#i took this to another direction i think but would i be me if i didn't 🤣

[ssahotchnerr]

baby fever - aaron hotchner x reader

request: Hi! I love the whole married trope with hotch AND I HAD AN EPIPHANY! I can just imagine reader and Aaron being married for a few months before JJ gives birth again and Aaron gets baby fever 😭 Like he would start hinting at wanting another baby and would eventually ask you everyday for a baby

reposting because i accidentally deleted the original :( cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, some suggestiveness, fluff and aaron being soo ❤️‍🔥🥰

It was finally your turn to hold Michael.

You've been patiently waiting all night, Aaron could practically feel the anticipation radiating off you. It took a while, as he had plenty of other aunts and uncles. And much to your credit, you managed to resist the urge to hover too closely to whoever was holding him at the moment.

You were sat comfortably on the couch with Jack nestled right beside you, his small body pressed close with barely an inch to spare.

From where he was discretely observing across the room, Aaron couldn’t quite make out the words you were saying. However, he noticed the way your voice softened, your head soon tilting in an encouraging nod.

Jack, with a look of quiet concentration, gently offered a finger to Michael. Without hesitation his tiny hand clasped onto it, and Jack’s face pulled into one of content, his eyes in awe at the connection.

Aaron's mind beelined in one direction at the sight, and his heart produced an extreme sense of deja vu; the same thrilling feeling and unfathomable love when Jack was born.

This, but with a baby of your own.

For months now, he's hinted at wanting another baby. It started with him sharing updates on JJ's pregnancy (which contributed to his want as a whole). It then led into him mentioning if you had a baby now, the age gap between the little one and Jack would be perfect. He brought up potential baby names, 'Eleanor would be a cute name for a girl, don't you think?' He even told you once out of the blue he was researching car seats, to ensure you had the safest one when the time came.

Until finally he just straight up asked you, Can we have a baby? and while you wholeheartedly shared the enthusiasm and wanted one as badly as he did, it got put on the back burner. Between both your jobs and the natural busyness of life, the timing was never right.

But now, the urge was too strong to continue to let simmer.

A while later, you were traveling down the hallway - looking for him actually - when Aaron found your hand out of nowhere, swiftly tugging you into the bathroom hidden away from everyone else. The door snapped shut behind you.

"There you are. I was just-"

He interrupted you with a kiss. An eager, as if his life depended on it type of kiss. His hands found the small of your back, pulling your body against his. It got heated rather quickly, your shared passion intertwining together.

Eventually you let out a soft laugh against his lips, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "What was that for?"

"I was thinking," You nodded, urging him to continue. Aaron's brown eyes were locked onto yours, a quiet intensity within them that was also the gentlest you've ever seen. "A lot, you know. And I think we should try for a baby."

Your eyes widened, "Now?"

"No, not now," Aaron laughed which you shared, his gaze shooting to the door momentarily, where the muffled voices of the team drifted from outside. "But yeah... now. I think the time's right. We've been married a while, work is slowing down," He paused for a moment, almost humorously, "As much as it can. But sweetheart, and if you're on board that is, I don't think I can wait any longer."

A baby. A new chapter. Growing your family - your heart fluttered at the thought. And in Aaron's face, you saw certainty, longing, excitement.

"And can you imagine?" His hands grabbed yours, "A baby who's the perfect combination of me and you. My dark eyebrows furrowing across their tiny forehead. A baby with your eyes and heart. Jack as a big brother. Can you think of anything more perfect?"

An obvious gleam was present in your eyes, the ends of your lips raising in a relaxed smile. You didn't need convincing, "Okay."

Aaron fell silent for a moment, as if he expected to do some convincing, despite the knowledge of your want being no different than his.

"Really?" He asked, his voice soft but laced with an earnestness that made your heart melt.

You grinned, pressing your lips against his in a kiss. He attempted to deepen it, to prolong it again, but you had forced yourself away. "You're right, I can't imagine anything more perfect. I want as many babies as we can possibly handle, as soon as possible. But I just know, she'll have your eyes. I'm sure of it."

"So we're trying." His smile took on a newfound charm, one both  playful and irresistibly endearing. Also, a bit on the smirky side, as the task to create a baby was certainly enjoyable.

"We're trying." You confirmed with a small smirk of your own, kissing him once more. Your hands traveled up his chest, to his shoulders, and back around, savoring the feeling of him.

Aaron sighed out against your mouth, hot and heavily. "Think we could persuade anyone to watch Jack tonight? So we can get started?"

[whadawhaaa]

Its been two weeks since the last earth-shaking explosion rattled the bunker my family has been holed up in during the war. The past three years have felt like a blur, a monotonous chant that I can't even remember the words to.

Most days consisted of mom quietly humming as she swept away the dirt, her hair seemingly becoming more gray and frazzled each time the bunker rumbled and dirt fell from the ceiling, extending the chore like a never ending loop. My younger brother spent most of his time playing through my old DS games, not like we had internet the moment the first bomb dropped. The first few weeks he would ask "How much longer" hourly and he seemed restless, complaining about the processed food and canned veggies we had to sustain on. As the weeks turned to months, eventually years he too became silent.

I remember my dad, explaining to Mom the action plan, helping us pack our emergency bags and sending us on our way. He told us he would see us soon, but I think we all lost hope within the first few months, even though my mom still tells my brother how Dad will be so happy to see us when we finally reunite on the surface

"This is different," I remember Dad's words as he looked up to the sky before seeing us off, "I promise you will be safe, I promise I will see you soon." With one last bear hug, off we went. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere after hours of driving Mom pulled off to the side of the road. The Pacific-northwest wilderness all around us.

"Where are we?" I looked up from my phone, immediately noticing the tears running down her cheeks, "...Mom?"

"We have to walk the rest of the way," she said, obviously trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Your dad has left markers, he told me I would recognize them."

She took a deep breath, "Grab your brother and your bags, I'll get the first aid kits and the rest of the supplies."

We got out and I opened the back seat, "Come on, Cam," unbuckling him from the car seat. He was so much smaller, only five when it all ended. "Time to walk!"

We trekked through the cold for what seemed like hours in one direction and then my mom stopped.

"There," she pointed at a pine off to the right, etched into it were to letters. "N + C" I immediately recognized mine and Cameron's initials.

As we walked towards it I could see Mom's eyes darting around, scanning quickly and taking in every detail of the area, "Nic, I need you to help me find-" she cut off as in the distance she points at another tree with the same initials, "There!" she started running, "Look for them, Nic, we need to go!"

We followed tree after tree for miles, and eventually came to a clearing with a large boulder in the middle. My mother has been a stay at home mom for as long as I can remember, but she began digging around the pine needles and dirt at the base of the rock, as if years of training were kicking in.

Finally with an "Aha!" and some tugging at the base of it, a small tremor began, a hatch lifted about twenty feet away.

"Nic, I know we haven't explained much to you at this point, but I need you to be strong, your fifteen now and I don't know how long we are going to be here." Mom looked both terrified and stern at the same time, "We will be here until Dad comes and gets us, there is a very big war that is about to happen. Do you understand?"

I looked into the shadows beyond the hatch, "Are we mole people now?"

A small wave of humor wiped across her face "Nic, this is not the time for jokes, but yes"

Ever since then the bunker has been home. We listened and waited, stocks of canned and dehydrated goods sustaining us as the ground shook around us day after day for years. When the first day came without a bomb being dropped I don't think any of us realized, after three days Mom put Cameron down for bed and motioned for me to follow her out of the small bunk room we shared.

"Its been days now, do you think its safe?" My voice was raspy, I couldn't remember the last time I spoke aloud. Weeks? Months?

"I-I don't know," she turned to me with same terrified stern look she had two years before. I realized the pressure we were under, and not just from being fifty feet below the surface. "We need to wait until your father-"

"Mom, when are you going to stop acting as if he survived? We need to figure this out." Did anyone else survive? Who won the war? How long do we wait.

"Nic, it is very important that we wait, your dad is a very resourceful man and if he said he will come to us then I believe him" She walked towards the ladder in the corner of the room and looked up from where we climbed down.

"How long?" I asked bluntly, "How long do we sit here hiding before we accept he didn't survive? Something up there has been shaking us out in the middle of nowhere for years" I start to realize the time we've spent in the dark, disconnected, "There are so many things that could be happening and we cannot guarantee anything!"

"Two weeks." she said, without looking away from the only way up. "I will wait two weeks, and if no more tremors we can go to the surface. I will go to the surface and check if its safe."

Here I am, two weeks later trying to sleep as anxiety rips through me and what is going to happen tomorrow when we wake up. Will it be safe? Is there anyone left? Slowly as I drift to sleep, these unanswered questions exhausting me I feel a small tug. No, not a tug, a lift, as if a small wave pulled me above water briefly. My eyes snap open and I look at the battery clock next to my bunk, its time.

I walk out and I see my mom standing in the main room, dressed as if she had somewhere to go for the first time in months, and she did.

"I'm going up," she said, "Watch Cameron and I'll be right back down." She picked up a small device off the kitchen table, turning it on made it click and whistle, then silence. "I need to see if we are in danger from radiation."

She grabs the metal ladder, her foot on the first rung, "If its safe, we need to hope the car is where we left it otherwise we will be walking for a while" she began to climb up into the darkness.

After about ten minutes when I heard the hatch opening echo down the tunnel and again I felt the tug, stronger this time. It felt as if I was standing in the ocean and a wave tried to lift me off of my feet, I felt a tingling sensation course though me and release as if shooting out of my fingertips. When I heard the hatch close the sensation almost immediately cut off, "Shit." I said aloud, thinking to myself it must be radiation. I grew more and more anxious as I heard Mom's steps get closer and closer to the bottom until she appeared from the dark.

"Its-" She paused, turning around her face looking like a mix of confused and stressed, "Its clear, no traces at all."

Then what was that feeling? I must've looked a certain way while thinking and Mom read me like a book.

"I don't know what the was when I opened the hatch, Nic, but you're right. We cannot sit and wait until our food supply is gone, we need to find help." She grabs our bags and sets them on the table, quickly gathering supplies. "Go get Cameron ready."

We gather everything and I get Cameron dressed, he asks a hundred questions I don't have the answer to and I just keep telling him we need to go back to the car. Finally, we get go up. Mom first, then Cameron, then me. Slowly making our way through the dark until Mom stops below the hatch. Our dimly lit abode below us looks like a small speck five stories below us.

"My arms hurt!" Cameron whines.

"Give me just a sec to-hah! Found it!" The hatch clicks and Mom pushes it open letting in a burst of light and fresh air. My body feels light again, a sudden rush pushes me and I feel like I'm going to shoot straight up like a cork in a bottle.

We crawl out and everything looks surprisingly familiar. The air feels crisp with a slight tinge of fall and wet pine needles to give me an idea of the time of year. The sensation continues to pull me upwards, I feel pressure building as if I'm a balloon being pushed under water. The tingling sensation feels as if it is concentrated on the tips of my fingers and I look down and-

"Mom, what's going on!?" I hold up my hand and as I do sparks begin to shoot from it, no pain only pressure.

"I-I don't know Nic, are you ok? Does it hurt?" She looks horrified, "Shake it off!"

I start shaking my hand, I feel tears welling up even though I don't feel hurt, just scared. The sparks fade. I look down at my hand and see light blue lines tracing along my veins and fading up my arm. I reach out and the outlines pulse as if alive. My hand is no longer shooting sparks and I move my fingers to make sure everything is ok. They meet friction when I move them, something that feels almost like my old guitar strings pushing against my fingers, a clump of chords in my hand when I ball it into a fist. I reach out slowly and run my index finger down as if to strum the invisible instrument, quickly with each passing chord, a faint blue line lights up as I move downward, one by one lighting up and fading fast behind.

I take a step forward, and besides the pressure inside my chest, there is nothing stopping me moving. I take a swing with my hand and like a harp, the faint chords appear vertically behind the motion, fading as quickly as they appeared.

A voice rings through my mind, a voice like music.

"You have a natural talent, you understand the magic coursing through you as a beautiful song waiting to be played"

"Who are you?!" I say aloud.

"Nic, who are you talking to?" Mom looks so scared, Cam looks up at me, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"Its been a long time since I have been awake in this world, so many voices, too many for me to handle. At last I can hear the music through all of the noise!"

"If you don't tell me who you are, I-I-" I stammer out, not knowing what I would do if the voice doesn't give me an answer.

"Calm down, child. I am not here to hurt you, in fact I am your savior, your muse. Soon you will understand, soon you will play such beautiful songs for me, you will compose symphonies for my orchestra. For I, child, am Mystra."

The magic weave is real, every human pulls from it. But the vast Ocean that is the weave is not infinite and as the human population rises the power one can pull from the weave becomes almost non existent. Earth just faced a apocalyptic event that wiped out 80% of humanity and you feel the weave

[monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my]

TW: Talk about mental health and sui ideation and sui attempt

I feel the need to talk more about Jayce's "attempt" again because of what I learned from his journal in the "Council Archives"

There's a fair argument to be made that Jayce was already in a very bad headspace even BEFORE the explosion in his apartment.

I you read Jayce's journals it feels like Jayce was ALREADY spiraling before he got kicked out of the academy. For a few reasons.

-----

1.Jayce was very isolated to begin with.

He was working on experiments he knew were illegal and was so paranoid about being found out he started coming up with insults to call another student who almost caught him throwing away a failed experiment.

He also seemed to only be able to cheer himself up by talking shit about other people's work and how everyone else just couldn't measure up to how important his work was and would be. And when he finally meets Viktor he talks about never really thinking he'd take to working with another scientist.

(Honestly, pre-act 1 Jayce comes off a little more like his LOL counterpart which make me believe Arcane Jayce meeting and working with Viktor as early as he did is what helped make him the version of himself he is in Arcane?)

------

2. Jayce was not really sleeping and his schoolwork and grades were going downhill.

He talks in his journal about the fact that he's not getting to sleep until sunrise a lot of nights because he was trying and failing to make the crystals work.

And as a direct consequence of not sleeping he talks about Heimerdinger (the DEAN) having to come talk to him because his grades are slipping.

