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duskholland · 3 years

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Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around... word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni. a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3 —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

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Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #hockey!tomfic #tblr....please let me in the tags...? please?

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elriell · 3 years

Text

Some thoughts on Poppy x Cass x Kieran & The Joining.

After some awesome chats with the wonderful peeps ( @silverlinedeyes , @azriiel , @rhyssescups & @azrielisababe ) I think that there are several little tidbits that really hint at The Joining or potentially more, I know it is a pretty mixed bag of opinions but here are some of mine. [Spoilers: TCOGB]

Implication vs. Foreshadowing

“Casteel’s arm curled, tightening around my shoulder, drawing me closer. My breath snagged as his movement triggered Kieran. He shifted behind me, and my pulse felt like a trapped bird. A sleek, muscled thigh slid between mine, pressing in. I had no idea if it was Casteel’s or Kieran’s.”

“I didn’t know when I’d stopped thinking about the fact that it wasn’t just Casteel’s body that touched mine, it wasn’t his chest that my head fell back against.”

“But that wasn’t the only explanation for why I was so warm. Heat pressed against my back. A heavy arm lay over my waist and a leg was tucked between mine.”

The first time they... have fun, he does so with Kieran nearby.

She could have easily left the joining in the air, having implied it but not intending to follow through yet we get 23 mentions, alongside several moments of highly sexual/emotional connection between the three.

Instead throughout the book we are slowly introduced to the prospect of the three of them gently, coaxing them in to the storyline repeatedly through AKOFAF.

“Cass is too jealous...”

“A ghost of a smile appeared. “And then he’d be…intrigued.”

My mouth opened, but my mind took that and leapt with it. I had nothing to say. Absolutely nothing, but I thought about what I had read about the wolven and the Atlantians. There was a bond between some of them, and while not much was known about what that bond entailed, I was confident that a Prince was of the class that wolven would be bonded to. I wanted to ask, but considering I was in a tub and naked, now wasn’t the time.”

There is way to much we do not know about their bond, or their past to make that statement in my opinion, I think ordinarily I would agree, except with Kieran, he is the one person I could see Cass trusting with Poppy.

Not to mention textually speaking, he brings it up plenty and never seems offended by the idea.

“I’m not judging either.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“I’m not,” I insisted.

“So, you’re interested then?” he murmured.”

“Did you bookmark the chapters detailing how Willa spent afternoons entertaining not one but two suitors, one in front and the other—?”

“You seem to know a lot about that book.”

“I love that fucking book,” he said, and my jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. “So, you’re interested then, Princess. What a wild side you have.”

“Look, I know you’re not looking for this marriage to go beyond the necessary,” he said, and that strange, stupid ache in my chest pulsed. “So, it’s not even something you need to worry about. But the Joining is meant to strengthen the bond that’s already there, and ensure that the partner is also a part of that bond. It’s not done lightly, and again, it is not always a sexual thing. I know it’s been done where everyone kept their body parts to themselves.”

“I can always read to you,” Casteel offered. “I still have a certain diary with me. There is a chapter I’m sure you’ll be interested in. Miss Willa has the same sleeping arrangement—”

“No. Nope.” I screwed my eyes closed. “Not necessary.”

“Are you sure?” Casteel seemed to have wiggled closer. His entire leg pressed against mine.”

All of these instances are in reference to the Joining/Kieran. Never does he imply jealousy or something he would disagree with, if anything we are told how much stronger it would make the bond (though we have yet to see where it stands) and also include Poppy. You cannot convince me that she would bring this Joining up so many time only to have it never come to fruition.

Potential Breadcrumbs

“A hundred different thoughts and emotions exploded through me, so many, so fast, I couldn’t make sense of them.”

This is during the cuddle scene, this really screams foreshadowing for her emotions and the tug-of-war she is going to undergo!

“I…” I looked around, seeing nothing but thick fog and Kieran standing above us, staring behind me and breathing just as heavily as Casteel. Confusion swept through me.”

“Just as heavily as Casteel.” interesting choice of words.

So while we are on the topic let’s speak about Poppy & Kieran;

“Reaching for the blanket, I tugged it to my waist. A muscle flexed in Kieran’s jaw. “He didn’t force himself on you?”

“You’re okay?” Kieran asked, and I felt Casteel nod. “Penellaphe?”My tongue felt heavy, but I managed to work out a muffled, “Yes.”

He is not only focused on Casteel’s wellbeing but also Poppy’s. We also get significant growth between them and their comfort with each other...

“He lifted his brows. “Are you worried about me?” Crossing my arms, I nodded.

“Don’t be nice to me,” he replied, and I sensed amusement from him. “It weirds me out.”

“Sorry.” He smiled then as he walked to where I stood. “You don’t sound remotely sorry.” I grinned at him.

“Do me a favor,” Kieran said, looking down at me. “Protect your Prince, Poppy.”

They both understand each other because they both understand their love for Casteel and desire to protect him.

“Still caring for him would only lead to heartache,” I whispered, knowing the truth right then and there. I did care. I never stopped caring. And acknowledging that felt as if I’d slipped under the black water.

“It doesn’t have to,” Kieran said. “But even so, sometimes, the heartbreak that comes with loving someone is worth it, even if loving that person means eventually saying goodbye to them.”

The roughness in his tone spoke more than his words shared. “You sound like you have experience with that.”

This is so cryptic. Either way, it is a beautiful scene where they are opening up to each other and being genuine, not to mention the subtle hints at it being “worth it” despite the pain. Could Kieran have love/d Cas? We know from JLA that she said that most Wolven are Bi/Poly.

“I wasn’t sure how I could come to terms with it even when I had time. “I don’t...”

“You don’t want this.” Kieran finished for me, his wintry gaze meeting mine.

We can only speculate what this is referring to but I don’t think it is strange to think it could be the Joining, not to mention JLA said she wrote a scene that was unlike any of the smut she has ever done before and it occurs at the beginning of the book or near it... I am guessing something will urge them to need to do the joining, perhaps to reform the bond between Kieran and Cass that was severed.

This goes hand in hand with my theory that something will happen that separates them and has Poppy/Kieran having to go on a mission for Cass either with or without him. I think this could be how she finds a way to balance out the scales in the development in their relationships as PoppyCass has a full book more than with Kieran.

Not to mention this early review of the book mentions “sharing” & “watching” this heavily implies the Joining could happen.

Kieran & Cass

“If I had turned to Casteel in my sleep, Kieran had also turned, as if Casteel were a magnet that drew both of us.”

I strange turn of phrase. My thoughts are if a Poly Ship or alike were ever to happen there would need to be complete trust, a lack of jealousy and be functional much like HeronGrayStairs.

I truly believe the potential is there between PoppyCassKieran.

“Disbelief and anger radiated from him, but I felt something else, something deeper that was warm and stronger than the anger. “I know why you’re doing this,” Kieran whispered.”

“Casteel said nothing for a long moment and then said, “It’s not the only reason.” Words went unsaid between them, but were understood nonetheless.”

Their bond is undeniably strong and I truly believe there is more to it than meets the eye, unquestionably they love each other, the question remains how.

“When a bonded elemental takes on a partner, the bond can be extended to that person. It requires an exchange of blood between the three—or the four if the partner is also bonded. And the exchange of blood…well, it is quite…” He cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed. “It can become very intimate. In a way that would most likely make you very uncomfortable.”

I just can’t see why she would make such a show of the Joining for no payoff in the next book.

“First off,” he said, struggling for breath, “I don’t think anyone is going to expect that.” From you seemed to hang unsaid between us.”

Not to mention the fact there is little secrets between them, when no one else was told about Poppy’s gift Kieran was. When no one (Malek aside) knew about Shea but Kieran, and now Poppy.

It is a recurring theme that the three of are very open with each others secrets.

And I can only imagine it growing in the next book.

This ^^^^ just make me believe more and more we are getting some major Kieran development and book time, going along with my theory him and Poppy will be going to be spending time together for some reason.

So in summary, I think there is little doubt in my mind that the Joining will happen and potentially even a ship born.

#fbaa #akofaf #tcogb #poppy balfour #casteel da'neer #kieran contou #cass x poppy x kieran #poppycasskieran #poppycaskieran #poppy x cass x kieran #from blood and ashes #a kingdom of flesh and fire #the crown of gilded bones #tcogb spoilers

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

Comparing the original Best Partner character song series and the new one, and what that says about the 02 cast

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So if you haven’t heard yet, a new series of 02 (it’s actually Kizuna) character songs dropped! Allegedly intended as a slightly delayed 20th anniversary project, the series is a callback to the original “Best Partner” character song album series that released during 02′s actual airing.

If you know anything about the original Best Partner series, it’s one that sets an insanely high bar, even for Digimon standards (and that’s saying something, given the deep associations this franchise has with music). The series of character songs before it, Adventure’s “Character Song + Mini Drama” series, has a…kind of questionable amount of relevance to each character; it’s not like they’re super amazingly out of character, but they don’t really tell you a lot about each character beyond some gloss details (this is probably best demonstrated in how Mimi’s song is blatantly just an AiM single disguised as a Mimi song). Best Partner, on the other hand, very intimately goes into each character’s head and their relationships with their respective partners, even putting in direct words what wasn’t stated explicitly in the series.

So does the new series live up to the high bar its predecessor sets? Answer: on top of some abnormal attention to detail on the covers, it is very obvious that the new series not only has a lot of the depth of the 02 characters in mind, but also is made in direct response to the original series itself. Moreover, putting the original Best Partner series and this one side by side reveals a lot about each of the 02 characters and what they got out of 02′s story, in a surprisingly neat summary.

Let’s go into how!

Since this is something that has a deep relationship with all of these characters in regards to the series, this particular meta would not have been possible without input from multiple people who know these characters better than I could ever hope to by myself. Thank you for all of your help.

A bit of historical context

The original Best Partner series consisted of a set of albums, one representing each pair of partners in 02. Notably, even though nowadays there’s a specific order of the Adventure/02 characters that’s used in modern media, not only does the original series not follow that ordering (as it hadn’t been set in stone at the time), it also leads with the original Adventure characters and not the 02 ones, which is pretty unusual for a series that’s ostensibly supposed to be for 02 (modern lineups will usually favor leading with whichever group the relevant product is branded with).

A lot of this probably makes more sense when you realize that the original Best Partner series was released during the first half of 02’s airing. The final album was released on August 23, 2000, four days before the fateful 02 episode 21 (yes, that means the third track on Ken and Wormmon’s album is actually a spoiler). So in other words, while the original Best Partner series accurately reflects the older Adventure group’s character development and what problems they were able to sufficiently overcome, the 02 group does not have anything about their character development from 02′s second half reflected in it at all.

That’s actually a really huge disparity, when you think about it, especially because a lot happened with the 02 group in that second half – that second half was where the emotional payoff and the results of everything that had been building up over that first half came together. So in comparison to the Adventure group, composed of people confidently talking about what they’ve decided for themselves from now on, you still have the 02 group drenched pretty deeply in insecurity. Watch 02 to the end and listen to those songs again, and you might even think “wait, this is supposed to represent these characters?” So, in essence, the new Best Partner series serves to address that gap, and what the 02 group gained and learned out of 02′s second half.

Best Partner (and its successor series for Tamers, Best Tamers) follows a uniform format: a solo song for the human partner, a solo song for the Digimon partner, and a duet between the two. (Given that, the original Best Partner series was really huge, at a whole 36 songs.) Recalling that, in the Adventure universe, a Digimon partner reflects the human’s inner self and psyche, it’s pretty extensive coverage: what the human has to say about themself, what place their Digimon partner is in relative to that, and what the nature of their relationship is due to that.

Let’s go into each pair of partners in detail!

Daisuke and V-mon

For those who love 02 and love Daisuke in particular, when you ask “what kind of character is Daisuke like?” or “what’s Daisuke’s best quality?”, you’re probably going to get answers like “forward-thinking” or “positive” or “good at uplifting others” – basically everything to do with how Daisuke is an encouraging presence who doesn’t give in easily and has a strong mentality of moving forward in the face of despair. Someone who appreciates and understands others’ best qualities, and loves them for everything they are. So when you look at his original Best Partner solo song, Goggle Boy…

But more than just saving the world I really don’t want to lose, you know

…Uh…

These goggles are my proof Given by a certain someone to me The precious thing he handed over It’s just like his Crest, you know Aren’t they cool?

…Well, that’s nowhere to be found.

This is the kind of song that might make you think “wait, this is supposed to be Daisuke’s representative song?!” (It’s possibly because of this that Daisuke’s song from The Bridge to Dreams, Tomorrow, generally tended to be far more favored among Daisuke fans, although it’s more relevant to 02 as a whole than it is to Daisuke in particular.) if you listen to Goggle Boy knowing about what Daisuke’s best qualities should be, this is almost a little frustrating, because this is the kind of thing he really shouldn’t be pigeonholed as – basically, begging for others’ approval and praise and focusing on idolizing others. Even his most insightful moments in this song come from his appreciation of something that came from someone else (Taichi), not from himself.

Well, the thing is, that was Daisuke’s character for most of the first half of 02. Of course, even in early episodes, there were many times where Daisuke’s potential for positivity and forward-thinkingness were starting to poke through, but most of the time he was rolling over trying to please others and chasing after his seniors. The real period of time he started to grow into his own about this was 02 episode 24 and its aftermath – when his time spent with his friends started to fill the void in his life and his need for validation, and the escalating situation, especially with Ken, led him to have a proper grasp of what was properly important and what needed to be done.

So when we get to his new solo, RUNNING MAN…

I’ll keep on running far ahead Let’s bring everyone along with me, today, too Really, always, thank you, Thank you so much Riding the wind, going past the sky Grasping your hands and flying I’m even starting to see beyond my dreams

Even in only one section, you can get an instant image of the Motomiya Daisuke we all know and love – someone who appreciates his friends’ role in his life, loves their company, and moves positively towards the future. Because, again, after the events of 02, and after being able to bond further with his friends and gaining his own strengths in leading everyone forward, he became able to more properly express his love for everything instead of constantly vying for others’ attention. Even the title reflects the change, from a “boy” who’s flashing the symbol of courage he got from someone else, to a “man” who’s positively running forward on his own merits.

