#fuck google but like you know what I’m saying

[alagaisia]

This is true, and it’s especially true for the people that I think most is us probably encounter in our own social circles and daily lives. But I don’t think it’s true for everybody. Remember how there was that stat showing a spike in google searches for “did Joe Biden drop out” on Election Day?

I think it’s sort of like how you can’t know what you can’t know. If you don’t know that you’re missing information, you can’t go looking to educate yourself on it. And while most of the time when people talk about “living in a bubble” they tend to mean it in a bad faith, paradox of tolerance type of way, I’ve realized lately that it’s a concept that’s absolutely applicable in a lot of ways. Of course we make our assumptions about the world based on the very limited and biased sample size of people we interact with in our daily lives. You can’t talk about the benefits of being able to curate our dashes on tumblr and then say you think the people who interact with the same political posts as you make a representative sample of the American public.

I am someone who tries to be pretty aware of environmental issues in my personal habits. My family isn’t zero-waste, granola, organic everything, but we haven’t used a plastic shopping bag or water bottle since I was in first grade. As I start forming my own adult habits and thinking about having more control over my consumption, I’m identifying ways I could move towards more environmental consciousness. I know that I’m not doing the absolute most I could be doing, and that I think about this more than the people around me, but not by that much, right?

Except I work now for an organization that sends plays on things like proper sorting of recycling to teach elementary students two counties from where I live. The county pays us to bring these programs, because the residents are simply not recycling. I’ve gone along on one or two of the programs and seen kids ten and eleven years old participating in the interactive “help us sort the recycling” activity in the show who were terrible at it. Because it’s just not something their community thinks about. These aren’t rural areas, these aren’t devoid of civilization or waste management infrastructure, this is a suburb 45 minutes from the largest city in our state.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it, too, but trump did not win because more people voted for him. He won because record numbers of people did not vote at all. And we can blame that on individual leftists becoming cynical and disillusioned, but something like a third of the country has never voted in any election. There are people who are and always have been disconnected from and disinterested in the government and electoral politics and anything happening in this country.

And it’s wrong! I’m not saying it isn’t. Each of us has a responsibility to our communities, and the civic responsibility of voting and being at least minimally informed on what’s happening in the country is a part of living in a fucking society. It’s disgraceful. But many of those non-voters didn’t consider all of the available information and then choose not to educate themselves and not to vote. It simply didn’t occur to them. Just like the kids I encountered who don’t know how to recycle, a lot of people have grown up in families and communities where electoral politics were somebody else’s business, or for any number of other reasons I can’t begin to guess at, something that just wasn’t a priority. I come from a very politically motivated family, and I’m sure most of you do too. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t vote. I don’t know why each of them didn’t. But there are millions of people who don’t.

These problems have been building since long before 2016, but at the very least that election should have been a wake up call for the democratic party on a national level. What we needed and still need is community and individual level action on a national scale to reach non-voters and educate them on political issues and why this shit does actually affect them and does actually matter. Democrats need to stop folding to random criticism on things like fracking and instead have some fucking backbone, stick to their morals, and work to get votes through education and changing people’s minds and convincing them that these values are worth voting for, rather than changing their policies every other week based on what they think might appease people who are not going to vote for them anyway without a concentrated effort for a societal change of mindset.

Yes, there’s lots of information available, and people do have a responsibility to use that. Obviously there are plenty of people like the ones OP alludes to who are shirking that responsibility due to apathy. But those of us who know all of that know it because we are part of communities that care about accessing and acting based on that information. There are people who don’t know and don’t care and to whom it would never occur to seek that information out, because in their community, it doesn’t matter. And those are the people who I think the democratic party does have a real responsibility to try harder to reach. Politicians also obviously live in a social bubble where everybody cares about politics. But somebody needs to look at the numbers and realize that that’s just not true for the country as a whole. And then they need to do something about it.

I STILL sometimes see people argue that Trump's victory is the fault of Democrats for not being good enough at messaging, and not making it clear enough to Americans all the good Biden was doing.

I knew. Lots of people I know knew. I don't have a secret line to the white house. I'm around average intelligence. I'm not excessively seeking out news, constantly getting news updates. And yet I knew. And so did many others. The information was there for you to get at any time. It found its way to me without my actively seeking it out. Kamala Harris cannot personally come to your house and slap the tiktok out of your hands. You have to take a crumb of responsibility here.

[talkingaboutmybullshit]

quick unedited thing i wrote after i saw a bitches love me tiktok about Tim in the 90s. And kinda a response to a lot of fandom tim thinking he’s a loser that hasn’t dated or slept with anyone when canonically he’s had like 20 live interests.

“Why are you asking boy Virgin over here?” Jason said

“Jason don’t be mean,” Dick chided

“What because it’s true,” Jason flipped Dick off

Tim couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Why the hell are you laughing like you’ve gotten laid ever in your life?”

“Did you forget that him and Steph dated for a year,”

“I don’t think I was there for that? Is that why she hangs out around us because she dated the shrimp? She’s to cool for him.”

Tim made a so so motion with his hand “Officially for like a year ish. Then we kinda had this on and off thing for a few years after that. Though she wasn’t the only girl I got with during that time. I was actually dating another girl when I first got with Steph,”

“How the hell did you get not one but two girls interested in you?” Jason asked “How the hell did you even have time for that?”

“Look when I was Robin and in high school I had a lot more extra time than I have now,” Tim explained and then scrunched up his face at the memories “and that wasn’t one of my proudest moments,”

“Honestly I don’t know how you can even keep track of how many people you been with,” Dick rolled his eyes “I swear you were talking to another girl every week before you got with Bernard,”

“Oh I got a spread sheet,” Tim answered non chalently

“You got a whole ass spread sheet?!?” Jason said

“Yeah,” Tim at least looked sheepish

“Why?” Jason ask

“Well back in high school me and my friends were talking-“

“You have friends?” Jason asked

“Well back in high school at least I had a decent amount. Then I dropped out and went around the world looking for B. I kinda got out of touched with them. You know the normal post high school kinda stuff,”

“Totally,” Said the guy who died Freshman year of high school

“Anyways,” he rolled his eyes “They were asking me how many girls i slept with and honestly I didn’t know off the top of my head. So I went home, started a list. Then that kinda morphed into a spread sheet because that’s easier to manage than like a google doc. Then I was like well I have a spread sheet I can document like umm,” he looked away trying to figure out how best way to say it without being to crass “bases and stuff I got to. Then I kinda just kept up with it over the years. Started a guys data section too since bases work a little differently and-“

“You’re a freak, of course you have a spreadsheet about your sex life,” Jason said “forget I said anything and never answer questions about sex again,”

“Gladly,” Tim shakes his head wanting this whole thing to be over

“I’m surprised you didn’t know this,” Dick said “Not the spread sheet thing but Tim ummmm…”

“Apparently getting with everything that moves,” Jason answered

“Yeah that,”

“Hey!” Tim objected “I do not. Plus I think the worse of it was when Jason wasn’t around. I had more time when I was young,”

“Dude you’re still like 20,”

“Plus I got a boyfriend now so I’m settled downed. I’m busy with work and being a vigilante,”

“Never stopped you before,”

Tim cringed at that “ok high school me wasn’t the best but-“

“When the fuck did you get a boyfriend,” Jason, who just had his twentieth revelation about Tim that hour, asked

“Oh a while ago when I rescued him from this pain cult,” Tim waved him off “we were friends in high school and reconnected after that. Really I think he brings out the best in me-“

“Meaning he hasn’t gotten bored yet from a lack of adrenaline and gone on to the next person who catches his eye,”

Tim huffed “I do not want to hear any slander from the guy who fumbled Starfire,”

“You fumbled Superboy,” Dick said

“When did you even get Superboy?” Jason exacerbated by Tim’s way to messy love life. Maybe the spread sheet was necessary. Jason at least needed a time line to get this straight.

“There was nothing even going on there!” Tim said

Dick turned to Jason to answer this question “Superboy was Tim’s first gay situation ship,”

“Was not!” Tim fought back

Jason groaned accepting he opened Pandora’s box of Tim’s messy love life.