Jayce literally decides to make a graph correlating his lack of sleep to his poor academic performance.

(Later he expresses concern that he might get expelled from the academy because his work is slipping that badly).

And remember all the while when he is so sleep-deprived he can't focus on coursework he it FULLY CONVINCED he can figure out Hextech. You know a whole new field of study. It doesn't work, shockingly.

------

3. Ximena was already worried about Jayce wellbeing and trying to get him to go outside and be around others.

He eats some snacks insults some people's work to himself and then goes back to doing what he was doing.

Not a lot to talk about with this one except it's no wonder she tried to get him to back off magic if she could already tell he wasn't okay especially when we consider the state he was in at that point.

You also see that both his mother and Heimerdinger were expressing valid concern for him only for him to brush it off.

-----

4. Near the end of the journal entries before we get to the ACT 1 content he says some concerning things considering his later attempt on his life.

First he starts to doubt what he's getting anywhere he remembers something Heimdinger once said about most inventors failing a 1000 times before succeeding and he makes a self-deprecating joke about "I suppose I must be closing in...".

Then he straight up says he can't see a path forward.

And when makes a pros and cons list of his experiments where he talks about how the work with the crystals is very dangerous and if he pushes to much it could kill him but also how he's in danger of getting expelled if he can't sort out his schoolwork.

and then he writes.

"Which is worse? Killed or expelled?"

Which is certainly a Harry Potter reference but also given his eventual attempt is very telling.

And it's closely followed by him saying his mom was worried about him, which... seems valid.

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

Also on a side note unrelated to the journal entries.

Jayce's attempt was not a choice made suddenly in a rush of emotion like Viktor's, he planned it.

Jayce not only left what was implied to be a suicide note he took the methodical time to literally WAX SEAL the note with his official house mark. And it took Viktor a long long while of talking to him to get him to back away from the ledge. He was fully committed to committing.

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

Final thoughts: I think Jayce was in a place in his mind backed into a corner.

He wasn't able to reach out for help or even trust anyone because of the nature of his work. He wasn't listening to people that were concerned about him. And the way in which Jayce was doing his work was damaging to himself and his life in general. He was spiraling.

He needed someone else there to share the weight of what he was trying to do, to be able to reach out to outside of his own head which was the person Viktor became to him.

Part of me even wonders if Jayce was already in a place where he might have ended up on that ledge without the explosion if he didn't change his ways or have a sudden breakthrough.

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie I

~8.4k words

From me: here she is. gonna be at least one more part (probs 2) sorry. I didn't mean to do a series. I just can't shut up and I introduced too many fun characters. I don't know a lot about hockey so a lot of this is probably unrealistic.

Warnings: douchey ex-boyfriend, a little violent (it's hockey after all)

Summary: When the assistant coach's niece comes to take pictures of the team, her lens isn't the only thing capturing Harry Styles heart and soul on and off the ice. Harry wants to win her over more than he wants to win the entire league championship. (Although it would be nice to rub it in her ex's stupid face if he won that too).

The rink was chilly even with the appropriate clothes on. Despite the fact she practically lived in ice arenas for the two years, it never ceased to catch her off guard with how cold it was. To be fair, she was a lot closer to the ice this time around. Her camera pressed into the little glass cutout, her eye checking the visual before she clicked the shutter.

Quickly she pulled away as two of the guys pressed against the glass right next to her. “Hey Sweetheart,” Noah Ashford smiled briefly as he skated off in the other direction. She rolled her eyes. Uncle Charlie, assistant coach of The Arctic Chargers, warned the entire team that his niece was taking residence at the rink and would be part of media photos, headshots, and would be submitting to all major sport reporting outlets. The team was told without question, not to bother her in any way.

Naturally the group of twenty twenty-something year-old hockey players were going to do nothing of the sort.

Captain Evander Langston swished almost gracefully over to her. He stopped in front of her with a puff of ice at his feet. “Do you think I have a good side?”

She shook her head with a smirk and looked over the photos she just took in the last three minutes. “Probably not the left. You’ve been checked into the board over there about five times this practice alone.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Sweetheart, you wound me.”  Sweetheart was the name Uncle Charlie called her in front of the whole team during the introduction and so it was the only thing any of them paid attention to from their coach. “Don’t say that in front of the others,” he pleaded quietly.

“I would never, Cap,” she smiled kindly.

He returned her grin with his own. “You call me Cap, and I’m going to have a problem with Coach’s rule, Sweetheart. But I know we’re all going to like having you around to keep us in check.”

“Lang, you better not be flirting when your technique needs work!” Kian Calloway shouted across the ice where he slapped a puck into the open net from the blue line.

“You better not be flirting, period, Lang!” Uncle Charlie called.

“Yeah!” Callie repeated to his captain. She had gone over the nicknames with her uncle before starting. Lang, Asher, and Callie were easy and as some of the major stars of the team, it made sense she would chat with them most. “If anyone is going to flirt with her, it’s going to be me!”

“I’ll sit you for less, Callie,” Charlie warned.

She couldn’t help but laugh. But she didn’t mind the attention nor care. It was adorable. Like a group of puppies looking for attention. With a shake of her head, she made her way around the glass and boards for another angle of the players on the ice. She wanted shots of the goalie. Niall Horan seemed much too nice to be a hockey player but perhaps that’s why he was the goalie. He was the first one to introduce himself and he didn’t seem to have the temper that the other players did over trivial things (like tying skates together or putting salt in someone’s Gatorade). Niall blocked shots from his teammates as if it was nothing but breathing. In a way it was stunning, nearly beautiful.

Hockey was violent, yes. But there was beauty in it, too. The way players skated backwards, cupped the puck on their stick. The speed, agility, and gracefulness required to stay standing. It was all really beautiful, and she was excited to be up close this time around. For the last two years she had been in a box cheering for her ex-boyfriend, right forward for the Glacier Wolves, Kael Crowe.

To be completely honest, she should have known it wouldn’t have worked out. Among the cheating, the belittling, and all the other things that were, in hindsight, an abysmal part of dating him, the orange and blue coloring wasn’t her favorite. The Arctic Chargers black and silver jerseys were much more her speed. Kael was her boyfriend of years and years but once he made it to the majors three years ago, things were very different.

“You can come on the ice, Sweetheart, we’re almost done!” Asher said.

Even though she had dated a hockey player for nearly a decade (most of which took place during college) she couldn’t skate. Uncle Charlie tried when she was younger to teach her, but the balance and coordination was not in her wheelhouse. She longed to skate better. Figure skaters were so dainty and beautiful as they glided on the ice. She was neither of those things and almost dreaded getting on the ice in the boots she was wearing. If she fell in front of her uncle, it was embarrassing. She could only imagine how embarrassing it would be in front of an entire professional hockey team.

“One second!”

She wanted to prolong the agony. Plus, with her fragile camera it seemed like a death sentence to send her out there. Even if it was what she was getting paid to do. It wasn’t the most lucrative job she had, but it was what she wanted to do most. She was grateful for the opportunity and hoped it would kickstart into something more. Photography was a major passion for her. Pictures of anything. Her computer was filled with pictures of the sun and sky from the summer. Snowy days in the winter. Pictures of her parents’ dog. Her uncle’s kids on birthdays. She was the official photographer of family weddings and more. But it wasn’t steady. A lot of her post-college young life had been put on hold to dote on Kael. Something she regretted but couldn’t do anything about now.

Uncle Charlie was kind to help her out and she thought starting now was better than never starting at all.

“Styles is that you?!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t piss yourselves in excitement,” the voice was right beside her.

“You better be fucking cleared before touching this rink,” Ray Wheeler, head coach and another surrogate uncle to her was a bit gruffer in his delivery to the players than Charlie most of the time.

The man beside her slapped his hand, paper held pressed to the glass. “Doctor-cleared for takeoff,” he called. A round of cheers went up and she snapped another picture of the excitement, ignoring the one and only Harry Styles beside her.

Harry Styles was Kael’s rival. The same draft class (although begrudgingly, Kael would admit Harry went first), and almost the same position—left forward. Fortunately, they were in different conferences, so they only ever played one another twice a season. Unless they made it to finals which hadn’t happened yet. But in her opinion, it was only a matter of time. Harry made headlines for his skill and ability, fitness, and overall dominance on the ice. He was protective of his best friend in goal—he and Niall were a pair like no other. Which meant when they did play each other, Kael knew exactly how to get under Harry’s skin.

“Who are you?” He asked.

Harry wasn’t here for her formal introduction to the team. Before she could open her mouth, Uncle Charlie was there. “That’s my niece Styles. She’s off limits so just make your way to the locker room.”

“Ah,” he smiled.

It should have been noted that in addition to skill and ability, fitness, and dominance on the ice, Harry was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His eyes were green which sure as hell meant God was in fact a woman because no man would know to make Harry even more beautiful with forest green eyes. He was tall, even taller on skates. His skin glowed in a way that should have been illegal when she spent half an hour dousing her face in ten moisturizing products each night to achieve the same look and Harry spent most of his time indoors on an ice rink. Was it the chill that made his cheeks pinker? Would she get the same glow working here all season? She could only hope.

But it was that smile that did her in. His straight teeth peeking out from his lips. The dimples. The arrogance behind the expression. The pink curve of his upturned lips went right through her as he grinned at her.

“Nice t’meet you,” he held his hand out.

“Hands off!” Charlie shouted again.

Harry chuckled as she took his hand with an eyeroll introducing herself. “I’m your photo media specialist, if you will.”

“Excellent,” Harry grinned. “Let me know if y’need me t’pose a certain way,” he winked.

She shook her head and Niall skated up to the side. “Hey Sweetheart,” he said.

“Hi, baby, I missed you,” Harry answered with a grin. Niall shook his head flipping his friend off which made her giggle. Niall remained focused on her.

“Your Uncle said you might need help walking out here.”

“Oh, do we have a skating rookie on our hands?” Harry asked. Her cheeks felt hot under the assumption. Even though it was accurate.

“I suck at skating,” she shrugged. There wasn’t any use playing it off—they would know in a matter of seconds. “I get too nervous and lose my balance,” she admitted.

They both tilted their heads at her. She knew that vulnerability wasn’t something seen on the ice. It seemed almost trivial to admit, but she knew it clearly threw them for a loop. “I can walk you out,” Harry offered with that sinfully delicious smile.

“Coach said he was going to rebreak all of your fingers if you touch her."

“Oh, please let me walk you out,” Harry practically bounced with excitement.

She worried her eyes were going to remain in the back of her head from rolling them so much, but she supposed that would come with the territory with working for a group of boys. “Thank you, Niall. I should be okay. Just don’t let anyone laugh at me too much if I fall on my butt.”

“We don’t want you t’fall on such a pretty asset, Rookie. Are y’sure I can’t help?”

She ignored Harry, keeping her eyes on Niall. “No one will laugh,” he assured her, a smile toying at his lips as he slipped his helmet back on. “I offered, but she’s stubborn like you, Coach!”

The laughter that ensued was a good distraction for her to make her move. She unlocked the rink door and stepped onto the ice following behind Niall. Each step was carefully taken, knowing the traction of her winter boots were better than any other pair of shoes she owned but would never compare to the blade of skate.

Three little steps was about as far as she could go it seemed. Right as her footing was about to be lost on her and send her to the hard ice, a hand caught her elbow and kept her upright. “Rookie, love,” he tisked. “I told you I could help.”

She looked at him briefly knowing that his good looks got him any girl he wanted. She heard the rumors of the string of girls he had (perhaps one for every city he visited) and she knew of every bad thing that Kael had to say about him. But the kindness of him to catch her was sweet. Even she couldn’t deny that. Kael merely laughed each time she fell, it wasn’t mean spirited per se, but it was almost like he was glad she couldn’t skate. A way to be better than her.

God, she wished she had taken the hint a lot sooner.

Harry’s skates weren’t even tied yet. “Jus’ wait,” he said and knelt to lace them up. She had to imagine he rushed to get out here just knowing she wouldn’t make it across the ice.

Once tied, Harry held her elbow again and skated so effortlessly beside her barely moving as he glided alongside her. No one paid attention to her slow steps, and she could feel Harry’s grip firm but not hard on her arm. Almost sensing when she was going to misstep before she did. It made her heart skip a beat.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She wasn’t going to fall for another hockey player ever.

“M’teaching m’niece t’skate. I can teach you,” he shrugged. It wasn’t arrogant the way he said it. She was sure anyone else that knew she was in their mid-twenties (especially someone with a famous hockey player for an ex-boyfriend of eight years, and famous major league hockey coach for an uncle) would expect her to be able to skate. Instead, one of the top players in the league was at her elbow barely acknowledging that it was weird. Perhaps the vulnerability she mentioned to him and Niall really meant something to him. Or maybe she was just reading into it—which she definitely shouldn’t have been reading into it.

“It’s a real shame you won’t have that hand to play with after all, Harry,” Uncle Charlie shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Charlie, I can handle a group of boys,” she rolled her eyes again, earning a bout of laughter from the group. But she knew that Uncle Charlie was worried about Harry specifically. He was a lot like Kael. In another life, Harry would have been a weakness for her. But not anymore. She was done with hockey guys.

“M’jus’ making sure she doesn’t fall. Sad y’couldn’t teach her t’skate. Some uncle you are,” he shrugged casually.

The group laughed again, and she smirked. Charlie ignored the childish behavior of his players but rubbed his middle finger on his nose like he had an itch aimed for Harry “They’re all yours, Sweetheart. Just tell them where you want them. They’ve all been instructed to listen carefully unless they want to do suicides tomorrow at practice, so be honest if they don’t listen. Or lie if you see fit,” Uncle Charlie remarked making everyone groan. “Harry, go get your gear she needs individual pictures too.”

His eyes flickered to Niall for several seconds. Right as he released her arm, Niall now stood beside her and waited for direction. He didn’t hold her elbow like Harry did, but it was clear there was an unspoken message they shared telepathically. That little flutter in her chest made it’s appearance once more solely because Harry was kind to her about her inability to skate.

No, she wasn’t going to fall for it.

She wasn’t going to fall for the hot left wing of her uncle’s team just because he offered to teach her to skate and didn’t make fun of her because she couldn’t.

