skirt was flipped up to meet your back, his clothed length pressed against you. He was hard. There was no doubt he wasn’t big, and that was what made your eye sockets almost swell out. He slowly rocked the fabric of your panties along with his bulge. Fingernails digging into your hip and pushing you up more to gain more access and spread your legs.

“Ushijima-“ words of confusion scrabbled out from your mouth quickly, “w-what are you doing?”

“Shh.” He jabbed the curve of your back and made you lay pressed against the cold exterior of the rattling washing machine. His words flustered you, it provoked you to stay quiet. You had never heard his voice before and a situation like this only shook your brain into a deeper hole of complication. “J-Just — let me do this, let me try it out. Once.”

And you did. You let him try it just once, you let him delude into the fantasy he had been dreaming of. You let him do it. Once.

You calmed down from the aftershock of his tongue sending you to see stars, arms jerking when the feeling of his hot touch pressing your face against the door of the machine. Your fingers tightening around the handle and pulling on it slightly, cheeks swelling up with heat. The sounds of your whimpers and tiny jolts sent him to push along more, arm encircling around your stomach, his voice breathy against the shell of your ear. You were like a succubus, a being he couldn’t leave nor escape, so alluring, sweet and he had just met you not too long ago.

The smack of his cock meeting his stomach caused you to crank your head back, looking over to see a beautiful sight. Ushijima’s cock was thick, curving gently upwards. The skin was a light shade of cream, and the head was large, pink, expanding tip. “Ushi-“ your voice was wavery, unsure paring with it.

He’d shush you again, angling your leg up as his lips pressed a kiss to your glistening cunt. Toshi took notice of your expressions when he slid into the warmth delves; brows creased together and little words scampering out from your lips. Latching onto the handle and pulling it ever so often when he hit a certain spot, whenever the tip of his cock caressed against your cervix- it was so beautiful seeing you be reduced to a quivering, blubbering mess. A surreal sight he would only see.

“You’re so damn tight. So wet, so willing.. just like that baby.” The pump of his hips made you lose yourself over and over again, a mixture of sounds that were all kinds of slobbery and slurred due to your dizziness. His pace picked up with renewed energy, slick and wet sounds fill the air, sweaty bodies clamping against each other. The whines and pants of his name being drowned out, so pathetic- clinging to the latch and crumbling under his touch. It drove him like a mad man, his brain clattering, the way you took him in with no problem amazed him, you were so inviting and supple.

“S’too b-big! Ushi- ah! -“

The whines of him being too big impaled itself into his brain, your shivering body and cunt wrapped around all together had already made him blank out, now with your pleas, it caused a switch in his head to flip and jack-hammer himself into you. Pump after pump. It made your eyelashes flutter with droplets of tears risking to stream down the fat of your cheeks. His hands holding you firmly, brows furrowed with grunts flowing into your right ear. A grunt rippled from him as his cock throbbed harshly inside you, the feeling making him come undone right there.

“Just like that, ah, fuck you make me feel so good.”

Wrinkled skirt falling to the floor, his cock pulling out of you slowly with globs of cum dribbling out of you, he’d shuffle around till you faced him fully now with a perplexed look on your face. The shirt becoming loose as Toshi’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple, suckling and easing any leftover moans out from your throat. His hands placing you on the machine and attaching his lips back onto your nipple, tongue flat against your sweaty skin.

“Fuck, U-Ushi! holy- fuck, just like that.” Your back straining as you leaned back, gasping and threading your fingers through his hair to balance. Toshi wasn’t one with words, his statue being quiet and still. But, words poured out from his lips at the sound of your moans, when you were so good for him.

“So, good.. pretty. pretty, like a beauty.” He pulled off of it with a squelch, standing up high and cupping your chin to stare in your love drunk eyes. “You were so good for me, yeah?”

You nodded, vision hazy and eyes occasionally blinking to peer up at him with a blurry image. Your head rested in the crook of his neck, sniffling as he picked up the soiled panties from the floor and stuffed them into his back pocket. They were red and pink, swirly designs on them, he found them so cute. He slid your legs around him and walked out of the room, leaving the washing machine to rattle in the background with soap and water overflowing onto the ground.

Ushijima just couldn’t leave you after that day, he stuck to you like glue. Who could blame him? You were everything he wanted, everything he had fantasized about.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #pornscape collab!!👒#cw noncon #cw somnophilia #cw size kink

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blue-eyed-cutiepatootie · 2 years

Text

I Need More Lights

wc 1171, established relationship, dadstiel, dad!dean, kid!jack

Also on AO3

prompt requested by @caskarass 💜

“Daaaaaad!”

Dean is laying on the couch with his head in Cas’s lap. Cas is reading a book that Claire recommended to him. He has been reading passages he likes out loud as Dean drifts in and out of a doze.

“Daddyyyyy!”

Cas sighs. Dean starts to get up. Jack has been playing quietly in his room for the past hour and it’s nearly his bedtime. Their son appears in the living room and races over to climb on top of Dean.

“What’s up kiddo?”

“I need more lights.” Jack’s voice is muffled by Dean’s shirt. Dean shares a puzzled look with Cas. Jack’s room has an overhead light, a floor lamp, and a lamp on his bedside table. And he needs more? Dean’s thoughts immediately go to a little boy being afraid of the dark and an unsympathetic father. Before he can make any assumptions, Cas speaks first.

“Jack, what do you want more lights for?”

Jack starts talking about a friend whose mother decorates their room in lights at Christmas and Dean tries to pay more attention but his mind wanders back to pitch black motels with strange noises and sinister shadows leaping across the impala’s seats.

“Daddy?” Dean’s ripped back to the present by his son’s little voice. “Will you read to me?” Dean drops a kiss to his forehead. “Of course, bug, go choose a book and I’ll be right there.”

Jack grins and scrabbles down off the couch before skipping down the hall. Cas wraps an arm around Dean’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Cas, do you think-” Dean is interrupted by Cas kissing the worry lines on his forehead “-do you think it’s more than just Christmas lights?”

Cas hugs him tighter, “Maybe. I think we should wait a bit and see if he gives us more reason to worry."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day Dean takes Jack to pick out lights for his room. He chooses a long set of multicolored lights to wrap around his whole room and a shorter pink set to hang on the wall beside his bed.

That night after they hang the lights up, Dean tries to figure out how to ask Jack if he’s ever afraid of the dark. He can’t recall Jack ever acting afraid of the dark even though, with all Jack has been through, it would be perfectly reasonable for him to have that fear. He brings it up to Cas again as they’re cleaning up after dinner. The leftovers have been put in the fridge and Dean is washing dishes while Cas dries.

“Dean, I know you’re worried. If he starts having trouble sleeping, then we can encourage him to talk about it," Cas says, putting the last dish in the cabinet. “You know as well as I do how pushing a person to talk before they’re ready can make things worse.” He reels Dean in for a hug.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dean admits as they hold each other. Jack rushes into the kitchen to excitedly ask Dean and Cas if they can all watch a movie in his room with the pretty lights on. And when the movie is over he doesn’t seem afraid so Dean tucks the thought away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Halfway through January they finally take the Christmas decorations down. Dean is putting the last box in the attic when he hears Jack call for him. After tugging the attic light off he carefully descends the ladder, his knees protesting with each step. He goes to Jack’s room where he finds the boy on his bed on his tiptoes trying to get the multicolored lights off the wall.

“Jack?” he asks, bewildered, “What are you doing, bug?”

Jack turns tearful eyes on him and his heart seizes.

“Daddy, you forgot my lights and I can’t get them down by myself!” Jack’s voice turns to a wail as he shakes his hands in frustration. Dean is across the room in a heartbeat, pulling Jack into a hug.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I didn’t know you wanted them down,” Dean says as he wipes a tear from Jack’s cheek.

"It's not Christmas anymore! They have to come down!" More tears course down his cheeks.

"Ok, ok. I'll help you take them down," Dean rubs his hands up and down Jack's back, "but Jack, it's ok to leave them up if you like them. We don't have to put them away."