(Interestingly, RUNNING MAN is composed by Ohta Michihiko, a legendary composer who’s made many of some of the most important songs in the franchise, and also composed many of the original Best Partner songs, including Goggle Boy. It’s interesting how RUNNING MAN is the one most like the original songs in atmosphere as a result – possibly representing how Daisuke is a simple-minded person who ostensibly doesn’t change drastically in disposition – yet has lyrical content that’s so starkly different.)

As a result, this is subtly reflected in the other two songs in each album as well – remember that V-mon is one of the partners who most “matches” his own partner in terms of disposition and mentality. So as Daisuke shifted his own priorities, V-mon did too; we go from Go Ahead! being about taking a stand and fighting, whereas Beyond the Future is about a similar forward-thinking mentality to Daisuke’s.

Likewise, the duets have different priorities as well; 2-TOP was composed of Daisuke and V-mon bickering for the most of it, and the most substantial point you could get about it was that despite their bickering, they made it work, whereas HEY-rasshai! has them almost entirely in sync (with one minor moment of deviance). It’s also interesting to see the topics covered in each; 2-TOP is about soccer, which ultimately is revealed to be a fairly incidental hobby for Daisuke, whereas HEY-rasshai! is about ramen making, which, while comical, also has a very strong tie to “Daisuke’s dream for the future, and his willingness to single-mindedly dedicate himself to something when it’s something he truly wants”. In other words, while Daisuke knew what he wanted since elementary school, it says a lot that he’s at a point where he and V-mon are now taking proactive steps to have that dream achieved, now that they’re able.

Ken and Wormmon

Like with his position in 02 itself, Ken’s is probably the easiest to see the contrast without trying too hard, but there’s still quite a lot to unpack!

When you think about it, in the modern era, it’s actually surprisingly hard to find stuff too relevant to Ken’s time as the Kaiser. The reason is, simply, that the series itself discourages this – Ken himself had an obvious aversion to dwelling too much on it, and the entire series itself has a strong theme of “moving on”. It’s not to say that the Kaiser doesn’t have a fanbase (I’m sorry if you’re reading this and find that I might be implying too hard that you don’t exist), but rather that there’s a franchise and fanart tendency to focus more on “Ken-chan” than “the Kaiser” these days, and old merch from the first half of the series will all too often get responses of “it’s really sad Ken-chan can’t be there…” Of course, 02 itself was also about accepting one’s mistakes, not pretending they never happened, so it’d be foolhardy to deny Ken’s dark history entirely, but it’s retroactively interesting to see such a prominent and persistent piece of merch like Ken and Wormmon’s original Best Partner album focus so largely on Ken’s time as the Kaiser when most of the franchise ended up trying to move on.

Starting with Ken’s solo songs, and his first one, ONLY ONE:

I’ve lived without showing my true feelings, wearing this mask

Well, this was easy to tell from the series itself, but the point driven home is that Ken didn’t want to expose his true self to others, putting on a front of “strength” and smashing his true feelings into the corner so that he could become more of the “perfect” person he thought he was supposed to be. There’s also another interesting line that one should pay attention to:

I polished the knife in my heart and put my belief in infinite power

Basically, putting up a defensive front to prevent anything from approaching his weaknesses.

Anyway, moving onto his new song, Never Ending:

If I want to be proud of tomorrow’s version of myself I wonder, what can I do? Never Give-up I’ll keep fighting, even doing someone else’s part No, I won’t be afraid anymore

First of all, the main theme of the song is about putting conscious thought into understanding how to stay true to himself – basically, understanding what it is he really wants to do and become, instead of putting on fronts and hiding it from others. Not only that, we see traces of what exactly he gained over the course of the second half of 02 – because so much of it involved constantly trying to blame himself for everything, this song is about what he came to learn in terms of proactively making it up and actively fighting forward. He’s working hard!

We also have this part:

The knife that’s pointed at someone, or at myself If it’s been let go of

Two things going on here: firstly, we have an explicit reference to the metaphorical “knife” Ken referred to putting up in ONLY ONE, talking about finally letting it go instead of bothering with this kind of front. He also points out that, in a sense, the knife was pointed at himself too, either in the sense of actually having hurt himself through this entire ideal, or in the sense that he constantly was trying to blame and punish himself for everything. None of that should be necessary anymore. Moreover, Never Ending contains a lot of references to “daily life” and the happiness that comes with the simplicity of just being alive – because that was indeed what Ken gained through his experiences, the ability to treasure living life in itself instead of aspiring to an impossible standard.

Another interesting thing about Never Ending is that it’s technically in a similar rock genre to ONLY ONE instead of being “soft”, like Ken’s personality is often thought to be. This was a surprise to a lot of people who commented on how surprisingly “cool” the song was, but this is actually completely in line with Ken arguably being one of the most openly assertive people in this group even after his reformation. Note that it’s very difficult to call this song purely angsty – it’s definitely positive and forward-thinking, and the chorus itself is partially in major key – but it has the vibe of someone who’s fully aware of everything that’s happened, is putting proper thought into it, and is pushing on despite everything. Remember, the intensity the Kaiser had originally came from somewhere; Ichijouji Ken is the same person, in the end.

In regards to Wormmon’s song, the contrast is also obvious: The Future You Dreamed of, the Future I Dreamed Of. is of course about Wormmon’s tormented feelings during the Kaiser’s abusive relationship with him, whereas can change it! is about its aftermath and how they made up (including copious references to the events of 02 episode 23). Even then, there’s a certain “forward-thinking” attitude that marks this song as being representative of being after 02’s events and not during – see the line “The mistake we made that day/is exactly the reason we’ll never let it happen again”, instead of the self-punishment and shame Stingmon expressed in 02 episode 26).

On top of that, the duet song Forever Adolescence also marks a subtle progression from the point they were at from True Strength – remembering that Best Partner 12 was released at a time when True Strength was actually a bit of a spoiler, while Ken and Wormmon obviously had made up by that point, the key line in it is still “everything truly begins from here”. So what, exactly, happened after that? According to Forever Adolescence, the decision made was to keep moving forward, and, moreover, to stay “the way they are”, especially with the nuance that it means it’s okay to not force oneself into the role of an adult and stay “young at heart”. This is really, really important in light of the events of Kizuna, the 02 group’s unusual role in it and its relevance to 02′s themes (more on this below), and how Spring 2003 referred to the pressure placed on Osamu as him being “forced to grow up too quickly” – in essence, Ken and Wormmon have firmly resolved to actively move away from that kind of pressure.

Miyako and Hawkmon

I’ve pointed out several times on this blog that the actual complex Miyako was going through in 02 was that she hated herself more than anyone else in the group would be willing to criticize her – and if you don’t believe me, it’s put in a pretty heavy-handed manner in her original song, Crash and Bingo!:

Fussing about it won’t get anything done But my selfishness and problems and panic keep coming out

…and even more viciously in her own and Hawkmon’s duet, Fly High:

I can’t do anything right, besides playing around with computers

Everyone would be still be fine if I weren’t there

If you thought it was subtle in the main series, it certainly isn’t here: Miyako considered herself good for absolutely nothing and unable to be accepted by others for being too useless – in these songs, despite Hawkmon’s attempts to uplift her, she criticizes her own messy tendencies and considers herself a burden. Best Partner is a positive series, so it still has the attitude of “we’ll try anyway”, but it’s clear that Miyako really didn’t have the highest opinion of herself at all. Hence, Fly High also shows off the worst of Hawkmon having to deal with the fallout – with Miyako flailing around in panic and considering herself good for nothing, he’s forced to carry her around.

But come Miyako’s new solo, From Spain with Love!, we see a huge contrast all over the place:

I, who have evolved into an adult make everyone do a double-take at me when I walk by!

Exhibit A: actual confidence in herself and ability to consider herself worth something;

If I can always, always be honest with myself Even if I don’t put together some program, even if I keep screwing up Ah, you understand me

Exhibit B: understanding that she’s worth something to others besides her utility abilities, and knowing that she has friends who’ll support her despite her flaws (which is very true);

When things are feeling hard, the first thing you should do is call me, okay? I’ll take the wings of love and purity, spread them, and get there as fast as I can Ah, I’ll open up any gate I need to

Exhibit C: indulging in her capacity for helping and supporting others;

Al mal tiempo, buena cara We laugh exactly when things are hard

Exhibit D: understanding the strength to get through hard times, instead of emotionally crumbling under the pressure.

Yep, that’s exactly what her character arc in 02 was about; 02 episode 31 was a huge turning point for her because, in the depths of her berating herself for her messiness and expecting Hikari to be secretly judging her the whole time, Hikari revealed that she was outright jealous of Miyako being able to speak her mind, and Miyako shortly after ended up showing her true capacity for reaching others who needed her help and supporting them, a role she ended up growing into for the rest of the series. Note that, other than the casual remark of confidence at the beginning, Miyako hasn’t necessarily become arrogant or anything – it’s just that, by focusing her energies into how much she loves everyone and turning her “nosiness” and “sticking herself into others’ business” tendencies into positive energy to help everyone, she gained more confidence in her ability to be loved and accepted by others.

This is reflected as well in her new duet with Hawkmon, where, instead of Hawkmon dragging her around everywhere, their differences and mismatched personalities are outright celebrated, and while Miyako still has awareness of her messy tendencies, she’s no longer letting it emotionally rip her apart and has confidence that Hawkmon can be by her side to help her through it. Perhaps reflecting that, Hawkmon himself goes from the over-the-top, dramatic, high-strung Knight of Love to the more calm and straightforward Gentle Tornado, perhaps because his own partner isn’t constantly bouncing off the walls recklessly nearly as much anymore.

Incidentally, it’s not like all of this is without nuance, either; even if Miyako’s become more of a confident person, she’s not all put-together. Considering that the entire song has her gushing about how she’d be willing to drop anything to go see her friends (which was pushed forward in Kizuna itself, what with her willingly taking the same request she’d refused to do earlier just because her friends were involved, and even inventing D-3 gate exploitation just to go see them), when you get to the end, and her gushing about her fun in Spain suddenly derails into reminiscing about the events of 02 episode 42, the implication is clear: for as much as she wants to be wholeheartedly enjoying this fun trip abroad for what it is, she can’t help but let her thoughts float back to memories and friends she cares about, and her bonus conversation with Hawkmon drives it in further that, ultimately, she dearly misses them too much.

Iori and Armadimon

Iori also went through some drastic changes in character over the course of 02, so when you look at My Conclusion, it’s basically Iori at his “worst” point of black-and-white morality:

Everyone, I will be speaking my conclusion Evil will not be tolerated Even evil in itself will be defeated by justice That will always be a certainty in the end

I mean, let’s even consider the fact that the song is called “My Conclusion” in the first place. Iori’s slamming this all down like this is the end-all of everything, and you can’t change his mind! He does briefly admit that there are certain things reason itself won’t change, but it’s more like he’s on the verge of having an out, because in the end, really…

Everyone, I will be speaking my conclusion Our enemies are beyond reason Again and again, to the very end They will certainly use cowardly means to come and attack us

Rationality. No feelings involved. Evil is evil, and justice is justice. No takebacks. Life exists by rules, and nothing else.

Message to the Future is possibly one of the most interesting songs in the original Best Partner collection, because it does actually provide hints about where Iori should be going in the future, and also has a lot of things that retroactively hit a lot harder from the meta perspective. The song fully fleshes out Iori’s feelings and concerns about how to grow up into a proper adult (which was hinted to be his real motivation as to why he was so strict with himself in 02), and that, most of all, what he wants is for his “feelings” to never change no matter what happens. Iori expresses concerns about how he might change as an adult to Armadimon, and Armadimon assures him that he’ll still be “Iori”, no matter what.

So, come the new character song collection, Iori’s new solo song is aptly titled “Things That Won’t Change” – because, in the end, despite everything that changed, his feelings did not. He says it himself: the important parts that he really wanted, the desire to do the right thing and to protect others, never changed a bit at all since “back then”. What did change, however, was his way of going about it.

Rather than what someone else has decided I’ve chosen my own future now

and again:

Rather than imitating someone else This is to shout out my own future

The emphasis on this being Iori’s own choice is important because Iori has finally decided not to live by strict rules imposed on him nor by imitating others (remember, part of the reason he kept doing what he did back in 02 was because he had such a strong belief “my father would have done this”). Others had been encouraging him to “make his own decisions” from the get-go – even Hida Chikara himself had told him that he was the one who needed to decide what to do in any moment in 02 episode 5 – and after dealing with a violation of his own morals in having to kill a Digimon in 02 episode 44, one episode later, in discussing with Takeru, Iori has to come to terms with the decision to continue fighting because “this is what I have decided myself”, because it’s not about whether he has an obligation to keep fighting for the sake of justice, but because he, himself, wants to protect others, and will do what it takes to do so. There’s no more of these strict rules of “because it must be this way” or the black-and-white morality that caused him to be so initially hostile towards Ken and Oikawa, but an understanding that these things need to be decided from the heart.

Moreover, unlike My Conclusion, Things That Won’t Change isn’t written like Iori’s turning in some school essay, but rather, more than half the song is in casual-form Japanese (which was associated with Iori when he became more emotional and wasn’t keeping himself in check anymore), and is more of a thoughtful reflection of his own feelings rather than trying to pass itself off as following rules because he must.

Thus, while the duet Choo Choo Tryin’ isn’t as heavy-handed as Message to the Future, Iori and Armadimon acknowledge that they need to be forward-thinking and keep going (generally tied to the message of 02 in itself), and Iori outright discusses the potential pitfalls of becoming too stiff. Furthermore, the song has copious rap portions, which seems rather unfitting for Iori on its face – until you realize that not only was Iori sometimes willing to indulge in more fun even back during 02 (just because he was strict with himself didn’t mean he was a complete killjoy), Iori’s also just a lot more flexible-minded in general, and has a penchant for wanting to do things right when he’s given a task. (His delivery of the rap in the song isn’t monotonous nor overly emotional, but has the nuance of someone who’s trying to recite all of it with caution.)

The part that’s particularly striking from the meta perspective is that Iori and Armadimon are no longer voiced by the same voice actress; Message to the Future was essentially Urawa Megumi talking to herself. So now, Iori has a new voice actor, and in many ways has become very different from Armadimon – but because Armadimon sounds a little like Iori, you could say he’s helping preserve the childish side of Iori that’s more important than ever to hold onto, especially since Iori himself worried about changing too much. And so, Iori’s still willing to indulge in a sort of “fun” song like this, and in the end, despite everything, you understand that they haven’t drifted apart at all in the slightest.