Nope. She wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Right?

*

The boys were decidedly sweet. Despite the fact it was like trying to wrangle a group of twenty toddlers into one spot. They sat nicely for their headshots individually, but once she tried to get them into various poses and group shots with their respective lines it proved a little more difficult. (Don’t even get her started on how the whole team shot went).

Harry stood beside her while she took pictures of everyone but him. His presence was comforting in a way she didn’t want to admit so readily. It had been less than an hour since she spoke to him. When he returned with all his gear in place, he held a small rug that the coaches often used to stand at center ice and call drills. He laid it before her feet, and she didn’t have to worry as much about falling. Niall was her test subject in front of the goal. When she wanted to get another angle, Harry scooped up the little mat and held her elbow and let her guide while he slid alongside her at a pace that was much too slow for a professional hockey player. But Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I see?” He asked while the others skated around, messing around at the other end of the rink. She was now at the bench where she was safe from slipping. Harry leaned over the rail, dropping his gloves onto the wooden seat beside her. She offered her camera to him. Carefully he cradled it, like he knew it really was precious to her. Silently, he looked at the little screen. A smile grew on his face as he admired how his pictures came out. “These are awesome, Rookie.”

“Thank you,” did her cheeks feel warmer from the compliment? She smiled softly as he looked through several photos of himself. Harry Styles was lucky he didn’t have a bad side. Not that she would tell him that.

“How come y’didn’t do this for Crowe’s team?” He asked clicking through photos of his teammates.

She blinked, the smile melting from her face. “You know about me and Kael?”

“Well, yeah. S’the whole hands-off talk Coach gave us. Said you’re done with hockey players,” Harry shrugged one shoulder, his gaze focused on the lines and group shots on the screen of her camera. “Fortunately for me, I don’t consider your ex a real hockey player,” he smiled at the screen. “But I haven’t told Coach ‘bout that loophole jus’ yet.”

She snorted and shook her head. The flirty comment was cute. She could admit that. Plus, a dig at her shitty ex made her feel a little lighter. But she wasn’t going to fall for Harry’s easy-going charisma.

If she repeated it to herself enough, it would stick.

“I will not be dating real and-or imaginary hockey players,” she told him.

“At least give me a chance t’change your mind, Rookie,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she shook her head politely. He frowned. She laughed softly. “You genuinely look down by my answer.”

“Hell yeah,” he scowled. “Y’take pretty pictures and y’wrangled this ragtag group,” he sighed almost dreamily. “And you’re absolutely beautiful t’boot.”

That made her smile, at least. He was an expert flirter. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that.”

“Enough t’let me take you on a date?”

“No.”

“Ugh.”

She laughed again. “Thank you for helping me around the ice,” she said graciously. “I’ll tell Uncle Charlie you were a perfect gentleman after he left.”

“Rookie, love, you’ll ruin m’reputation,” he called after her as she made her way around the rink toward the exit.

*

Her apartment was not in the nice part of town. To be fair, it was only just over the border from the nicer side. From her place she could see the bar she would be working at on the days she wouldn’t be at the rink. She hadn’t told Uncle Charlie about it because she knew he would be pissed if he saw where she lived. But it was the right price and honestly, the other tenants weren’t bad.

She suspected one of her neighbors on the first floor was... an entrepreneur... for his... small business. Michael was very wary of her at first, but she was lucky because he wore a hockey jersey the day, she met him, Callie’s number and name on the front and back. She hadn’t gone to the rink yet because she was getting a lot of her things and affairs settled. That evening she moved in, she got him tickets to a home game through her uncle (along with a dozen cookies to welcome herself to the building). To his credit, Michael looked weary that the tickets were fake, but the cookies were good. They weren’t special seats or anything, but they weren’t bad seats either. He knocked on her door the day after the game and it was clear she wasn’t going to have any issues with her neighbor. “That was cool. If you need anything, I got you,” he assured her with a grin. “That car you got, I’ll keep an eye on it for you when you’re not around... you’re too sweet to be living here.”

She smiled. “Thanks Michael.”

On the second floor lived an older couple. They kept to themselves, but she was sure to give them a dozen cookies as well and offered to shovel out their cars when it snowed. But once Michael saw her out there shoveling, he joined her as well. She brought a hockey stick autographed by the whole team for their grandson. She couldn’t wait to hear how he enjoyed that Christmas gift.

Her neighbor on the third floor just down the hall was Marcellus. He went by Marc and told her that he had a boyfriend and if she had an issue with that, it was too fucking bad. The previous tenant must have been a piece of work. She laughed at him, handed off her dozen cookies and shrugged. “If he breaks your heart, I have a team of hockey boys who can take him on,” she giggled.

So, Marc loved her too.

She wouldn’t be jogging around the neighborhood any time soon, but it was nice she wouldn’t have to worry about her car being stolen (although good luck to anyone who tried to get that piece of crap to start without a prayer), or getting robbed on her way into the building.

Inside her little studio apartment was a small kitchen. There was enough space for a small loveseat, a bed, and TV. She had a coffee table and a counter to sit at for breakfast. The bathroom was surprisingly spacious and modern for a rundown studio apartment building.

After a full day at the rink, she was chilly. A shower was just what she needed before she ventured into the cold again. Letting the hot water soothe her cold neck and back was so nice. While her hair air-dried, she transferred and then sifted through her pictures on her laptop. The edits she made were small. The lighting and shadows only needed to be adjusted a little. She loved the natural look of the of the players in their element.

She forwarded the photos to Charlie for approval, and he would send them to the higher ups for printing.

They look stunning, Sweetheart. Incredible job.

Grinning she looked over the photos she took of Harry again. He was by far the best-looking guy on the team (not that the others weren’t good-looking but alas). Even in the photos where you couldn’t see his pretty face, there was a presence that made him look more attractive. It was obvious he was a good player. His talent was evident in the photos, and she was proud of herself for being able to capture it.

There was a knock on her door. She padded quietly across the room, peeked through the peephole to see Marc, before she opened it. “Hi,” she smiled.

“You have to teach me hockey,” he said. “This man is obsessed, and I don’t even know what you call the ball.”

“Puck.”

“Exactly.” She laughed. He glanced around her apartment. “Your talents are wasted on this run-down place—holy hottie, who’s that?”

Her computer screen remained on Harry’s smiling individual photo. Dimples on full display and looking intense but happy. “That’s Harry Styles.”

“I think I’ll like hockey after all.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Listen, I have a shift I have to get to, but there’s a game on tomorrow afternoon, come over and we’ll watch it, and I’ll teach you,” she offered.

“Bring flashcards of the players. It’ll make me more interested.”

She tied the apron around her waist as he sifted through the photos. “God damn, is this what all hockey players look like?” He asked.

“Bye Marc,” she pulled his arm and pushed him toward her door. “See you tomorrow.”

*

The Locker Room was a local restaurant owned by Louis Tomlinson. It was a hot spot for the players to go to on off days and after a win (they refrained from going after a loss unless absolutely necessary). The fans that went were not allowed to be aggressive about the players, but after a while, they got used to seeing the players so often, it became a nice place to be themselves.

Asher and Lang were playing darts while Niall and Callie focused on a game of pool. Harry sat back sipping his beer analyzing his contacts looking for the hookup he wanted for the evening. They had curfew at midnight since there was a game tomorrow evening which left him with ample time to peruse his list, meet up with the girl, and get home by midnight before he turned into a pumpkin.

“Who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Louis asked clapping a hand on Harry’s back.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he chuckled.

“Well, when the new waitress comes over, you are not to make her uncomfortable. I already warned her.”

“I would never,” he rolled his eyes, still scanning the names.

“Uh-huh,” Louis nodded. “Of course. Tell your teammates too. She’s off limits.”

“What’s up with every new girl being off limits in our life?” Callie asked.

“Coach won’t let us date his niece and you won’t let us date the new girl,” Niall explained to Louis for clarification.

“Fortunately, it’s the same person, so you don’t have to lose out on two girls.”

Harry pulled away from his screen to admire the pretty girl he met at the rink earlier in the day. His grin grew. “Oh, Rookie, it’s you,” he cooed.

“Oh Jesus,” Louis sighed. “Watch out for that one, love,” he patted her on the back.

“So, I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Is she ours?” Asher asked excitedly.

“As long as you don’t torture her,” Louis shrugged.

“We would never!”

“Eleanor refuses to set foot back here because of you all.”

“Hire meaner waitstaff.”

“Best of luck, love,” Louis shook his head.

“What can I get you guys?” She asked sweetly.

“Uncle Charlie doesn’t pay you enough that you have to slum it here?” Lang asked.

“I heard that!” Louis shouted.

Harry was...quite taken. From the moment he laid eyes on her. The concentration on her face as she took pictures, the way her hair was pinned up, how bundled she was. Her smile was sexy. The quips that spilt from her mouth perhaps even sexier. Harry was certain she was a dream because good things at the rink consisted of goals, interviews, and the pizza from the snack bar. Not a pretty girl with an expensive camera and his assistant coach as her uncle.

Now her hair was still pinned back, an apron tied around her waist, and the black and silver uniform as homage to his own. Harry wanted her draped in the number eleven and his name on her back ASAP.

It was cute she couldn’t skate. Cute how passionate she was on day one taking pictures. She wasn’t flustered by their rowdiness, or their annoying nature. Harry knew that she was used to hockey boys—had to be if her ex was one of the top forwards in the league (although Harry didn’t recognize that too often). He liked how she didn’t take shit from them but was still kind. She was funny, creative, and lovely.

And he only saw her in action for a short time.

But it was enough to make him put his phone away and not think about hooking up with someone tonight. His focus would be on her waiting on the team and (hopefully) getting to know her more so he could rationalize falling for someone so out of his league and someone so off limits.

“Hi Rookie, love,” Harry smiled as she approached his table. She took orders from the other four hanging around.

“Hi Harry,” she answered.

“M’happy to see you again.”

She nodded. “It’s only been a few hours, Harry.”

“S’too long t’go without seeing your pretty face,” he assured her.

She rolled her eyes, but Harry noticed how her cheeks flushed with color. “What do you want to drink?” She asked instead.

“Are you on the menu?”

“Does that work on other girls?”

“Yes.”

“It’s probably because of the hockey thing you have going on. I promise it wouldn’t work if you weren’t a professional,” she shrugged.

“Good thing m’very professional,” he continued, his voice flirty.

“I’m putting down whatever the other guys said,” she shook her head and headed off to get the drinks.

“Harry, don’t bother her. Coach said she’s off-limits,” Niall reminded him while Callie took his shot.

“Yeah, she doesn’t strike me as one-night-stand material,” Asher murmured focusing on his dart going directly into the board.

“Mmm,” Harry sighed. In the brief interaction he had with her, he kind of figured that too. In fact, given she had been with Crowe for nearly a decade, he imagined she didn’t have too much experience dating other than her ex. Not that he would force her—or any woman. Like he said they all knew what they signed up for. Harry wasn’t great at the whole relationship thing. He was constantly traveling with the team. Practice most days, games most nights. Relationships were often one-sided and tiresome. It wasn’t fair to expect someone to wait for five months of the year to have a relationship.

One-night stands were better for him.

But he could at least ask her if she was willing to try him out. God, knew he wanted to try her out the second he looked at her.

“Your drinks,” she announced setting them on Harry’s table. He eyed her as she set the drinks down from the little tray in her arm. “Do you guys want food?” She asked.

“Are you on the menu now?”

“Jesus Christ,” Lang shook his head.

“You’re embarrassing us, Styles,” Callie sighed.

“Chicken wings, you said?” She asked scribbling on the pad of paper in her hand. “Great choice. Do you want anything else?” Harry smiled, opened his mouth to speak but she turned immediately. “Not you,” she said over her shoulder and sauntered over to the pool table. Lang and Asher chuckled to themselves at Harry’s strike out.

“You’re our hero, Sweetheart,” Asher sighed dreamily.

*

When Harry was on the ice there were zero thoughts of anything but slicing up the ice with the blade of his skate. He thought about the opponent across from him. The puck sliding across the ice and into the net. Protecting Niall in goal if anyone dared to lay a hand on him.

But now when they had timeouts, or when he was waiting for the puck to come up to him, he saw the pretty girl with her camera lens pressed to the glass, or in the cut out for the press. Her little badge draped around her neck looked so cute. Everything about her was cute and dainty.

Crowe was a fucking idiot to let her go.

Which made him wonder why he chose to break up with someone so pretty and witty. Creative as well.

Fuck. Coach was going to kill him.

But she really stood her ground. In the month that she had been part of the team, she seemed damn near impervious to Harry’s flirting. Harry worked hard to make her blush (which he could see was easy) but it took a lot to make her speechless. It was obvious Crowe didn’t treat her well. It seemed like Harry’s attention to her was the only time she had been shown affection. That alone pissed him off and made him hate him more. It was like she had never been told how pretty she was. Even when Harry wasn’t actively flirting with her, when he complimented her hair or how her pictures came out, she seemed completely off-guard.

What a fucking dick.

Harry once more wondered why they broke up. He still hadn’t figured it out. There was no way she wasn’t the perfect girlfriend. Especially for a hockey player. For all the reasons Harry didn’t date, she knew precisely what she was getting into and did it anyway. But she doted on his teammates as if she was dating all of them (there was no other way to describe it.) She always had extra tape for sticks. She walked with her cross body filled with supplies for hangovers, minor injuries, and the like. When she waited on them at Louis’ place, she knew their orders and had them ready almost like clockwork for when they arrived.

“Styles!” Coach Wheeler called. “If you’re not going to practice, you can sit out!” He shouted.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to rid his mind of the team’s photographer. The coach’s niece. His pretty waitress.

The star of all his dreams as of late.

*

“Sweetheart, where do you want us?!” Lang called.

She was on the bench, waiting to take some gameday photos. Today she was wearing skates, which made Harry nervous. He knew if she went down, she would protect her precious camera and he didn’t blame her, but it he hated the thought of her getting hurt. “Just by the—” She sighed, closing her eyes mid-sentence and she put her phone to her ear. “Stop fucking calling,” she snapped and then put her phone in her pocket again. “By the goal,” she cleared her throat.