Jack looks up at him, eyes wide. "But they're Christmas lights, daddy."

"Jack, you like the lights, right?" Jack nods. "Then we'll leave them up." A small smile brightens Jack's face. "Hey, why don't you go wash your face and I'll put the lights back?"

"Ok, daddy," Jack hugs Dean before making his way across the room. He pauses at the doorway. “Can we have hot chocolate after?”

“Of course, Jack.”

Ten minutes later they’re cuddled up together on Jack's bed. They're sipping hot chocolate and reading The House at Pooh Corner. Dean pauses after finishing a chapter in which a search is organized and Piglet nearly meets the Heffalump again.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, daddy?"

"Um. Well. Do you just like the lights or are you- uh- is it too dark sometimes?"

Jack fiddles with the well-loved corner of the book for a minute before he whispers, "Sometimes it's too dark."

"It's ok to- you know- uh- sometimes it's too dark for me too." Dean feels his face flush even though he’s only admitted that to a 5 year old. And he’s admitted it plenty of times to Cas.

Jack turns to look up at him. "Daddy, we should put up lights in your room too." There is understanding in his voice, a knowing smile on his face.

Dean leans down to kiss the top of Jack's head, "I'd really like that, bug."

"We can match!" Jack exclaims, nearly spilling his hot chocolate.

"Yeah we can match,” Dean chuckles and looks up at movement in the doorway. Cas is there, nose pink from his walk in the winter air, smiling softly.

“Jack, look who’s back!” Dean gently takes Jack’s mug of hot chocolate so the boy can leap into Cas’s arms.

“Dad, we’re going to hang lights up in your room too!”

“Oh, we also get to have pretty lights?” Cas is talking to Jack, but looking at Dean. A part of Dean, a part that he is working to re-wire, wants to hide or run from this conversation. But here with his family he is understood. He doesn’t have to hide his fear and he knows Jack needs to see that he doesn’t have to hide either.

“Yeah!” Jack shouts, bouncing excitedly in Cas’s arms.

Another trip to the store later and Dean's spotting Jack on the step ladder as he hangs the lights up around Dean and Cas's bedroom. Cas is supervising to make sure the lights drape evenly. Dean knows Christmas lights won't make the nightmares go away or erase the things that have happened to them. But they help ease them.

#destiel ficlet #deancas ficlet #dadstiel #dad!dean #kid!jack #userpris #userjactingjoices #liv wrote a thing

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pillow-anime-talk · 2 years

Text

i love girls month ; twenty-first day.

synopsis: Spicy facts and much more.

# tags: scenario; friendship; party night; comedy; fluff; manager!reader; mention of alcohol and sex; gossip; suggestive, maybe nsfw

includes: female reader ft. riko aida, satsuki momoi, alexandra gracia & masako araki {knb}

author’s note: my girlsssss!!

It was truly one of the best nights of your life; you felt refreshed and amused like never before in your several-year-old life. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the pressure of victory, mental fatigue after training, your throat was relaxed, your muscles were not sore, and your head was not bursting with an excess of questions and plans.

You and four of your friends in the same trade were in the process of celebrating the end of the summer basketball competition; even if only one of your teams won, each of you was happy with the result and the overall flow of each match. Interviews, cheering fans, support from families and loved ones – it was something that each of you really loved, but still, peace, quiet, Martini and snacks were even better. MUCH BETTER.

During your nice evening, you talked a lot not only about the sport itself or your teams, but also about more private matters, such as the recent Misako’s boyfriend marriage proposal, Riko and Junpei’s first kiss... Alex showed you some photos of her new cat and Momoi admitted that she was going on a three-day vacation with her family soon. You also told some new facts about yourself – that you got a new earring, and that you recently, very accidentally, ran into one manga author in a ramen bar.

Somewhere between gossip, eating pasta with black bean sauce that you ordered some time ago, and drinking light drinks, the idea of playing board and card games arose between the five of you. Due to the fact that you had the weekend off and Araki (still) lived alone and had understanding neighbors, you all agreed to play ‘Monopoly’, ‘Scrabble’ and ‘Two Truths and One Lie’. The latter, of course, was the spiciest, most fun, and plainly interesting.

“... Okay, so yeah...” The pink-haired girl started with a smile, and the rest of them looked at her curiously. “Number one ‘I have a twin brother who currently lives in Ireland and studies there too’, number two ‘When I was eight years old I thought my mom’s vibrator was actually a facial massager and I used to play with it until she took it from me’, and number three ‘For me: sex only after marriage’.”

“The worst part is that each one sounds like a lie.” You were serious and your friends just laughed.

“Last one, i guess. It’s a lie.” Alexandra said seriously, and after a while you nodded your head in agreement with her. “With all due respect, try what you will eat for the rest of your life.” She added, her cheeks pink with alcohol.

“... Damn. I guess, I’m weak at this game.”

“H-Hope this vibrator was sterilized...” Riko whispered, and the four slightly drunk women giggled once again.

“Yes, oh my God!”

“... Right, it’s time for me.” The former WNBA player smiled, then bit her lower lip. “First, ‘On my first vacation in Italy, I met a boy with whom I was in a long-distance relationship for the next three months, and then he broke up with me during the phone call’, second, ‘My parents thought I was a boy because the doctor misjudged my gender at first’ and third, ‘I once participated in a quadrangle with my bestie, her husband and their friend’.”

“In my opinion the first is false. You once admitted that you do not accept long-distance relationships.” The oldest of you said as she stirred the alcohol in her glass.

“Yeah, I don’t accept them because of this situation!” She laughed. “I was in a relationship like that and I was going to be a boy. My parents wanted to call me Sam!”

“You nasty freak.”

“Okay, time for me.” You said after a moment as you finished your drink. “Well, yes... Number one, ‘I used to go to the clubs a lot and had a lot of one night stands’, number two ‘I got offered to be a Rakuzan High coach’, and number three ‘I used to have a hamster but one night he came out of the terrarium and never came back...’.”

“If the second thing is true then I’m very impressed.” Brown haired girl admitted, and you just chuckled. “I think the third one is a lie. I remember you said something about the rabbit, not the hamster.”

“Well... no. I used to have a djungarian hamster. Rabbit too! But I had a hamster that I named ‘Bubo’... I don’t know why he ran away... And I hate clubs. Totally not my style!”

“I hate club parties too.” Satsuki shook her head and Riko backed her up.

“Oh, girls. There are a lot of things you have to learn...” Yosen manager started, and Alex just nodded.

“So the next meeting at the club, hehe?” The blonde girl clapped her hands, and you and two of your friends just groaned.

previous day ; kokomi teruhashi, mikoto aiura and kusuo saiki ♡ next day ; nene yashiro from toilet-bound hanako-kun

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hold-him-down · 2 years

Text

The Fighter - Chapter 6

TW: legalized slavery setting, mild references to: dehumanization/past abuse

Notes: chronologically follows chapter 5, where leo feels sick after being drugged, wakes luke up in the middle of the night, has a panic attack, falls asleep crying, and luke starts to piece together some truths about his role in all this.

Table of Contents

“You’re losing on purpose,” Luke says, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the board. He’s the first to admit that he’s garbage at almost all board games. Leo, on the other hand… over the last hour, Luke sees what he can only assume is a very, very dormant desire to win in every terrible word that he plays. It’s kind of endearing, the way his brow furrows as he lays his letters.

The muscle in Leo’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. Luke is sure that his tone clearly indicates lightheartedness, but Leo is anxious, so Luke teases with caution.

“I’m sorry,” Leo says, his fingers tangling in his lap. “I’m not very good at scrabble.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Luke leans back, stretching out some of the tension he’s been holding through the day. “What else are you not very good at, Leo?”

It’s a shot in the dark, an attempt to keep things as light as they can be, with the added benefit of maybe breaking through some of the walls. But he recognizes the misstep immediately, as Leo’s fidgeting shifts to something a little more stressed. He sucks in a breath of crisp late summer air, closing his eyes against the wind on the balcony.

“Or I can… I’ll tell you something about me?”