That’s not to say that Armadimon himself hasn’t changed either – in fact, he’s changed himself in response to how much Iori has. His original solo song had a lot of easygoingness to it, and some constant reminders for Iori to please, please chill – but his new one has a much stronger sense of resolve and forward-thinking attitude, reflecting that, while Iori himself technically had to learn to embrace more emotional uncertainty through the events of 02, it was also able to give him much stronger resolve that this was something he was doing because he was emotionally prepared for it, not out of some sense of moral obligation.

Takeru and Patamon

I’ve already covered Takeru’s original Best Partner song Focus and how it’s probably not about shipping as much as the fanbase tends to pin it as, but in any case, the operative part is here:

Before I knew it, I was watching over you Still standing at a skewed angle from behind The focus of your heart I wonder, is it on me, or… No, I can’t ask

Takeru couldn’t bring himself to ask sensitive questions or be straightforward about his emotions – which is basically what was Takeru’s lingering problem over Adventure and 02, that he kept swerving around or even lying about sensitive topics and holding everything inside, until one of his triggers was hit and everything exploded. Therefore, even when an important question about someone else comes up, he “can’t ask”. Moreover, for all Takeru is known as a lighthearted and kind person, Focus is a really turbulent song with a really harsh arrangement, and it’s a pretty accurate view of all the complicated and sometimes even negative emotions that Takeru was (badly) coping with over the course of 02.

This was the whole issue with Takeru and Iori’s Jogress arc in 02 episodes 34-36 – that Iori felt he couldn’t understand nor communicate well with Takeru, and had to eventually take matters into his own hands in order to properly understand his feelings. Takeru’s further interactions with Iori were significantly more straightforward for the rest of the series, and the experience also led to Takeru being able to more openly communicate with Ken as well, since the two had been on awkward speaking terms for most of the third quarter of the series.

So when we get to Step High Step…

You lament, you don’t have confidence in yourself I’m saying this to you as I’ve been watching you You’re amazing at all times

The song features Takeru being fairly straightforward about his feelings and opinions instead of just dodging it and going for an “everything’s okay” keeping-the-peace attitude, and not only that, he’s commenting on someone else, something that he probably would have refrained from in 02 for being intrusive. Of course, Takeru was always a nice person, but he wasn’t exactly straightforward about being nice back then – and yet here we are.

Since Focus is probably about his relationship with Patamon and how he kind of wasn’t exactly straightforward about his worries with him either (see 02 episode 34), it’s also interesting to compare Takeru and Patamon’s duet songs as well. Steppin’ out does portray a progression from Adventure in that they’ve accepted they can “do things over” again after things crash down (presumably referring to Angemon’s death and rebirth), but you’ll notice there isn’t much in the way of actual communciation between the two – something that’s not only present in Le Lien, but also portrays them as outright in-sync to the point of “telepathy”. We’re talking about a pair where the fanbase has historically had doubts about how similar they were back in 02 because of how “mismatched” they seemed!

Which, incidentally, they weren’t actually – you can see Patamon pretending he’s not about to cry in his original Best Partner song Don’t Stop Pata-Pata, much like how Takeru would cover up his own emotions, and gritting his teeth and resolving to fight harder. Meanwhile, while Ring of Smiles ostensibly continues to have Patamon be “sweet and cute”, it contains a lot of important nuances of “appreciating daily life with friends”, even if Patamon himself can’t quite find words for it – in other words, it’s actually some rather insightful and thoughtful sentiments from Patamon about the importance of being with and connecting with others, mirroring what Takeru himself learned in connecting with the others around him, especially Iori.

Hikari and Tailmon

Remember, Hikari has two lines (one in Adventure and one in 02) that basically summarize the main “issue” she was dealing with in both series: she was selfless to unhealthy levels, and would prioritize others’ welfare over herself to the point of self-destruction. So in her original solo Best Partner song, Gentle Rain, she puts it pretty explicitly:

I want to always be wearing nothing but smiles But I can’t be cheerful all of the time

or:

So that I can become a greater version of myself Please give me strength

All things considered, Gentle Rain is full of Hikari’s own insecurities, and her belief that she doesn’t have enough strength to do anything for herself. She makes references to being pulled to the Dark Ocean, mainly because – as she says – she doesn’t want to go there, but she doesn’t have enough strength or willpower to resist it. In fact, Best Partner 11 is full of a lot of angst; Gentle Rain is Hikari angsting about her own weakness and inability to do much for herself, Getting up is Tailmon angsting about her painful past and everything to do with it, and Shining Star is basically a plea for both of them to be able to do anything despite all the pain. It’s all pretty severely heavy content, despite the initial sparkly-looking sentiment of it all.

Considering the circumstances, it’s not really all that surprising. Hikari spent her time in Adventure and the first half of 02 very “emotionally isolated” from the others, to the point very few people could understand what she was thinking, and while she’d never hesitate to put herself out for other people, anything to do with herself, like getting pulled to the Dark Ocean, would result in resignation “it’s over” and “I can’t do anything about it”. Tailmon came from the background of being effectively raised by the abusive Vamdemon, so 02 was really only part of the earliest portion of her moving on with her life and being able to spend happier moments with Hikari. But, of course, the real turning point was 02 episode 31, when Miyako finally managed to break through to her and convince her to not accept the inevitability of things happening to herself, to accept help with the support of others, and to not take things happening to her as a sign she’s doomed.

So when we reach Hikari’s new solo song, Tomorrow’s Blue…

I want to chase after my dreams and hopes, it’s fine even if they’re incomplete I won’t lose, I won’t stop, I’ll do this to stay true to myself

The most striking thing about the song is that it features Hikari assertively talking about her own desires and feelings, when back in 02 she basically tried to kick them out of the picture for the sake of everyone else (and, really, even in Tailmon’s new solo song, Tender tale, she outright calls Hikari out for still prioritizing other people over herself). It’s not demeaning herself, it’s not resigning herself to anything, it may have a slight admission that she’s not super-confident about everything yet, but it’s still her looking forward and choosing to pursue what he wants. It’s a big deal!

And instead of the constant angst that permeated Best Partner 11, the new album is about Hikari and Tailmon talking about their feelings towards each other – something that neither of them really verbalized that well over either Adventure and 02 – and contextualizing their importance to each other over the course of their “story”. Hikari talks about Tailmon’s role of assertiveness in helping her break out of her shell, and Tailmon generally provides an extremely accurate description of Hikari in a nutshell – that she’s a bit mysterious, that she’s emotionally sensitive, that she’s cheerful and lifts others’ spirits. What’s more, Tailmon makes a reference to the same kind of “pain” and “losing things” she referred to in Getting up, but instead of angsting about it, she positively accepts it as something that may happen in the process of protecting others. (Oh, and it and the new duet A Tale of the Light also make reference to Hikari’s photography hobby in 02, contextualizing it as something Hikari did to chronicle their precious memories.)

So in summary, Hikari and Tailmon have both been able to accept 02′s philosophy of becoming forward-thinking, positive, and accepting the help of others in order to move forward. Not bad!

Conclusion and digression

Despite how these songs are almost polar opposite in portraying their before-and-after development of the 02 kids, nobody’s really argued that any of them are out of character! In the end, it’s a pretty succinct depiction of what these kids were dealing with and what they grew into by the end of the series. Seriously, I never, ever want to hear that these kids were underdeveloped nor that they didn’t go through any significant development over the course of 02 ever again. That’s just not true at all, and this simply happens to be one of the many illustrations of how.

Moreover, the songs themselves and the “conversations” that came with the new albums solidify firmly that the 02 group has extremely tight relations with their partners even at this time – with Daisuke actively consulting V-mon for help, Miyako, Takeru, and Hikari actively dragging their partners everywhere with them, Ken having Wormmon be his effective alarm clock, and Iori being so close with Armadimon that his Nagoya dialect is rubbing off on him. Daisuke, Miyako and Hikari have a huge point made that, regardless of the rather easygoing way they’re going at it, they’re very aware of what they want to do from this point out and are following it with gusto (and while it’s not stated in words, Iori carrying a huge textbook, presumably a law one, with note markers all over it drives the point home that this applies to him, too). It’s a really, really huge contrast to what was going on with the directionless Taichi, Yamato, and Sora effectively neglecting their own partners back in Kizuna – and further reinforces the reason the 02 group was in such an unusually favorable position during the movie.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #shihameta

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angelic-guardienne · 3 years

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ardyn dumbification

this happened for no reason at all. not inspired by a dream or anything. just poof! woke up at 3 am and wrote it all in one sitting. i think it says something that the first thing i’ve written in months is ardyn smut, lol.

Ardyn/F!Reader (2,185 words)

Warnings: super duper smut. edging, a little degradation, dumbification (fucks you so good you can’t think), overstimulation, orgasm denial, spanking, cockwarming, oral sex (male and female receiving), creampie/unprotected sex

Taglist: @mp938368 @valkyrieofardyn @zer0pm @sevansheart @bestchocobois @jaysfandomcorner @glacian-apocalypse @blindedstarlight @tales-of-a-fallen-star god. where the hell is everyone

ardyn makes the decision on a whim. you haven’t done anything to deserve the punishment he’s about to give you; he just wants to make you cry and beg for his cock

he moves forward with his plans that very night. you’re lying next to him, asleep. it all starts with his hand under your shirt. gently, so as to not wake you.

he wants to make you moan in your sleep, just for him.

and you do exactly that as he fondles your breasts -- you’re like putty in his fingers and he simply cannot get enough of you

when his touch gets rougher, you wake up. as soon as he notices that you’re more responsive to him, he sits up and pulls you into his lap. he tsks at your sleepy face, dazed and horny as he’s made you

he likes you like this -- malleable, still not awake enough to become bratty, where the first and only thing you direct your attention to is how much you need him. idly, he thinks he should wake you like this more often.

you don’t know what’s going on, but you lean into his touch like you would in any other circumstance

“you’ve been a very good girl for me,” ardyn mutters into your ear, “and good girls get rewards.”

it’s a simple enough premise that you nod along, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and mindlessly starting to grind against him.

ardyn stills your hips, grinning down at you. “and you’ll get it, in time, after I have my fun.” he relishes in the way you just stare at him, completely unaware of the storm heading your way

he tells you to undress, so you do. he lays you over his lap and caresses your ass, squeezing and groping what belongs to him

it makes you moan. you know what’s coming, and you can’t help the way you squirm when he asks you to count for him in that gravelly voice of his

one, two, three, all the way to thirty. you’re fully awake now, voice hoarse, ass raw, and cunt absolutely sopping wet.

ardyn just laughs at you, running his fingers through your wetness and admiring the way you shiver and hiss

he makes you lay on your back and you whimper at the feeling of the sheets against your tender skin. even though they’re cool, it provides little relief.

he knows that what you need right now is him. he knows that you’re always incredibly sensitive after he spanks you. he knows that you could probably cum on his cock without him even moving.

ardyn knows all of this. so when he lays down at your side and presses light kisses to your neck, you know he’s just teasing you

it makes you whine and grab his hand to shove his fingers up inside of you, but he curls them so they just bunch up outside. you whine pitifully again, body shaking.

“it’s not fair,” you whimper, trying again to get him to at least use his fingers. “riling me up like this to not even fuck me…”

“in due time, my dear.”

and then he rolls the fuck over and stops touching you completely. your mouth gapes as you just stare at him, offended by the sheer audacity

you know you could easily take care of yourself, but you also know that would upset him greatly. besides, you’re intrigued. you decide to play along with his little game, excited to see what the payoff will be.

ardyn teases you relentlessly and leaves you hanging every. single. time.

he cycles through a lot of the same methods, doing all the things he knows will work you up beyond belief. you can’t find a rhythm with it because you never know what to expect, and it’s driving you crazy.

sometimes he’s got you on your knees in front of him, his hand digging into your hair as he holds your head down on his cock

he fucks your face fast and hard and deep and all you can think about, gagging and choking and whimpering, is how badly you want him to turn you around and fuck you just like this

he doesn’t cum down your throat or even in your mouth -- he knows better than to do that. the feeling alone has made you cum before, untouched, and as riled as you are now, it would defeat the purpose of all the teasing.

so he spends himself on your chest, then leaves you there to clean yourself up.

sometimes he spanks you, hit after hit after hit

he goes until you’re shaking and moaning and barely able to contain yourself, mindlessly begging him even though you don’t know if you want him to stop or keep going

he decides for you, every time. and he knows from the quiver in your leg that you’re one more hit away from cumming, your body trained so nicely for him. so again, he leaves you there, body burning for him.

sometimes he’s got you on your back, face buried between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved. the first time he did it, you were relieved, foolishly thinking that finally, this torture was over and you were going to get your reward

you were wrong, of course

he stops when you get that same quiver in your leg, the one that lets him know you’re about to fall over the edge. he kisses the insides of your thighs until you calm down, and then goes right back to eating you out again.

he starts and stops and starts and stops, over and over again, until you’re crying and begging him to let you go, the stimulation becoming painful. you don’t even care about cumming at that point, you just need him to stop. so he does, leaving you aching.

sometimes he’s got you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest, letting his hands roam your body freely. he whispers absolutely filthy things in your ear, enjoying how you squirm and whimper for him

he slides his fingers inside you and you already know that at this point, they alone would never be enough. but it doesn’t help that he seems to be deliberately missing your g-spot and is very careful not to brush against your clit.

but the whole thing still leaves you completely wrecked, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look up at him and beg him for mercy.

ardyn delights in the way you can’t seem to stop moving, your body desperately chasing any kind of proper friction completely on its own. he strokes your cheek and coos at you, watching you sob and hiccup and beg

and he leaves you hanging. again.

you don’t know how long he decides to continue this little game for -- you lost track of the time shortly after it started. it feels like it’s been weeks, and knowing ardyn, it may well have been. by the end, the only thing you can form a complete thought about is how badly you need him to fuck you unconscious

it seems like instinct, ardyn knowing that you were finally ready for your reward. he doesn’t say it outright, leaving it to you to figure it out.

when he puts you on your knees and tells you to beg for it, you grovel and whine and beg and plead like your life depends on it, and you’re so desperate for him that you might actually die if he denies you again.