The team stared at her. “Do you have a stalker, babe?” Asher asked.

“No,” she snorted and looked at her camera. She took a test shot of the empty net to make sure everything was set. She stepped tentatively onto the ice, more graceful than the last time she did. But Harry glided over to her quickly. He didn’t touch her, but he was more than ready to catch her. She ignored his presence, not in a mean way at all. Not an ounce of her was mean. Which is why it was so surprising she had that much malice in her voice on the phone.

“Everything okay, Sweetheart?” Charlie asked.

“Yup,” she popped the ‘puh’ sound.

She slid forward very carefully. “S’kind of shooting yourself in the foot here, Rookie. Figure skates have a better blade for beginners. S’harder t’skate on hockey skates for what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I was always told a hockey blade was thicker, so it was better.”

Harry shrugged. “S’not really that big of a deal in m’opinion. Figure skates have a longer blade, better for y’balance. Charlie set y’up with those?” She shook her head.

“No,” her voice was quiet.

“You bought hockey skates on your own?”

“Can you go stand with your team?” She asked dodging his question. He frowned.

“Yeah, sorry, Rookie, love,” he skated off but whistled at his younger teammate, Garrett, the third string forward for his position. Harry tilted his head in her direction and Garrett went over to her, standing way too far away in case she did fall.

“Who got her the skates?” He mumbled to Charlie. He shrugged.

“Not sure. Probably Kael. I would imagine he got a deal from his sponsors.”

God Harry hated him.

*

Mila was someone he saw on a semi-regular basis. Which meant she knew the drill. After their win, they would do their thing. Harry would stay until she fell asleep—because he wasn’t an asshole; and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he liked cuddling. Even if it was only for a little while—and he would send a text the next day to make sure she felt okay. There was no breakfast, no awkward small talk. Just sex. There was no setup to get feelings hurt or hearts broken. Harry was too busy for a girlfriend, and he would make for a shitty boyfriend.

It was cold when he left her place, and he blew into his hands for warmth when he as he headed to his car. There was a text on his phone from an unknown number.

Thought you would want to see the picture that’s on the front page of the sports section for tomorrow :) There was an impressive picture of Harry’s game winning goal. It wasn’t time sensitive but it was the one that broke the tie. The rest of the team held off the offensive line for the remaining ten minutes of the game.

Thanks, Rookie. I’m going to send it to Mum. She’ll print it for the fridge. How’d you get my number?

Kian gave it to me. Is that alright?

Who?

Callie 🙄 You should really learn your friends’ names. Is it okay I have your number?

Of course it’s alright. Just surprised YOU asked for it. Didn’t know you would want to talk to me so bad. You could have asked me yourself.

Sorry, I think have the wrong number.

He chuckled to himself while his car warmed up. The seat heater was heaven on his stiff muscles. Harry liked the cold—he had to being a hockey player. But it was her funny wit that warmed him from the inside out. Are you all still at Louis’?

Yes. Niall and Noah are about to break the air hockey machine.

Who?

🙄 Asher. Sorry. Jesus.

I’ll be right there, Rookie.

*

The next time the team won, Harry looked at the message from Layla asking if he wanted to come over to celebrate. He didn’t really want to. The guys were headed home because they had an early flight and there was no celebrating. Which meant that the pretty girl he wanted to celebrate with wasn’t going to be out and about either. She wouldn’t be doting on his drunk teammates. Wouldn’t be stopping their stupid fights about who’s turn it was to play her in darts. She wouldn’t be making sure they all made it home safely in the Ubers she ordered.

But Harry couldn’t just hang out with her either. There was no reason. She was basically his teammate and he couldn’t figure why she was so guarded. At least not beyond whatever it was she was dealing with Crowe.

“Is he still calling?” Niall asked looking at her phone the bench while she looked at her camera. Her hair always fell so perfectly as she watched the screen.

“Who?” Lang asked.

She sighed. “It’s just Kael.”

“Why?” Callie asked.

She shrugged. “I would have to answer to find out. Which is the last thing I want to do. I need a new phone number; I just haven’t gotten around to it. My schedule conflicts with most regular business hours so I could go to the store.”

“Charlie, you can’t spare her to give her a day off?” Asher asked.

Her uncle rolled his eyes, flipped him off, and continued practicing with the second and third stringers.

Harry sat beside her and peeked over her shoulder at her photos. “Do y’have any non-hockey photos?” She nodded and picked up her phone that was still showing Crowe blowing up her phone with calls and texts. “Why don’t y’block him, Rookie?” She swiped his notification away and she opened the web browser. It was currently on a recipe for carrot cake cupcakes. “Those look good,” he smiled.

She smirked. “It’s Ray’s birthday next week. Carrot cake is his favorite. Figured I’d make you all cupcakes.”

Harry thought she was too sweet for him. Someone with a lineup of women didn’t deserve her sweetness. Someone who was meeting Arya at her place after practice because he could didn’t get a girl like her. Him meeting Nyla after tomorrow’s away game three states away didn’t get someone like the pretty photographer.

Kael’s name kept popping up. “Y’probably never had t’block anybody before,” Harry said quietly. “D’you know how?” He hoped he didn’t sound condescending. But he had the unfortunate pleasure of blocking someone every now and again.

“I know how,” she laughed softly. “It’s just... with Kael, it’s likely to be a thing, you know?” She shrugged. “It’s easier to ignore him.”

“It probably gives him hope,” Harry frowned.

She held out her phone to him and shrugged. “That’s not my problem. I’ll see him in a couple weeks when we’re up North,” she reminded him. “Hopefully by then he’ll get the message; or I’ll have to talk to him in person.”

Harry took her phone and admired the portfolio of photos she displayed for him. The website was all black making her images pop. She was so talented. There were babies and weddings. There were family portraits and just general landscape shots. All of differing but equal beauty and perfection. Natural. Lovely.

Harry swiped away Kael’s name again and clicked on the menu item of the about section.

Two side by side pictures of the pretty girl next to him were on the screen. One with the camera in front of her eye, the other a sweet smile on her face camera in front of her like a prop. Behind the Lens... Thank you for browsing. If you like what you see, I’d be happy to quote you for any need. I have experience in just about any area of photographing. Thank you for letting me part of you day!

Too sweet for someone who was going to never be able to settle down because of his job. No matter how much he wished she could be part of his day.

Kael’s stupid name popped up again. Without another rational thought, Harry answered the call, pressed the phone to his ear, and skated off knowing she couldn’t go after him.

“Finally, baby,” Kael groaned.

“STYLES HOW DARE YOU!” She screamed.

“Crowe, nice t’hear from you.”

“Who the fuck is this?” He growled.

“HARRY!” She was on the ice in her ever-present boots. They weren’t great for walking on ice. She slipped immediately but Lang was right nearby to help her up. Harry was going to feel guilty about that for ages.

“None of your business,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t want y’calling anymore.”

“What the fuck? Put her on the phone!”

“No,” Harry said defiantly. “She doesn’t want t’talk t’you. Ever. Stop calling y’piece of shit.”

Lang looked at Harry wildly as he glided with the pretty girl clutching to his arm. She smacked Harry multiple times on the arm and chest making the coaches laugh. “Give me the phone!” She snapped.

“Give her the phone!” He repeated. “Listen to her!”

“No, y’don’t deserve her,” Harry stepped out of her reach where she lost her balance as she lunged for him. She fell again catching her hands. Thank God she didn’t have her camera. Lang helped her to her feet again and Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him again. “Y’didn’t appreciate her, her talent, or anything. Y’didn’t get her the right skates, and I don’t know what y’did t’piss her off so bad, but y’not getting her back,” Harry said it so casually. But every word was meant for her.

“Is that you, Styles?” Crowe snarled.

“Bye Crowe, see you in a month!” He said cheerily handing the phone off to her.

She nearly fell again despite holding onto Lang. “What the hell, Harry!”

“I got rid of him,” he shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Her face was beat red with embarrassment. Her hands had to be cold from the fall. But she still looked adorable as always. Even with a sour expression, she was sweet. Pretty beyond belief. Wide eyes, soft skin, even her nose was cute. She glared at him and spun on her heel. “Get me away from him,” she snapped.

Harry sighed, feeling bummed he pissed her off too much. Lang shook his head at Harry as he helped her back to the bench. She packed up her things and left.

But he couldn’t help but notice that her phone had stopped ringing.

*

She was still mad at him a week later. If she ignored his flirting before, this was an entire new level. She hardly acknowledged his presence. He missed her. In a weird way. He enjoyed bugging her, but perhaps it went to far. It was an invasion of her personal life that he wasn’t privy to, and he didn’t really have any right to deal with her ex-boyfriend.

That didn’t mean anything he said wasn’t anything but the truth.

“Hey Rookie,” he said as she entered the room to get their drink orders for the evening.

“Hi everybody,” she grinned at everyone in turn and glared at Harry.

“Boy you pissed her off,” Niall chuckled.

He shrugged. “Worth it,” because it was. He hated Kael before, he hoped he got the clue.

“You know she had to talk to him, right?” Callie asked. Harry’s head snapped up from his phone screen looking at his contacts once more. Harry wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly but his evenings with the women in his phone were leaving him less and less fulfilled. He wasn’t looking for any grand pronouncements of love. That wasn’t his thing. But the idea of spending the evening with someone didn’t give him the same excitement as it used to.

It was probably the day he met her. But it was sinking in more over the week she had barely spoken to him. “What do y’mean?” He frowned.

“Crowe? She had to talk to him after that stunt you pulled.”

Harry glowered at the table. “Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t stop blowing up her phone and he was threatening to come to her if she didn’t just talk to him. Why do you think she didn’t come with us on the plane the next day?”

Harry felt like a jerk. “Oh.”

“She hates you,” Asher reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “She could have told one of us,” he mumbled. Harry would have sat outside her apartment waiting for him.

“I don’t know if you noticed Harry, but she’s pretty private,” Niall sighed leaning on his pool stick. “I know you meant well, but it kind of fucked up her day.”

Harry pouted. He met her gaze as she brought their drinks out.

And if she spilled Harry’s on him, well, he supposed he deserved that.

*

Harry was a great hockey player, a great friend. A great brother and son. Not to toot his own horn but he thought he truly was the World’s Best Uncle like it said on the T-shirt Gemma had got him when she told him she was pregnant. He was still pretty humble all things considered; always looking to improve. Coach Wheeler was one of his favorite mentors (right after his mum) and he strived to do better by them.

He was bad at Chemistry in school. He wasn’t good at Sudoku. Most recently he felt like he was bad at having sex. The thing he had going with the women he knew didn’t seem to be working for him the way it used to. There was an awkwardness to the hookups when he left. He wasn’t mentally present in the moment.

Harry was pretty certain he would be a shitty boyfriend.

He needed her forgiveness, or the other remaining areas of his life were going to get worse too.

Most notably, he was shit in practice. He worried he was going to be demoted to second string.

Harry arrived early to practice, putting goals in the net two hours before everyone else arrived. He would have to pay to resurface the ice twenty minutes before practice officially started. But he hoped that she was going to show up early with her carrot cake cupcakes. He anticipated she would be just one short. Which Harry deserved on top of everything else too.

Fortunately, she did arrive early.

“Hey,” he waved.

She ignored him, set the cupcakes down on the bench and pulled out her camera. She fiddled with it, wiping the lens off with a cloth, and took some test shots of the ice.

“Rookie, love,” he sighed and skated over to the bench.

“Yes, Mr. Styles? Can I help you?”

“C’mon, Rookie, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I was just trying to help.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him. “You must get whatever you want all the time.”

He frowned. “No, I don’t actually,” although from her perspective he could see what she meant.

“Well, me either, so if I’m going to be miserable. So are you.”

He snorted, shook his head. He stepped off the ice and sat on the bench beside her. “I’m sorry, Bunny. Really. I hated that he was bothering you. I didn’t mean t’make it worse, honest. I would have done the same for m’sister or any one of the guys’ girls.”

“I am an adult Harry. I’m independent and I can handle my own shit. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I understand. M’sorry, really. I won’t do it again. But m’sick of y’being mad at me. S’been no fun this week without skating you around, grossly overtipping you jus’ so you’ll spend extra time with us,” he smiled shyly at her.

She sucked her lip into her mouth. For a moment she looked at her lap, obviously thinking something over. “How’d you know he bought me the wrong skates?” Her voice was quiet.

Harry blinked wondering how long she had that question locked and loaded. He shrugged. “I asked Charlie. He said he didn’t. So, I assumed it had to be him.”

She sighed and looked up. “He said figure skates would make me look like try-hard. Hockey skates would make me look more like I belonged on his arm,” she explained. “I didn’t know. I would have...” she shook her head. “It was eye-opening when you said that, and it hurt... and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too.”

Harry sighed with relief. “You don’t have t’apologize,” he promised. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”

“Apology accepted.”

Harry grabbed her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thanks Bunny.”

She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste. “I don’t like Bunny.”

“Oh...” his smile grew by the second. “Y’don’t Rookie, love?” He chuckled standing up and getting back on the ice. “Y’probably shouldn’t have told me that,” he winked and skated off.

“There’s no cupcake for you!” She called.

“That’s okay, Bunny!” He shouted back with a grin and sank a shot from half-ice.

Maybe Harry would be a shitty boyfriend, but he was going to be her best friend instead.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @boopookie @babegoals @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

@emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[songmingisthighs]

[5.45] boyfriend!mingi × reader (ft. ateez, esp wooyoung)

⇀ birthday surprise gone horribly wrong

⇁ now ya'll know that i watch reddit stories videos on yt a wee bit too much

genre : angst

warning : mingi is a jerk, wooyoung likes butting in, public humiliation,

wc : 2.1 k

buy me coffee ?

"This party is so great!" Your friend squealed, giving you a side hug as you grinned widely in happiness. "I know!" you let her go to face your boyfriend, "And it's all thanks to Mingi," you leaned to kiss him on the lips but he looked away last minute and took a sip of his drink, causing you to miss his lips. "Don't sweat it," Mingi said, or more likely muttered. "I got to..." he trailed off before walking away, pointing at the direction of his friends.