Leo’s eyes are slow to open, exhaustion and anxiety written in his expression, but he nods. “Okay,” he says softly.

Luke talks with no expectation of reciprocation, and falls into a cadence of sharing details of his life: things about medical school, about his family, his friends. He pauses to give Leo a chance to speak if he chooses to. Leo doesn’t, but he listens actively, his face taking on a kind of genuinely curious expression that Luke can’t quite decide if he’s been taught to do. Luke goes through his favorites, books, movies, foods, sharing any basic facts he can think to of about himself, but he keeps things surface level. It’s merely an opportunity to test the water, to allow Leo to get comfortable in hearing his voice, if nothing else.

He watches curiously as Leo’s demeanor shifts with the attention off of him, and he digs, just a little bit, under the surface. He tells Leo about his complicated relationship with the piano, how he was forced into lessons at a young age and played diligently all through college. “I haven’t had as much time, since becoming a senator, to play,” he says softly, curling his fingers around his now lukewarm coffee.

Leo’s brow knots together at this. Timidly, he says, “I used to… I used to play, too.”

Luke is slow to make eye contact, swallowing his drink, treading more carefully. “Not anymore?” He pushes, just a little bit.

“Not since I entered the system.” His voice doesn’t carry the heavy sadness that Luke kind of expects, and instead, Leo speaks matter-of-factly. “But I enjoyed it a lot, before. I think my hands are probably too shaky to be any good at it now.”

Leo returns his focus to the all-but-abandoned game, and Luke can kind of see as he thinks through his move, before he plays another four-point word that makes Luke roll his eyes, securing Leo’s loss. Luke is more certain than anything else that it is intentional.

“We’ll have to do a rematch sometime,” Luke says, leaning back in his little plastic patio chair. “Where you show me what you can do.”

Leo smiles, and Luke notices the way the muscles in his back stand out as he reaches over the board, swiping the letters off. He blinks hard at the unwelcome thought.

“I don’t want to ruin a calm evening,” Luke says, “But I hoped we could continue what we started talking about last night? Are you okay out here? It should be a nice sunset tonight, I’m not sure if you’re up to… talking a little bit?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to spend any time outside,” Leo says, closing his eyes against the breeze. “It feels nice.”

There’s a sort of forced calmness in his tone.

“You’re welcome out here any time you want. Honestly, you’re not confined to the house at all. If you want to take a walk, or go to the store, or whatever, please feel free. We’ll pick up a phone for you this weekend, I can get you a card linked to my account. I… I really don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here.”

Leo smiles, the empty, agreeable smile that Luke is starting to pick up on.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Luke takes a breath, reminding himself that Leo is, in fact, a prisoner here, and that nothing he says to the contrary changes that. “I’m just going to talk for a minute, okay? I’m… I’ve given a lot of thought to how to go about this, and I’m just going to… I’m just going to go for it, okay?”

Leo nods, but his mouth twitches into a sort of shy, but genuine, smile. One that Luke hasn’t seen yet. He’s momentarily taken aback, but he turns his attention back to the trees so he doesn’t lose his momentum. “I think you know by now, I don’t… I haven’t really nailed down a plan here,” Luke says, keeping his eyes on the lake. “I don’t know how much you know, or how much you want to know, about how I came to land your contract, but it wasn’t something that I fully thought out.”

Leo nods. “I understand.”

“I also don’t know how much you understand about your own physical state. I expect that you realize you’re not in… great health, right now, but I know the doctors specifically limit the information you have access to, for whatever reason.” To control you. To diminish your autonomy. To hurt you.

Luke forces himself to turn to Leo, who nods again. “I’ve given some thought– I have a few ideas, for once you’re feeling mostly better. My dad and my brother share a practice, and they’re always looking for help filing things and with data entry and... It can be menial work, but if you want something to occupy your time, I’m sure they’d be happy to have you. Otherwise, I don’t really have a… a job for you here. You can just enjoy the days, watch tv, read, whatever. If you feel like you need work, you can go to the office?

“Rob’s happy to have you, I haven’t really spoken to my parents about it yet. Regardless, I don’t think it’s even on the table as an option for a couple of weeks. I need you to focus on resting, on eating, and on getting healthier first, okay? I can get you access to any of your medical information that you’d like access to, or all of it if you want.”

“Okay.”

Luke swallows, holding Leo’s eye contact. He can do this. “And, last thing… I think… I… We had talked last night about establishing some… some… rules.” Luke speaks softly, hating the feel of the word on his tongue. But he’d prepared himself for this, all day. It was going to make it easier on Leo, and so he would do it. “I… I’m not really comfortable with this,” he starts, his own hands fidgeting in his lap. “I understand why… I just, this part is harder for me. But before we get into it, I– I need to make sure you understand that there’s no punishment attached to any of these, okay? I… you can use them as a framework, for what would… make me comfortable, I guess. But if you break any of these rules, there is no consequence. In fact, I think I’d be more comfortable with you breaking them than strictly following them.” He holds Leo’s gaze, searching his eyes for any sign that it’s too much, but there’s only an openness there, an eagerness to comply.

“I figured, we could start with…” Luke closes his eyes, inhaling the crisp night air.

“Not to call you ‘Sir’?” Leo regards Luke carefully. His eyes are focused in a way that Luke hasn’t seen from him yet, his posture is… different. He’s sharp, but his tone seems light.

Luke blinks. “Yes, okay. I guess I did say that, I didn’t really mean it as a rule…”

“And to eat at least three times a day, use the bathroom, tell you if I am not hungry or if I don’t eat or if there’s anything out of the ordinary surrounding food.”

“Right, yes.”

“And then, to tell you if I’m not… If I’m not comfortable, or if you overstep any, uh, boundaries, to tell you.”

Luke nods.

“I think that’s… that’s it so far.”

“Great. Okay. Sure.” Luke takes a breath, trying to ground himself. Is he asking too much of Leo? Is it his right to ask anything at all? “I need you to try to be honest with me, about how you’re feeling. You’re allowed to say ‘no,’ to me, and you’re allowed to tell me if you’re feeling nervous or sick or… anything. I… I don’t know if this is a rule, I don’t know if there should be any rules… but I need this from you, okay? I want you to try to tell me no, like once a week, on something, alright?”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Leo says, keeping his voice low.

Luke nods. “Just… try to do it on something easy. I just... I need to know that you know that you can tell me no, okay? I don’t know how to get from here to… a place where we’re comfortable with each other. I know it’ll take time, and I know you’re… I know I’m actively pushing against something that I barely understand, but I want you to try. Just once in a while, try to tell me to fuck off, okay? I promise, you won’t be in trouble for it, ever.”

Leo nods, but he’s tense. “I can try,” he says, running his hands over his arms.

“Alright. Let’s just start there.” Luke isn’t unaware of the fact that these rules are all just vague recommendations, but if they serve to give Leo a framework, maybe it’ll make life a little easier.

“Did you think at all about what we talked about? About what I can do that might make this easier on you?”

Leo is clearly uncomfortable, but nods.

“I… I think tonight was g-good,” he starts. “I think once I get to know you a little bit, I really will do better… I’m not… I’m not bad at this, usually.” Luke holds his tongue. “I think… I think if you…” He pauses, running his hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I’m really… I’m capable of speaking, I just.” He shakes his head, icy blue eyes filled with apology meet Luke’s. “I think if you read whatever they sent about me, that might… that would maybe make it easier. Usually, all my previous buyers have known like… my medical history, the expectations, how I did in… in training, and my weaknesses, and how I’ve been taught to… to respond… I think it would help. For you to have that b-baseline.” His words come softly and quickly toward the end, and then he adds, almost inaudibly, “If you didn’t already.”

Luke doesn’t have a good answer. He specifically avoided doing this, because he knows how badly it will fuck him up. But he nods, forcing the easiest smile he can muster, with an, “Of course. I’ll read what they sent tonight. They uhh– they sent some videos, I don’t… I don’t know if I can watch those, Leo. But I can read the file. Anything else?”