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

hey so thinking about stalker!quinn so bare that in mind when you click that handy dandy read more. i rambled hard core but whatever

he sees you in a book store in downtown Vancouver. your hairs just below your shoulders, you have on what looks like a black skirt and a pair of tights with black converse to match and he can’t read whatever’s on your hoodie.

all he can do is stare as your flip book after book, flushing as you read a random page before grabbing the book and holding it close.

he’s following you around the store, just grabbing random books to make himself not look like a weirdo. he needs more. needs to know who you are.

he overhears you ramble your phone number for rewards, replaying it in his head while you finish your transaction. as soon as he steps foot into his apartment, he’s googling.

he’s finding you one way or another. he learns you just graduated from Michigan State (and he cringes a little), and you just moved here for a job at the hospital. you’re 23, almost 24. you’re a pisces he’s learned, you really like music that screams in his year and taylor swift. it doesn’t make sense to him but that’s okay. he can live with it.

he finds out you live in his building. he sees you walking into the mail room and opening up box 117, that’s the floor below his. he’s learned you leave every Monday through friday at 5:30am and get home at 6:30pm. he hasn’t talked to you yet, just left flowers and dinners at your door.

he was getting out of his car when he saw you park yours. perfect, he’s thinking. he makes himself look busy while he waits for you to get to the elevator. making sure no one else is around, he’s walking to your car and sticking an air tag under your car. he’s gotta make sure you’re okay.

that following friday, he sees your at work still and against all better judgment goes down to the front desk and talks his way into getting a spare key to your apartment. he apologizes profusely to the desk, “i’m sorry my girlfriend didn’t leave hers under the mat and i’m supposed to surprise her tonight.” and who’s gonna say no to the beloved teams captain? no one.

that’s how he ended up in your apartment, placing cameras in hidden spots. he needs to learn your daily routine. what makes you tick. what you sound like when you moan.

once he’s found his way to your bedroom, he notices a pile of laundry on the floor. messy, messy girl. his eyes set on a lacy pair of underwear closer to your bed and he’s grabbing them before his brain even has time to stop him.

he made it home just in time. as soon as his doors closing, he gets a notification yours opened.

he’s pulling the cameras to see your pulling your top off and walking towards your room. his hands moving down to his sweats, trying to push them down enough when he hears your voice say his name.

“Quinn. yeah that’s the upstairs guys. no i haven’t talked to him much at all. yes he’s cute. very cute actually. but i don’t stand a chance. his face is fucking on the side of an arena dude, all i need is 10 minutes.” followed by some laughter.

baby, you’re getting more than 10 minutes.

he’s banging on your door before he knows it. as soon as your open the door, robe covering your top half, he’s pushing his way in.

“close the door.” he can see your face flushed and the anxiety all but falling from your eyes.

“you wanted 10 minutes? you can have 10 minutes but as soon as those 10 minutes are up? you’re mine. mine to use, to watch, to brand, to have, to do whatever i want with. isn’t that right? been practically begging me for months now. so why don’t you get on your knees and prove your worth?”

[ifwebefriends]

me after doing one (1) reading for school:

[swampthingking]

andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

I’ve been highly confused as to why Michael “deeply openly thirsting on Twitter about David Tennant for half a decade” Sheen is half-in half-out the closet but apparently Wales is absurdly homophobic lmao what the fuck how is a country the size of New Jersey that much of a hater bruh we out number the shit out of you

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[mylove-thresher]

JUMPING UP AND DOWN!!,,,!!,! I DREW!,!,,,!!!!,,

yo cuando mujeres sobrenaturales

[stealingyourbones]

Re: you are playing half-life

1) GOOD IT'S GREAT, needs a bigger fandom outside hlvrai. Also maybe look into Black Mesa- the fan made modern remake that is *absolutely beautiful,* one of the few games that would probably actually be worth $60, but is actually only $20, and is a faithful recreation with modern technology.

2) siren pups are called houndeyes! Headcrabs are probably p obvious, but also, the squid face dogs are bullsquids, and the three-armed aliens are vortigaunts!

3) pleas don't slander my boy Barney Calhoun like that he's just a security guard not a cop and in fact is canonically, actively anti-cop/anti-facist in HL2 please he doesn't deserve to have his game rejected like that PLEASE LOVE MY BOY-

Ok im sorry that's all I'm done I'm just passionate about these games I hope u enjoy them ok bye <3

!!! Oh bro you’re so good!! I absolutely LOVE people talking about things they’re passionate about and have a bunch of facts to share!!!!

I KNOW THE NAME OF THE HOUNDEYES NOW!!! Today is a good day :)

I shall play Blue Shift then fuck yeah!!! Was just about to start Half Life 2 so I’m glad I found that out beforehand and play everything in series! I’m absolutely gonna check out that fanmade game that sounds so cool!

As a kid I was pretty much fully isolated from video games as a whole and honestly it’s been a BLAST playing games that are spoiled or well known for many but completely unknown for me! I finished playing the Portal series a few weeks ago and MAN I now know why it is on such a high pedestal!! The games are wonderful and the characters are absolutely iconic. Currently going through well known earlyish PC games, the Doom games, Portal, Half-Life, and slowly chugging my way through chronologically so I can see how video gaming as a whole progressed and evolved! It’s so neat! It’s really hard trying to play a few games though, lots of games expect you to know a lot of stuff so I have to watch lots of videos to make sure I’m not forgetting a Super Important button that does a Super Important Game Mechanic. It’s so cool tho!!!! I’m having such a great time!!!!!!! Thanks for the ask my guy!! :D

[kittzuxp]

Me, stockpiling fix-it, (toothrotting) fluff, reincarnation, AU and afterlife fics when the book i’m reading is ending ( i already know how it’s gonna end (probably) because it’s based of off an epic story/mythology)

[milo-is-rambling]

Me when I’m not anxious at all about anything especially not traveling or not being home or being around strangers or going to a new airport or not being in control of the schedule or not having immediate access to my safe foods or not seeing funk and I’m definitely not anxious about being in new places and meeting new people and animals and having to be a person while trying to balance my emotions out enough that I don’t bring every conversation down while simultaneously only thinking about saying the wrong thing and bringing the conversation down

[monicaalexandraaa]

Oh the next part is gonna start with a bang! I love it! This story makes me happy😌😌I love them all (except Kael)🩷🩷

Pucking Rookie III

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: oops, more slow burn

Warnings: I have a feeling you will all be requesting a much FASTER update. Angst, fluff, shitty ex-boyfriend, the usual. Some violence which could b triggering. Please be kind to your mind.

Summary: Harry hates Kael. To be fair, most everyone hates him.

“Did y’bring your skates?” Harry asked. He was taking shots into the net for about an hour and a half at the time she had arrived. She was just a little over half an hour early to their practice. He paused to skate over to her. She was putting water bottles into place, clipboards, and other things that her uncle needed for a successful practice. Once everything was where it was supposed to be, she took her camera and took a practice shot of the ice behind Harry littered with pucks.

She frowned and looked away at her camera using it to divert his attention ever so slightly. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “They’re in my car...”

Her unease wasn’t lost on Harry. “Do y’want t’go get them and I’ll help y’for a bit before practice?” He asked, leaning on his stick propped against the board.

She shook her head. “No thank you.”

He tilted his head at her. “C’mon, Rookie. You’re not going t’learn if y’don’t try.”

She sighed. “It’s not that... it’s just...” she looked up at him. “I’m still pretty embarrassed about it and I don’t want to do it here in front of everyone and everyone try to help...” She explained. “Like Uncle Charlie will give his two cents and honestly, I’ll be overwhelmed and I’m already nervous about it. The whole team watching would be even worse.”

Harry hadn’t really thought of that. But he wished he had because that meant that he could have a private lesson with her. One-on-one time with her was easily his new favorite thing. It happened a little more frequently since the night he followed her home. When he brought the used skates to her, she ordered pizza, and they played several rounds of Cribbage together. On a morning off from practice, he happened to be going by her place (of course going out of his way to be nearby) he did yoga with her before ordering breakfast to be delivered to her. Evenings where she worked at Louis’ he placed himself at his regular table and smiled at her as she came and went from kitchen to fluttering around the room waiting on everyone.

But on game days, whether they were home or away, she stayed her distance. He suspected she knew about his habits and his hookups. Which made him feel bad in a way he hadn’t worried about in ages. Harry was very comfortable with his sexuality. He liked having sex. He enjoyed making someone else come and yeah, he enjoyed that aspect for himself too.

But since he met the pretty photographer, he didn’t like it as much. Didn’t find it nearly as satisfying. Even though he wanted to.

Harry had a pond out behind his house. A pond that was very frozen in this chilly winter air. She hadn’t been to his place yet. Her pretty being all over his house seemed like a brilliant idea. It made him want her more.

Harry never wanted a girl the way he wanted her. For him it was always a one-night stand at their place, so he had the freedom to leave. They knew what they signed up for. But she invaded every little part of his mind. Thoughts of camera flashes and smiles. His picture on her fridge. The picture she texted him of herself that he saved as her contact photo. Her wearing Niall’s jersey. The cookies she made for her neighbors. Her rundown car. Her piece of shit ex.

“Would y’want t’come t’my place? I’ve got a pond out back.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Harry,” she admitted. Her voice was quiet, but she made direct eye contact with him. She always did, even if the conversation was difficult.