It was odd for him to be so... quiet with you. It was rather worrying, actually.

Just as you were about to go over to ask Mngi what was wrong, your friend pulled you aside to a corner with an amused grin on her face. "A little birdie told me your boyfriend prepared a surprise," she excitedly whispered, almost squealing. "What? What are you talking about?" you blinked confusedly. "Well, I was talking to some of the girls who wanted to go home early because they live rather far but Wooyoung insisted that they stay because, as he said it, they're going to want to," she winked. Still confused, you narrowed your eyes at her, "And... why would that be? It's probably a cake or they want to perform a Britney Spears song in which it would make sense that Wooyoung would want them to stay." Exasperatedly, your friend scoffed and punched you lightly on your shoulder, "Dude! Mingi is going to propose to you!"

Though you didn't believe her, your face went red and you immediately shot the idea down, "No way! Are you crazy? We've been dating for like 7 months, I haven't even brought up the fact that my parents wanted to meet him! I've been so panicked over all this, I'm still thinking of ways to tell him," you huffed. In that moment, you looked sideways and your eyes met with Mingi. The way he was looking at you was like a smoulder, it sent chills down your spine due to its intensity. You shot him a smile and a small wave, hoping that Mingi would reciprocate in the creative, adorable ways he usually does. But this time, he simply pursed his lips and nodded once at you before averting his gaze, rendering you slightly confused but you try to let him be, thinking that maybe he was just over-stimulated due to the crowd of people in your place. Your friend simply shrugged, "I don't know, I know people who got married after 3 months because they just KNOW they're with the one. Or because they got knocked up, I guess. But anyway, I think something serious is happening down the line and I hope everyone's ready to see it."

"Hi everyone, thank you for attending (y/n)'s surprise party!" Wooyoung's voice caught everyone's attention almost immediately, "We have another surprise so can I please ask for your attention?" "Attention whore!" Yunho jokingly yelled from the back, causing the crowd to laugh and Wooyoung to flip him off. "Anyway, as I was saying before some BITCH cut me off, I'm really happy to see so many people here and I can only assume that it's a testament to how many people love (y/n) and if you agree, let's give a round of applause to her!" and the whole room erupted into roars of claps and people whooping you, rendering you shy as you drop your head and tried to hold in your mouth-ripping grin. The attention occupied your senses so much that you didn't realize that there was one person in the room who didn't join the mass, the one person who mattered most to you.

"That being said, I'm sure (y/n) reciprocates your love for her so in a way, we can say that (y/n) loves a lot of people," Wooyoung said and if you focus on his face, you could see a slight smirk blooming, almost taunting, "And recently we found out that there is a person that (y/n) seem to love a little bit more than others." When Wooyoung turned to cue something up with Mingi helping him, you managed to let the words sink in and when it settled, you found yourself confused. What was Wooyoung talking about? The only person who could have fit such a description was Mingi but he didn't look too happy right at that moment. But the biggest shock didn't come until the TV was turned on and you saw pictures of you that you've never seen before/

Wooyoung stepped back and grinned mischievously, "Now, we see just HOW MUCH (y/n) can love a person even if that person is not her boyfriend, my dear boy Mingi." He pressed on the laptop that was connected to the TV and showed a similar picture of you sitting in front of a guy who you had been seeing quite frequently. "Now you might be wondering, who is this well-dressed man? Where were they? What's going on here? Why were they meeting up?" There were at least three more pictures of the same situation from different angles and seeing them felt like you were being splashed with cold water. "Well, I think the right question should've been 'how long did they think they could hide this shit from her own boyfriend?' right?"

People around you started whispering while glancing at you, talking about the fact that you had just been caught cheating. The happy look on your face as you hugged the guy in the picture and the way you simply found comfort in his embrace was not making the situation any better. Honestly, the situation was worse because of it, especially for Mingi who was trying his best to not look at the pictures again. When Wooyoung came to him with those pictures, he didn't want to believe that you were cheating on him, someone as sweet as you, someone who had openly and verbally appreciated and loved him and even made a promise not to hurt him. That was a week ago and Mingi had had half a mind to cancel the birthday surprise party he had meticulously planned for you (it was mostly Yunho and Jongho because had it been left completely to Mingi, the party would just be two pizzas and some beer with streamers as decoration), but Wooyoung had another idea that he thought would be MUCH better. Wooyoung was looking proud of himself for revealing that while Mingi was glaring at you, looking visibly angry with the way he was breathing heavily. "Well, do you have anything to say to your BOYFRIEND, (y/n)?"

Your brain was on the verge of collapsing due to information rushing into your brain all at once, not knowing which, who, or where to address first.

It was then that the front door opened and closed and you heard people gasping in surprise.

How can they not? The guy in the picture in front of them was standing there with a gift in hand.

"What's going on?" he asked, confused, looking around at the people staring, pointing at him.

His voice seem to broke you out of your trance and your eyes immediately watered. Tears of embarrassment started pouring out of your eyes as you looked up at him.

"Seonghwa," you choked out, calling for him.

Seeing you in such a state, Seonghwa's eyes widened and he dropped the gift in panic, "(y/n), what's wrong? What happened?" Seonghwa was about to step forward to you when Wooyoung scoffed, "Of course he's here to hide in plain sight, throwing off people because who would imagine the accomplice to be together so blatantly, right?" Some people laughed at Wooyoung's jab and it was at that moment you completely broke and your dashed to your room. Once your door slammed shut, your best friend stepped up and pushed Wooyoung harshly, sending him reeling a few steps back. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" she screamed, "Why would you make a spectacle like this!?" Wooyoung huffed and regained his composure, but Mingi shot back at her, "Are you seriously condoning her action? She betrayed me and you think attacking Wooyoung is okay? It's bad enough she broke my trust, she HAD to have him here too?" Mingi spat as he jabbed his thumb at Seonghwa's direction.

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed, "Excuse me?" Mingi finally stepped up and went face-to-face with Seonghwa and his 6 ft stature easily towered over Seonghwa. Despite that, Seonghwa didn't waver for a bit. "You have some nerve coming here. Don't you have some shame?" Mingi asked. Still confused, Seonghwa could only stare at Mingi in disbelief, "What are you talking about? (y/n) invited me, what do you mean I have some nerve?" "Can you blame (y/n)'s boyfriend when you were caught getting all cosy with (y/n) behind his back? What were you even trying to do anyway?" Wooyoung piped back up/

When Seonghwa averted his eyes to Wooyoung, he finally realized the picture of him hugging you on the screen. "I was congratulating her on how serious her relationship had become with her boyfriend and I was telling her that I'd have her back when she finally decided to introduce her boyfriend to her parents," he said matter-of-factly. At the mention of being introduced to your parents, Mingi's heart skipped a beat for a moment but he kept his resolve. "And which boyfriend were you talking about, Mingi or you?" Wooyoung smirked.

Almost immediately, Seonghwa's face scrunched into cringe and he reeled back as if he had just gotten hit, "Ew! I'm her cousin!"

The whole room froze, especially Mingi and Wooyoung who looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"What?" Mingi whispered, needing a confirmation.

"I'm (y/n)'s cousin. We met up because she asked me for my help to support her AND YOU when you go to meet her parents. They have been pressuring her and she thought she finally found someone she could bring home," realization dawned on Seonghwa and his initial confusion melted into disgust, "Now, I think she's wrong."

Wooyoung's eyes widened and so did Mingi's. They were left gaping like fishes out of the water, not knowing how to react as they processed the fact that they had just made themselves not only look like idiots but also assholes.

The sound of a door slamming was heard and you showed up with eyes red, cheeks wet, and bottom lip trembling. Surprisingly (to everyone and even himself), Mingi was the first one to rush to you, crouching to look you in the eyes but you simply looked to the side, avoiding his gaze. "Baby, are you okay? I-I'm- I- Can we talk?" It was practically pathetic that Mingi switched his demeanour so quickly, but it was the first thing that he could think of.

"Get me out of here," you croaked, the brokenness of your voice tugged the strings of Mingi's heart as the guilt of what he did started to accumulate. "You wanna get out of here? Okay, we can do it, I'll get you out. Where do you want to go to? I-I can find somewhere or do you somewhere in mind already? I know it's just-" "Seonghwa," You cut him off, ignoring him as you looked up straight to your cousin, "Please get me out of here."

You didn't have to say twice before Seonghwa rushed to you, pushing Mingi out of the way (obviously intentionally) to get you out. When you walked past him, Mingi finally saw the large bag you had in your hand and the sight served as concrete proof of how much he fucked up.

On your way out, Seonghwa managed to scoop the birthday present he had accidentally dropped and momentarily turned around to glare at Mingi, "I'm taking this because my favourite cousin deserves one good thing now after what you did and you can bet I'm turning this day around for her," he hissed before finally leaving with you who couldn't even spare one last glance at anyone else and no one could blame you.

Silence hung in the air for two minutes before guests started trickling out, muttering shit excuses like having a curfew or needing to relieve their cat-sitter until there were just your friends and Mingi's inside. Your friend glared at Mingi and Wooyoung with so much disgust, they might as well have been chin-deep in a vat of butcher scraps mixed with manure. "I hope you're fucking happy doing this on her birthday you sick fucks," she spat before turning and leaving, the other people in your friend group joining. After they all left, Yunho and Jongho stayed back, looking at their friends in disbelief because they never thought their friends could pull something like that.

"You couldn't have asked her first or gather more evidence?" Jongho asked, scoffing. Wooyoung flipped him off while Mingi let out a sharp exhale as he slid down the wall behind him, "Shut up man," he halfheartedly muttered.

Served him right.

network :

@sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @itasluv @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @stopeatread

@yoonjunshi @hongjoong-lovebot

[velvet-apricots]

I was encouraged to write a drabble of this idea I had here

Summary: Lucanis can tell that Rook has a thing for Emmrich. Emmrich, however, seems to be very unaware of her attraction. That is until Spite speaks up.

It was happening again.

He had been talking to Emmrich again. For as bizarre as Lucanis found the concepts of raising the dead, the man was good to talk to. It was refreshing to have another to help with Spite, to have a calm firm hand that could get the demon to behave or stop pestering with questions that Lucanis could not answer, or could not answer in a satisfactory way.

That, and Spite just seemed to refuse to believe him out of… Well, spite.

“The moment I told him how soap was made, he insisted I take a bite.”

Emmrich tutted, leaning on his staff and directing his eyes to the demon as he hovered behind Lucanis’s shoulder. “Oh that would be most unpleasant, Spite. I assure you. The saponification process completely changes the composition of the animal fat. It tastes terrible.”

“How do you know?” Spite hissed.

Emmrich shrugged. “I have gotten soap in my mouth once or twice while bathing.”

And then, almost like clock work, Rook was suddenly there, slipping into the conversation. “What is saponification?” she asked, playing with her fingers as she gave Emmrich a little sweet smile, one she never gave to any of the rest of them. 

Rook liked hearing Emmrich talk. She liked seeing him move his hands. She liked looking at him. Her voice would get higher, and she would jut her hip out as she nervously fiddled with something, be it her fingers or her hair. It was very obvious that she was attracted to the older man, looking for any excuse to speak to him. It was like watching a love sick teenager.

And Emmrich seemed oblivious. Politefully so, but still very oblivious. Either that, or he was keeping up a professional decorum.

And so Lucanis now watched them: Emmrich explaining how saponification was the process of “cleaving esters into carboxylate salts and alcohols by the action of aqueous alkali”. Rook looking at Emmrich so intensely that she might as well be trying to undress him with her eyes. Staring at him from under her lashes with a little stupid grin, clearly not actually even hearing what he was saying.

Meirda, she is practically lusting over the man. How does Emmrich not see that? Lucanis thought, giving a humored smirk.

And then Spite spoke. He spoke and Lucanis wanted nothing more than to be struck down by the Maker himself.

“They should get a room. Together.”

Rook of course heard nothing. But Lucanis watched as Emmrich’s brows went up, watched as he turned to look at Spite, his ears and cheeks ever so slightly going pink as he gave a bewildered, open mouthed stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Emmrich asked.

Lucanis closed his eyes, cringing visibly from embarrassment. “Ignore him-”

“No! Do not ignore me! Take her to the bedroom! It’s what she wants!”

Emmrich took a scolding tone, face now going from pink to red.“Take her to-? Spite that is incredibly inappropriate.”

“What is Spite saying?” Rook asked, leaning back as both Lucanis and Emmrich turned sharply to her to say the same thing.

“Nothing.”

Emmrich ran his hand through his hair, looking very uncomfortable and now no longer able to look at Rook at all. “I think I will go make sure Manfred is not getting into any trouble” He mumbled, turning and quickly walking away. Rook followed him, switching from love sick to concerned leader.

Her concern would only make Emmrich feel even more uncomfortable.

“And I will throw myself into a cup of coffee, and possibly off the side of the courtyard.” Lucanis mumbled, turning in the opposite direction and quickly speed walking away. He would have to apologize-

“Do not apologize! I helped!” Spite protested, “He knows now!”

-Apologize to Emmrich.

[p00pdev1l]

A/N: vi x reader and ex!sevika x reader (who's shocked) idk i have a thing for exes ig, vi hits on sevika's ex gf unknowingly, lets pretend they'd be at the same bar together for just one sec, just something silly i wrote to get the juices flowing for hopefully another fic i have in mind for vi! warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, jealous sevika (shhh she doesn't know) gif credit: @/faderiftss (i love you gif creators!)\

Vi found her gaze continuously drifting in your direction throughout the night, stormy eyes watching you with admiration as you idly sipped on your drink. If you had noticed, it would have probably looked like she was sizing you up, with her thick brows furrowed in frustration and tense shoulders. How could she go toe to toe with people bigger than herself, and yet—she felt so intimidated by the idea of approaching a beautiful stranger like you? She rolled her shoulders back, trying to gather some sense of courage. But self doubt pinned her to her seat, her mind racing with intrusive thoughts of every possible way she could fuck this up. So she held herself back, afraid of scaring you away. But—after knocking a few drinks back, maybe too many, her waning courage was soon restored. 