luckily for you, he has no such plans

he sets you on his lap and tells you to finish yourself on his thigh. it’s not enough and you both know it, but you’re so beyond relieved at finally being allowed to cum that you follow his direction without hesitation.

you cum so fast that it honestly takes him by surprise; in no time at all, your leg starts to shake, and then your whole body follows as you ride out your first orgasm of the night, clinging to him for dear life.

the sight of you like this is the most beautiful thing he’s ever had the joy of experiencing, and he commits it to memory as he finally, finally slides himself into you

you’re impossibly wet and he loves it, able to fill you completely in just one stroke

he lets you sit there and cockwarm him for now, admiring the way your body twitches at the euphoria of finally having the one thing you’ve needed this whole time: him.

you’re already seeing stars by the time he decides to move, and when he lays you on your back to fuck you properly, you shoot into subspace

you cum again after one particularly hard thrust, and ardyn chuckles low and deep right in your ear, grabbing your hips and pulling your body tighter against his

he fucks you just like that until you cum again, screaming his name as the tears start to roll down your cheeks at the sheer intensity of it

it’s overwhelming. his cock is hitting so deep inside you, it feels like he’s in your fucking stomach, it should hurt but all you want, all you can think about is more, more, more, and ardyn is all too happy to provide

he pulls out and flips you over so you’re on your knees. as soon as you notice the emptiness you’re pleading for him to fill you up again, wiggling and squirming and unknowingly making it more difficult for him to get you where he wants you

he smacks your ass to make you sit still but it only riles you more. with a dark grin, he keeps going until you cum once more

you feel too weak to even move, all you can do is take whatever he gives you

and when he finally gets you just where he wants you -- ass high in the air, back arched, face deep in the mattress -- and he slides into you again, you swear you’re seeing divine light.

he goes deep, deeper than before, deeper still when he leans down to press his chest against your back, and you can barely fucking breathe, much less think

he starts fucking you hard and slow, periodically grinding his hips in a circle just because he knows it drives you crazy, just to see how wrecked you become.

suffice to say he’s delighted with your trembling form, the sheen of sweat covering your body, and that the only things escaping you are moans, sobs, and his name.

he’s asking you a question and you know he is, but you can’t even grasp a coherent string of thought to begin to answer him. you start crying again, whimpering out some completely garbled nonsense

ardyn outright laughs at you -- you’re so fucked out you can’t even speak correctly

“seems i’ve fucked every single thought out of that pretty little head of yours. you just need your dumb cunt stuffed full, don’t you, dear? have i fucked you stupid?”

he shifts and you feel like if he goes any deeper he’ll come out of your mouth, and the pure euphoria is too much to handle

he reaches around and starts to rub your clit, but just the first touch is enough to make you cum again. if you were in a better state of mind, you might have felt ashamed for being so easy, but right now all you can think about is the dick filling you beyond the brim, giving you more than you can take

he doesn’t slow down or give you any room to think or breathe, just starts pressing kisses and little bites into your neck

“one more,” he says, breath ragged as his own orgasm quickly approaches, “one more and i’ll let you rest.”

somewhere deep in your mind, you think that you couldn’t possibly recover from this -- from the intensity of the buildup, from so many orgasms in one go, from ardyn rearranging your pussy to form to him and only him -- it’s all too much

but when he yanks on your hair and practically abuses your poor clit and demands that you cum on him so he can breed you like the whore you are… who are you to deny him?

so you cum, screaming, crying, jerking, shaking, and you can already feel your consciousness fading as he twitches inside you and fills you with his cum. the heat is unbearable

by the time ardyn pulls out, you’re long gone, having already passed out from exhaustion. he smiles at you fondly as he cleans the both of you up

he thinks back on the experience as a whole, and he knows this will not be the last time. seeing you that desperate for him was something he will never be able to pass up again.

he caresses your cheek, thinking that you still look absolutely peaceful even with the dried tears and the drool beneath your chin. you’re radiant just like this, and he can’t wait to do it all over again.

#ardyn #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn x reader #ardyn x you #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn lucis caelum x you #ardyn lucis caelum x reader #ffxv #final fantasy xv #ardyn ffxv #ardyn final fantasy xv #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #look at me....#writing for a dead fandom...#ardyn spice #...spice.#spice

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chocolateslatte · 4 years

Text

🚨The Rise of Skywalker Detailed Review and Spoilers Ahead🚨

George Lucas: “If the boy and girl walk off into the sunset hand-in-hand in the last scene, it adds 10 million to the box office”

The “fairytale” we got: A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away, there was a curse of pain and death in a family that just went on and on. They were never able to break it and they all die, the end.

Well, you did it JJ, you little punk...you ruined 40 years of cinema. Kids are coming out of theatres crying, they can’t understand. I guess this was the “fun and hopeful ending” you were speaking of during the press tours. Are you on crack or something, or just sadistic....why would you promote it like that!? Did you forget Star Wars at its core is a story of hope, light, a fairytale in space for children? They did it...they united Reylo’s and Fanboys through hate.

JJ you do realize tragical romances are only tragically romantic if there was romantic buildup? Romeo and Juliet married in secret, Anidala did as well and flirted in the fields. How was this supposed to be satisfying? A five-second beginning, middle, and end. How this went through multiple execs is beyond me.... I would have understood if Reylo was Rian’s creation. BUT JJ LITERALLY was the one who told Rian to go forth with it...he created Reylo so you can’t say the last Jedi derailed things on that front. JJ wasn’t brave enough for his own vision. This movie was like “the crimes of Grindlewald”, a lot of stuff happening that made me feel nothing.

Okay, first things first. The OG trilogy was necessary, the prequels were necessary to set up that Vader did not start off bad. What was necessary about the sequels? They just dismantled everything the Skywalker family worked for. Why did we have to see ALL of our favorite characters die? Was the aim that a villain can only be redeemed through death? How original. I’m convinced what they were planning for since force awakens was a journey from villain to hero...but instead we got this a 10min redemption resulting in death a la Vader. Why call Adam Driver’s character a “Disney Prince”?When did Happy endings become so controversial? We go to the movies to feel hope, to escape reality...George Lucas understood that. JJ’s trilogy is uninspired, bland and contributes nothing to the saga. JJ went as far as to recon his own “The Force Awakens”.It had the chance to define generations but no. Literal and utter garbage. Rian made some odd choices but he was bold, unafraid and had the vision. HE knew emotion was at the heart of Star Wars.

WHERE DID THE SKYWALKERS RISE? MORE LIKE RISE OF PALPATINE, HE BLOODY WON

BUT my problem is not with the ending, it’s the bloody entire movie. This movie made me realize that it's not Reylo that I am a fan of, it was Ben, Leia, Han, Ani, Padme, and all those other characters. I’m upset because this movie is not my Star Wars: of family, love and above all else hope. This is just a 2.5-hour video game with no emotions. This trilogy was all angst with NO payoff.

Okay, you will never ever convince me Palpatine was planned the whole time. This whole movie was retcon for the Last Jedi that pissed off the fanboys. Lucas films did not have an outline for the three films and Rian derailed whatever they wanted to do....except they didn’t even tell him what they wanted! This should be a cautionary tale of why you need to plan. Kylo ain’t bad, Snoke is gone....well pull out Palpatine I guess. This whole film is JJ’s mad scrambling. Alright, I will humor you, tell me how Palpatine came back when he fell down a shaft and exploded....not *boom boom because of force*. The force in this movie is not canon George Lucas force, it’s just an easy out whenever JJ wants one.

1. Opening Crawl: As soon as I saw this I knew all the leaks were true, I wanted to bolt from the theatre. When I saw them in August I laughed cause it was so ridiculous it couldn’t be true. How could Disney let a whole movie leak? The plot seemed like a bad fan-fiction. Actually, fanfics are way more true to lore. Anyway, so Palpatine “announces” that he’s back. Is this the shrewd Chancellor Palpatine we know? Certainly, not...why in the world would he announce it rather than keep on the DL and just attack. Yo Palps ain’t this dumb why would you let them (the resistance) prepare?? Because of plot...well okay.

2. Did Last Jedi even happen: this film is the sequel to the force awakens, like TLJ never happened...except it’s acting like there was some movie in between that JJ made. Okay, so why is Kylo trying to run Rey over with his tie fighter...he doesn’t really want to kill her. It’s just meaningless action shots. And don’t get me started on exposition, the dialogue: “hey look its the Knights of Ren”. Except they do nothing. Cool cool. Kylo’s character goes back to Force awakens era like no development had occurred...except he’s not even there he’s just messing around not even being a real villain. JJ’s specialty is set-up and he does this beautifully....but he can not wrap up and follow through.

3. Rose Tico: yup last Jedi never happened, she has nothing to do. She and Finn are irrelevant. Finn has reverted to being obsessed with Rey. Cool Cool. I honestly feel so bad for the lovely Kelly Marie Tran. How did you relegate a relatively big character into the sidelines?? Why introduce two new characters this late. Rose could have filmed in for them...but alas we must snub Rian at every turn because that’s just how petty JJ Abrams is. ( don’t get me wrong Jannah was cool)

4. The Rise Of Poe Dameron: Finn has been relegated to a side character who does nothing and just yells “REY!”. It was a great setup, a stormtrooper who was force sensitive but doesn’t want his life to be fighting for nothing. You could have explored trauma, the discovery of the light but nope nada. Tell me the point of his character journey. So flat and static. And with Jannah and the ex stormtroopers they could have gone with the arc of these lost, sad kids coming together to find family.

5. Leia: Okay you’re telling me our Princess would give up on her son before he was born, just throw away her lightsaber and accept Ben’s fate? Cool alright. And she knew about Rey Palpatine and didn’t say anything...my princess would never.

6. Mary Sue Rey: Ahh Rey this girl feels no emotion in this movie...just like the audience. Sure she’s trained but she can just do stuff with the “force” that even Jedi masters can’t. Stopping a whole starship, something even Yoda could barely do...yup she can do it. Beat Kylo all the time except one, yup she can. Manipulate the force in mind-boggling ways, heal people...sure Luke couldn’t but Rey certainly can. Cause she is the chosen one...hell even Ani wasn’t this talented and he had years of training. Poe and Finn have a genuine connection, Rey just seems disjointed (totally understandable why)...but if so the ending is even worse. She doesn’t even find peace with her friends. She’s not realistic and human like Luke and Leia were.

Force sensitivity in the galaxy: What a perfect setup, the boy with the broom at the end of TLJ that was force sensitive. The message is that the power to use the force was spreading through the galaxy. No longer confined to the elite. People were hearing of Luke’s battle of Crate and rising.

7. Kylo/Ben: I still maintain that he, other than Ani was the most nuanced character in the whole saga. His arc from Force Awakens to Last Jedi had progressed. How great that even someone from the legendary line of skywalker and solo could fall to the dark again. He wasn’t flat, he was a tortured boy that was conflicted since the first movie. How great would it have been to see him as a conflicted supreme leader, which was set up in TLJ. But *gasps* a plot of his very own, no can do, this is the nature of JJ’s crush on Rey and Daisy.

Disney released comics that made us sympathize with him, to see that all along he was manipulated by Snoke, and Palpatine the voices in his head. Neglected by those who were supposed to love him. Adam Driver was cast perfectly, he had almost no lines that weren’t related to Rey’s charcater arc. If he were a woman I’m sure everyone would be offended. That single line’s delivery “Dad-”

Come on Poe had more lines than him, and Driver according to JJ was half of the protagonist. He was pitched an arc opposite that of Darth Vader that’s why he signed. Man JJ really did do everyone dirty.

8. Ben had no lines while redeemed other than “ow”...I am so sorry ADAM that this nasty ass JJ did this to you...this part was 100% improv by Adam, I am willing to bet my life on it. You know why “ow” was brilliant? Cause it meant he felt pain and emotion, he was no longer hiding behind the hardness of Kylo REN. Adam’s performance as Ben left me speechless, he was convincing as Kylo, intimidating...but as BEN he shines in the way only Solo’s can. The way his eyes become determined once he accepts he must give his life, and he does so happily for the love of his life. His soulmate. Star Wars and JJ never deserved the talent that is Adam Driver.

9. They are supposed to be equals in the force yet they missed the opportunity to fight Snoke together. Tell me how they are equals. He existed only to further Rey’s plotline.

Oh and the other Jedi including Anakin whisper and help Rey...when his own grandson has been asking for help in distress for like 30years. Nice real nice.

10. Finally Reylo: it felt unearned cause there was no buildup, JJ just threw it in for kicks forgetting all the P&P parallels he was shooting for. An afterthought. Driver and Ridley’s acting saved the day, they had no lines. Adam Driver is truly one of the finest actors. You could see the difference between Ben and Kylo in his subtle gestures...the sass was pure Han Solo.

11. And then the death: I wouldn’t even say we won, but at what cost. We won in no way. Had he died fighting I would have understood, but this death was so unnecessary and put in just for the fanboys. Let me say again I would have been okay with death had it been justified. How is this any different than Vader x Luke. JJ can only copy not create. How crazy that you can just bring people back from the dead...Anakin is here like, am I joke to you? I could have brought Padme back say what???? What was the point of his whole fall to the dark. The force is infinite, that’s the whole point...once you know how to use it you can’t run out of it like juice. Oh, and Ben did not become one with Rey but rather the Force according to the Disney website. So why pray tell did he not appear as a force ghost? I’m convinced JJ was on crack.

12. No Mourning BEN no acknowledgment: 5 seconds! And then she moves on from losing her soulmate, half of her soul. She loses it over Chewie but nothing, no emotion not even a second over her other half. Seriously? No one ever knows Ben came back...nada. JJ set up Reylo, time and time again he has said that he crafted the story around the romance. He was left scrambling after Last Jedi and this was a last-ditch shock ending. No Reylo theme song, no across the stars

13. Last Jedi told us you don’t have to come from a powerful family to be important. THE WHOLE thing was that you could be force-sensitive and be a nobody. Nobodies can become somebody. A Hero is not born but made. The force lives in all beings, not just powerful families. It inspired me, what a great message to young guys and gals. Kylo’s line, “you come from nothing, you are nothing...you have no place in this story” finally turns out true. You have to come from something to have a part in the Star Wars story. And Rey had darkness inside her cause she was human. Because none of us are pure, we are shades of grey. But no, it’s cause darkness only runs in families. In the Last Jedi when she wants to see her family all she sees is herself and a shadow (Ben) who joins with her. Please do explain this JJ. And if this granddaughter thing was set up I would have had no problem...but they pulled it from their asses. You can have nothing but mean something. But no pander to the fanboys. In the end, a Palpatine lived and all the skywalkers ended....and we are supposed to have hope. Palpatine really did win.