Leo looks like he wants to speak, but he shakes his head, tense. “Not right now,” he says softly. There’s a silence that fills the air, as the sun sets over the lake. Leo watches it with heavy eyes, and Luke watches Leo, drinking his coffee slowly.

“Ready to head inside?” Luke eventually asks. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. I know I am.”

Inside, they settle onto the sofa, and Luke turns on the TV, scanning for the first innocuous thing he can find to watch. It’s an old animated movie, but Leo’s eyes are fixed to the screen as he curls himself up tightly.

“Is it okay if I lay down?”

“Of course.” You don’t have to ask that, is what Luke wants to say. He holds it in; it doesn’t feel right. Leo’s eyes are fixed to the screen as he curls himself up tightly, careful as his head dips into the pillow.

Luke tries not to stare at him openly, at how tired he looks. At how sad he looks. He’s eaten dinner, and he’s spoken, and he’s changed his clothes, and they made it through another day.

“I might fall asleep.” Leo’s voice is a whisper, still seeking permission. Luke sips his cold coffee, turns off the light behind him.

“Okay. That’s alright, Leo,” he says. He pulls the blanket from a basket behind the sofa and drapes it over Leo’s too-thin, shaky frame, then takes his place back at Leo’s feet. Leo makes a small sound as his eyes close, his fingers tangle almost violently into the blanket, his grip tight. His breathing evens out, but it’s almost a full hour before the tension leaves his shoulders, and his grip on the blanket finally loosens, and he slips into a light sleep.

✥ ✥ ✥

It’s past midnight; Leo’s still on the couch, clinging to the thin blanket that Luke draped over him. When he was sure that Leo was asleep, Luke stood as carefully as he could and tip-toed to the office, where he folded himself on the floor, curled over his laptop, and began scrolling forums and reading advice columns and just… delaying what he was supposed to be doing.

He starts by reading through the contract, which is the first file in the encrypted folder. It’s all familiar enough to him, so he moves to the next.

He takes a breath as he selects it, unsure of what exactly he’s opening himself up to. It starts innocently enough. A physical profile, a few images. Leo doesn’t smile, but he looks healthier. He moves through them quickly, intent on not overanalyzing them, trying not to really see them at all.

The next file he opens is full of notes on Leo’s training, on what to expect out of him. Luke forces himself to read the list of the most effective reinforcers for him. Below it– he sucks in a sharp breath– what they found to be the most effective disciplinary procedures. Luke’s heart pounds behind his temples as he reads narratives that someone took the time to type into this document, describing how to punish him efficiently, what he’s used to, what he can handle, what he can’t. Knives stab at Luke’s gut over and over and over and over and he closes his eyes, breathing through it.

Once he’s sure he’s not going to vomit, he continues. There are notes on everything. The things Leo likes. Ways to… he closes his eyes again and shakes his head. Another sharp breath, and he forces his eyes back on the screen. His dislikes. His fears. How he responds to various types of touch. Notes on his diet, his medical history. Vaccine records, STI paneling, a list of training he’s received and how he did in that training. He finds himself skimming more and moving quickly past everything, bile rising in his throat. His teeth hurt from the set of his jaw and he clicks through document after document after document, until he’s through the last one.

A sort of calm rage has settled over him, as he carefully closes his computer and sets it to the side. Are all buyers provided with this kind of information? It’s so absolutely, completely fucked, that he doesn’t know where to go from here. His hands are shaking as he leans his back against the wall. He can’t go out there until he has control of himself, until he’s calmer. And so he does the only thing he can think to do. He opens his laptop again and drafts a request for an emergency committee meeting.

He’s okay. Leo. Leo is okay, and Luke will make sure that he stays that way. He can afford to buy Leo’s contract as long as he needs to, and if there comes a time where he can’t, he’ll make alternative arrangements. He doesn’t know exactly how, but there will never be another buyer reading about how to hurt Leo Evans.

TAG LIST: @peachy-panic, @whump-cravings, @afabulousmrtake, @crystalquartzwhump, @maracujatangerine, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @distinctlywhumpthing, @thecyrulik, @highwaywhump, @batfacedliar-yetagain, @batfacedliar, @finder-of-rings, @dont-touch-my-soup, @skyhawkwolf, @suspicious-whumping-egg, @also-finder-of-rings

#institutionalized slavery #references to past abuse #next up: probably a non-chronological comfort ask

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Roommates – Part Seven

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 4,241

Warning: Smut

Note: This plays in 2020.

In the dark, you began to search for your phone to shine some light and, as you were reaching for the bedside table, your hands brushed Cillian a couple of time until you found it.

‘You were saying?’ you chuckled as you turned the little light on your phone on, flashing it towards Cillian.

‘It’s difficult Y/N’ Cillian then said, covering his eyes and you simply nodded.

‘That’s just life sometimes Cilly. I am sure you will find your way with whoever she is’ you then said, caressing his cheek gently before standing up.

‘Remember the last time we were in a blackout together?’ Cillian then asked, causing you to nod.

‘Oh my god yes. It was at your holiday house in Kerry and Danielle was freaking out, thinking that we will never get back to civilisation’ you laughed, remembering that night very well.

‘She was high so I can see how this happened’ Cillian laughed, before turning on the light on his phone as well.

‘Well, I don’t have any Weed but there is a whole bottle of red wine in the kitchen and a cabinet full of board games’ you suggested before gathering some candles while Cillian lid the fireplace in the living room for some extra light.

After you threw a few blankets and pillows down in front of the fireplace and Cillian eventually found his reading glasses, you started with some Scrabble but, usurpingly, after you finished half of the bottle of red wine, this soon became too difficult when you made one spelling mistake after another.

‘You are hopeless’ Cillian eventually observed as he won again, using the most absurd words he could think off after you only scored some points with words like ‘Soup’ and ‘Breasts’.

‘Well, how about a game that I am good at, huh?’ you laughed as you pulled out the Twister mat.

‘You don’t think that we are a little too tipsy for Twister?’ Cillian laughed, remembering that, the last time you played this game drunk, he ended up with four stitches.

‘Nope! I will catch you if you fall’ you chuckled as you started to warm up and opened up the ‘Twister-For-Two’ App on your iPhone which was giving you both directions with thirty second intervals.

‘Jesus, I am getting too fucking old for this’ Cillian said before getting into position, showing off his strong legs which immediately caused you to bite your lips. The fact that he wasn’t wearing anything but his black briefs and a grey t-shirt certainly was an incentive for you.

Left foot blue!

He was certainly getting an easy start, at least so he thought.

Right hand yellow!

But clearly, he was wrong when he watched you bend over right in front of him wearing your rather short Pyjamas featuring Bambi.

‘Interesting clothing choice’ Cillian chuckled as Bambi was staring right at him, covering your deliciously round ass.

‘Get your eyes off my ass Murphy’ you laughed but, deep down inside you didn’t mind him staring at you.

After just five minutes, both of your hands and feet were on the mat and so were Cillian’s.

By this point, Cillian and you had managed to thoroughly tangle yourselves together in a laughing mess and, at right foot yellow, Cillian accidentally bumped your breast. Slightly surprised, you took little notice.

Cillian on the other hand began to struggle as, once again, his manhood began to stir.

‘Seriously?’ he thought to himself as, just moments earlier, he couldn’t get himself into the mood with Lindsay and now that he wanted to prevent exactly this from happening, he couldn’t and was hard as a rock.

At right hand green, things had become too much for him as you had to slide your right hand along Cillian’s inner thigh on your way to green. As you slowly moved into position, you got a glimpse of what was happening in between Cillian’s legs but yet, you pretended that you didn’t notice his erection.

‘Fuck, that’s it, you won. My back is sore’ Cillian suddenly huffed out, standing up abruptly before walking to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but grin as Cillian shouted out to see whether you wanted another glass of wine.

‘Yes please’ you giggled rather pleased with yourself but still, you thought that it was simply the friction that aroused him.

‘Do you want another game?’ you asked when he returned with two full glasses and, unsurprisingly, Cillian shook his head which is when you began talking.

You talked about almost everything and anything for about thirty minutes while sitting on the blanket together in between the scented candles and the fireplace.