He frowned. “Why?” He asked.

“Because... you’re... you.”

“What’s that mean?” His eyebrows pulled forward as he tried to think through her logic before she said it.

“It means...” she looked at the ceiling like the answer would appear there. “I am not going to be seen with you at your place when you’ve never brought a girl home.”

He blinked. “How do y’know that?” She shrugged but busied herself with her camera taking pictures of the bench. She took Harry’s gloves from him and put them in a specific place. He felt utterly annoyed when he realized why she might have known. The frustration came over him before he could stop it. “Did your stupid ex tell you ‘bout m’reputation or something? Is that it? S’why y’don’t let me in fully? Y’think m’a piece of shit too?” He asked quietly. It sounded a little too accusing. He didn’t mean to. But it was unfair. Plus, he thought they were friends. The kind of friends like he was with Niall.

Because honestly, Harry didn’t think he could be good enough for her. Maybe he was projecting what he felt. She deserved a good boyfriend who would be able to devote all his time to her. She didn’t deserve someone that got a crummy five months to be in a relationship who had to worry allthe time about him because he had never had a steady girlfriend before.

She brought the camera from her face down to rest against her stomach on the strap around her neck. Once more, she looked him straight on. It was intoxicating. Brave. Beautiful, of course, always.

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit, Harry Styles,” she said very clearly.

He blinked. “You don’t?”

“Why would I think that? Because you sleep with women who clearly want to sleep with you? You’re entitled to whatever you want with whomever you want as long as they fully consent, Harry. I don’t really give a shit. I just refuse to date a hockey player because an actual piece of shit cheated on me for who knows how long which I did not consent to. It’s obvious you’re charming, talented, intelligent, and very handsome,” she paused briefly, took a deep breath. “Any girl would be lucky to have you, Harry Styles. I just won’t be her.”

She brought her camera back to her face. She seemed unaffected by his stunned expression. He swallowed and it felt like a rock was in his throat. “That was an awful lot of compliments, Bunny,” he hummed. She continued taking pictures, but Harry saw the way her cheeks turned another shade of red under his gaze. He leaned closer towards her. “You think m’handsome?” he teased.

“A blind person would know you’re handsome, Harry. Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Charming?”

“Are you getting off on this or something? Is your ego not big enough?”

“I just didn’t know you thought that ‘bout me. I thought y’jus’ kinda tolerated me and m’overbearing presence.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I hate you?”

“No reason.”

But he answered too quickly. It was the reason that hung in the air over and over. She turned from her camera and caught his gaze again. “You’re nothing like Kael, Harry. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that you were,” her voice was extremely gentle, like she was speaking to someone with a baby napping in the room. It made him feel all over. Every cell in his body vibrating with emotion.

The breath he released was more relieved than when he found out he was being drafted to the Chargers. Harry wanted her all over his house. Wanted her in his room and not even for sexual reasons. He just wanted to see her there after any game. Wanted her to wear his jersey. Teach her to skate better. Hang any of her photographs in his house like a museum paying tribute to her talent. More than that he wanted pictures of her in his house—so many pictures of her.

*

On nights when the team had curfew because of early morning practice or a game the next day, she did not of course. Harry broke curfew almost every single day after learning where she lived. He asked her to move in almost every time he followed her home ensuring she got home safely in her crappy car.

You shouldn’t break curfew. You’ll get a big fine. Marc and Michael keep an eye on my arrival.

It’s fine. I have the money.

Harry was territorial about her and especially her safety.

Look, I don’t want to be weird, but we’re friends... Evander said you... had plans tonight with someone...

Harry wanted to kill his teammate. Who? He tried for the funny remark so he wouldn’t lose his fucking mind at the thought of her thinking about his late night hook up.

You’re ridiculous.

Making sure you get home safe is more important than having an orgasm.

...

Sorry, FRIEND. Thought we could talk about orgasms.

R I D I C U L O U S

😇

Go puck yourself Harry.

God, you’re hilarious Rookie.

Good night, Harry. Thanks for worrying about me. It’s... actually kind of nice.

Yeah, of course. Good night, Rookie.

Harry didn’t have plans that night. Not unless pining over his coach’s niece in the privacy of his own bed was a plan.

*

Charlie was currently taking his anger out on the guys, which was extremely unfair because they had no idea it was because of her. She wished she could have been surprised. Instead, she quietly took pictures, feeling bad for their poor lungs. They were breathing hard and heavy as they struggled with the conditioning drill.

“Five minutes!” Charlie snarled.

They all collapsed on the ice in their spots. Players on the bench were slumped and moaning in pain and they were already on a rest. She glared at her uncle holding two six-pack water bottle carriers as she stepped onto the ice. She nearly slipped twice. Harry didn’t even move to help her, which meant they were in really tough shape.

“Thanks Sweetheart,” Asher heaved.

“Coach, is something wrong?” Niall asked, chugging his water. Off to the side of the rink Callie was throwing up into a trash can. A quiet ‘pussy’ came from an equally green-looking Lang. Only Niall could get away with asking because he was the nice one of the group. But even still, Uncle Charlie silenced him with a glare.

“He’s mad at me and taking it out on you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry guys. Uncle Charlie, can you stop punishing all hockey players on my behalf?”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he shook his head once paying no mind to the team that was half dead on the ice before him.

She sighed heavily. “You’re being mean, Uncle Charlie. It’s not their fault!”

“It’s the reputation they’ve given the game,” Coach Wheeler agreed.

“What reputation?”

“Uncle Charlie is mad he picked me up from my apartment. He’s not keen on where I live.”

“It looks like a meth lab.”

“My apartment is not a meth lab.”

“You have a drug dealer living on the first floor.”

“Michael is super nice! He watches my car and—”

“Jesus,” Niall murmured. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t even bother, Horan. I tried everything. She is insistent, she doesn’t want a single hand out from anybody. Which is why you’re all paying the price. What kind of asshole makes someone as sweet as her—”

“Uncle Charlie, can we not air my relationship out in front of the whole team?”

“If we’re doing suicide sprints because of fucking Kael Crowe I want to be moved to the Lightning,” Callie groaned referring to the minor team affiliated with the Chargers. “What the hell, Coach!? Take it up with Crowe!”

Exhausted agreements resounded from the ground. “You all better treat women with respect. There is zero tolerance for it,” Coach Wheeler grumbled.

“Sweetheart, do something please,” Lang begged standing to where Callie was previously, vomiting promptly into the trash.

“Uncle Charlie, can you cut them a break? They didn’t cheat on me.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Asher moaned. “Permission to cross-check when we play him?”

“Permission granted,” Uncle Charlie shrugged.

“Jesus,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. Harry was still breathing hard, but surprisingly didn’t say anything. She was certain he would have something to say about Kael or her stupid choice. Everyone seemed to.

“First one’ll be for you, Sweetheart. Second one’s for me,” Asher winked.

“Why’d he pick y’up?” Harry asked quietly. It was interesting, it was the first thing he said after all the time spent trying to remember how to breathe. It was like he already knew the answer. He also didn’t rat her out for knowing beforehand about where she lived. Although she suspected he knew the punishment would be far worse if Charlie found out that Harry knew where she lived and said nothing.

“Car wouldn’t start,” she shrugged handing him a bottle of water. “It’s a piece of shit, but it’s all I can afford,” she admitted quietly. The conversation was just for the two of them. “I’m on a budget,” she reminded him.

Harry liked how open she was with him. When she told him and Niall that she couldn’t skate and that she got nervous about it, it was vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect. He liked how she said she wouldn’t date him (even though it broke a piece of him) and still managed to compliment him. Each time she mentioned she wasn’t swimming in cash made him feel like she trusted him. He thought of her cold apartment, her used skates, and her broken down car.

It was a shame she wasn’t going to like him as much after her next comment.

“Coach, if I let her borrow one of my cars while hers is in the shop, can we call practice early? I’ll drive her to and from games. Won’t let her out of my sight until she’s safely in the building.”

“I’m not convinced it’s a safe building.”

“Jesus Christ, Sweetheart, where are you living?” Niall sighed.

When Coach said the name of the building and the street just into the bad side of town, everyone moaned again. She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s the right price and no one bothers me. I use you all as a threat.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Callie groaned. “Coach, we’ll take shifts, anything. Make it stop,” he begged. Lang returned from throwing up in the trash can and took water from her.

“I don’t need shifts of you guys watching me,” she rolled her eyes. “No one bugs me, they know I work for the team and that I could have twenty scary hockey players there in a matter of minutes.”

Harry smirked. It was obvious he liked the sound of that. “Coach?” Harry prompted.

“Harry, I’m not taking your car, for God’s sake!”