14. Rey’s biggest fear was ending up in the desert alone, we were told “the belonging she seeks is ahead not behind” and “there’s someone who could still come back”. They mentioned she felt just as alone with the resistance. Only the other half of her soul understood her. This is truly tragic and sad...I am so heartbroken for her. And don’t tell me she isn’t there to stay...the soundtrack is called “a new home”. Enjoy the rest of your days being exactly where you started Rey....but hey at least you got a droid boo. I’m convinced this is not the balance JJ envisioned in the first movie. At one point in TFA Rey looks up sees an old woman alone, scavenging in the desert. This rattles her to the core and it starts her journey of wanting a better, different life. I am so sorry Rey. Okay so you may say she has the resistance and her friends...but let’s consult the last Jedi. In the end when everyone is on the ship...Rey is surrounded by friends yet looks more alone than ever. No one but Ben, maybe Luke, Leia, and Han understood her pull to the dark.

How sad that these two hopeless souls who had never known a moment of belonging and true love, found it for all but a few seconds.

I will quote: “preventing female characters with strong, compelling narratives from experiencing love, intimacy, and affection is just as regressive as reducing them down to sexual accessories. Assumes that women must choose between a romantic interest and depth of character”

Men really can not write good female characters, can they? A woman really can’t be a badass and end up with the love of her life

15. The Skywalker’s and Redemption: How truly truly sad that Han and Leia gave their life for their son who also died at a young age. ALL the Skywalkers and Solo’s have a tragic end. This is not what George Lucas wanted. What a tragic way to end this saga...they weren't able to break the curse. AND to all those troubled kids out there that lashed out and made terrible mistakes in their youth....doesn’t matter what you do dying is the only way out. You could have exiled him, made him pay in other ways. Nothing can be done to make up for your sins but death, no amount of good means that you can come home. To the young boys that get wrapped up in terror organizations, sorry the only way you can be redeemed is death...don’t bother changing and coming back. They could have exiled him, had him start an academy with Rey for Jedi kids. He could have spent the rest of his days redeeming himself. Why tell us he was literally preyed upon, haunted, and manipulated as a child. Even in a fantasy world, a victim of mental illness and abuse can not catch a break. Ben as a child could not fall asleep due to the demon-like voices in his mind. Everyone abandoned him in his time of need. Ben never desired power like Anakin, he went over to the dark because “the voice” of his grandfather promised belonging. I am shocked that this is the message Disney sends us. Oh and yeah you can totally take on the Skywalker name for kicks...the disrespect I swear

16. The worst bit is that I am 90% sure there was another ending that was scrapped. There was a promo shot of Jannah in a field, soft lighting, lush planet. It was exactly like P&P. Daisy Ridley said the lasts scene was known to only Her, Jannah on that panel (Driver was away). Convinced Jannah was looking at Rey and Ben starting a new life away from the desert which she and Luke hate so much. Hence the production of “A New Home” soundtrack. Hence why the “Farewell” song played behind Reylo kiss was hopeful. Why Luke’s soundtrack when he became part of the force was not triumphant. Why the death scene was sudden and cut weird and no sorrow from Rey. CAUSE THEY SCRAPPED THE ORIGINAL ENDING LAST MINUTE. Everyone knows JJ was still editing one month before. The concept art which was supposed to be released this month has been pushed to March. Why you ask? They need to remove the pages with a happy ending. He just didn’t have the guts, pandered to everyone and yet no one. He was successful in creating a beautifully filmed action-filled movie with none of the heart of Star Wars.

And then she goes and buries Anakin’s saber on freaking TATOOINE. He HATES Sand and Luke wanted to get away from there as soon as possible. Of course, a Palpatine would torture them that way. But nostalgia is the cash cow so. JJ can only generate nostalgia, not create original stories. IF he had any creativity she would have buried it at Padme’s grave.

The fanboys say “leave the romance for the romance movies”....have you seen the original trilogy or the prequels? Star Wars has always had hope and romance entwined with it.

SO AFTER 40 YEARS...PALPATINE WINS...HIS BLOODLINE LIVES ON

...and people thought the prequels were bad

JJ you also said that your goal was for people to come out of the movie feeling more hopeful and happy then they went in...yet here I am. My roommate literally had to console me and buy me ice cream. I am just so numb. I am sure the casual fan will enjoy this, as seen from the rotten tomatoes ratings. I think the critics were too generous with this one,

Star Wars is very simple at its core, Good vs Bad and Dark vs Light. The kids are expected to understand that a Palpatine being the only one who lives is hopeful? That is the conclusion of three generations of Skywalker sacrifice...

This is how the Skywalkers are remembered...In Tragedy and Curse??

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ace-oreos · 3 years

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You must be so sick of alpha and Fordo asks but you’re latest fic has given me angst potential- maybe a one-shot with alpha working with the bad batch to find Fordo post order 66 an him just breaking at the seams when he finds his Vod because he thought he lost Frodo like he lost Sev. Tears and man hugs ensue

Oh I am NEVER sick of Alpha and Fordo asks - they’re such a fun chaotic duo to write for. :D Also, Alpha working with the Bad Batch is something I never knew I needed until I saw your ask and I would absolutely write something with all of them again. I cannot express how difficult it was to not go off on a tangent about Hunter.

In true Sev style, I chose Kashyyyk as the main location for this one. It’s just so useful for these kinds of things.

Also. Y’all. I did not realize until I was four pages into this that I forgot Echo. So uh... whoops? 😅 😂 With that in mind, let me warn you that this is WAY longer than the other fics. I have no idea what happened. I have no idea what I’m doing.

Also also, thank goodness for Wookiepedia lmao

Edit with tags: @dudewhynotthis @merspots @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @delta-the-mando (taglist is open!)

“Captain.” The sergeant keeps his distance even now, face inscrutable as he surveys Alpha.

“Alpha,” he corrects half-heartedly, more for the sergeant’s sake than his own.

“Alpha,” Hunter amends. “We’ll be entering the Mid Rim soon - maybe an hour, hour and a half tops.”

“Good to know.” Alpha knows he sounds despondent at best, but he’s hit enough dead ends by now to know all too well this will likely be a fruitless endeavor. There’s nowhere in the galaxy safe from him - not when his brother’s life is hanging in balance.

But it’s a big galaxy, with little regard for individual yearning or emotion. Alpha can vow to upend the galaxy as much as he likes, but the fact is they’ve only so much time, and only so many resources, and...

And maybe Hunter picks up on that, in that way of his as he observes Alpha without further comment. The sergeant is as much his vod as anyone else Alpha has encountered. Still beyond him sometimes, a little too other for Alpha to ever fully mesh with him or his brothers, but he’s a good soldier. A good man.

“We’ve always got room for another,” are Hunter’s parting words as he makes his way back to the cockpit.

If you find out your brother was dead all along.

Alpha doubts it was anything less than a genuine offer, but it isn’t the only route. Not until I’ve exhausted every other option. And even then....

It doesn’t do, to let himself become so intertwined with a brother until he isn’t entirely sure he knows who he is without the other. He’d tried, both for his brothers and for his own peace of mind, to put a stop to it before it went too far. And maybe that was Jango getting in his head more than Alpha ever should have allowed, but he’d thought it was the right thing to do.

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder...

________________________

“ - you know as well as I do we’ve been going in circles for weeks now - ”

“Yeah, you might’ve mentioned that once or twice…”

“You said it yourself - we’ll get ourselves killed if we aren’t careful.”

“So we’ll be careful.” Hunter’s voice holds a note of finality. “We can keep rehashing this conversation, or we can help a vod.”

Alpha doesn’t catch the muttered reply, but it’s hardly amenable, if Hunter’s sigh is anything to go by. He can’t blame them, really - Fordo isn’t their brother, and outside of combat they’ve little common ground. And it’s only natural for Crosshair to raise the questions none of them are yet ready to face. Alpha thinks he could learn to like the man, given time.

He reigns in his thoughts before entering the cockpit. The least he can do is put on a rational front. This whole thing isn’t at all rational, but the Bad Batch seem to understand better than others. It runs deeper than brotherhood here, whatever it is, and Alpha is irrepressibly reminded of Fordo, somehow -

(And osik, does that thought burn, dig under his skin to remind him once again that he failed, that should he redeem himself it will be not on his terms but likely an inconsequential whim of a galaxy that cares nothing for them or everything they’ve fought so hard to hold on to - )

“Y’know, I’m not sure we’ve ever been to Kashyyyk,” Wrecker muses. “That’s a first.” If he’s trying to divert Alpha’s attention from Crosshair, it’s a skillful effort that almost takes Alpha aback. “‘Course, I only remember the fun parts,” he adds as an impish afterthought.

“Anything with explosives, you mean?” Alpha asks drily.

Wrecker grins. “Something like that.”

You and Fordo would get along fine.

What leaves his mouth is, “I don’t suppose anyone has any relevant information about this place?”

Right on cue, Tech pipes up from his position alongside Crosshair. “Actually…”

Tech is just as much of an efficient distraction in his own right. It’s not exactly the height of strategy on Alpha’s part, but once again it redirects attention. He has no doubt Hunter sees right through it; still, the man has enough tact to refrain from commenting.

You understand, I think, Alpha decides, watching exasperation and amusement play across Hunter’s face in turns as his brothers’ bickering fills the cockpit. You would go to hell and back for them, wouldn’t you, Sergeant?

Hunter casts him a wary glance. Alpha holds his gaze.

There’s too much we can’t say. It’s okay, vod - I think I’m starting to understand too.

________________________

Kashyyyk is dishearteningly vast, all sprawling jungles and endless island chains set on a swath of ocean that dissects the planet’s hemispheres. Getting in was no easy task, what with the Imperial blockade cutting off the planet from others in its sector. But Tech’s adroit piloting had come through, and they’d slipped past the blockade with little disturbance.

“You really think your buddy is here?” Crosshair asks dubiously, surveying the area with a distinct air of displeasure.

“I’ve seen the records,” Alpha says, as much to reassure himself as the other man. “The Empire’s tighter with the book-keeping, I’ll give them that. Fordo’s unit lost contact not long before Order Sixty-six went down. If they made it out, it would be on record somewhere.”

“And if they didn’t?”

Alpha battles his temper into submission before replying. “Then they would be confirmed KIA. But they’re still listed as missing as of two weeks ago.”

“Sounds like you’re leaving an awful lot to chance,” Crosshair opines. There isn’t malice in his voice so much as an unmistakable note of disapproval. “What’s your plan if it turns out they were just waiting for reinforcements and pulled out days ago? That leaves us here in the heart of Imperial occupation.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Alpha says grimly. “But if they lost comms before the order came through, then there’s a chance they aren’t with the Empire. Their main focus would be survival, not falling in line nice and neat like Palpatine expects.”

It’s clear there are a number of objections rising to the forefront of Crosshair’s mind, but the man keeps them to himself. There’s a conflict brewing there, Alpha knows, but that’s a matter to address at another time.

“There’s an area south of here where all comm signals go dead,” Tech announces, tapping furiously at the device mounted on his vambrace. “According to intel, the Wookies call it the Black Forest.”

“Sounds inviting,” Hunter says. “What’s the deal with it?”

“A prison ship crashed there centuries ago,” Tech relays. “The Wookies believe it’s cursed, so they avoid it whenever possible. It’s possible Fordo and whoever was left were driven back by the Seps - or it was a desperate bid and he was banking on the droids not following somewhere they can’t maneuver well. But why cut himself off from allies…?”

“The forward operating base was set up in Kachirho,” Alpha muses aloud “There was another commando squad deployed here, but they were retasked shortly after Order Sixty-six. If Fordo’s here, I doubt he would hang around anywhere with high Imperial activity.”

If he were operating alone, the decision would be simple. But he has the welfare of four other men to consider now; one wrong move, and they’ll all end up on the business end of a blaster.

With that in mind, Alpha looks to Hunter. “Sergeant. What do you think?”

“It’s your call,” Hunter answers. “If you have reason to think your brother is hiding out here, then I think it’s worth taking a look. So long as we go careful, I don’t see why the Imperials should notice us.”

Wrecker’s chuckle fills the comms. “Famous last words.”

_________________________

For all that they have a reputation for being unorthodox - a reputation that is doubtless justly earned - the Bad Batch can pull off stealth pretty well, too. It comes as a bit of a surprise, if Alpha is being honest, but if nothing else the overarching threat of Hunter’s wrath is enough to keep them in line.

“Keep an eye out for slavers,” Tech warns. “The whole planet has been a hotspot for them ever since the CIS first let them in.”

It’d be just our luck to run into slavers, Alpha thinks wryly. Individually they’re not much of a threat, but a group of Trandoshans spells trouble for anyone. Even without the training to back it up, their brutality can overpower even an ARC trooper. ‘Course, it’d be just like you to get into a mess like that, Fordo…

“We’ll be a bigger target if we travel as a group,” Hunter says.

“If we split up we might as well ask for a death sentence,” Alpha cautions. Typically his first choice would be to operate alone, but between the slavers, the Imperials, and the remnants of the Separatist forces, he’s starting to think their strength might lie in numbers this time.

Alpha mulls it over. Greater numbers means slower going. If we split up, we’ll be able to cover more ground. It’ll be risky, but - payoff is worth it.

“We’ll move faster this way,” Hunter says, echoing Alpha’s thoughts. “Wrecker, Tech, you’re with me. Cross…” He fixes his brother with a stern stare. “Don’t do anything stupid. Alpha has my full permission to stop you by any means necessary.”

Alpha rewards the sergeant with a wolfish grin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He can’t read Crosshair half as well as the others, but the sniper doesn’t appear altogether displeased. He merely shrugs when Alpha jerks his head towards the route they’ll be following, and trails after him without argument.

Silence lays thick over the jungle. There’s an odd rustle here and there, interspersed with faint growls from time to time, but progress is relatively smooth. Alpha takes pains to remain on guard; just because he can’t see a threat doesn’t mean they’re in the clear.

Before long the silence is disconcerting. Given the planet’s Wookie population, there should be regular movement around them, or some sign of existence. But this stretch of the jungle is oddly lacking.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Crosshair mutters.