By this point Cillian’s erection had subsided and you were curious as to whether it was you who caused it in the first place or whether it was something else.

‘Despite the blackout and you breaking it off with Lindsay, I thought that tonight was really fun’ you eventually observed after you finished your glass of wine

‘Well, you are a lot of fun to be around which makes it pretty easy’ Cillian said, finishing off his wine as well.

He smirked and shrugged. His eyes dropped and he started to trace a design on the crumpled blanket with his finger as if he wanted to say something else.

‘Can you ask you a question?’ you then asked out of the blue after having built up some courage.

‘Of course’ Cillian responded as his eyes lifted to yours, and you almost lost your nerve.

‘You, uhm, seemed to have enjoyed the game of Twister a lot more than I had anticipated’ you said, biting your lip nervously while looking down at his crotch.

Cillian immediately blushed, the flush spreading down his neck and the top of his muscular chest. Mortified, he looked at you with wide eyes and his right hand rose to his forehead.

‘Oh, god, Y/N…I am so sorry, it’s just that…the wine…and….’ Cillian shuddered nervously, realising that you saw his arousal and, before he could finish his sentence, you quickly leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest, just above the collar of his t-shirt where some of his chest hair was sticking out. Your palm tingled against the soft spatter of hair there.

‘Cillian, don't! I didn't mean to embarrass you’ you suddenly blurted out as you felt bad that you had, but also stimulated at the thought that you might have aroused him and that, perhaps, it wasn’t just a coincidence.

You were suddenly very aware of the soft, warm skin beneath your hand, and the warm wetness in your panties.

‘I promise you'll never say anything about it again, I just...I have to know...was it friction from the game, or was it, you know...me?’ you then asked, retreating you hand momentarily from his chest and squinting your eyes nervously.

Cillian sighed heavily and grabbed your hand, placing it back against his chest after you leaned away a little. His heart was racing, and you thought yours might pound straight out of your ribcage.

‘It wasn't the friction Y/N’ he then admitted and your breath caught in your throat.

‘I don’t know what it was or what it is, but I know it’s you. I am attracted to you’ Cillian then explained, causing you to grin excitedly.

‘So, when you just got aroused, what did you think about’ you asked as you played with his chest hair.

‘Y/N, we’ve been friends for so many fucking years and I don’t want to ruin this’ Cillian said almost embarrassed and you cut him off again.

‘Yes, and friends tell each other the truth. So, tell me, what was on your mind just then on the Twister mat?’ you asked, causing Cillian to sigh heavily again.

‘I was wondering what you would taste like’ Cillian said almost heavy hearted, admitting his desire for you before apologising for it.

Your heart felt like it stopped. Your entire body tingled, and warmth spread through your belly, snaking straight between your legs. This could absolutely be a dream.

‘Why don't you kiss me and find out?’ you said with husky voice as you moved your face closer to his.

With no hesitation, Cillian’s free hand moved around the back of your neck as his full lips met yours.

Your eyes closed and you opened your mouth, allowing his soft tongue to explore. He pulled you in and kissed you harder while you wrapped your arms around him to run your hands along his back and shoulders.

This continued for quite some times with neither of you being able to let go of the other as you smiled, kissed and moaned into each other’s mouths. Eventually, Cillian wound his hand in your long hair and broke the kiss to move his mouth to your ear.

As it was, you moaned, you shivered, and you dug your nails into his back. Your enthusiastic response drove him to be even more aggressive. He pushed you onto your back and rolled on top of you, the growing bulge in his briefs pressing directly into the spreading wetness between your legs. You gasped at the gratifying sensation.

Cillian pushed himself onto his palms, concerned.

‘This will change everything between us. Do you want this?’ Cillian asked.

‘I wanted this for over a fucking month Cillian. If you don’t fuck me now, I will never forgive you’ you huffed out almost breathlessly and slightly tipsy, causing Cillian to chuckle.

Of course, he wanted it as badly and as much as you did, but he was still somewhat worried about your long-lasting friendship and thought that, ideally, you should both be talking about this first. You needed to clarify what this was and what you were going to become after you slept with each other.

But the wine and his raging erection eventually got the better of him and you immediately wrapped your arms around him to keep him on top of you.

You ground your hips into his and forced his lips to yours, bringing his full weight back to your waiting body. His hot mouth made it back to your neck and ears, and you moaned again, biting your lip in an attempt to stifle the noises he was eliciting from you. He propped himself up on one forearm and began to explore your eager body with his other hand.

He was teasing you, tauntingly caressing you through the thin pyjamas shirt you wore. You writhed beneath his palm, wanting more. His hair wasn't long, but long enough that you could wind your fingers into it and guide his ear into your mouth.

You toyed with it, tracing it with your tongue, sliding the lobe between your teeth, enjoying hearing his breath get heavier and feeling his cock getting harder as he kneaded your breast through the t-shirt. Then he stopped.

‘Y/N’ Cillian huffed out, causing you to enquire why he stopped.

‘I saw you, earlier in the bath when you were masturbating’ he admitted.

‘You looked away though didn’t you?’ you smirked, causing him to shake your head.

‘I am sorry’ he said and you immediately grinned.

‘Did you enjoy watching me?’ you then asked as you raised an eyebrow and panted, rubbing yourself against him.

‘What do you think?’ Cillian chuckled before asking you what you were listening to on your headphones.

‘An audio book you narrated’ you smirked and he looked dumbfounded, which in turn surprised you, considering what he'd said to start all of this.

‘What can I say Cillian, you’ve got a goodman sexy voice’ you admitted before you pushed him off of you and sat up on your knees, peeling off your shirt to reveal your pierced breasts.

He sat, slack jawed, legs outstretched before doing the same with his t-shirt.

‘So many freckles’ you observed before you went further and hooked your thumbs around the waistband of your Bambi panties.

‘Since you already watched me masturbate, there are no more secrets for me to reveal in so far as my body is concerned’ you smirked as you slowly inched them past your hips, leaving you completely naked.

Cillian’s jaw dropped nonetheless. His eyes were hungry and he reached for his own briefs and removed them as well.

‘Well, unfortunately for you, I had no secrets to start off with. You’ve seen it all already’ Cillian said as he gave you a familiar, lop-sided grin that exposed his teeth. So gorgeous.

‘And I love seeing it all again’ you huffed out as your mouth watered at the sight of his erection. But, instead of letting him climb back on top of you, you firmly pressed your naked body against his chest and then straddled his taut body and kissed him soundly.

His hands roamed your body freely, exploring your legs, your back, your breasts, your ass. He caressed and kneaded, he stroked and fondled, all the while kissing your mouth and neck and ears.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned as you ground your clit into his erection, whimpering in pleasure and whispering his name over and over again, something which sounded rather familiar to him.

After placing soft kisses across your neck, he cupped your breasts and rubbed circles on your rigid pierced nipples with his large thumbs, making you tremble. With his gaze boring into yours, he lifted each breast to his lips and gently nuzzled your nipples before gently tugging on each of your piercings.

‘Don't stop...please don't stop’ you moaned as you rode him harder, begging breathlessly and he wasn’t event inside of your yet. The only friction you got was on your clit against his very hard cock.

Cillian complied with your request and fixed his soft lips around a pink areola, sucking hard as he manipulated the firm nub and your piercing with his tongue. It pushed you over the edge and you came with a low moan, your fingers digging roughly into his scalp.

Keeping one hand around his neck, you slumped back onto his muscular thighs and tried to catch your breath.

‘Did you just cum?’ he asked rather surprised and you nodded, unable to say more.

‘Fuck, that is incredibly hot’ he said as his mouth hung open while he looked at you expectantly, and you knew him well enough that he was wondering if your orgasm meant you were done playing.

‘The tension building up over the past month was just too much, but please don’t dare think that I am done with you yet’ you smirked and Cillian mirrored your wicked smile and kissed you deeply until you placed both hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back.

He resisted at first, eager to keep touching you. Finally he relented and propped himself up with one hand behind his head, watching you as you kissed and licked and sucked your way across his muscular chest and stomach again and again.