Striding across the tavern in a few short steps she approached the bar, casually leaning against the wooden counter beside you. This immediately caught Sevika’s attention, who was a couple tables away shuffling a deck of cards. She cocked a dark brow, the corner of her lips curling upward in amusement. 

“I haven’t seen you around before.” She commented, tilting her head toward yours. “Glad someone’s noticed.” You offered a playful smile, Vi’s attention flit to your lips in appreciation returning a smile of her own. Shit, you were even more beautiful up close. “What’s your name?” 

────

After exchanging pleasantries, and a few more drinks, the conversation became more intimate. And Sevika grew increasingly more agitated. 

────

“I usually avoid this place ever since I broke up with my ex.” you stated, Her eyes lit up. “She’s a regular.” You continued, “but it seems I’ve been missing out.” The purr of your voice nearly sent Vi to her knees, she took in a staggered breath, play it cool Vi.

“So what you’re saying is–” She scooted herself closer, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair, “I have a chance?” You let out a short breath of laughter, “You’re cute.” You weren’t sure how she didn’t feel Sevika’s glare burning holes into the back of her head. Her steel eyes observing the interaction with an expression of blatant irritation. 

“I’d say so, but my ex might say otherwise.” you gestured behind you, Vi followed your pointed stare leading her to an obviously disgruntled Sevika making her way over to the two of you. 

“You’re kidding right?” Vi deadpanned, earning another airy laugh. “Her of all people?” Your line of vision was cut off by a puff of smoke rolled between you, Sevika now towering beside you with a lit cigarello nestled between her dark lips. 

“Beat it kid.” Sevika ordered, jutting out her thumb. “You’re wasting your time.”  

“Play nice Sevika.” You warned lightheartedly, resting your head in the palm of your hand as you turned to look at her. She scoffed audibly. 

“This is me playing nice, now beat it.” Before Vi could interject, you placed a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll see you around Vi.” She hesitated, wanting nothing more to beat Sevika into the ground, but instead she simply nodded, agreeing to leave. “See you around.” Sevika sneered, making sure she left before turning her attention back toward you. 

“You just love pissing me off don’t you?” You could tell her question was rhetorical but that didn’t stop you from giving her a response. 

“Jealous?” You peered up at her, a wide smile at your lips. “I didn’t think you were that type—“ feeling bold, you raised your foot, letting the point of your heel skim the base of her leg flirtatiously, “—from what I remember.” You were met with another puff of smoke blown directly in your face, masking her lips that were pulled into a smug smirk.

“You know no one else can handle you but me.”

[y0ur-lovrr]

—A fighter, huh?

A/n:Im not really sure If this may be a bit out of character for him, but I wrote this when I was half asleep forgive me! 😭

I will also say that I will take requests for posts if you want to leave a submission and what not-enjoy reading! <3

Pairing; Chishiya Shuntaro x reader <3 (no gender applied I don’t think)

—chishiya hums quietly under his breath to himself as he situates himself against the railing of the hotel building, his eyes watching the floors below as the tagger moves, the sound of bullets hitting bodies and the footsteps of players and the tagger.

He got high up to get a good view of the other floors, an advantage point of finding the symbol needed to clear this game of ‘tag’.

Safe to say, it’s been a little boring to him, not having a clear idea of where the symbol is yet, but he doesn’t draw his eyes away.

Until something catches his attention, the sight of an altercation happening at one of the lower floors, between the tagger..and a player, or a couple of players.

“A fighter? Interesting..” he hums with a slightly smirk, leaning forward slightly, the slight breeze making his hair sway slightly from underneath his hood, but he just watches.

He recognizes one of the players as aguni, since he was a military man at the beach, so him being a fighter was expected. But even he was close to be downed. The other being a guy with blonde hair and an orange pull over shirt, bleeding from his side and leaning against the wall-probably got hit in an artery.. if chishiya could recall his name was Karube or something along the sort, he heard his friend call him that earlier at the starting point. But he wasn’t really paying attention.

But the one that caught his attention was the person actually fighting majority of it. Your moves were maybe a little sloppy, but it made it almost graceful with the way you were throwing punches left and right, ducking to avoid any hits-and it works in your favor considering the tagger’s gun was left laying on the floor.

“Hmmm…” he huffs out with a light snicker, clearly interested as he watches, even from here he can see that you were kind of roughed up-but not as much as he thought you would be. A bloody nose and maybe a busted lip, and he can just imagine how scratched up your knuckles were.

He watches as you throw another punch at the tagger-hitting them right in the face, hard enough to make them stumble back, before they suddenly lift their leg and kick at you, the hit hitting you right in your stomach, sending you stumbling back into the railing, back harshly landing into it, and he’s sure it would leave a bruise.

“Damn it..anyone tell you that kicking is a cheap move?” Your voice mumble out with a small grunt, lifting one of your hands to wipe the blood off of your nose. If he was an idiot he would have thought you were done-but he was no idiot.

Chishiya huffs out another light snicker of amusement as he watches as you throw yourself forward and collide yourself with the tagger, sending both you and them down the stairs, and he can hear the noise of you guys thudding down the stairs with grunts, giving Karube and Aguni to help find the symbol.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” He mumbles to himself under his breath as he sees that’s theirs only 10 minutes left of the game, taking off his hood and turning and walking, having an idea where the symbol is-Arisu having the same idea

After the game is cleared, Chishiya and Aguni are walking out of the building, before Aguni stops and turns to a different direction, looking at something, making Chishiya raise a brow slightly and look over too.

“Damn kid took on majority of that fight like an idiot.” Aguni huffs out gruffly as he shakes his head, watching as you stand a few feet away from them, your head tilted back with your hand lightly against your nose, clearly trying to not get any more blood on your shirt.

“C’mon…I like this shirt…” you huff under your breath, annoyance in your voice along with a hint of pain, Chishiya lets out a small huff, finding it quite amusing that your shirt is what you were worried about.

“You might have a broken nose, you know..and your priority is your shirt, how straight forward that is.” He calls out casually, hands shoved in his pockets as if he wasn’t just at deaths door with his close this game got.

“So? It’ll heal. And I can’t get blood out of a shirt, it’ll just stain.” You retort with a huff, turning your head to look over at them, and lightly glaring at Chishiya, not finding his comment very amusing.

Chishiya quietly scoffs in reply, a slight smirk dancing across his lips, and Aguni isn’t really amused by your back and forth either. But before either of them can get another word out, you speak up for them.

“Man, you got roughed up, guess we kind of underestimated the dude, huh?” You mumble with a hint of sarcasm in it-referring to how Aguni told you and Karube that the tagger was a human and probably easy to beat with the three of you. Though he won’t admit that it was harder than expected. Aguni couldn’t help but scoff at your snarky comment, speaking as if you weren’t also a bit roughed up.

“But I had fun, so hopefully next time we meet I’ll be able to fight someone with you again.” You mutter with an amused huff and pat Aguni on the shoulder in a sort of mocking way-but he couldn’t really tell, you were kind of hard to read, but once again you don’t let them speak as you push past them and call out to Arisu and Karube in the distance.

“Hey! Can we go see Chota now? I wanna tell him about how I beat the hell out of that guy!” You exclaim enthusiastically as you jog slightly to catch up to them, Chishiya watching as you and your friends figures disappear into the dark streets.

“Hmm…she’s a fighter huh? And a good one at that.” He hums and slightly raises a brow at Aguni who just huffs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly and gesturing for him to follow along as he heads away from the building, planning on going back to the The Beach. And Chishiya follows after him, you were definitely a character, that’s for sure. And he couldn’t help but wonder what’ll happen when he sees you again. You’ll most likely meet in another game anyway. But, he was interested in when that’ll be.

[cainluvr69]

"Say Aah!" Cain SSR Card Story - The Pinnacle of Deep Frying

Cain: Whew, we sure have walked a lot. Master Sage, you're not too worn out, are you?

Akira: I'm okay. I am getting a little hungry, though…

Cain: I'm definitely feeling it, too. I'm pretty sure I saw a food stall back down that alley. Let's go check it out.

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: Mm, is that smell oil…? Then this stall must be…

Shopkeeper: Welcome, welcome! Step right up!

Cain: Hey, whatcha selling here?

Shopekeeper: "What," you ask… Well, that's a bit rough to answer. Might as well say anything, 'cause I'll deep fry anything!

Cain: …Anything, you say?

Shopkeeper: Eeyup. I'll fry whatever you want, dear customers, and then give it to you. What do you two want? I'll fry it up for you!

Cain: So, really anything? You've got a hell of a business model. Then I'll take a nice juicy cut of bacon!

Shopkeeper: You got it. And for you?

Akira: Umm, I guess I'll take a veggie or two.

Shopkeeper: Gotcha, one nice cut of bacon and our finest vegetables! Both together will be 300 yen.

Cain pulled out his wallet, and as he handed it over, he very casually and naturally touched the stall owner's hand.

Shopkeeper: Alright, now sit back 'n watch!

The shopkeeper grinned and popped a thick slice of bacon and a nougat yam into his pot of oil.

Cain: Man, I love deep fried stuff. I totally get wanting to deep fry anything and everything you can.

Akira: You sure have done that whenever you got the chance, as I recall…

Shopkeeper: Oh, that right? I feel like you 'n me could get along, kid! Here ya go, deep fried to perfection. Here's your bacon.

Cain: Thank you. …Well, don't mind if I do. Damn, that's good! Gimme another!

Shopkeeper: Ahaha! You practically inhaled that thing. Well, gimme just a second. Here's your nougat yam.

Akira: Thank you very much. Now, let me try it…

Mithra: What is that?

Akira: Oh!

Mithra suddenly appeared next to me and snatched my yam out of my hand.

Mithra: Chomp munch. How disappointing. My burnt charcoal has much more impact.

Cain: Hey man, you can't just show up and start picking a fight like that. And while I'm at it, that was the Sage's, not yours.

Mithra: It's their fault for letting their guard down. Besides, they should have something much tastier, with much more impact. In fact, it's terribly inconsiderate of them that they didn't consider doing this.

Akira: (That's an absolutely wild thing to just say like that…)

Shopkeeper: Impact, you say… Well, I guess it's possible that focusing so much on my deep frying means I let flavor fall by the wayside. I ain't as popular as some of the other stalls around here, and I don't get much in the way of feedback, so thank ya kindly for being so upfront about it.

Cain: Mister… Hey, would it be alright if I helped you with your shop?

Shopkeeper: Huh…?

Cain: We're comrades in the art of deep frying. I want to learn whatever I can from you.

Shopkeeper: Well, I'd appreciate the help. Welcome to the team.

Cain: Nice! Well then, let's get right to it… Do you think trying to put more flavor into the coating?

Akira: That sounds like it might be a good idea. Since deep fried food can be a little hard on the stomach, how about mixing in something nice and refreshing? Like how karaage usually comes with lemon slices…

Shopkeeper: I see, I see… Well, let's give it a try!

✦✧☾✧✦

Shopkeeper: And done! Some lightly fried vinegar fish, ready to serve! I added some ultramarine lemon juice to the batter. Here, try it!

Cain: Here we go…

Akira: Thank you very much.

The three of us took a bite of our respective fried fish.

Akira: (…Th-this is…)

Cain: Damn, that's sour!

Mithra: This is much more stimulating, though lightly frying it was unnecessary in my opinion.

Akira: It definitely packs a punch now, but maybe we could make it a little bit more…mellow…?

Cain: We're definitely going in the right direction. There's still something missing, but we're almost there…to peak deliciousness… I know! Mithra, we top this with that secret sauce of yours?

Mithra: Secret…? Oh, you mean this.

Mithra pulled a bottled labeled MAGIC SAUCE out of thin air.

Shopkeeper: Wh-where'd you pull that from…?!

The shopkeepers eyes went wide, and Cain and I frantically exchanged glances.

Akira: (We're in Eastern Country, so it'd be really really bad if it gets out that they're wizards…!) H-H-He's really good at sleight of hand type tricks! This guy, master of stage magic! He loves to surprise people so he always keeps a bottle up his sleeve, if you know what I mean!!

Cain: Yeah, yep! He always pulls it off so cool and casual, right?!

Mithra: What are you two talking about? This is basic magi--momph.

Cain: Anyways, moving on! The sauce he's got here tastes amazing on everything. Wanna give it a try?

Shopkeeper: On everything, you say? Is there really a sauce out there like that? Sounds downright magical.

Mithra: Of course it does. This is my handmade universal sauce.

Cain: C'mon, try it out.

At Cain's urging, we all put some of the sauce onto our fried fish.

Akira: (It's so good. Yakiniku sauce coming in clutch once again…)

Shopkeeper: Th-this flavor…! Y-you gotta tell me! How do I make this sauce?!

Mithra: You can't.

Shopkeeper: Why not?!

Mithra: Because you're nothing but a human--

Cain: Uhhhhhhhh hey! It's actually because the ingredients are really hard to get! It's a real specialty product!

Shopkeeper: Oh, I see… Then would you be willing to part with some? I'll pay you, I've got cash!

Mithra: I refuse. Making more of it would be such a bother.

Shopkeeper: No… It was such a vivid, perfect flavor…

Cain: Well, here's my thought. Why not try to make your own version of it? You're a chef, and you've got a lot experience with, y'know, eating things and examining the flavors, right? I'm sure you can rediscover this sauce's flavor.

Akira: I'd like to help you in this endeavor, too!

Shopkeeper: Well, ya got me. Let me try my hand at it!

✦✧☾✧✦

Shopkeeper: I think I've gotten the base flavor pretty close… What do you think?

The sauce the shopkeeper made certainly looked like Mithra's universal sauce. As for the flavor…

Cain: Mm, something's missing, I think.

Mithra: Yes. Something definitely is.

Akira: I think maybe it's that it's not, like, thick enough? But just a little thicker might be perfect…

Shopkeeper: You sure are eloquent, kiddo. I want to keep you as my taste tester!

Akira: M-me?!

✦✧☾✧✦

We ended up trying several different variations of sauces on different deep fried foods in a lengthy process of trial and error. At some point, Mithra got bored of stuffing himself with fried foods and wandered off.

Shopkeeper: Alright, next up is fried macaroni stalks! Still good to try it?