“Guess no one’s home,” Alpha answers absently, scrutizining the terrain. “Look - there’s no sign of a fight. Maybe no one was here to begin with.”

“Kachirho isn’t too far from here,” Crosshair points out. “You don’t think it’s a little odd that this path hasn’t been used at all?”

“It is,” Alpha allows, “but look at it this way. We’re traveling the way we’ve been trained to in this kind of setting. The Wookies probably have their own methods for getting around.”

“It’s still weird,” Crosshair decides. “And if your brother really was here, we’d have found evidence of that, too.”

He isn’t wrong, but it nonetheless stings to hear the man voice the doubtful thoughts that have been creeping up on Alpha. Still, we’ve come this far. What have we got to lose?

(More than he’s willing to surrender. But Crosshair doesn’t need to know that.)

“Let’s keep moving,” Alpha says, sharper than he intends.

“Hang on,” Crosshair says suddenly. “Contact - ”

Alpha pivots in time to see a Trandoshan emerge from the surrounding foliage. The lizard is taller and more solid than he previously anticipated; instead of hitting it head-on like he initially planned, Alpha redirects in order to avoid being gutted on the lizard’s knife.

He hears the shot and the telltale thump of the lizard falling to the ground. As Alpha picks himself up, Crosshair scans the area through the scope of his rifle.

“Oh, shab,” the sniper hisses.

It doesn’t take long for Alpha to locate the cause of Crosshair’s disgruntlement. A group of Trandoshans lurches towards them. Alpha does a rapid assessment: each lizard is packing some sort of ranged weapon - including slugthrowers, he notes unenthusiastically - and most are carrying an assortment of knives.

“Ideas?” Crosshair asks tersely.

“They’ll just follow us if we run,” Alpha says. “It’ll save us trouble in the long run if we take them now.”

“I can see why Hunter likes you,” Crosshair says, oddly nonchalant considering the circumstances, and fires.

With Crosshair covering ranged attacks, Alpha elects the more up-close-and-personal option. The slavers have the advantage of size, but Trandoshans aren’t renowned for their intelligence. As long as he stays in motion the risk of having his throat slit is greatly reduced.

Alpha targets a straggler first. He hits low, knocking the lizard off balance and sending it staggering into another. The other makes a grab for him, but Alpha is already ramming his vibroblade into the first slaver’s exposed neck. Using the limp body as a buffer, Alpha pushes against the other lizard, trying to force it onto its back foot.

Just as he feels his opponent’s defense start to give, another three descend on him. Cursing, Alpha throws himself aside before they can hem him in. One of the slavers has enough presence of mind to bring his knife down on Alpha’s unprotected back; the force of the blow has him crashing to the ground.

Alpha scrambles for a foothold, but one of the lizards seizes his leg in a vicelike grip. He writhes instinctively, kicking out with his other foot. He feels the impact more than sees it and wrenches himself free.

Just as a third lizard fills the other’s place, there’s a crack from Crosshair’s rifle, and the lizard topples. Alpha springs to his feet to avoid being crushed by several hundred kilos of Trandoshan. The others are wary now, trying to divide their attention between him and Crosshair.

Alpha doesn’t give them time to choose. This time he uses his blaster to put a round through the closest target. It’s not quite enough to put the lizard out of commission entirely, so he follows up with a quick succession of bolts.

It’s not exactly an even match, but things aren’t going as badly as he first feared, Alpha thinks. No sooner does the thought cross his mind than his helmet flashes a warning. He turns to deflect the attack coming from behind, but he moves too late and steps directly into the strike.

The slaver’s curved knife skids off Alpha’s breastplate and sinks into his bodysuit in the gap between the cuirass and the shoulder bell. Alpha manages to pull away, but not before the knife catches the underside of his arm and slices a gash halfway down his bicep.

A line of pain sears through his arm. There’s no doubt the Trandoshan cut deep into the muscle. That arm is effectively useless now; Alpha grimly switches his knife to the other hand.

He doesn’t have eyes on Crosshair from his current position, but the rasping breaths and occasional curses over the comms suggest the sniper isn’t having an easy time of it either. Time to fall back and reassess.

“Let’s pull back. We might be able to lose them.” Alpha bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a hiss of pain when his wounded arm is jostled. “We can’t take them now, at any rate.”

“You might want to rethink that, alor’ad…”

Crosshair jerks his head to indicate the slavers pouring into the area. There’s a slim chance they’ll be able to slip by, but not without risking serious injury. Slowing down to accommodate a bad hit would mean certain death or capture.

Pinned down. Shabla brilliant.

Alpha makes an effort to keep his rapidly rising alarm in check. “We’ll have to hold them off, then.”

“There’s no way,” Crosshair objects. “We’re outnumbered eight to one.”

Alpha sends a slaver sprawling rather than answer. He can see it as plainly as Crosshair, but he’s not going to lay down and die, not when his brother is still out there somewhere, not when there’s still a chance they could pull this off -

He hasn’t been this close in weeks and it isn’t his place to gamble anyone else’s life but his own, but even now he can’t bring himself to give in and he understands in a sudden flash of clarity that this is where he will always fail - because he has a foothold, now, and even though all logic points to turning back for once he can’t give in -

An arm clamps around his neck. Alpha thrashes, trying to throw his attacker off, but now that he’s been caught off guard the lizard has an advantage. His vision begins to blur at the edges and he redoubles his efforts, fueled in no small part by panic at being unable to draw breath.

He doesn’t know where Crosshair is anymore. He can hardly see beyond his own hands, scrabbling desperately at the arm locked around his neck.

No sooner does his vision begin to fade than the crushing pressure on his neck abruptly loosens. Alpha hits the ground gracelessly, coughing violently as he tries to inhale. His breath rattles in his throat, but his vision gradually returns.

He lurches to his feet and assumes a defensive stance as best he can. He’s lost track of how many slavers are still standing - too many is his best estimate.

But the man standing before him isn’t an enemy. He’s -

“Vod,” Fordo says softly.

Alpha can only stare at his brother in stunned silence, momentarily deaf to the ongoing struggle around them. Fordo....

“Later,” his brother promises.

______________________

“So how’d you end up running with them?” Fordo asks with a nod towards the Bad Batch.

“It’s complicated,” Alpha says lightly. “Too much to unpack now, at any rate.”

Fordo laughs. He’s battered and weary, with something lurking in his gaze Alpha can’t quite decipher yet, but it’s Fordo, and that’s more than enough.

“It’s quiet here,” Fordo remarks. “I like that.”

“‘S nice,” Alpha agrees.

They’re still hovering just above the surface. Tentative. It’s not exactly what Alpha is accustomed to, but for Fordo’s sake he lets his brother take the lead.

“Everything’s gone sideways, hasn’t it,” Fordo says suddenly.

“It has,” Alpha admits. There’s no use pretending otherwise. “But we’ll find a way through.”

Fordo flashes a small smile. “You’re good at that.”

Alpha merely shrugs. There’s a thousand other things he wants to say, but he hasn’t the faintest clue where to begin. Finally he ventures carefully, “Y’know, for a while now I thought this mission did you in.”

Fordo lets out a long sigh. “I was starting to think it might, myself.”

“I…” Alpha breaks off, startled by the sudden pressure behind his eyes. It worsens when he tries to continue. “I don’t know what I would’ve - ”

He falters again. I care more than I should. I never should’ve let that happen, but even now I don’t know if I regret it.

“Alpha,” Fordo says softly, and pulls him into an embrace.

Alpha doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally disentangles himself from Fordo as gently as he can and scrubs at the hot trails on his face. He can’t quite bring himself to feel any shame over it. He’s never been given to such displays, but… Fordo is his vod.

“So what’s the plan, alor’ad?” Fordo asks with a familiar note of mischief in his voice.

Alpha smiles despite himself. “It’s a big galaxy.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” Alpha laughs. “We have time.”

#alpha-17 #alpha 17 #captain fordo #the bad batch #bad batch #clone force 99 #the clone wars #star wars #fic prompt #thanks for the prompt!#this was really fun #and i would absolutely write for them again #hunter specifically but shhh #if you make it through this post good on you lmao #my askbox is open!

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calliopecalling · 3 years

Text

Queen of the South 5x05 Debrief

I'm way late with this... been a busy week. But I do have some 5x05 thoughts beyond my Teresa appreciation post on Thursday, lol.

First, to continue in the long-running discussion about clothing themes, has anyone else noticed that Teresa wears all white when she's talking about going legit or makes a business move in the legit direction? I haven't had time to fully back-track through the episodes but she wears all white when she shows up at the hotel and a different all-white outfit when she signs the paperwork to buy the hotel. She's wearing her all-white blazer in 5x02 when she's talking to James about her plan to go legit. What others? Is this a pattern or am I making this up in my head? Maybe I'm reaching but I really want the queenpin-in-white visions to be the version of herself that got out of the drug business. 😁

Second, I appreciated seeing the Teresa who takes care of her own again this episode -- allying herself with Oksana by telling Oleg she'd only make a deal with him under the condition that he work with her; telling Kelly Anne that she didn't want her working twice as hard to prove herself just because she was pregnant. The queenpin that has grown overly ambitious and focused on her need to achieve safety by hording power but retains her care of and loyalty towards her "family" is a much more believable queenpin to me than one who lashes out at her family. So I'm glad we're not totally losing sight of this part of her?

Third, and look, I watch this show for Teresa and not for Jeresa; and when I started watching the show originally I was actually sort of skeptical of a romantic story-line for her that went past season 2 because I'd already read the book and LOVED it and her character truly stands on its own in the book without needing a love interest to carry through the full story; but this show really is better with a strong Jeresa element than without it. I loved episode 2 not just because they gave us another Jeresa kiss (although, ahem, thank you for that) but because the character James really gives us a looking-glass straight into Teresa's actual inner self and the two of them had lots of screen time in that episode. Episodes 3 and 4 were maybe trying to show us how dark she can get when she's trying to force distance between them and turn away from love? Now this episode we finally got a little bit of them interacting again but I felt like they could've revealed a LITTLE more.

James isn't just her love interest, he's the only character in the show now who's been around since the beginning of season 1 (not counting Pote because he didn't really become an important show character until the very end of that season even though he existed as a person obviously). He's our connection to Teresa's past self, and her connection to that past self, now that Tony is dead. I get it that that's part of why Teresa may be avoiding him. That really totally makes sense. And even so, I think seeing more of the tension between the two of them on-screen would make the central conflict of the season--the tension between Teresa now and the Teresa she used to be--a lot clearer.

So, I appreciated the flickers of that in this episode. The looks they exchanged in every scene they had together. The subtle ("black market antiques dealer, used to work out of Berlin") and not so subtle (motorcycle stoppie) moments of James peacocking for her and her slightly-longer-than-necessary eye contact with him after each of them. Her sincere but slightly breathless "thank you" after he delivered the artwork to her, which I interpreted as partly relief and partly being caught off guard by his sexiness (and competence!). And then her following him out to the balcony to have a... 15-second conversation about taking over Europe 😑 Come on! Their 5x06 conversation on the couch with drinks had better be longer than 15 seconds is all I can say. 🤞

I'm not complaining. I really enjoyed the episode. I still think we'll get payoff. (I mean, Dailyn wrote episode 3x09, so she's gotta be a shipper too, right?! She also wrote 3x12, which is the one in which Teresa finally tells James she doesn't want to lose him. I try not to follow anything she says on social, though, because I feel like she's a bit of a game-player with the fans lol.) But I am ready for more of their duo featuring! I can't wait to see what they bring.

Other thoughts:

POTE. Stop being a freaking chauvinist weirdo about your kid being a boy. Finally people are calling him out on that.

Also, POTE. Stop being such a douche to James! What's with all the grumbling at the man?! (Seriously, what is the point of that from a story perspective...?)

I really really love Teresa and Oksana together. I loved their dynamic back in Season 4 and I loved it this episode. I think part of it is that, without Camila, and without Castel (why didn't Castel become a major character in Season 4 though?), we don't have another female crime boss for Teresa to collaborate with and it's just, it's refreshing having her dealing with another woman. Also Vera Cherny is a babe. And I love the very very low-key sexual tension between them.

George and Boaz. Yes, Boaz is a loose cannon clearly. I'm not sure how George isn't picking up on that but I still loved all George's great lines.

How Boaz thinks he can take over Teresa's business and run a global cartel lololol clearly the guy is delusional and understands nothing about how she actually got as far a she did. But good luck trying buddy. I mean, maybe that's not even his end-game, maybe he's just tired of reporting to a boss who's way less volatile than him? Maybe he's just, as Pote says, a ticking time bomb? Either way, you got it good man, I wouldn't go messing around with a good thing. He's going to, of course, but it's almost funny if he ends up being the final villain.

That said, if he IS the final villain, there's something poetic about that too -- that the ultimate enemy is back home in Mexico where it all started? I kinda like that, tbh.

I know I said I wasn't going to speculate about the rest of the season. Clearly I'm bad at not doing that and who knows, maybe Boaz is just a temporary problem. But I would be surprised if we're already halfway through and the final villain is yet to be introduced.

Unless it's Oksana? It had better not be Oksana.

Or just Teresa herself?

I've seen people talk about Pote and/or KA dying and James and Teresa running off to raise their baby together. FWIW I can get around that as an ending way better than just a "James and Teresa happily ever after" ending. I doubt the series will kill off both of them but at this point for the sake of the story I hope at least one of them does get killed. And sorry Pote but at the moment I hope it's you 😬

#qots spoilers #probably reaching too much with the clothing symbolism #can you tell how much I am hoping for an ending where Teresa gets out of the business lol #also I'm debating attempting a Teresa/James/Oksana smut fic #with apologies to everyone who loathes the idea of contaminating Jeresa #but that Teresa-Oksana 1-2 punch-kick action in Durand's office after the allusion to Oksana's taste in women was too good #and I have no problem believing Teresa could be just a LITTLE queer #gonna stop this now before I do more damage in my tags #queen of the south #qots #season 5 #5x05 #txt post #qots reaction post

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whockeywhore · 4 years

Text

Delayed Gratification One

It took everything I had, every ounce of self-control, to pull myself off of him. He’d slipped his hands into the back pocket of my jeans and I found myself melting against his body. Nothing but hard muscle and warm skin under my fingertips sent my heart racing and I ached to be with him.