“Oh you don’t have a choice, Sweetheart,” he snorted.

“Uncle Charlie! You’re not getting one of your players to babysit me!”

“Then you’re responsible for their lungs bursting.”

She pouted, glared at her uncle, and marched off the ice. Snagging her camera from the bench as she did. It was childish, petty, and made her look like an idiot, but she was too mad to care. Harry sighed. “Coach, she’s a grown woman... y’could have at least asked her if she was okay with that...” Harry reminded him. Charlie leveled Harry with a stare.

“She’s the best person I know,” Charlie explained. “That piece of shit Crowe never deserved her. It kills the whole family that she doesn’t see her own worth. We watched her take care of him and put her life on hold for him. She doesn’t let people take care of her. Maybe because she doesn’t know how,” he shrugged. “So if she needs tough love to do that, then so be it.”

Harry followed her off the ice. He walked slightly awkwardly on his skates but found her outside one of the offices sitting on a bench, putting her items away in her bag. “You’re not giving me your car,” she grumbled.

“Rookie,” he sighed.

“I don’t need you saving me! This is just like when you yelled at Kael.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “We’re friends, right?”

She glanced at him. “...yes,” she said tentatively.

“Y’know how y’always worry ‘bout me drinking water? Making sure I eat dinner? Texting me t’make sure I get home after following y’home?” She didn’t look at him and fiddled with the laces of her boots. “Y’can ignore me all you want, but s’what friends do. We care ‘bout you and want t’do all the nice things y’do for us.”

It looked like she was piecing together what he was saying. But not fully wanting to accept it. “You’re really going to let me borrow your car?”

He smiled.

“I guess I could... have a skating lesson... assuming your car is at your house?”

Somehow, he managed to smile wider. “Yeah, Rookie? Great... I’ll go change and tell Coach. Be out in a minute.”

“Don’t be weird about it, Harry. I don’t want anyone to think you’re my favorite. Because you’re not.”

He chuckled. “Sure thing, Rookie.”

*

Harry hurried to her side of the car and opened the door when they arrived at his house. She grabbed her stuff from the back—it was everything she had to pull out of her car and toss into her uncle’s when he picked her up. Harry grabbed his duffle bag, as well as a small bag of groceries of items she needed to make the hot chocolate she promised after the skating lesson. “M’gonna put this stuff away and sharpen your skates,” he said holding the pair by the laces tied together as he opened the door. “Here’s the key if y’want t’throw your stuff in the car,” he grabbed it off the hook near the doorway and then headed further into the house. With the key in hand, she headed back outside and unlocked an extravagant car she would never be able to afford. Sighing, she put her stuff in the trunk, locked it, and headed back toward the equally luxurious house.

To be fair, it wasn’t a mansion. It was a nice home. It was clear Harry took great care of it—or paid people to take great care of it. Following the sound of something scraping against the blade, she found Harry in his kitchen, sitting on a breakfast bar stool at the island. The kitchen was stunning. Marble countertops, white backsplash, black hanging light fixtures, white cabinets with black hardware. There were green curtains in the window. The appliances were all black. It belonged in a magazine. It was practically pristine.

The only thing she found interesting was Harry’s sink was filled with dishes. The dishwasher looked clean, it was open and completely full as well. How many dishes did a person living by themself have? She spun the key on her finger as she approached him, setting it on the counter. “When’s your birthday?” He asked randomly.

“February eleventh,” she blinked.

Harry smiled that really beautiful way of his. The one that made the dips in his cheeks deepen. His eyes seemed brighter. “S’near mine.”

“I know.”

“You keeping track of me Rookie?” He was full-on beaming.

“No, but I added everyone’s birthday to my calendar after Ray’s. Figured I would make treats if I had the time,” she explained. “I remembered yours because it’s in February like mine.”

“Can’t y’jus’ let me believe y’like me?”

She ignored him. “How do you do it?” She asked pointing to the skate.

He held the little tool out to her—a little rectangle with a space for the blade to slide between. “They don’t sell skates unsharpened, even used ones. So they’re already pretty good, but I feel better doing it myself. I wouldn’t want t’put y’on skates I haven’t ensured were good to go,” he explained and waited until she lined up the blade with the tool. “Jus’ stroke the blade in the same direction a few times. You’ll feel a little resistance. S’how y’know it’s working. The duller the blade the more resistance you’ll feel.”

“Like this?” She asked making sure she didn’t mess up her new skates.

“Yup, that’s good,” he monitored the motion.

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly.

“Course, Rookie. S’what friends are for,” he shrugged simply.

But it wasn’t that simple. Kael would never sharpen her skates for her. Wouldn’t even offer. It’s why she basically stopped skating—didn’t bother to continue because he didn’t care. He never asked if he could help teach her. There was no way he would willingly give his car to her either or offer to follow her home from a game. Most of the time they were at the same arena he didn’t go home with her. In case he wanted to go out with friends.

She felt the emotion building in her throat because she knew Harry had plenty of options. But she didn’t want to be an option. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. Honestly, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just wasn’t... the right time. She was too broken and fucked from her ex. Harry was too talented and charming to deal with a steady girlfriend and he shouldn’t have to. He was young, handsome, and had ample time in his career and life to have fun before he settled down.

“Ready?” He asked interrupting her sad thoughts. Harry was sweet—really sweet. The kind of sweet she always wanted Kael to be. She shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of how nice it would be to be Harry Styles’ girlfriend. It wasn’t going to happen. He replaced the guards on her blades. “Pond’s out back,” he told her gesturing to the back slider that led to a porch.

“Your house is beautiful,” she told him.

“Thanks, Rookie, love,” he smiled. “Mum was insistent it be my first investment,” he explained.

“Smart lady.”

“The very best,” he affirmed.

Nope, she wasn’t going to fall for a man who was kind and adored his mother. Not one bit.

The back deck overlooked a decent sized yard, but it was the pond that was by far the feature of it. She could picture beautiful sunsets, and she wished she brought her camera with her. There was a layer of light snow on the ground, the bare branches. It was like a Christmas movie scene. It left her a little breathless and Harry paid no attention to it. Totally used to the beauty of his own yard.

“Y’okay?” He asked over his shoulder. He noticed her pause as he continued walking toward the little pond. Harry kicked his boots off and put on his skates while sitting on a little wooden bench. They weren’t the pair he wore at the rink. These looked a little more worn in and scuffed. Well-loved, was the best description. He laced them quickly and expertly. It must have been second nature to him. With the guards still on his blades, he stood in front of her. “Put these on,” he handed her a pair of socks from his sweatshirt pocket. They weren’t the ones he bought her, which meant they were either his or another set he had bought her just for the occasion.

Nope. Not falling in love with him. Not at all.

“Your backyard is beautiful,” she said. “I wish I had my camera.” She untied her boots and stuck her feet in the skates. Almost immediately, Harry carefully hoisted her left skate between his thighs. He held her foot in her new-used skate (with the guard still in place) and tied the laces tightly.

“I can grab it after the lesson,” he offered and worked on the laces. “S’that feel good?” He asked. “Or is it too tight?”

“No, I don’t like my ankle to move.”

He chuckled. “Y’want it t’move a little, Rookie.”

She shrugged while he tied the other skate. Once done, he pulled the guards off and held his hands out for her to take. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how large Harry’s hands were and wrapped around hers so easily. They were warm and comforting. He bent and took his own skate guards off. “I know y’can skate a little, so I don’t want t’push you,” he headed for the ice. “Jus’ do what feels comfortable.”

She barely skated at the rink. Skating on a pond seemed like a bad idea. Sitting on that little bench watching Harry? Maybe taking pictures of him as she did? That seemed like a good idea. Comfortable, to his point. “Is the pond deep?” She asked tentatively.

He frowned and waited at the very edge as she stood just off the ice. “Bunny,” he hummed gently. “I would never let y’get hurt, so no,” he promised. “S’not deep. S’very safe,” he assured her. “C’mon,” he held his hand out. Tentatively, she took it. Fortunately, she was used to him holding her elbow while she walked or skated around.

“Harry, I really don’t want to embarrass myself,” she warned.

“M’not going t’make fun of you, Bunny,” his voice didn’t have any teasing in it. Harry was dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray sweatshirt. He looked cozy and pretty as always. His voice was too soft and made her feel safe. Which wasn’t a bad thing except for her heart. “Jus’... take little steps. M’not going t’let you fall.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that it was too late for that.