Any time you came to his nipples, his eyes pinched tight and his hips involuntarily jerked toward you. You pressed your slight body down onto his rigid cock, making him emit a deep, guttural moan. It was all you could do not to impale your wet pussy on the willing flesh, but you were enjoying the anticipation far too much.

You slid your body down on his, his freckled skin a striking contrast against your much darker tan. While you made your decent, you briefly thought again about just climbing onto him and lowering your wet, ready pussy onto his very hard cock, but you decided that as late as it was, it was still early enough in the night to do everything you wanted. And you wanted to make him come in your mouth just as you had fantasised for weeks.

When you finally reached your destination, Cillian’s cock, was standing at attention in your hands. It was so long and thick that it made your small hands look positively tiny in comparison. You ran them up and down the length of his shaft, taking the time to trace every line and curve carefully.

‘Fuck, Y/N, this feels so fucking good’ Cillian groaned as he watched you with hooded eyes and you started stroking him more rhythmically. His head rolled back, his hips jutted forward, and you couldn't contain yourself any longer.

You inhaled all that you could at once, which admittedly wasn't much considering all that remained. You pulled your head back, sucking hard, and went down for another try, and another, and another, gorging on a little more of his shaft each time.

‘Jesus Christ’ Cillian groaned again loudly as you finally managed to take all of his length and he bottomed out against the back of your throat.

You grinned as you accomplished what you had hoped and began bobbing your head up and down his shaft.

Occasionally, you snuck glances at his face when you could; sometimes he was staring at you fixedly, his mouth pinched to a narrow line, other times his eyes were screwed tight.

‘Y/N, I am close, fuck, you need to stop’ you eventually heard him weakly say as you continued to pleasure him with your lips and tongue.

But, instead of stopping, you looked him straight in the eyes and took his cock deeper down your mouth.

‘Y/N, fuck’ he groaned, trying to delay his release until he realised that this was what you wanted as you continued to suck him eagerly.

Eventually, with another loud groan, his entire body tensed and you could feel his sweet cum spurt into the back of your throat. Rope after rope, you drank every drop and, when he finally came down from his high, you gently licked him clean and he sat up and pulled you into his lap, kissing you deeply.

‘You just kissed me after you came in my mouth’ you observed when your lips drifted apart which is something James, the only man you had ever been with before tonight, would never have done.

‘Does that bother you?’ Cillian asked concerned and you shook your head.

‘No, I think its fucking sexy’ you blurted out before kissing him again and, just as you did, you felt his erection reviving underneath your ass almost immediately.

While sucking on your tongue, his large hands grabbed around your waist and rolled you over on the blanket beside him.

He crawled over you and stuck his tongue in your ear, making you claw at his back until he whispered ‘When I said that I wanted to know what you taste like, I meant that I wanted to eat your pussy.’

This was probably the dirtiest thing you ever heard him say to you and you liked it a lot and wiggled out from underneath him just enough to spread your legs provocatively.

His breath on your legs, coupled with his revelation that he had been fantasising about licking you, made you quiver. He slowly kissed the inside of your thighs, occasionally brushing your soaking mound with his nose or his lips. You relished every second and it wasn’t long until he locked your gaze and pressed his tongue flat against your vulva.

‘Oh god yes, Cillian, fuck’ you moaned out as he was licking and sucking you.

He covered your labia and clitoris in wet kisses before sticking his tongue deep inside you, causing you to scream out louder than ever before.

As he continued to pleasure you, one of your hands was buried in his hair, tearing at it as he made your body go crazy whilst the other clenched against the blanket beneath you.

You remembered what Laura had said and there certainly was some truth to it. He was good, very good and it wasn't long before you'd built into another orgasm, but you didn't feel the need to warn him beforehand.

‘Oh, my fucking god’ you shouted out eventually as his wicked tongue sent you over the edge and your legs began to shake crazily while he pinned you down.

No man had ever made you cum with his tongue alone and the sensitivity on your clit following your orgasm was overwhelming and made you squirm.

Still, he continued to ply his tongue into your sensitive folds until you used both hands to pry his head back by his hair. He grinned from ear to ear, and you knew you were paying for teasing him earlier.

Languidly, he pulled his body over yours, pausing to kiss you here and there while you regained a little composure. His breath was heavy when he found himself at your ear again.

‘I want to be inside you’ he whispered and you nodded fervently.

He raised himself to his knees, his erection again at full mast. You felt a momentary twinge of nervousness. He was bigger than James and this worried you just a little.

‘Do you want me to go and get a condom?’ Cillian asked and you knew that he kept some upstairs in his bedside table which, ironically, Lindsay had bought for him.

‘No, I am on the pill. I want to feel you, all of you’ you said, biting your lips with anticipation.

This was all Cillian needed to hear and, within seconds, he lined himself up you’re your soaking wet entrance.

He knew that you had never been with another man other than James and was gentle and slow as he entered you, increasing the pace of his thrusts only after you'd had a chance to get used to his length and girth and began raising your hips up to meet his.

‘Oh god, you feel so fucking tight Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he thrusted in and out of you.

‘Cillian, fuck me harder, oh god’ you screamed out almost at the same time. He felt so amazing inside of you that you could barely breathe! You probably looked like the proverbial fish on dry land, gasping for air as you drown under wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure.

You were almost grateful when he folded over you and groaned into your neck, the sound of your name from his lips bringing you to one last climax as he enjoyed his.

‘Fuck yes Cillian’ you groaned as you could feel him pulsate inside of you, filling you with his seed as you climaxed in sync.

By this point you had lost count of how many orgasms he'd given you, but you were fairly sure that you could make him come every hour on the hour for the next three or four days and still be in his debt.

You never had sex that good and you struggled to contain yourself after you both were breathless. Cillian held his body close to his as his breath normalized, and you shuddered as he pulled his softening cock from inside you, lamenting its absence and causing some of his cum to leak onto the blanket beneath you.

‘What do you think? Should we get to bed?’ he eventually huffed out and you nodded, but weren’t so sure whether you would be sleeping in the same or separate bedroom.

‘I might need some help getting up’ you giggled, knowing that you wouldn’t be walking straight for days.

Cillian was quick to flash up his phone and scoop you up from the floor in response to your comment and carry you to your bed.

‘Uhm, do you want me to stay with you?’ Cillian asked somewhat nervously and you bit your lip and nodded at him.

Within seconds, he slid into bed with you, turned off the flashlight on his phone before pulling the top sheet over your nude forms before sliding an arm around you to curl you into his warm body.

‘This was incredible, even better than I had ever imagined’ he said and you nuzzled into the soft hair that sparsely covered his chest, still reeling that the most amazing wet dream you'd ever had had happened during your waking hours.

***

The following morning, you were woken by your phone which rang not once, not twice but three times in total until you finally answered it.

‘Hey, what’s up’ you huffed out with a dusty head while Cillian was stirring besides you.

‘I really need to talk Y/N, I am sorry. I know that Cillian is seeing someone by the name of Lindsay and I am really fucking upset about it’ Laura went on to say before telling you once again that she wasn’t over the break up and suspected that he was seeing her and Lindsay at the same time.

‘I can’t really talk about this right now’ you said, your head pounding as Cillian’s arm wrapped around you.

‘Can you call me back when you can please. I know you said that you wanted to stay out of this, but there is more to it’ Laura then said and you were immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

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@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @thenattitude

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

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ruckystarnes · 2 years

Text

Title: Why Didn't You Say Anything?

Author: RuckyStarnes

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: pining, minor sexy stuff

Rating: Teen

Words: 807

Written for: @buckybarnesweek2022 | @anyfandomgoesbingo

Event: Bucky Barnes Appreciation Week 2022 | Any Fandom Goes Bingo

Prompt: Day 5 - Seasons or Pining | Free Space

Summary: It drove everyone crazy to see them both pine for the other when neither wanted to say anything.