But I couldn’t.

Not now, not yet. The little voice in the back of my head was agonizingly loud as I sat up, clearing my throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing, I just... I gotta go.”

“What?” Confusion twisted his face and I reached out, running my pointer finger along the line of his jaw. “Did I-”

“I have an early morning, Vince. It’s nothing you did. You were- are great.”

“So stay the night.” He propped himself up on his elbows as I turned to find my shirt. I could feel his eyes on me as I dressed and I stole a glance through the reflection of his bedroom mirror. “We don’t have to... I just wanna wake up with you. Please?”

“You’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m even cuter in the morning.” He pushed himself up to stand and wrapped an arm around my waist, leaving a warm kiss on my neck and trailing up to my ear. “And I make great waffles.”

I took a deep breath and held it for a moment before shaking my head and slipping out of his grasp. “Rain check?”

He sighed but nodded, spinning me to kiss me again. His lips, the stubble of his chin, every bit of him had me shaking in my boots, but I reminded myself of the payoff. I followed him to the door and leaned against him, looking up to admire him for a second. His cheeks were a rosy pink and he leaned into my palm when I reached out to touch him.

“I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too.” He pulled my thumb between his teeth and bit down gently before grinning wide. “Will you let me know when you get home?”

“It’s two doors, Vince.”

“I just wanna make sure.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I slipped away, my stomach flipping from an evening with him. He was leaning against the door frame when I reached my apartment and I turned to look back at him, pulling out my phone. I watched as he pulled his from his pocket, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

“Can you believe this chick? Just left my place and she’s already calling me.”

“Maybe it’s because there’s a creepy dude watching her from the end of the hall.” He answered my call and grinned. “I’m home.”

“Perfect. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I slipped inside and shut the door, flipping on a few lights before I stopped to take a breath. Pent up energy had my nerves firing at full capacity and I could hear my bed calling from the next room.

“I should’ve fucked him.” Aloud and to no one, it sounded weird. A large part of me wanted to ask him to come over and answer the door with nothing on but a smile. But the other part, impossibly loud for how small it was, pushed me to wait. “It’s better. It’ll be so much better.”

The adopted mantra did little to calm me down and I started undressing, tossing my shirt on the couch and my jeans on top of it. The cold air hit my skin and raised goose bumps as I brushed my teeth in just my bra and panties. I ran my fingers along my arm and shivered at the sensation, nearly overloaded from the evening.

Still unmade from the night before, I sank under the covers and turned off the bedside lamp. After shifting around for longer than I cared to admit, I rolled onto my back and spread my legs.

His lips. The way he looked at me, especially tonight. I could feel his hands sliding under the hem of my shirt, cautious as they explored new territory. I’d kissed him hard. He’d kissed me harder.

My whole body warmed as I thought about how close he’d held me, how he carried me to his bed and fell on top of me with a quiet laugh. Everything was so easy with him. I felt... safe. He made waiting seem damn-near impossible. He hadn’t even asked me to, hadn’t pressured me.

Squeezing my thighs together brought little relief and I stopped myself just short of reaching for the drawer in my nightstand.

“Give it time, Autumn.”

It’d become a track on repeat in my head since the first time I’d tried it in college. I backed it with memories of unsatisfying sex and the walks of shame that I’d spent wondering what happened.

“Did you finish?” No.

“Do you want me to-” No.

I was never close, never anywhere near satisfaction, and I’d grown desperate. The fun of sex had disappeared and I had no clue where to begin looking for it. It wasn’t until a group date with a hand on my knee, an entire evening of flirty touching and secret moments stolen when nobody was looking, that I figured it out.

It was the build-up. The slow burn of wanting it and being forced to wait for it. Taking what you could get whenever it came and savoring every single second of it.

I experimented with a few guys, a few girls here and there, and it got better. The longer we waited, the more I wanted it. The more I wanted it, the better the wait. The better the wait, the better the release. I’d created a system that worked and stocked my arsenal with memories of mind-blowing orgasms.

But then there was Vince. I wanted him from the moment I’d met him, the first time he’d made me laugh. I was beyond physical attraction five minutes into our first conversation and he seemed to feel it too. We talked for six hours before slipping out to the balcony where he’d kissed me, long and passionate until I was up against the railing and he was snug against me. He slid a hand under the hem of my skirt tentatively but stopped as soon as he sensed hesitation.

“I want to, Vince. I really do-”

“Hey, no worries.”

He’d thrown his hands up and taken a step back, a sincere apology on beautiful lips that had just been on mine. I shook my head and told him I wanted to know him more and he obliged.

That was two months ago and he hadn’t pressed a single thing. He’d been beyond respectful of my boundaries and it made him all the more attractive. An absolute gentleman on every date, walking me home and paying attention to everything I said and did.

I paid attention too. That’s what was killing me. Listening to the tone of his voice, the body language he had around me, everything he said and did told me he’d be good. I could feel it in the way he’d rolled his hips against mine tonight and I was rapidly nearing desperation.

But I knew what came after desperation and that kept me in bed, under the covers with my hands behind my head and my heart racing.

#vince dunn smut #hockey smut #nhl smut #vince dunn imagine #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #vince dunn fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #delayed gratification fic

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

It’s A Mother Flocking Puffin Pt 24

Special Credit to @c-s-stars for again loaning me her OC Mal for this storyline involving the Princes. :) Some more attention for the trio in this one.

“Would it be better for me to payoff my Yuula’s scholarship as her title and lineage has been announced now?” The Emperor asked King Thror on his way back from his trip to stroll through the gardens while you napped.

Thror shook his head, “No. I do understand your concern, you have the funds and her rank is quite stunning, however in our culture even our young nobles are granted the chance to make their own marks. For our kin she has taken an admirable path to her education.”

Niro nodded, “In fact the news was discussing that the other day. Her grades alone were impressive she merely required some aid on the funding. Starting a business and growing sturdier in her studies and our culture have nestled her into the hearts of our people.”

Thror added, “Were there some sort of dilemma on that aspect we would inform you immediately.”

Emperor Winge sighed saying, “I just feel like there is something more I could do.”

Both the great grandparents chuckled saying together, “That feeling never wanes with age.”

Two days and the shift of the bed stirred the kitten lying across your back that stretched and rolled over accidentally off your back right into the hand that settled him back on your back. Thorin back from his wedding job eased into the bed gently guiding you to lay against his side using his shoulder now as a pillow dropping into a deep sleep content that at least with the late night flight he could arrive here and join you for a long night’s rest once again. Frerin, Dwalin and Balin along for the ride also we’re glad to be home again and to have him so glad to be back where usually he might be the one to try and play along with Frerin’s urge to explore as long as possible before returning to the same routines back at the Palace. Now Frerin’s rebellion swapped for watching his big brother melt more and more into a puddle for the adorable new sister of his.

Just sharing your receiving the stuffed bunnies was enough to stop him from scowling for at least a little while until the next marker and task was made and marked as a sort of goal to get to for him to earn more smiles and hugs from you. A posted picture of you asleep against his side to the credits of a film had the world seemingly changing gears on how your relationship was viewed and those pictures from the first market trip you made to now came up and were scrutinized for an allover stunning relationship for the nobles. Openly holding hands and pictured doing so on top of cuddling to and from Iron Hills began to melt the public even more.

Yet nothing exploded quite like a makeshift couple’s card to join the other clan cards from the Palace to announce the coming break to be joined by the other holiday cards sent to the public. You on a walk in the palace glowing gardens casting the outline of you in neon lights coming from the foliage around you. Tucked in your palms was Sir Burglar with Bagheera nestled on your shoulder and Thorin behind you. Arms draped around your middle smirking through the stolen kiss to your cheek that triggered the stunning smile across your lips, that once it appeared on the news show all the Durins in the film room watching the premier and reactions turned their heads to the boys now ducking behind the pillows they were holding. Squeals, literal squeals and elated shrieks came from the news anchors and crew who took the unique image apart inch by inch for how absolutely loving and affectionate it revealed you both to be.

Rivaling the cuddling pictures Vili and Dis had given from their own wedding ceremony including a pillow fight battle picture when the boys were nearly knew high of their palace apartment coated in feathers. The nobles in their generation were growing more personable and less rigid. And now in what would have been the hardest union to understand for the public between Elf and Dwarf lines, First Borns at that, proved to be just like any other pairing of Ones warming up to a future together to bear the troubles ahead with trust and love between you. The picture while being stunning also granted the jeweler experts a chance to get a better in focus image of those rings you were wearing to try and guess their meanings by everything from metals to cut and clarity.

Overall the public ruled its preference that much like Dis and Vili’s picture with them in the kitchen and the one for Dwalin, Balin, Bella and their Billi, the latter being shown the ducks by the fountain on the grounds, casual candid snapshots where the family seemed to be oblivious of the camera were absolutely adored. Even King Thror and Queen Niro were captured by the fire in their nightly reading and crossword book session cuddled together in a loveseat with matching slippers that even they had to adore the moment the boys captured of them. The coming week would be tough for their clan and people to understand the changes coming but these have a sense of hope that everyone could get through it together and share more moments and new beginnings when this holiday had passed.

Practically shaking inside one of the many Baggins smials in the Shire behind his loving wife Clover readying the tea leaves Ganir came up behind her smoothing his hands down her arms from her shoulders. “My precious Ukrad, surely this is safe. Malachite has been given word from the Crown Princess herself that none will harm her.”

Clover retorted, “That isn’t what you said yesterday, and now I’ve cracked two of my tart crusts, which I never so much as dented before. And all my doilies are being properly cleaned by Lobelia, who won’t have them back by next week at the latest. Now we are entertaining royalty and I have no doilies!”

“I know I was concerned, but that was before Malachite shared her talk with the Crown Princess. I never imagined the minor burn could count as the one to break the curse, yet all this time she has been kindly treated by the Durins. Surely it is as Her Young Majesty has stated, Mahal would never call for a child to be sacrificed, Durin’s animal guide has found her for companionship, surely there is some deeper knowledge of the roots of our inner living stone.”

She sighed and said, “She was meant to get a degree, not two husbands.”

“Well this is only the courtship talks. In some instances it could take years for an affection to form to stir a courtship. We complete the talks for a possible courtship and then she is allowed to wear her bond markers and they can keep a friendship until a relationship is agreed upon between the three of them.”

She sighed again, “She’s not allowed to get married until after her degree, four years after her degree, so she can be through her residency.”

“That can be added to the terms, admirable terms, they are all young. Surely the Durins will agree to granting their boys more time as well. Malachite shared she knows little of the boys beyond time the Crown Princess is with the three of them together, that is a sign that there is ample time for a later courtship and union.”

There was a knock at the door and she gasped turning for the oven, “The rolls aren’t buttered yet!”

His grin spread and he hummed, “I will fetch it, my precious Ukrad.”

To the door he went opening it to find an aid there with head bowing to the burly fiery haired Dwarf with braided beard and hair in a long ponytail that shifted in his returned head bob, “Ganir and Clover Baggins residence?”

“Yes,”

He grinned, “Good, just have to double check, there are several Baggins’ dwellings, had to be certain. Just a moment.” Turning to give the signal to the Driver that let Regent Crown Prince Thrain and Regent Queen Diaa out for the stroll to the door and inside. Pleasantries were traded and into the sitting room chairs they all settled around the tea table loaded with ample treats and goodies.

Thrain spoke first to break the silence, “First off I believe we should start here, our Crown Princess Under the Mountain Jaqi has guaranteed the safety of your daughter Mal, or are you preferring Malachite.”

Clover answered, “She prefers Mal outside of our family home.”

Thrain nodded, “Of course, Mal has been guaranteed safety and even without that, no matter the circumstances between our clans we would never harm your child. It has been marked by Jaqi that Mal was burned by Smaug and was returned to your cousin Bilbo’s home. That Mahal would never wish for our kin to a child under any circumstances no matter the totems given. Any other person and we may not put weight to such claims, however, and we pray you do not boast on this fact it is quite precious and new to our clan.” The parents nodded uncertain of what they might hear, “There is a pathway, Olórë Mallë, a pathway that through dreams Vanyar are able to travel to Valinor, a pathway through which after her injury was able to travel to the Halls of Mahal.”

That parted their lips, “And she has been able to travel there since her childhood, growing quite close to the Valar Tulkas and his family among other Valar. It is rather hard for her to discern how to tell the difference between most of them, however she knows their core beings and truly we entrust that it is time to look past this curse to find peace for our pebbles.”

Diaa stated, “Which is why we have come rather than our daughter Dis and her husband Vili, they have just had triplets and are refraining from travel. We do hope our place here is tolerable for the initial trading of terms.”

Clover nodded, “Yes, we understand, pebbles must come first.”

Thrain, “Are there any terms you are wishing to add up front?”

Ganir stole a glance at his wife with a grin then said, “We were hoping to offer a suggestion that were a relationship to form that any marriage would not be allowed until at least four years after graduation for our girl, so that she might complete her residency by then.”

Diaa nodded saying, “Oh that is very admirable a term,”

Thrain, “Yes, we have heard through our daughter that they have had little interaction save for when Jaqi is there.”

Diaa, “I am curious, you are not close to your line Ganir, does that mean you would wish to hold an entirely Hobbit ceremony on her side?”

Ganir, “That would be preferable, yes.”

Diaa smiled, “That would be perfect then, as we both are familiar with those ceremonies through our own clans and for any Dwarf traditions you might miss we could always split our clan to join yours to grant you place in celebrating that joy fully in binding with our clan.”

Ganir nodded, “That would be, a very generous notion. Mal would be grateful to have shared in that side of her lineage rituals.”

Through that all 77 of the Dwarf required topics were at least touched on alongside the required Hobbit 48 to finish off the parental portion of the courtship contract period. Amongst them were several points that were marked as to be conceded to the bairns, as tradition as they mainly were fit to their preference over the parents. Any other topic was able to be contested by said bairns upon a later date in their own session of reviewing all the Dwarf and Hobbit requirements upon agreeing to trying out a relationship. But for now should they wish to they would be allowed to trade bonding markers and tap one another’s marks for the second time. To at least allow the bond to settle in their daily lives inside their parental agreed upon season of consideration for a relationship to test if they might one day be romantic or remain platonically bound for their lives.