She listened, taking small steps. Harry skated backwards while facing her, holding his hands out for comfort but not holding onto her. “You’re leaning too far forward, Rookie. Y’want t’keep your weight over your skates while y’step. S’going t’change a bit when y'take your steps but s’what you’re trying to maintain,” he explained. He watched her feet as she adjusted to what he said. “Don’t stare at your feet,” he offered kindly. “I know s’hard, but it’s tough on the balance,” they glided silently for a few minutes. “Y’okay,?” he asked glancing at her face. She nodded. He smiled gently. “Okay,” he took hold of her hands again and tugged her gently. “When y’stop, just tilt your foot inward just a little,” he used his own feet to demonstrate. “You’re doing great, Rookie,” he promised. “Feel easier on the figure skates?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s definitely easier to balance.”

He grinned, excitement covering his features and all she had done was take fifteen little steps or so. “Okay let’s keep going. We’re jus’ going t’focus on keeping y’comfortable today. Getting used to the balance and stopping,” he continued facing her and skating backwards as he pulled her.

“How do you skate backwards?” She asked.

“You gotta walk before y’can run, Rookie,” he chuckled knowingly. She rolled her eyes.

“I meant you, Harry.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been skating m’whole life.”

“Since you were three and before you could walk?” Most every hockey player she knew had the same story. Skating was more important than walking. It was romantic in a way. A first love of sorts. Harry seemed no different in that respect.

He nodded with a shy grin. “Something like that.”

“You’re very graceful.”

“You’re so forthcoming with the compliments today, Bunny. S’nice,” he pulled her toward him. She wasn’t really skating since Harry was just guiding her, but it felt nice to be on the ice without fear of making a fool of herself. “Try stopping.”

“I’m supposed to be skating not stopping Harry.” He smirked and looked at her pointedly. So she executed her little stop and Harry’s smile brightened.

“Lovely, Rookie. Do you want t’try on your own?”

“Sure,” she sighed feeling defeated before starting but it was the only way she’d get better. Harry let go of her hands but stayed the same distance from her (which was no more than five inches away). She took little steps moving at a glacial pace. She really wondered how she could have been using the wrong skates for so long. It felt so much safer and easier to be on the figure skates than it ever had been on hockey skates.

“You’re doing great, Rookie,” he assured her. She felt embarrassed because she was in her late twenties and Harry was treating her like a child. Not his doing, though. It was in her head it felt that way.

But they skated for a while quietly, just listening to the gentle cutting of the blades on the ice. Harry put his hands out just in front of him as a gentle reminder he was there, letting her have the comfort of grabbing him if she needed.

Naturally, her toe hit a divot in the ice at that moment which made her lose her footing. Harry snagged around her waist quickly to keep her upright. “Whoops,” the entire front of his body was pressed to hers. “Y’okay?” She nodded, not wanting to think about how nice Harry was and how warm his body felt. She pulled away as quickly as she could once she regained her footing. “The ice doesn’t get resurfaced like the rink,” he admitted shyly. Like it was his fault.

“You don’t own a Zamboni?” She gaped. “I can’t believe it!”

He chuckled, moving away from her slightly. She couldn’t believe how much colder it felt even though he only held her for no more than forty seconds. “Do y’want t’keep skating?” He asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. Because honestly? She didn’t want to leave just yet.

*

Eventually, they got off his little ice rink. She didn’t fall thanks to Harry catching her two more times around the waist. Each time she sent an electric current right through her heart. He was gentle, kind, and encouraging. Imagining him doing the same thing with his baby niece made her ovaries ache so much she had to think about anything else.

“Did you have a dinner party?” she asked pointing to his sink.

“No,” he sighed. “I jus’ hate dishes,” he shook his head.

“Do you want—”

“Don’t you dare,” he glared at her and headed down the hall toward another room. She smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to make hot chocolate with a mess in the sink,” she called.

“Don’t make it then!” He sounded far away. She couldn’t believe he stayed at her tiny little apartment when she could hardly hear him from a few rooms away. “We can go out t’get some or we y’can jus’ stuff from the dishwasher, Rookie. But don’t touch the sink!”

She rolled her eyes and shifted, through the clean dishes, pulling a sauce pan from it. Harry returned with a bag. “Can you get me chocolate chips, sugar, and cocoa powder? I don’t want to dig through your cabinets—what’s that?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Y’can go through the cabinets,” he shrugged. But it was starting to feel a little too domestic. Now they were at Harry’s house which meant she was done for. At least when they were at her place, she wasn’t subject to the overwhelmingly intoxicating scent of Harry. He found the ingredients and placed them on the counter. “Open it,” he shrugged.

It was a large bag from the pro shop at the arena. She peered in and then looked up at him. “Harry.”

“S’not a big deal, Rookie. Don’t make it a big deal,” he suggested. “What do y’need for whipped cream?”

Inside the bag were jerseys. Langford, Calloway, Asher, and Styles. Her heart felt too warm. Her eyes stung a bit over the thoughtfulness yet again. Skates, jerseys, socks. Harry was too sweet. He wasn’t fighting fair. “Sugar, vanilla, and heavy whipping cream...” she mumbled. Swallowing the emotion she felt, she opted for a joke. “No Horan?”

“He already got his turn,” he grumbled slightly bitter.

She looked at the jersey brushing her fingers over his last name. “It’s too much, Harry.”

“I get a discount,” he shrugged. “On behalf of the team, throw out all your Glacier Wolves stuff,” he grabbed the next set of ingredients and eyed her from across the kitchen island. “What?”

“Even the sweatshirt I’ve worn so much I’ve got it to maximum comfort?” He pressed his mouth into a line and stared at her pointedly. “Alright I’ll throw it out, you’re so bossy.”

He smirked and turned to the stove, turning the dial to light the burner. “Okay Rookie, time for my lesson. Show me how t’make hot chocolate.”

*

It felt like Harry was becoming her very best friend, which scared her. Kael took up so much of her life it left her very little room for friends. The friends she did have... ended up not liking her and talking behind her back. “Hey Rookie,” Harry smiled entering the locker room to drop his stuff for game day photos. “Ugh,” he sighed looking at her jersey and the smile melted.

“Hi, Harry,” she waved with an impish grin.

“Hi Sweetheart,” Asher greeted. “You look beautiful today,” he cooed.

“Shut the fuck up, Asher!” Harry yelled from the other side of the door. Asher winked at her and headed inside the locker room.

“He’s so jealous,” Callie shook his head. She smiled, shook her head, but she could feel her cheeks heating up with color. “Nice jersey, Sweetheart!” He shouted, no doubt enjoying his number on her this time. Only she knew that Callie would be more extra about it than Niall ever could be.

“You can shut the fuck up too,” Harry growled from near the door.

“He must not think I look beautiful,” she laughed quietly.

“Oh Jesus,” Lang snorted filing inside.

“What did she say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Lang chuckled.

“Those are fighting words, Sweetheart,” Niall chuckled heading in after his team.

After the game day pictures were posted to the appropriate social media outlets, she headed inside the arena. She filed down to her spot near the other media. She smiled and waved to people she had been chatting with regularly. They all greeted her as if she was a real media presence and not just the coach’s niece with a camera.

She took a few pictures of the empty ice adding it to her mental portfolio of this sports series she was looking to do. It was peaceful for a moment, the images forming in sequence, her ideal lighting. The way everything would come together to tell a story. It was something she was really excited about—

“Hey, baby.”

She didn’t turn immediately. Surely, she misheard. Her body felt a wave of anxiety run over it. She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn. For several seconds, she focused on her breathing and nothing else. A minute. She just needed a minute to collect herself. Turning slowly, she smiled politely.

“Kael.” His feet were on top of the seat in front of him. Some of his teammates were milling behind, a few rows back of him. He looked relaxed and uncaring of how fucked up it was that he was there. Coming up to her while she was alone. “You guys are in town early,” she stated.

He nodded, standing up and heading to her. She busied herself by inspecting her pictures making sure they looked okay on the screen. Her hands were shaking. Not because she was worried about what Kael might do but because she was angry. Kael was her least favorite person and he made her uneasy because of all the fucked-up things she let him do to her. “Nice jersey. Sleeping with Calloway?” He asked, sweeping his hand across the top of her back. It made her want to crawl out of her skin.

“No,” she clenched her jaw. She wanted to leave as little to the conversation as possible. But she couldn’t. Because Kael didn’t own any part of her privacy anymore. Part of her wished she was sleeping with Callie if only to rub it in his face. But she couldn’t pretend that any more than she could say she didn’t have a crush on Harry. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Right, sure...” he smiled slowly. “You look beautiful, baby. Even in an ugly jersey.”

She loved this jersey so much. The only jersey she would love to wear more than Callie’s, was Harry’s. Not that she would ever say that. “What can I say, orange and blue just wasn’t my color,” she shrugged. “And Kael? Stop calling me baby.”

He put his hands up. “Just wanted to say hi... I’m in the area today... tomorrow and the following day, too... thought you might want to catch up.”