Type: Moodboard | Drabble

Since meeting Bucky as Clint's vow renewal, he had plagued her dreams. It started off innocent enough: playing games, sharing a dance under the stars, a horseback ride through the countryside. Things that were mundane and easy going until it started to take a turn: scrabble ended with kisses, dancing morphed into a make out session with pressed bodies, horseback riding became seeking shelter during a storm and needing warmth. She would wake up, her body hot and tingling, making her almost embarrassed, and she found it harder to be around Bucky, her face heating each time as her body yearned to find out what his felt like. Clint and Laura tried to convince her to talk to him, even Lila gave her pointers on how to engage with a crush, bless the teenager's heart. Even though Wanda could read his mind to see if he would reject her, she wouldn't, afraid that she was stepping over a line that wasn't there.

Bucky didn't know why Wanda would blush and her heartbeat quickening each time they were in a room together. They shared a dance at Clint's vow renewal, and since, he's been wanting to know more about the little witch from Sokovia. She started to replace the nightmares he often had. No longer were his nights filled with torture and memories of murder and mayhem, but now there was an abundance of light and life: Dancing, horses, and fun game nights. They morphed slowly, like a real life relationship: stolen glances were now met, touches lingered longer, and then there were the kisses. Many mornings Bucky woke up feeling the tingle left on his lips, making the dream feel much more real than it should have been. Steve reassured him that Wanda would not turn him down for a date, but Bucky wasn't so sure. Who would want a damaged man like him?

Months passed of everyone witnessing both of them pining after one another, Natasha and Clint had enough. They each sent a text, Natasha to Bucky, Clint to Wanda.

N: Need to talk. Can't over phone. Meet me at the cabin.

C: Natasha needs some help at the cabin. Meet us there.

When Wanda arrived, she thought she was early, not seeing Clint's truck or Natasha's car. She knew the door was open, like always (no one knew where the cabin was outside of Natasha's inner circle), so she walked in, her hands going to the pockets of her coat.

"They're not here."

The sudden voice of someone speaking had her jumping slightly, turning around to see Bucky sitting at the table, a piece of white paper between his fingers.

"When were you gonna tell me?" he asked, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

"T-tell you what?" Wanda replied, her eyes shifting anywhere that wasn't his face as she chewed her bottom lip. She could hear the chair slide against the rough floor as his heavy steps approached her. Her heart hammered against her chest as his scent wafted towards her: woodsy, spicy, and oddly clean. He gripped her chin gently and turned her head so she was looking at him.

"That you liked me? At least that what the note from Natasha and Clint states."

Her eyes shifted to the paper he held up.

"Said that we both need to stop longing for each other and do something about it."

She looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth falling slightly.

"I-I didn't think you would want–"

"If you said something, I would have told you I've been dreaming about you for the last seven months."

"Dreaming about me?" she asked, shocked. "That's crazy, I've been having dreams of you too."

He gave her a smile, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "Did they happen to be about horses?" His chuckle made it seem like a joke, but it died in his throat when he saw her face grow serious.

"Horses? And a storm?"

He nodded, his thumb running along her cheek. "I don't care how or why, Wanda," he started, his other hand moving to her hip to keep her from backing up, "I like you, you like me. Obviously, Nat and Barton wanted us here alone for a reason."

She wanted to back away, wanted to use her magic to put space between them, but her mind went blank the second his lips ghosted against hers. Her hands left her pockets and buried her fingers into his chestnut hair, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Every dream she had of him flashed in her head, and his moan made Wanda pull back slightly.

"I…I can't explain it–"

"Then don't," Bucky replied lowly, his fingers digging into her hip as the other slid to the back of her neck, pulling her into another steamy kiss.

#bbweek22 #buckybarnesweek2022 #any fandom goes bingo #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #winterwitch #bucky barnes x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x bucky barnes #bucky x wanda #wanda x bucky

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drowningbydegrees · 4 years

Text

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Read on AO3

He can’t remember the last time waking up was a remotely soothing experience. Geralt’s sleep muzzy mind has no other word for the body plastered against his front from shoulder to hip, the steady heartbeat against his palm where his hand is splayed out across someone’s chest. His nose is tucked against the nape of someone’s neck, and the scent is far too familiar to be jarring.

“Jaskier,” he rumbles quietly, his mouth miles ahead of the rest of him. The quiet, absent pleasure of waking up tangled with someone who smells sleepy and content and like they’re his leaves no room for reason. There’s no room for anything really, except to press a kiss to whatever patch of skin he can find, savoring the soft sigh it earns him.

Jaskier is… The night before rushes back to him, and Geralt almost jerks away, even though it would be entirely pointless to bother with that now. He cracks an eye open and is met with the disaster that Jaskier’s hair, mussed in the night by sleep, and by Geralt’s fingers buried in it before that. Even as worry begins to creep in, he sort of wants to do it again.

This isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed. This probably isn’t even the hundredth time they’ve shared a bed. This is most definitely the first time they’ve done so with so little clothing between them, none to be exact. There’s only the blanket tucked around them both, warm and lovely and unexpectedly distressing.

Geralt isn’t sorry, per se. Jaskier’s chest rises and falls under Geralt’s palm in the slow rhythm of sleep. It’s the loveliest thing Geralt can remember waking up to, and therein lies the problem. An emotion fed only grows, and this unruly, sprawling affection is the worst offender. Stupidly, Geralt had thought getting this out of his system would quell it, but the longing reaches a fever pitch instead.

Jaskier is beautiful, all the more so for the way he shifts in his sleep, closing the gap Geralt has tried to put between them. Geralt could happily wake like this every day for the rest of his life, but it isn’t a fair thing to ask of someone who flits from one love to the next like a butterfly between flowers. He will not trap Jaskier in this just because he happens to be besotted. Somehow, the resolve not to try to keep this does nothing to ease the guilt welling up that he wants to in the first place.

Nothing Jaskier said the night before conveyed meaning beyond a playful desire to tumble into bed together. Moving the target now would only be cruel. He should be rolling out of bed, hastening them back to normal. He should be proving that this has done nothing to harm their friendship. It isn’t Jaskier’s fault, after all, the way Geralt wants to breathe him in and kiss him senseless and forget the rest of the world until the innkeeper boots them out.

“Geralt?” Jaskier startles the witcher from his worries, wriggling impossibly closer and laying a palm over his knuckles. “You okay?”

“Thinking,” Geralt replies vaguely.

“Well, don’t hurt yourself,” Jaskier teases, still warm and lethargic with sleep. Geralt almost manages to take advantage of the levity of the moment and extricate himself, but before he can, Jaskier rolls over so they’re nearly nose to nose. His fingers cradle Geralt’s cheek and any attempt to escape now would just be graceless. “What about?”

Geralt doesn’t know how to answer, so he only hums noncommittally and hopes Jaskier will let it lie. Of course, Jaskier being Jaskier, does no such thing. He takes advantage of the change in positions to tangle his legs up with Geralt. “I can’t tell you to knock it off if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“We should get going.” Geralt tries once more to escape, frowning when Jaskier shows no sign of releasing him. It’s silly of course. Jaskier couldn’t hope to hold him here if Geralt was set on leaving. He just can’t actually make himself do it.

“Was it that bad a night?” It’s an easy opening, an invitation to stray back to their usual banter, but Geralt gets no further than a raised eyebrow before Jaskier is clasping a hand over the witcher’s mouth. “Wait. Don’t answer that or I might have to smother you with a pillow and that’ll just be unfortunate for both of us.”

Right there, with Jaskier smiling at him, Geralt can almost believe they’re going to survive this. Almost, but almost still leaves a distance he cannot cross. As soon as Jaskier pulls his hand back from Geralt’s mouth, the witcher opens it. “They’re not going to let us sleep in forever.”

“They might if I convince them to let me play again this evening. We could move on tomorrow,” Jaskier ventures, but something in Geralt’s face must give him pause. “Oh do not look at me like that. The world isn’t going to end just because you stop to take a breath once in a while, Geralt.”

“That’s not…” Geralt starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish. There are no words that convey the razor wire sensation of facing down the impermanence of Jaskier’s affections, of realizing how deeply his own feelings run far too late.