Akira: Yes. …Here goes. (The sauce counteracts the macaroni stalks' bitterness, but it still feels like something's missing…) (And I've eaten so many things, my stomach feels like it's going to burst…)

Cain: …

Cain glanced over at me with my hand on my belly, and licked a drop of sauce off of one of his fingers.

Cain: Why not add some kind of oil? Like, a climactic oil versus oil battle. You know, like how deep frying stuff plain in butter is really good.

Shopkeeper: No batter, just butter… Damn, I think you might really be onto something here!

Cain: I think the actual flavor of the sauce is spot-on at this point. Other than that, we just need to finish ironing out the proper mellowness and then we're done.

Akira: I think adding some extra oil would be good, too…

The shopkeeper added a few drops of his special, flavorful oil and mixed it in…

Akira: Alright, time for a taste… Mm! This is it!! (This smell, this flavor, it's spot-on yakiniku sauce!) This is it, this is it…! It's a little different from Mithra's magic sauce, but it's really close…this is the universal sauce!

Shopkeeper: Really?!

Cain: You did it!

Shopkeeper: I gotta thank that lad that let me taste this in the first place!

Cain: We'll be sure to tell him.

Shopkeeper: Thank ya kindly. I was so focused on perfecting the art of frying that I forgot to pay attention to the flavor, even though that's what I should've been thinking about if I wanted to make this place more successful. Y'know, I was just about at the end of my rope, thinkin' there was just no helping that I wasn't getting customers since I only deep fried things, but as a fellow afficionado of all things deep-fried…you've given me hope.

Cain: I mean, what else was I gonna do? I'm already looking forward to the next time we come out to this neck of the woods and I get to drop by your stall again.

Akira: Same here. We'll be sure to remember you.

Shopkeeper: And I, you! I'll prepare a deep fried full course meal for you any day!

Akira: (Thank goodness, Cain looks really satisfied, too…!)

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: (But, my gosh, I feel full… I guess we went a little too crazy with the fried foods…)

Cain: You okay, Master Sage?

Akira: Yeah. Just thinking I might've overeaten a little…

Cain: How about we find something light to eat to give your palate a refresher?

Akira: ?! N-no, I'm okay! I feel like if I eat anything else, I'm going to pop… But thank you for the thought.

Cain: Haha. Don't worry, I was just joking. Sorry for making you part of that whole escapade.

Akira: Oh, no, I enjoyed it! Trying to figure out the ingredients for the perfect sauce was really fun.

Cain: I'm happy to hear that. Mithra's special sauce was a big help, but so was your spot-on food reviews.

Akira: I'm really happy that shopkeeper ended up pleased with the results, too.

Cain: Yeah. I hope the next time we come by, that stall's got a big line in front of it.

Akira: And I'll make sure that I don't eat too much…!

Cain: Ahaha, good plan!

****TL Notes: karaage is a type of fried chicken, but distinct enough from what most english speakers picture when they think of fried chicken that i left it as-is. squeezing a lemon slice over it or adding a few drops of vinegar really makes it pop. yakiniku is grilled meat that's typically done over a charcoal stove and topped with, indeed, a particular savory sauce.

Training Episode: The Deliciousness of Killing Two Birds with One Stone!

Akira: Cain? What are you doing in the kitchen?

Cain: Oh, Master Sage. I was craving some good ol' deep fried good and was just about to whip something up. You want any?

Akira: Fried food cravings…?

Cain: Ever since we helped out that fried food stand back in the Town of Blue Scales, I've been wanting to branch out and try deep frying more stuff.

Akira: We sure did eat a lot of fried foods then…

Cain: That said, I still haven't found anything that beats deep fried butter. So there's just this lack of satisfaction I can't get rid of… Can you think of anything good to try? Something unexpected!

Akira: Something delicious, but unexpected… How about ice cream?

Cain: Ice cream…? That's definitely out of left field. Wouldn't it melt if I tried to deep fry it?

Akira: I'm pretty sure there's something you can do to make sure it doesn't melt…

Cain: I see… Well then, let's embark upon a journey to fell the mystery of deep fried ice cream! Eating something warm and cold at the same time is really efficient. Two birds, one stone!

Akira: But if I can't remember how to do it, it's going to take us a long time to figure it out on our own…

Cain: You don't need to force yourself to or anything.

Akira: Huh?

Cain: You know I like spending time with you, Master Sage.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Shen Qingqiu/Meng Mo

When I saw this my first thought was a "Shen Jiu's conscious is still around" au, and when Shen Yuan and Binghe are fighting Meng Mo, Shen Jiu is finally able to make himself heard. Meng Mo and him bond over being accidental parasites to the ungrateful young people

I love that. It's so beautiful. I can imagine them spitting blood anytime bingqiu shenanigans go on... That would be so entertaining to have Meng Mo and Shen Jiu making running commentary like it's a sports game whenever Bingqiu does something.

The au I've been playing with recently is OG!SQQ dying and reincarnating into SY and then transmigrating back into SQQ, and Meng Mo helping SQQ unwrap his memories.

I also love the thought of SQQ and Meng Mo just beginning to chat after the dream realm arc, co-shizunning Binghe even though Binghe is of course going 'I only have one Shizun!', and then Mengshen just having intellectual conversations with one another.

(Meng Mo, feed up after this brat keeps on refusing to become his direct disciple: "Fine! If this brat won't accept me as his Shifu, I might as well become his Shimu!")

I think Meng Mo is uniquely equipped to be one of, if not only, people able to engage with a discussion of history, lore, flora, fauna and the world of svsss at large with Shen Qingqiu.

And there's also the fact that Meng Mo might be one of the only people to actually have insight into SQQ's intentions and thoughts. He canonically is aware of Shen Jiu's past, and even weaponizes the tragic memories of Shen Jiu against Qiu Haitang, while also declining to subject Shen Qingqiu to them. (Need citation for the last part I can't quite remember but Im pretty sure this happens? Anyway, grain of salt.)

And Meng Mo had access to Shen Qingqiu's dreamscape before LBH did. And displays more awareness of Shen Qingqiu's mind than most, So Meng Mo is uniquely suited to be shipped with beloved fandom bicycle SQQ

(Also Meng Mo is still a demon, and seems to be aware of what the actions Shen Qingqiu took in the Holy Mausoleum, so between SQQ's unnatural learned-ness about the place and how hardcore it is to rip the Ties that Bind (Or Qingxi? If I remember) out of his arm. Any, I think, demon would find that attractive.)

I also love how Meng Mo and SQQ work together in the Holy Mausoleum arc.

I have many thoughts on this rarepair of mine, and I need to reread canon specifically for this pairing, but I hope anyone who is interested enjoyed. Thanks for the ask, and sorry if I rambled a bit

consider Mengshen, that's all I'll say to end this.

[dainedelions]

Face Claim — 양정원

009 : All too well

previous ━ masterlist ━ next

As the appeal of online dating grows, and so does the list of teenagers who partake in it, which includes Yang Jungwon. After discovering that his online girlfriend — who he had been with for a year — merely used a friend of hers as her face claim, he was faced with a conundrum as the image of that certain stranger female has already been imprinted in his mind as the woman he had been loving throughout the year.

Do read the characters' profiles for further information!

Words: 0.8k

“Please excuse me.” Ni-ki muttered politely under his breath, yet, loud enough for the students to hear as he lightly pushes them aside. He used his long legs to his advantage as he took large steps towards the individual who possesses a familiar facial feature.

It was not the well-known male whose photos blew up on Sunoo’s post that caught his eye. Rather, it was his female companion, whose face was almost all over the group chat of the 5 boys for the past year‚ the so-called online girlfriend of his Jungwon hyung

Feeling a sudden touch turning her around‚ the said female faced him with mild surprise on her expression‚ both at the disruption and Ni-ki’s intimidating height. Glancing down at his casual clothing‚ realization flashed through her eyes as she gave him a smile.

“Hi‚ you must be a freshman?” the female asked.

“Junior.” Ni-ki corrected‚ eyebrows furrowed as he stared still at the other.

“Oh! Same grade‚ silly me." she let out a small laugh‚ lightly hitting her temple with her palm. “You’re too tall to be merely a freshman. So, new student?”

The taller could only nod in response‚ his eyes not leaving the female’s facial features as various thoughts swarmed his mind.

“You must be lost? Thankfully, you approached the right person.” she said‚ her smile not faltering one bit. “I’m the student council president. Would you like me to guide you to the auditorium?”

He was in total confusion‚ receiving mixed feelings by the current situation he pulled himself in. His Sunoo hyung was right‚ she was indeed real. But why wasn't she surprised to see him? More importantly‚ why doesn’t she recognize him at all?

“Nishimura Riki.” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“My name. It’s Nishimura Riki.”

The female opened her mouth to respond, only to get cut off by the other male behind her.

“Ohhh, japanese! I’m Yeonjun.” he raised his fist in a fist bump while Ni-ki returned the gesture‚ slightly bowing as doing so.

“I’ll get going now.” Yeonjun gestured a salute and took a step back‚ only to get pulled by his collar as he attempted to sneak away.

“Hey, Choi Yeonjun. Where do you think you're going? We’re not done yet.” she smiled‚ eyes slightly wide in a threatening manner as she pulled him closer.

“Come on! Just this one time, please? You know‚ you’re my favorite but don’t tell the others!” the guy‚ Yeonjun‚ tried to sweet talk as he struggled on her grasp.

“No considerations for you. I kept reminding you to wear your uniform.”

“But I’m wearing-”

“Complete. Proper. Uniform.”

“Iseul!” Yeonjun pouted‚ whining incredibly loudly. Ni-ki’s eyes were quick to glance down to peak at the woman’s name tag.

Han Iseul.

“Iseul?” the japanese mumbled under his breath.

“Guys!” another voice joined in. The three looked towards a small female running towards their direction.

She lightly leaned forward as she panted and tried to catch her breath. Her palms were rested on both of her knees as she supported her weight. Her eyes were panicking‚ switching from one person to another.

Hanni Pham. That was what rested on the female's name tag‚ and Ni-ki was quick to connect the dots. He felt his hand tightening into a fist‚ scoffing in disbelief.

He was right‚ after all.

“There you are.” Iseul merely tilted her head towards the transferees direction‚ resulting in Hanni’s gaze being situated to him.

The latter hid her shaking hands in the pockets of her uniform’s blazer at the sudden feeling of her blood running cold at the sight of him. She internally panicked and spat out whatever came to her mind.

“Ah- yes! Hello, I’m Han- Han Iseul!" Hanni said‚ gaining a raised eyebrow from the other two whilst Yeonjun snickered‚ pursing his lips at her odd behavior.

“It’s almost time. Let’s get going‚ Hanni!” she added‚ pulling the taller female by her hand. Iseul simply chuckled‚ viewing Hanni’s attitude as a mere cute antic of hers.

“Well‚ Iseul...” she responded with a small smile‚ pinching Hanni’s cheek and unknowingly going ahead with her lie. “I still have to have a talk with Yeonjun. You’ll have to guide the transferee on the way to the auditorium. Would that be fine?”

She badly wanted to shake her head‚ whine‚ and throw a tantrum to get farther away from Jungwon’s friend. However‚ she could only nod her head and force a shaky smile.

“Yes- alright!”

The female did not wait for their response and started to walk‚ merely expecting Ni-ki to follow her. Their walk would’ve been a quiet one if it was not for the constant chatter of the other students occupying the hallway.

“Iseul‚ was it?” he spoke up first as he followed behind the female. He pursed his lips as he watched her head bob up and down in a nod‚ all while refusing to spare him a glance.

“Ah yes! Me and Hanni only wanted to swap-”

“Who do you think you’re fooling?”

Hanni stopped on her tracks‚ her lips slightly gaping at the loss of words. She could feel her throat going dry and blood running cold‚ making her refuse to face the Japanese male whose eyes are piercing the back of her head.

“I know your voice all too well‚ Hanni Pham.”

TAGLIST (open) : @phsmloves @yourssincerely-mimi @jwonistic @wintereals @ministrawberrywithchocolate @right-person-wrong-time @rikiiisoob @sh0dor1 @parkjjongswifey @honestlyatomicpanda @bxcndd @ayablogsblog @itrytomakesenseofitall @secretvivii @wensurr @dazzlingvurnnn

Comment below or send an ask to be added.

[qoldenskies]

I wonder how much Splinter picks apart the memory of Donnie crawling to him and asking for guidance that day.

How apologetic he was for interrupting Splinter at all. The questions—are you mad at me, do you think I’m selfish—and how genuinely childish and young they were in nature. Whether Donnie would have told him what had happened if Splinter hadn’t interrupted him. How long it took before Donnie came to him for help. How when Splinter asked “Are you sure you have not upset them?” the answer was “Maybe, I think so.” “Have you done anything to make them angry with you?” and even with what his brothers had done to him, what Leo had done to him, Donnie still said “Probably.” Agreed when Splinter said they had a reason for treating him that way.

He had the same conversation with April months later, and yet the seeds of it had been here, too—had been there years before.

sometimes i am caught between feeling so bad for splinter and kind of hoping he internalizes the way he brushed him off for of the rest of his life. there's a good chance he will think of that conversation EVERY time donnie reaches out to him looking for a savior or protector, especially after april leaves and he's the only "safe person" in the house when donnie cant think straight.

in an attempt to be unlike of HIS oppressive family he went the opposite way and went for a more relaxed style of parenting, and he veered too hard in that direction and COMPLETELY turned a blind eye to such horrifying abuse happening. it kind of reminds me of like turtle dega nights where he's so shocked to realize the shit they just get up to. for like. fun. he's NOT in a position to shelter them without pushback and he understands that now, which is a big reason he leaves them to make their own decisions when it comes to kitsune.

its hard to find a line between acknowledging theyre independent in a way he cant really stop and need to be treated with that respect and acknowledging theyre children! just kids! his baby boys!!! he's so used to seeing them silly and unserious around him that he hasn't properly processed the weight of his passive neglect until all of THIS blew up in his face. and i think that's best shown through him dismissing donnie. they mostly fell out of conversation after that point, but im sure they exchanged a few words sometime in between (for the sake of realism, its something to acknowledge) and i think splinter would think of that a lot too. why didn't he notice donnie was starting to look up so beat up? getting thinner and thinner? just disappearing during leo's birthday?? staring through him whenever splinter shot im a quick hello on the way to the kitchen??? originally that conversation weighed on the back of his mind already (because i dont think donnie comes to him for comfort like THAT much, technically i think in cc that was usually leo's job. rooftop conversations and all that), but obviously he wouldnt correlate it with any red flags now. just like how april didnt WANT to assume they were doing anything wrong because the four of them were so close, malice just didnt feel like a REALISTIC thing to expect from them and they were acting normal to her!!

cannot even begin to imagine how he was feeling in cw ch1. hearing about most of what they did and seeing how tiny and roughed up donnie was is one thing, and seeing him cling to his robe and inconsolably sob and scream for his daddy is another. splinter probably cant help but wonder if this is what donnie had wanted the whole time. cant help but wonder if he would have reacted like this at ANY point before it all got this far. all he had to do is reach out, for once. to ask HIM if he's okay, for once.

and he didn't.