“Sweetheart!” Uncle Charlie called.

She turned looking at her uncle, Ray, Callie, Niall, and a couple of the younger players staring at her from across the ice. “That’s my cue,” she said making her way back the way she came.

“You work for the team?” He asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yup.”

“Good old Uncle Charlie helped you out?” He wondered.

“Uh-huh.”

She walked around the edge of the ice noting every pair of eyes of The Chargers following her.

Kael followed her as well. “Do you want to get dinner, love?” He asked.

“I have to work tonight; thanks though,” she said over her shoulder wishing she could have cut across the ice. It would have been nice if she could have shown him that she could skate a bit now.

No thanks to him.

“What about tomorrow after the game?”

“Working again,” she shrugged.

“Lunch?”

“Busy.”

She was much closer now to her uncle and the guys. Their gazes felt warm on her, so she looked at her camera as she walked.

“C’mon, baby. You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

“To get my stuff back, Kael,” she sighed without looking at him. God she wanted to be done with the conversation. Why couldn’t he take a hint?

“Technically it’s my stuff.”

Ugh. That would do it. She spun on her heel. He was right behind her so now they stood only inches apart. This was the guy she seriously saw herself marrying because they had been together for so long. She was going to have children with him. So many days and nights spent at his arena wearing ugly orange and blue. Taking care of his every need and not asking for anything in return. All the other things that she didn’t even want to think about let alone speak into existence. Putting her life on hold for him because he deemed himself more important than her hobby. Now, he was going to continue holding her stuff hostage? Just for some weird power trip?

No. Not anymore.

“I don’t want anything you bought me, Kael,” her tone was biting. Teeth clenched. “I want my stuff back.”

He snorted. “Then go to lunch with me, baby,” he grinned sweetly.

“Hey Kael, we need her for pre-game pictures,” Charlie came up behind her putting a hand on her shoulder gently. She shrugged it off, she was independent, goddammit. She didn’t need her uncle or a hockey team to defend her in front of Kael. He already thought she was weak. She didn’t need to prove him right.

“I am not negotiating for my stuff,” she told him, her tone still angry.

“Sweetheart,” Charlie grabbed her shoulder a little more securely.

“Hey Charlie, sorry. Just trying to catch up with our girl here,” he smiled charmingly at her uncle. She rolled her eyes and marched around Charlie, toward the tunnel back to the locker room. “Tell Callie he’s a lucky man, baby,” he shouted.

“Fuck you Crowe!” Callie was immediately moving toward him as she pushed past. “You’re a piece of trash!”

“Hey!” Ray yelled. The other players yanked him back and away from one person who could fuck up the simplest of things with just a couple words. Kael smiled walking back the way he came. Like he didn’t cause a scene or anything.

*

Callie got three penalties in the first period. Lang had to talk him down because he wanted four. But that would have been bad for the team, and they weren’t even playing Kael.

Harry was fuming, bouncing his knee as he sat seated in front of his locker. “I hate that stupid prick,” Callie growled. She was seated on a chair outside the locker room looking at her camera. It didn’t seem to bother her much that Kael was around. Or maybe she was just continuing to be brave. It was kind of hot the way she stood up to him outside the ice rink. He wished he had known. He would have loved to have punched Kael. He was lucky Harry didn’t hear until he heard Callie yelling.

They lost the game one to nothing. No one blamed Callie because the goal wasn’t even during his penalties nor when he was on the ice. “I can’t wait for the game tomorrow,” Asher sighed. “Still allowed to cross-check?” He asked looking at Charlie and Ray.

Ray shrugged. “If you must.”

Harry wanted to strangle him. The moment he heard one of the younger players say Crowe’s name, he wanted to run to her, shove her behind him, and punch his stupid fucking face. “Harry?” Niall asked quietly from beside him.

“Yeah?”

“You good?” He asked.

“Yup,” he nodded.

“Look, he’s just trying to get a rise out of her,” he explained. “Maybe you.”

“He doesn’t know I like her,” he mumbled.

“You do like her?” Niall chuckled. “I knew it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Everyone decent?” Her voice called.

Harry perked up hearing the voice of the sweet girl he was falling for rapidly by the second. She entered holding a hand over her eyes. “You’re good, Sweetheart,” Lang assured her.

“Bummer,” she muttered dropping her hand. Harry smirked despite how mad he was as a quiet chuckle sounded throughout the room.

“Gross, Sweetheart. They’re my players,” Charlie shook his head.

“Well, you and I have the same taste in men then, Uncle Charlie.”

Another round of laughter. “You okay?” Charlie asked leaning against his office door.

Harry was staring, Niall beside him staring as well. The whole team was watching to be fair. “Yeah... he was just... hovering, signing autographs and stuff...”

“Fuck him,” Callie growled. She glanced at him briefly. Harry wanted to kill him for getting her attention today in the form of his jersey on her. It shouldn’t have been such a concern for Harry, but it was. He liked her so much and it was so unfair he wasn’t good enough for her. At least he was the one that bought the jersey for her.

“It’s not a big deal,” she shrugged looking anywhere but someone else’s eyes.

But it was a big deal, Harry was fuming in his seat. His leg still bouncing.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head.

“Sweetheart, if—”

“Can someone walk me to my car?” She asked.

“I can!” Callie chirped.

She frowned. “Callie, really, any other day. But... with the jersey—”

He frowned. “I hate Crowe.”

“Join the club,” Charlie said.

She sighed. “I’ll walk you out,” Harry quickly tossed a sweatshirt over his practice shirt and a pair of sweats on over his compression shorts.

They didn’t speak as they walked to her car. Harry’s car. She put her belongings in the back seat. “I took the night off. I’m pretty exhausted,” she told Harry leaning against the driver door. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

But he did. Because it seemed to be the only thing he did. “Oh. S’nice,” he murmured. “Are you… do y’want company or are y’jus’ going t’bed?”

“Probably just bed,” her voice was tired. “Maybe Marc and I will watch a game so he can study.”

At least there was one man in her life he didn’t have to be jealous of. “Well, we have an early curfew anyway,” he mumbled. “Do y’want me t’follow y’home?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Rookie,” he gave her arm a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re home,” Harry ushered her into the car and let her go on her way. He headed back for the arena feeling fairly defeated. But at least she was safe.

*

Eliana lived close by and expected very little of Harry. She was a nice person. She was a nurse at a local hospital and had hours that lined up with Harry’s every so often.

Harry was a fucking mess.

“Are you okay?” She asked

No. He wasn’t. He wanted the pretty photographer. Wanted to know she was home safe. Wanted to go to her apartment and wake Michael and Marc up and murder them for not protecting her when they said they would. Even though she was in all reality probably fine.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m gonna go,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s not you.”

She smirked. “I didn’t think so, Harry. I hope you’re alright.”

 “Jury’s out.”

She rolled her eyes, pulled the covers up to her neck. “Just lock behind you please.”

Harry tried calling her. Not even caring how ridiculous he was. He was past the point of caring. He couldn’t even sleep with someone else, and he’d done nothing more than hold her hands or her elbow. He refrained from cuddling her at their sleepover beyond feeling the heat of her body while she slept.

Harry had called her every hour since he walked her to her car. Hopefully she was just asleep. She did say she was exhausted. Maybe if he drove by and saw her car, he would feel better?

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. He couldn’t follow her like that. It was different that first time. He never intended to follow her into her apartment building. His rationality left him because he was so worried about her. Now that he was okay with her living arrangement, he didn’t want to look insane.

A drink. One drink and he would be home by curfew. Something to take the edge off. Make him forget about his worry.

Harry parked in the first available spot at The Locker Room. He waved to the regulars, said hello to some fans, and headed to his usual table. Force of habit. “Hey Harry,” Louis smiled bringing Harry a drink. “Didn’t know you were coming in; she figured you had curfew.”

He tilted his head at Louis, his thumb pausing on her name in his message threads once more. “Hmm?” He hummed. “She’s... here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Louis pouted slightly. “She’s been here since five,” he hummed like it was obvious.

“Hey, Louis!” She called from the other room. Her voice hitching slightly in alarm.

Why would she lie? Louis raced to the other room. Harry followed quickly because the apprehension in her voice was enough to bring all his worry immediately back to the forefront of his mind and he expected the worst truly. Because she didn’t seem to be very scared of anything. She lived in a seedy part of town and worked with violent hockey players.

So what could be in the main room that would make her sound so worried? A drunk guy who was getting into it with another person? A handsy guy who thought she was pretty? A girl who didn’t like her decision to cut her off?

None of his thoughts had considered it might be Kael. Who had her wrist pinned to the top of a table, his hand wrapped tightly around it keeping her in place.

Harry’s vision turned red.