“Shh.” Geralt knew what to do with impulse, with Jaskier’s mouth crashing into his, with Jaskier’s hands scrabbling at him to shed his clothes. He doesn’t know what to do with the tender, intentional way Jaskier regards him this morning, lips pressing to the witcher’s brow and lingering afterwards. Does it mean something, or does Jaskier grant all his lovers this subdued, aimless devotion? Lust was so much simpler than this aching sort of affection that puts down roots even as Geralt tries to burn it away.

Geralt doesn’t precisely surrender, but he resigns himself to the lazy attention Jaskier is so determined to lavish on him. If he lets Jaskier turn him away later instead of now, there will be at least this one pleasant thing to remember. So he doesn’t complain at Jaskier’s fingers combing through his hair, or the bard’s body pressed warmly to his. If every touch feels like a harbinger of their demise, it’s still hard to let go of.

He almost passes things off as okay, he thinks, until Jaskier kisses him. It’s a brief thing, immediately withdrawn. “Geralt?”

If realizing the hopeless situation he’s stumbled into was uncomfortable, the idea of talking about it is nothing short of torture.

“Well, you haven’t shoved me out of bed yet, so you’re not mad. Talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, his expression so openly concerned and affectionate, Geralt could scream.

“It’s no-” Geralt starts, but Jaskier shut him up with a theatrically sour look.

“I swear if you say nothing,” Jaskier threatens aimlessly, an easy smile on his lips, but underneath, Geralt can hear the way his anxious heart threatens to vibrate right out of his chest.

“I don’t know what this is,” Geralt admits because that, at least, is safe. It’s nothing about how he feels in relation to anything. It’s nothing about the want that simmers under the surface despite his guilt.

Jaskier’s brows scrunch in a way that would be endearing if the entire ordeal didn’t feel so fraught already. “I don’t think I follow. I mean, I know having a conversation isn’t your usual wheelhouse, but it’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

“Not. That.” Geralt bites the words out, tight and clipped while he gathers his frayed nerves enough to explain. “You’re not in the habit of keeping people. I don’t know what you want.”

For just a second, Jaskier looks like he’s been struck and Geralt wants desperately to take the whole thing back. But the bard’s expression smooths out and then twists up in a wry smile. “Of course I don’t. What would I even do? Drag someone else along on our travels?”

There’s a point Jaskier is making. It’s right there. He knows it is, but it eludes Geralt anyway. “You could have stayed somewhere if there was someone you wanted to stick around for.”

Jaskier laughs, just a giggle at first, and then so hard that even his efforts to bury his face against Geralt’s shoulder do nothing to stifle it. “You are absolutely right. I could fall completely and utterly in love with someone and choose to stick around.”

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” Geralt says flatly, staring at the far wall of their room. The urge to curl around Jaskier and forget the whole stupid conversation in strong, and maybe he’d have been better off doing that in the first place, but he doesn’t surrender to it.

“Well, you’re one of the smartest people I know, so these moments where you decide to be an absolute idiot happen to be hilarious,” Jaskier teases. The bard must take pity, because his palm slides to cradle Geralt’s jaw, and Jaskier puts himself right at eye level where the witcher can’t look away. “Don’t you realize? I fell in love with someone, and I chose to stick around. It happened ages ago.”

Geralt has long since given up on trying to anticipate what Jaskier will say to any given prompt, but that is… somehow not even on the same continent as anything he might have expected. “What?”

“You really are determined to make this as difficult and stressful for me as possible, aren’t you?” Jaskier asks. There’s a tightness around his eyes when he looks at Geralt, leaving the witcher with the awful realization that Jaskier must be flying as blind as he is. He’s probably as unsure of Geralt’s intent as Geralt is of his. And yet… “I chose you, you ridiculous man. I always choose you.”

That… that explains a lot, actually. Geralt swallows thickly as Jaskier’s nose bumps against his. “Why didn’t you ever say?”

“Ah yes. ‘Hello my very dear emotionally… hampered witcher who will sometimes, on a very good day, admit that we are friends. Would it it complicate things overly much if I also happened to be completely, utterly in love with you?’” Jaskier huffs out a helpless, almost panicky sort of laugh. “Tell me Geralt, is there any time in the last few years where that would have gone well?”

Years? Now, confronted with the full force of it, Geralt isn’t sure how he even missed it last night, let alone for so long. Now that he knows it’s always been a bit painfully obvious. And much as he’d like to, he can’t really argue against Jaskier’s point that it probably wouldn’t have gone well to say so. “What changed?”

Jaskier sighs in that dramatic, overdone way he tends to when he’s being asked what he thinks is an exceedingly silly question. “You did.”

“Hmm.” Geralt doesn’t comment and Jaskier doesn’t press for further conversation. It’s peaceful, this thing blossoming between them, now that his most immediate concerns have been silenced.

That Jaskier laid his heart on the line and asked for nothing back isn’t lost on Geralt though. The words catch and stick on his throat, so Geralt writes them into the tender way he traces the curve of Jaskier’s spine with his fingertips. He presses them against Jaskier’s lips, jaw, throat with lazy, lingering kisses.

“So tell me-” Jaskier starts, the words interrupted by a soft sigh as Geralt’s thumb skims the divot of his hip. It’s an unmistakably promising sound all by itself, even ignoring that delightful way Jaskier presses into the touch. He finishes his thought, but it’s unmistakably breathless. “What are you thinking now?”

The recognition that this isn’t some fluke settles warmly around him. This could be always. There are so few things a witcher really keeps, but for now he’s willing to entertain the notion that this might be one of them.

“I’m thinking…” Geralt mumbles against the side of Jaskier’s neck, delighting in the way the bard’s fingers tangle in his hair and tug. “That maybe we’ll leave tomorrow.”

#geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #gerlion #the witcher #my fic #They're both dumb and I love them #They may not have been remotely related to what I meant to write this month #But hey I posted stuff three days in a row and it's not even Nano month yet

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talesofstyles · 4 years

Text

Stitches and Pucks

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

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

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

[17k]

Harry

I swear I’m gonna kill Zayn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that mean I get your number?”

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

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

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

Perfect fucking lips.

“I don’t shit where I eat,” she adds.

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

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

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

“The Athletic Trainer?”

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

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

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

She nods. “I’ve met her twice.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We all bark in laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come here. Come here. Come here.

Fuck, she goes with Sarah to the bar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From the seizure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, seriously... I like her laugh.

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

We’ll get there, I’m sure.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, I ignore his comment.

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

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

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

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

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

I shove him off with a chuckle. That bastard.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shake my head again. “Nope.”

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Doc,” I tell her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Got a hot date already?”

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

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

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

“How about tomorrow night then?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I close in on the goalie and juke left.

He goes left and I juke right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” I growl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Doc,” I smile at her.

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

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

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

“Do I have to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shake my head and say, “nope.”

“Clicking or popping?”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I ask incredulously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

She laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

And there she is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He can do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, huh?” She asks with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?” I ask, playing dumb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey, what are you doing today?

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

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

Want some company? I quickly type.

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

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

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

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

Give me half an hour.

Perfect.

—

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

Until today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“The chicken?” She murmurs.

“Among other things,” I reply softly.

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

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

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

“Good?” She asks with a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She laughs.

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

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

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

—

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

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

Wait? What?

Sleep.

Couch.

We fell asleep on her couch while watching a film.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can cook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What have you got planned?”

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

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

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

—

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

This is nice.

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

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

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

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

“Want another?” I ask her.

“No,” she groans. “I’m so full.”

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

She shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Fucking hopeless,” Matt mutters and Alex snickers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An autograph, then?” She asks.

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here.”

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

I tap my thigh, “right here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s nothing else but her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” is all I say.

“But-”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?”

“Just get in the car, Doc.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I look at her in confusion.

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

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

She snorts. “Shut up, I’m serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure. What time?”

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

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

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

YN,

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

No? Didn’t think so.

Have fun you two.

Callie

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re welcome by the way

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

I guess I owe those fuckers some beers.

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