Upon the return of Thrain and Diaa to their Palace however in the Blue Mountains word to Mal, Fili and Kili had them each reflecting over their copies of the lists of traditions and terms that had been laid out in the parental terms that would be inked up and signed properly by the weekend for official records. The trio at least while the Durins in Erebor got a chance to review the terms they had all conferenced upon since hearing the boys’ marks had lit up they felt the deal was settled on a decent footing and understanding between both clans. And once they felt comfortable they could discuss possibly trading bond markers still with the comfort that they had time to decide upon relationship status at a later date.

It was Friday by the time anyone could blink and the six day break was coming closer by the hour to begin once classes were through. Everyone knew how big this was, the Crown Princess was to be traveling Saturday morning to meet her birth relatives and the tension was palpable. Though while that grew one dilemma was able to be mastered for the time being and the young Princes were off to see to it now. Target locked and spotted across the courtyard Mal sat triple checking her notes and they had to hurry before she would take off again. Smiling widely in the thankfully empty courtyard they came to a stop from their sprint over. Both sliding onto the bench across from her with arms settling onto the table. “Good Morning.”

Forcing out a grin to their joint hello she replied, “Good Morning, Majesties.” Nodding her head to the duo.

“Fili and Kili.” They said together and Fili said, “We were thinking,”

Kili, “Hoping rather,”

Fili, “That you might wish to solidify our bond sooner rather than later.”

That parted her lips, “But, we haven’t even considered terms of renegotiations for our courtship contracts yet.”

Kili, “We will, merely, you see, the week ahead will be difficult and all of us could use some stability.”

Fili, “We are suggesting to simply make the bond so we might be able to shake hands at least. The contract talks would go entirely as scheduled as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable.”

Kili nodded, “Yes, no pushing for anything past friendship now. Just think, the sooner we trade bracelets the sooner we can reflect fully upon the future.”

Fili, “Yes, how better to plan out the rest of our lives than through a winter of snow fights and fort building with tons of cocoa?”

Mal looked them over in their joint try for pleading puppy dog stares and let out a soft breath, “Just securing the bond?”

They both nodded, “Just the bond, we swear.”

“We can have Bilbo supervise I suppose,” she said and their lips parted, her lifted finger had their lips purse a moment. “If, you both agree to take up the advice column in the paper one month each until we can coerce someone to take up the job, so far every other university paper has one but they still haven’t been able to find someone to take it up and there’s a pile of letters unanswered.”

“Agreed!” They said practically bouncing on their toes wordlessly signaling they couldn’t wait for the rest of the day to be over with so they could be bound to their One already.

Turned from the rows of artwork from the children who had thanked the nice ‘Ice Queen Lady’ for saving their lives and relatives from the meeting room they were displayed in among those for the rest of the ruling clan that you had been told of on your way back from the manicure and pedicure set for you. Fresh white tips with a hint of shimmer to them would be a nice touch for the upcoming event. Still this was hard being the reason for the injuries sustained by others. Not even mentioning the possible nightmares those children might have or be having. But focusing on the beginning ahead it became a bit easier to bear. With relatives who knew to some extent what that feeling was like.

Back to your room you went and to the trunk at the end of the bed they had brought along with your clothes from your closet you walked crouching down to ease the lid open. Inside several compartments were tucked away, enchanted to hold well beyond what thought possible. Moved aside the top tray was settled on the ground beside you freeing your hands to lift the next tray holding what you wanted, a stack of journals. From the top your fingers eased across the cover of the first three packed with songs, plays and music based stories that your dad had written packed with all the notes you could find in the trunk related to his work. The next five were journals of notes from your mother on her work above the final one you smoothed your fingers across the cover with Vanyar runes reading, ‘Nique-Puifíní Jaqiearae, Wedding Drafts’ pressed into the leather with ink fading ever so slightly.

Cracking open the front cover page by page were possible choices or parts of choices for everything from locations to nicknames of what you took as your relatives to start up a guest list and seating chart. Beyond that were sketches of cutlery and dish designs with color as well in the table setting section. A whole section on music from your father for the ceremony came next you lingered through. Imagining the notes come alive in your head filling your eyes with tears that deep inhales eased so you could turn ahead to the section on the ceremony from layouts to flowers and everything in between all halfway done with mentions to collaborate with you on them. Lastly was your section before the blank honeymoon tour portion you guessed she didn’t get to. Makeup, shoes and hair were only lists of possible styles or shades with the gown silhouette she drafted.

Up to the neck and sleeveless it would hug you all the way down to the layered poofy mermaid end of the gown, the back with heavy beading of vines and leaves, the start of a more intricate pattern you were sure to cover the whole gown. There wasn’t much detail but on a second sheet you had drawn up her design and had gone farther with it. Layered into the skirt were sheer layers of red cloth overlaid by sheer white layers giving the whole skirt an upside down flower appeal. All fed by ridges arching over your hips the skirt you hoped your Great Grandmother High Queen Ilma might find nice to help you bring the gown off the page. Surely the red wouldn’t be a problem and resembling a flower couldn’t get more Elf friendly than that.

While you had been puzzled on the missing sleeves growing up you left it at that as Niro and Diaa had already shown you their drafts of possible designs for the embroidery on the ends of the traditional robe you would be clad in. All a deep red with golden thread, with a Calla Lily shaped train, tight across the bodice reaching to your shoulder blades in a slight v dip shallower than the one across your bust feeding to the golden buttons securing it. The sleeves however would help to keep the robe cooler on you in its thick material in flaps of sorts secured only at the shoulders to hang over your arms elegantly down to the pointed tips meant to touch your fingertips. It truly was beautiful, shown by the matching one Niro and Diaa had worn in their own ceremonies in shades of blue and green to honor their own clans. While you had chosen red to simply nod to your Hobbit line as mint wasn’t a lucky color to choose for the wedding ceremony and deep greens weren’t known to be the clan color of your Vanyar roots from what was publicly known, so you hoped red might be acceptable.

Still, closing the book you sighed turning your focus to Bagheera on his perch freshly finished preening blinked looking you over feeling your eyes on him. “You’d tell me if I was missing a step in all this, right?” Slightly his head cocked and down your gaze dropped to return the work journals and tray to the trunk you shut.

The Emperor however in the doorway stood there saying, “In all of this you are doing amazingly.” That turned your head to him on his path to your bed to guide you up to sit beside him, “I am so proud of you, and they will be too. The red robe will be lovely on you, forest green, no matter how finely crafted would not be accepted to your lineage, Vanyar rarely claim dark shades, unless you accept blue for the Durins if they would accept that.”

“I do like the red. I would certainly stand out,” timidly you added, “Plus, your shade is a deep crimson.”

That had his grin creep out and his arm settle around your back easing you into a warm hug, “I will be honored to have you wear our shade, you have every right to wear it proudly.”

Settling your head into his shoulder you said, “There will be a bit of hassle working the clan dances and tasks with the rest of my relatives surely.”

Lowly he chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head pleased eternally that even now decades later you had reached this level of a bond. “Even if you feel the need to place them in those rites I will be proud and happy to watch the ceremony all the same participation or none. It’s your day, for you, Thorin and the millions of people watching.” Making you giggle softly to his own chuckle.

“Do they like Dwarves?”

Deeply he inhaled and answered, “I don’t believe they spent much time around Dwarves to be honest. However they seemed pleased for your protection and all Oropher had shared on their race and clan. Even a bit new to their experience I am certain they will accept Thorin and his clan into the fold seeing how happy he makes you.”

In a glance up at him you asked, “Did you love your One?”

With a smile he met your gaze answering, “I did, as children, and surely I would have loved them in our adulthood as well. I know you are growing fonder of Thorin and while your trust solidifies that love will grow. You won’t be able to be timid in sharing those affections once you pass over that threshold, and he won’t be leaving you there alone either, be just as madly head over heels for you as well. Halfway there already by my eye.”

Right by the fountain where they had planned to meet her Fili and Kili stood with hands in their pockets keeping an eye out for Mal. Though at her arrival into the courtyard with two big flour sacks they hurried over to accept hold of lightening her load. Settling his against his chest Fili asked, “What’s this then?”

Mal said, “The letters for the column.”

The brothers looked down at them and said together, “Ah,”

Kili smiled up at her saying, “Ready for the train then?”

Mal nodded, “Sure, you did call to clear with Bilbo about this?”

Fili said, “Called and said we were dropping by said he’d be in and we can have Dwalin and Balin come down too for extra witnesses if you prefer to confirm it’s just for the bond and not to contest our courtship agreement talks.”

She nodded and off they went to catch the train to the waiting driver that took them to the office. There past the lobby and lift they filed out smiling at the sight of Dwalin gently bouncing Frodo in his arms humming to him calming him down from his latest tooth coming in with a frozen teething toy on which he was gumming. His eyes shifted to the trio entering the floor while Bilbo finished up another call, “What are you three up to? Don’t you boys be corrupting young Mal into any mischief now.”

Fili and Kili said, “There’s no corrupting anywhere.”

Bilbo eyed them hanging up the call and came closer to the trio flashing them a quick grin asking, “So what is all this about now?”

Mal inhaled and said, “Fili and Kili and I talked this morning and we thought it might be best to solidify our bonds.”

Dwalin huffed and Kili said, “Not to skip the contract negotiations or start a relationship yet!”

Fili, “Just to settle the bond and see where we stand through the rest of the negotiations.”

Bilbo looked between them asking, “Bonds? What bonds are you talking about?”

Mal said, “When Smaug attacked our Bonding Marks were touched and since then when we’re close they glow until we settle the bond as Ones.” She said showing him the clover on her wrist and jellyfish behind her ear that were lit up.

With lips parted Bilbo said, “So that’s what the marks do, my mother only told me it was a guiding sign to our Ones, here I’ve been popping into every shop with an ax symbol on the shop front.”

Fili, Kili and Dwain all looked at him with the former asking, “Ax symbol?”

Bilbo nodded and shifted his arm lifting his rolled up sleeve a bit more above his elbow revealing the now glowing ax mark widening Dwalin’s eyes. “Had this forever, been driving me halfway mad to figure out what it meant.” Lowering his sleeve he asked Mal, “So how does the bonding work?”

Mal said, “Well it’s in a spot your One touches you the first time, they brushed mine and did the same in hiding from Smaug. All we’d have to do is tap them again to settle the bond so they would stop glowing, and there’s a sort of deepening of trust, sort of a link between us you can’t break.”

Bilbo looked to Dwalin asking, “Your clan would be against the settling?”

Dwalin wet his lips halting Frodo’s bouncing a moment for his brain to click back into gear again and answer, “Not the settling, merely sometimes with the bonding a wish to rush things comes up. If you agree it’s merely to settle the bond and not to rush into courtship then I can’t see why their parents would be upset in just the bond.”

Tentatively the trio smiled at one another and once Balin was called down under the careful watch of the elder pair of brothers timid pokes of each glowing jellyfish and clover dimmed and formed an outline around the freckles in shades of matching pale blue and gold. Along with those from Fili and Kili the bonding bracelets in hues matching their mark outlines of woven mithril with pendants in the shape of jellyfish and clovers were traded and looped around their wrists. Hovering to the side however clinging to the toddler in his hold now dozing off again at the relief from his pain Dwalin kept stealing glances at the Hobbit clearly sharing his Bonding Mark he muttered to Balin about while Fili and Kili muttered to Mal the reason why their uncle was so focused on Bilbo.

Mal with a sudden smile asked, “So, Dwalin, what’s your mark?”

That had his eyes on her along with Fili and Kili’s in shock for her sudden meddling. Subtly he cleared his throat and blinked a couple times before rumbling out, “An ax.”

Bilbo smirked asking, “That a common mark among Dwarves?”

Balin fought his smirk as his baby brother looked at his One, “No, quite rare, especially in green.”

Bilbo, “Green, oh,” he said as it clicked in his head and he looked Dwalin over adding, “I wouldn’t suppose you know how to juggle, an old demand I expected of my One when I was a fauntling.”

Dwalin, “I used to often, but I can pick it up again shake off the rust.”

Bilbo gave him a curt nod replying, “Practice first, then we’ll talk, since there seems to be need of contracts.” Turning for his desk hiding his pleased grin at having such a handsome and kind Dwarf all his own to be bonded to. While Dwalin held his own bashful grin for the hint of opening terms with his One he could now confirm his hopes he’d shared with his parents and brother on his brewing affections and bond for Bilbo and little Frodo.

Balin smoothed his hand across his brother’s back in a silent symbol of pride then said, “Now boys, you have a ride to the Palace for tomorrow to be on time for supper and allow Miss Mal to get to her studies and start off her break properly.”

Mal glanced at her watch, “Ooh, not studies but I do have to go. Helping with the new medicine shipment to cover for Tallep.”

The boys nodded and said, “We’ll drop you on the way. Bye uncles, Bilbo and Frodo!” Filing into the still open lift waving to the room to get her to the car and work on time. The full ride they shared their plans for the trip to Greenwood, after which they could plan a stop together for lunch or something casual.

Fili’s eyes popped a bit wider on the car’s stop at the vet’s office, “Mal, hey, um, can we give Jaqi your number?”

Kili nodded, “Right! She said she forgot to ask for it and the school social page is swamped lately to reach you.”

Mal, “Oh sure, ya, I wasn’t sure if I could ask for hers or not.”

Fili, “Oh don’t worry about that. You’re friends and close to family now.”

Halfway to blushing she said, “I wouldn’t say family yet. My parents said it’d be after I graduate and finish residency for any engagement at least.”

Kili waved his hand, “As if that would stop the bond. We will be friends first but even then we’re still practically family.”

Fili, “You can always come to us no matter what.”

Mal nodded and paused asking, “She’ll be okay this weekend? She seemed nervous.”

They both said, “We’ll look after her. Big, meeting of clans and we rarely get to go to Greenwood aside from Great Gramps.”

Tenderly the boys took her hands saying, “We’ll be there. You just relax and we’ll tell you all about it when we get back.” She nodded and her hands were released in her slip out of the car to hurry inside allowing them to signal the driver to head to the Palace.

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

#Fili/Kili x OC Mal #Durins meet the Baggins #Meeting of possible inlaws #Emperor Winge #King Thror #Thrain and Diaa #Memory Lane #Gifted Drawings #Prepping for the big trip #dwalin x bilbo #Frodo #Bonding Marks #Plans #Hobbit

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