She gaped meeting Harry’s gaze. “Oh fuck,” she whispered.

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[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[mv1simp]

The Take ♥️

Trainer! Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

I wanna put you in seven positions for seventy minutes, you'll get it babe (take you down, I really wanna take you down)

Everyone knows Max Verstappen hates having to workout out constantly. If it wasn't for his physically demanding career as a F1 driver, his choice of a workout would involve a weekly padel game with his mates and FIFA on his PS5. His trainer tries something different and gets Max to be the instructor for once - to you, a sweet and naive girl whose jerk boyfriend told her to lose weight. Max couldn't resist using a hands on method to help you get your confidence back.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark max girlies rejoice we’re back in action, naive! Chubby! reader, dubcon, explicit cheating but reader’s boyfriend is an absolute jerk hehe, size kink, WC 2.7k

Rupert, Redbull's physical trainer that had been delegated to none other than the legendary champion driver Max Verstappen, was at his wit’s end with his client. With his 4 world championships, Max was very familiar with the intense workout routine an F1 driver needed to maintain. It was just, well, he was just sick of the same repetitive timetable over and over again. And his physical trainer could see the results reflecting in Max’s pre season testing, seeing how Max’s numbers were admittedly very good, they were not as high as they’d been in the past.

Everything Rupert had tried to brainstorm to inspire Max had fallen short. From different workout locations (Monaco is only so big, after all), to the most unique exercise techniques he had googled (Brazilian cold water immersive Pilates did not resonate with Max) - everything had come up short. At his wit’s end, Rupert decided to throw a last ditch resort at Max - training you.

You’re a pretty, pure hearted twenty something marketing executive in Monaco, with a narcissistic boyfriend who thinks he’s a top shot with the new money he’s raking in from making a new app. Such a top shot that he feels entitled to hire a personal trainer for his sweet girlfriend, demanding you look like a perfect Insta model. That’s what every man in Monaco wants! he says patronisingly to you, gaslighting you into attending the training. That’s why he reached out to Rupert, a very famous trainer - who consequently dumps you onto Max, stating that he needed a two week holiday from the Dutchman and he could take over his new client. You’ll survive, it’s the off season, he says to Max with a deadpan expression as he waves goodbye.

Max is pissed, of course. What the fuck was Rupert thinking, making a four time world champion F1 driver, multimillionaire, and just general degenerate gamer train some random goldigger chick? He’s rolling his eyes as he walks into his usual gym, where Rupert had told you to turn up. He’s ready to tell you to fuck off, all Mad Max and all, because no way was he wasting his time-

And then he lays eyes on you, and his heartbeat stutters. In front of him, oblivious to the predatory stares of men around her, is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen. You’re dressed in a matching workout set, tugging at the edge of your tight shorts a little self consciously, looking around with innocent wide doe eyes. Fucking hell, Rupert had most certainly not mentioned his new client had the body of a pornstar, all luscious tits and ass and chubby cheeks, and a face that looked like an angel. Max couldn’t wait to sink his big, bad teeth into the sweet looking lamb who stumbled right into his toned arms.

Smirking devilishly, he introduces himself as your new trainer. You gasp, eyes widening cutely, feeling butterflies swirl in your tummy at the tall, handsome and muscular blonde in front of you. Shall we get started? he murmurs, a gorgeous smile on his face and pretty blue eyes intently locked on you. I have to say, I’m surprised you signed up for such an intensive course, he says in an incredibly attractive, deep Dutch accent. You look like you’re in…great shape, if you don’t mind me saying, he adds, observant gaze flicking down to take in your curves. You flush, not minding the attention at all from such a hot trainer!

That’s so sweet of you to say! You say, blushing cutely and looking down, completely missing how Max’s heated gaze glances down your tight crop top, his taller height perfect to get an eyeful of your tempting cleavage. You tell him that actually, it wasn’t your idea, but your boyfriends’s…he thinks I’m too fat, you say with a pout.

What, Max says with a scowl that he quickly smooths when you peer up anxiously at the sudden spike in his mood. Honey was definitely a better way to win over something as sweet and innocent looking as you than poison. Well, ignore whatever your boyfriend wants. You’re here only for your own fitness and confidence, okay?

You beam up at him, nodding enthusiastically. God, Max couldn’t wait to have you for himself. Your boyfriend sounded like an absolute pathetic loser, telling someone as perfect and beautiful as you to change her body. Doesn’t matter, because it made it all the easier for Max to win you over. And he’d make sure to have his fun while doing it.

He’d started all your regular sessions with him with a good pre workout stretch, of course. Taking you into a side room to shield you from the hungry eyes of the other male gym goers, because only Max deserved to see your pretty body bent over for him. It didn’t stop others from walking past the glass door multiple times to ogle you, much to Max’s annoyance. But you remained clueless, twisting yourself in whatever position Max ordered you too like a good student.

And Max was such a nice instructor. He showered you with praise over the tiniest thing, making you blush up a storm, enjoying his reassuring and comforting voice. He was so different to your mean boyfriend! Max’s large hands settled on your soft body, helping position you perfectly, as he huskily whispered in your ear for you to bend forward, all the way like that, good girl. Can you touch your toes for me?

And when you can’t quite get there, he places a strong hand across your lower back to give you that extra push. His hand sometimes drifts lower, to your plump ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he instructs you. You gasp, and when he pretends to be none the wiser and ask you what’s wrong, schatje? in such a gentle tone, calling you darling in Dutch, you shyly stammer that you’re kinda sensitive down there…your boyfriend had said he wasn’t going to touch you until you lost weight!

Max’s brain temporarily short circuits at this information. Your idiotic boyfriend wasn’t fucking you every chance that he got? And judging by the way you’re shyly looking away and rubbing your thighs together, it had been a very long time since you’d been properly handled by anyone. Max would bet his multi story yacht that even when you had been sleeping with your boyfriend, he wasn’t making you cum. Leaving you so sexually frustrated that Max just feeling up your lush ass was getting you all hot and bothered. How cute, the Dutchman thinks, unable to hide the devious grin on his face at the new information.

He guided you back into position, his strong hips digging into yours from the back. The full wall mirror in front of you given Max a delicious view of your tits practically spilling out of your top as you lean forward. Good thing your ass is so fat he can easily hide his impressive semi erection behind it, he thinks cheekily. He can’t resist leaning forward and grinding himself against you, just for a second, leaving you gasping and looking behind you with a confused expression - only to find Max innocently looking at you. Something wrong, schatje? he says so sweetly that you feel embarrassed for even wondering what he was doing behind you.

He’ll have to do something about all the hungry states from the other gym goers though - he can’t have them even thinking about something which belongs to him. He glares at anyone who dares look at you through the glass doors, but he needs a more permanent solution.

So for the next session he invites you to his house, where he has a mini gym on his penthouse balcony. You’re unsure at first, but after Max tells you it’s just so hard for him to focus on your sessions at the gym, with the way everyone is always asking him for an autograph or a selfie…you say yes immediately, because you’d never want to make it harder for him when he’d been such a caring trainer! Soon enough he has you all to himself in his outdoor gym, wearing another one of your cute workout sets. Except he wanted to see more of your pretty body, so the next day he hands you a PR package - asking if you wanted to try on the gift from one of his sponsors. You beam at his thoughtful gesture, quickly getting changed into the slutty outfit he’s hand selected.

Max smirks wickedly as he helps stretch you out again, this time with your thighs bent up almost to your flushed face. The blue booty shorts are so tiny they’re practically underwear, slipping into your tanned asscheeks and giving you a cameltoe, much to your embarrassment. You squirm as Max’s keen gaze goes right to your pussy brushing up against his abs - separated only by a thin layer of spandex. Because of course, Max worked out shirtless at home - it’s far too warm! Getting better but still not flexible enough, sweetheart Max says with a disapproving tone that has you scrambling for his approval. Here, let me help you.

He pushes down on your thighs with his huge hands. Your tits almost spill out of the tiny cropped singlet he has you in when he buries his face into them. M-Max! you stammer, asking what he was doing, was it really needed, but he just reassures you that it absolutely was. After all, you didn’t want to pull a muscle and stop being able to exercise for two weeks, right? His deep voice is muffled against your plush tits as he pressed in deeper, making you squirm some more when his lips brush against your hard nipples.

He helps you cool down afterwards too, like the dedicated coach he is. You’re so grateful for all the deep muscle relaxation techniques he knows, moaning blissfully as you lay sprawled underneath him as he massages your sore body. He started with your legs and arms, and then your tense abs, and then one strong palm squeezing your lush tits and the other cupping your pussy through your sports set. You were always embarrassingly wet after your workouts, with all the close proximity to Max, and prayed he didn’t notice how soaked your shorts had become as he rubbed his palm encouragingly against your cunny. You couldn’t stop the contended moans as you arched into his skilled hands, finding the tension draining from your muscles completely.

Soon you’re over at Max’s everyday, working out longer and longer. To your delight, Max asks if you’d mind helping him with his workout! You’re so eager to return the favour after he’s been so considerate, taking time out of his busy schedule just to train you. All you had to do was sit on his back as he did push ups-

You insist that there was no way he could do that, you were way too heavy, what if he hurt himself? All it takes is one cocky smirk from him to convince you, and you climb onto his back, gasping in amazement as his muscular back flexes when he easily starts during push ups. You’re completely distracted by how attractive he looks, so much more broader and stronger than your own boyfriend who couldn’t even lift you up! You feel a bit guilty thinking that but don’t get time to think about it - because next you’re helping Max with his hip thrusts. You squeal as his impressive legs thrust you into the air with a bounce, making your sensitive pussy land on his rock hard cock each time. You stabilise yourself with hands on his abs, running over the taut, sweaty muscle, so enamoured with the sight that you don’t notice Max’s blue gaze fixed on your jiggling tits with each bounce. Mmmh-Ah! H-how many more do you have to do, Max? you say breathlessly, feeling yourself start to get more and more turned on with each thrust of his hips. You felt so dirty, practically dripping through your booty shorts onto his lower abs, feeling all horny while he was just trying to work out!

Just a few more, he says vaguely, grasping onto your thick asscheeks to steady you as he continues meanly grinding his angry, hard cock into your soft cunny. You end up cumming through your shorts, desperately biting down on your lips to keep silent but failing to suppress your slutty moans. You were so cute and naive that you had no clue Max was just dry jumping you to orgasm. Training your perfect body to respond to his, just how he wanted it.

He left you in your post orgasmic bliss on his outdoor couch to cool down as he ventured inside. He’d been planning on jerking off his raging erection in the shower, not wanting to scare you off with his impressive load. But when he caught sight of the protein powder on his kitchen counter top, he couldn’t resist. All it took was a couple pumps and the image of you riding him with your bouncing tits for him to cum, filling a good half of the glass he tops off with a protein smoothie. When he hands you his homemade drink, you thank him with wide doe eyes. You’re such a thoughtful trainer, Max! you say sincerely, eagerly drinking his gift. Mmmh, it tastes amazing, what ingredients did you use? He winks and tells you it’s a top secret world class athlete recipe.

Max is completely addicted to feeding you his thick load and has you equally addicted, asking shyly if he’d make you another one of his smoothies after each session. He figured he has you enamoured enough with him to take things to the next level when you start asking for seconds. The thing is, schatje, since I eat so much protein and supplements, my sperm is super high in nutrients…but it’s not safe for you to take so much protein directly as a girl! So that’s why I had to put it in your drink, okay? You nod with wide eyes, your jaw dropped open in shock as Max unties his shorts to show you his huge swollen cock that’s been feeding you for days. You dazedly ask if maybe you should be getting “fed” from your boyfriend instead, you weren’t sure if he’d be mad if he found out-

Max cuts off your worries immediately, promising you that only his cum would be able to provide you with what you needed. In fact, you shouldn't be going anywhere near your boyfriend's weak release. You nod quickly, wanting to show Max what a good student you were, completely willing to obey him. And when he asks if you'd help him out in making your smoothie today, since his hand was kinda tired after so many days, you eagerly say yes! Soon you're snuggled up by his side, letting him guide both your hands up and down his cock. You're in awe of how big and hot his shaft looks, you'd never seen one that size. You swallow back drool in your mouth, already craving your daily treat, and when Max slyly suggests that you could just drink directly from the source? you're on him in seconds. Dutifully sucking and jerking him off, making him hiss and grab your hair as he thrusts in deep and cums with a deep moan. He makes you stick out your tongue afterwards to make sure you didn't waste even a drop.

Good girl. Let's do your cool down massage in the shower today, hmm? It's so fucking hot out. Max's praise fills you with heady warmth and you giddily agree, letting him guide you into his luxurious shower to cool down, stripping out of your skimpy workout set.

Too bad you ended up doing a lot more cardio than cooling down behind the steamed glass. Max grins devilishly as you both watch his cock go in and out of your creamy pussy together, every thrust making you scream his name and hold onto him desperately. After all, fucking up against the bathroom wall was a much more effective workout, right?

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[cathnospam]

CW// UA CollegeAU, Oral, Reader is a lil oblivious, Bakugo is his own warning

“Returning the Favor”

Bakugo owes you and he hates it. But you don’t know it.

He has been meaning to pay you back for months, but he simply can’t due to world literally hate him.

It all started just a few months ago when you offered your Blondie to go down on him after a mission.

He’s been more crankier than usual and when you exhausted google for answers; relaxing, taking a mental day, going to a spa, the list went on , but nothing worked.

you were left with an orgasm.

It releases stress and tension, plus it feels amazing it shouldn’t hurt right? Granted, you and your boyfriend never went as far as mutual masturbation, but when you offered he wasn’t very resistant towards it.

So you did, and even though it was your first time, he definitely didn’t think so! You gagged a few times sure, but that just added to the sexiness on you, and like Google said; it worked.

He wasn’t chipper or anything, but he was more calmer, pout still there as usual, but his eyes were more relaxed. Even when Denki kept touching at him (you assume he did it on purpose to make him mad) all he did was roll his eyes, call him sparky and walked away.

You did catch him staring at your mouth more because of this, but it was worth it seeing him be less annoyed and angry.

So here we are now 3 months later and it’s became a routine between you both; at least a couple times a week you let him come to your dorm and you ….handle him. It never goes any further than that though since neither of yall are ready to take that dive into real intimacy, but it was okay—

You don’t mind at all! Maybe you’ve developed an oral fixation, but ironically enough sucking his dick is a stress reliever for you as well. Some days you’ve just ask him if he wants to come over and you spend the evening taking care of him.

Little did you know Bakugo hates it.

He doesn’t hate you or what you’re doing to him, it drives him insane, a few days ago he got hard during a shower thinking about your pretty little moans on his dick so that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was for the past few weeks he has been wanting to express his appreciation towards you by going down on YOU, but every single time he attempts it’s always an interuption.

Jirou needs you for a problem she has, an emergency at one of the agencies you both work at, he remembers a few times he fell right asleep after cumming. It’s embarrassing!

So, Bakugo has been adding up the costs and he knows he owes you, it’s gotten to the point he feels like he is using you.

Sure he says thank you, takes you out, cleans you up, etc etc, but he wants to REALLY pay you back. The moment he moves his body to get between your thighs you both have to leave. It SUCKS. He hates OWING.

But it wasn’t just about paying you back he does think about eating you out. Embarrassingly so, in different ways too.

Maybe with a skirt on and nothing under? Bent over the bed? Sit on his face? Maybe 69? Side ways? He can’t stop thinking the different ways to eat that pretty pussy of yours.

He couldn’t take it anymore he HAS to at this point. So, once again you text him asking if he wanted to come over and of course he’s already on his way, but once you tug down his sweats he stops you.

“Baby—?—oh!”

No words needed he attacks your neck gently to distract you from how he was pushing you down on your comfy bed, “‘Suki you—“

“Just…shut up. Please. “ Luckily you were wearing just one of his shirts and a thin little thong, he kisses down and all around your tummy and thighs, indirectly teasing you, ‘Have to pay you back..”

“Pay ..me?”

He groans, knowing damn well he doesn’t wanna continue unless he asks for your permission, but wont get an answer until he answer your questions, “I been wanting to return the favor…but every fucking time I do we gatta stop and I don’t want you…to think…I don’t know that I’m using you.”

You blink, registering what he’s saying, “Katsuki you are using me.” When his eyes grew wide you started to giggle and shake your head, “Not in a bad way! You’re using me to help yourself. And I love to. I love making you feel good, it was my idea y’know…but I never did it so you can do it back to me. We’re in a relationship not a…deal.”

As much as it made sense Katsuki was just too stubborn (and hard) to accept it, “But…” you lie back, tugging off your panties and spreading your legs for him. His piercing red eyes were wide, stunned at even prettier your pussy looked last time he seen you. He swallowed hard when he noticed your lips already wet, were you playing with yourself earlier? “If you are offering you can, but I want you to do it because you want to not because I owe—-oh!”

Your boyfriend wasted no time holding open your thighs to latch his lips in your pussy. Granted he never done it before, but the weeks of looking at pussy eating videos helped him navigate where to lick and suck.

Sure. He didn’t necessarily owe you, but he sure as hell wanted you to know he loves and appreciate you all the same.

And with the way you were moaning his name, he knew he paid his debt.