[sheeezu]

I’ve been trying to shift for the past five years. I love shifting and it’s honestly the one thing that kept me going all this time and gave me hope and it just felt right. Everytime I would feel demotivated I would change my mindset, think positively, and try again. Or I would take breaks and then try again. I have tried every method and then realized I didn’t like methods so I tried no methods and just intention which I liked but then the cycle would repeat after trying for so long and not shifting at all. I’ve had moments where I’ve felt myself shifting but never got further than that or actually fully woke up in my dr or wr. I’m a stubborn person and never wanted to give up on shifting because I know I can do it and I know I deserve it and it is what my soul wants. But lately I’m so burnt out with my cr life which never gives me a break and with trying to shift to the point where I’m thinking of giving it up even though I don’t want to and it’s been the one thing giving me hope. I’ve even tried not to try to shift and just go with the flow and simply affirmed but I still wake up here. I know a lot of other shifters feel the same way as me who have been trying for years. But I’ve reached this unfortunate point where I have lost a bit of faith and am too tired to try anymore even though it’s everything I want. It’s like I see it dangling in my face and see other people get it easily and I know I can have it too but I can never reach it and now it’s too exhausting. But it’s like even if I took another break, the cycle will just repeat like it has been. And trust me I’ve read everything and tried changing my mindset and thought positively and have had hope and know I can shift. I know this seems like I’m just ranting and having the most negative mindset so you’re like well of course this is why you’re not shifting, but genuinely after trying your best at something you’ve loved for five years and still nothing and in fact things are just getting worse in your life when you’ve done your best at juggling everything from work, school, family, and shifting, just to feel like you are going no where and lost everything anyways, that can break down even the most hopeful positive of people like me in my shifting journey. I don’t know if there’s any advice you can hopefully provide for this that I probably haven’t heard but thank you anyways for all you do and I’ve always admired who you are and how authentic you are. ❤️ who knows maybe something will miraculously change for me when I least expect it but for now here I am! ❤️

Of course, you're right, that I've probably got nothing new for you, but maybe what I'm about to say may ease your stress, make it fade away from background.

Shifting is dependent on which lens you to try to look at it.

If you looked at it through the eyes of your CR self, then of course, you'll remain your CR self.

But if you were to view it from your DR self's eyes, shifting won't be there, but your DR will be.

Shifting is all about breaking a mold. to solve shifting like any other worldly problems, robotically, like you're trying to pass on a test, is not how it works.

Simply assume you're not human. I know you've mentioned the struggle of juggling other activities alongside it, you have to let go of the crave to make yourself seem like "you've done enough", that is a human response to any situation.

I know my word would induce nothing but agitation in you, because it is simply not something anyone who works hard would want to hear, shifting does not require hardwork.

I would rant all I know in this post, to try to push you in the right direction, but I wouldn't like to be so unorganised.

I have already made much posts on my blog, which focuses on letting go of human identity and ideologies, so please, if you haven't come across the knowledge I can share, reach back in my inbox, so i could link all the posts I think could help you.

[talenlee]

Game Pile: The Comprehensive Videogames History of Grammy-Award Winning 1999 Hit “Smooth” By Santana Feat. Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty

Watch this video on YouTube

Thumbnail and script below the fold!

You might have found this because you would Rather Be Listening to Grammy-Award Winning 1999 Hit “Smooth” By Santana Feat. Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty. This is because, inexplicably, the internet loves Rob Thomas, a walking meme of a man with whom I have a weirdly complicated relationship, not in any small part because for as long as I’ve been able to tell you what pop music is, he has been part of something in it that’s cool.

Not necessarily something that’s very cool.

But pretty cool.

At least, cooler than me, a guy who thinks Rob Thomas is cool.

Rob Thomas (of Matchbox 20) lives somewhere in the same space as All Star or Lazytown, a meme that is shallower than you think and yet better known and more well-liked than you’d expect. Meme fodder. That kind of memetic status is what led to the time, back in 2015, Nicholas Kula to design a T-shirt with the excessively specific and middlingly funny I’d Rather Be Listening to Grammy-Award Winning 1999 Hit “Smooth” By Santana Feat. Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty shirt slogan shirt. Kula put the shirt on Redbubble, it got a little bit of attention, and then it got copied and then it became a wildly successful meme raising upwards of hundreds of dollars, reblogged by Rob Thomas (of Matchbox Twenty), then shut down by the representatives of Rob Thomas (of Matchbox Twenty) for violating the copyright of amongst other people, Rob Thomas (of Matchbox Twenty). The design is back up, now, I suppose?

You might have seen this shirt, maybe on some streamer or the like, a really deliberately ironically un-funny funny thing that exists in that special place of meme magic that has no value but to remind you that hey.

Products exist.

It’s still a thing that put Rob Thomas, who hadn’t had a hit on the radio since, really, 1999 and also, what the hell is a radio, on the radar around that time, so that meant that after all this furore in 2016, it was a time ripe for the retrospect. Rolling Stone took the time to strike while the iron was gone, and three years later (around the song’s twentieth anniversary, I suppose), and it was thanks to a guy named Rob Wesley sharing an excerpt of the article that the conversation takes a turn for the gamer.

What Wesley shared in the thread is a section where the narration outlines the way that Rob Thomas was playing Silent Hill and how that was important to Santana’s relationship with him – that their friendship during the songwriting of the song Smooth was marked by long stretches of Rob Thomas playing Silent Hill games while Santana got stoned and told him what to do.

[Excerpts on screen]

This presents us with an interesting question: Was Carlos Santana playing a videogame?

Now there’s a way to discard this argument pretty conveniently; you can say ‘no,’ and that’s that. That’s fine, if you want to be boring about it, but that also shows an unwillingness to engage with the question, to work out what the question is asking and what kind of answers present ways to view the world.

What Carlos Santana was doing was passing instructions to another player, while probably chemically compromised, and that player – ostensibly enacted their will. How is Carlos not playing that game? If we assume that you need direct control over a game for it to count, then a lot of chess games in history were played by nobody. Fancy lads with fancy hats would send one another letters with chess moves in them, and then the recipient would put those moves in action on their chessboard and send a letter with their own moves in it, in response to the state they were both maintaining. Now in no case did either of these players have direct hand on the chess pieces on the other board, meaning that if directing a player to enact your intention doesn’t count, then these people were playing against literally nobody, and therefore, not playing chess, and therefore, probably didn’t exist.

This also runs into the problem of Dungeon Masters or Gamemasters or whatever – after all, in all those games, you have to give your game actions to another player, and then they enact your intentions. This capacity of confusing intention and outcome is a thing I refer to as enrolment, where you become enmeshed in the behaviour of the game. One of those things that games just do is that when you partake in playing in the game, you are committing actions whose outcome is uncertain; not impossible or unknowable, but just that when a game becomes inevitable, it loses something, and players tangibly react to the nature of a game being decided. You know what it means when you’re entering endgame. Players often can predict the outcome of the end of the game when it becomes inevitable and either fold or scrap for their last points.

That means there is some clear element of game playing that is the way that the control mechanism, while maybe feeling good, is not necessarily capable of delivering perfect outcomes. You don’t need your control scheme to be reliable for you to to be playing the game. After all, one-handed play or players for whom an interface is incompatible aren’t not playing a game just because the controller wasn’t designed for them, they’re just dealing with an interface problem.

Now to look at the alternate side of things, how about some people in a similar situation, trying to influence a game, badly, with a control mechanism that doesn’t reliably work, by talking to someone else? Ie, what about people watching a stream?

Stream audiences clearly try to have impact on the game they’re watch. In popular channels, it’s not uncommon for them to cheer, to try and remember or suggest strategies, to try and ask the streamer to take a more explicit or clear route through their thinking process. They will try and influence the conversation happening around the game, where they will invite the streamer to speak on a topic, and that has an impact on how the game is played. There is a stimulus, a response, an uncertain outcome, and a control scheme. They are engaged with the stream, and the streamer is affected by that engagement.

Okay, what about the chat where the player is wholly unaffected?

What about streams where the players are isolated? What about streams without chat, or without the audience necessarily speaking to the streamer? Are they going to have an impact on the game, as it is played? Are they playing the game through their presence? Is their observation an engagement with the game of the stream? Streamers will often explain that the presence of an audience transforms the experience of playing a game – that when you have to be aware of an audience, it changes one’s focuses and reactions. Even if that audience is elsewhere, even if that audience does not interact with the streamer through conventional interface, is the fact of being observed a thing that can be done as the engagement surface of a game?

Well, they’re doing something, right? If the audience, if the crowd, wasn’t a factor in a game, well, the most obvious example of spectators in a game, sports, wouldn’t have a meaningful idea of ‘home team’ advantage. We know that spectators in a sport influence the game that’s being played, after all — if nothing else, there are a lot of times in Baseball’s history in particular where a game was concluded, thanks to the actions of the spectators. Bless you battery hucking weirdoes. Now, hang on, you might argue that that’s not playing the game, and yeah, maybe it’s not. It’s concluding the game, with a different set of priorities. But the knowledge that fans can do that kind of thing, concerns that the reactions of the fans could curtail the game certainly play into the game’s players’ functions. They are an influence on the playing of the game, so we can definitely not say that they are separate from it.

But let’s say that that’s a material concern; that the game is agnostic of the spectator behaviour, and that the game is only defined by the rules that they experience. This is a great big discussion, something you can delve into at length through The Philosophy Of Sport, but that mighty tome is built on the work of Bernard Suits, the author of that book Grasshopper, Life Games And Utopia. From this book I draw my definition of games, where he defines games as the voluntary overcoming of unnecessary obstacles. Under that definition, there are definitely some things to squint at. It’s a very broad definition, after all, and you may feel it includes some things that don’t count. It means that you can’t be coerced into playing a game, and that can ask questions about whether people who are playing a game as a job are still playing a game, if their continued livelihood is contingent on it. It is a definition you use for what it lets you do.

What it lets me do, is talk about games in a way that includes lots of different types of game.

Something that book describes is that just because people are all playing a game together that doesn’t mean they’re playing the same game. Suits describes the way that a player might be cheating, which immediately means they’re playing a different game, since you can’t both play a game and violate its rules. There’s also players playing for reasons to impede the game, the spoilsports, who are following the rules but playing in a way that reduces the play or the fun of the other players. Similarly, what if I’m playing a game with a little kid, and I know the game much better than they do, but I’m deliberately trying to impose rules on my self to ensure that kid isn’t blown out? We might both be playing Rhino Hero but I’ve set myself an extra, additional limitation – I’m trying to beat the game, I’m trying to win, but I’m trying to do so in a way that keeps the game close, while also making sure this other player doesn’t feel like they’re being humoured, and trying to make it fun for myself. This may involve imposing new, other rules on myself. I’m playing the game, but I’m also playing another, nested game on top of it.

If you accept it of game experiences as maximally inclusive, you have a tool for when you can sit at these odd intersections and ask the question: Are the audience playing a game? And if you’re trying to be maximally inclusive, and you want to include the idea that engaging with the game, trying things, hoping, cheering, hypothesising strategies and seeing how your strategies relate to the enacted ones, then you are playing a game, it’s just a game with an entire other game as one of its components. A lottery is a game, and that’s a game where you’re trying to correctly guess a number with exactly one attempt, and the result of that is a stunningly engaging game if the incentives are lined up right.

What about an audience who are completely disconnected? What if we took the audience completely out of the sport, let’s put them in a remote location, where they can’t say or do anything to the players, like the esports community of South Korea’s Starcraft channels. For lower-tier matches, outside of code A (at least ten years ago when I was paying a lot more attention), players weren’t getting a live audience, but their games were being broadcast to satisfy a bottomless demand… and we know in that case, that nerves, choking, all are factors that the audience’s existence can impose on the players.

Okay, so what if we remove the ability of the audience to influence the players. What if the players are somehow, emotionally, unaffectable by the attention of an audience? What if they were cold, efficient, and entirely automated in their play experience in a way that could be equalised and fair? And in order to make sure they’re not too complex, let’s make these game players as simple as possible such that they can’t fail or break or be otherwise impacted, meaning the game can operate in the purest possible way, without any psychological influence of the audience.

Are those spectators playing a game, with these ideas of enrolment and maximally inclusive game definition?

Yes.

In that simplest possible definition, there is a goal, and the spectator is trying to achieve the goal, with a consensually-chosen unnecessary obstacle: Specifically, the goal is to get their chosen simplified actor into a victory position, with a control mechanism that is completely deprived of all functional agency. The spectator wants a player to win, they want to succeed, but the only means they have to influence the game are by cheering and by wanting. They negotiate, they pray, they plan, they strategise, they try to find a way to see their chosen player win, or get better results, or wind up where they want them to be, all through no means at all, through the least effective means possible. They are in many cases, trying to construct visions of the future for what can happen if it does happen, to get the outcome they want, which is itself, a prediction game that can be satisfied or not.

I forward then that the audience are playing a game when they map out expectations, when they cheer, when they connect with one another. They are playing a game just as Carlos Santana was playing a game when he, stoned as hell, gave instructions to Rob Thomas; he wasn’t necessarily playing the same game as Rob Thomas.

…

The story about Rob Thomas and Santana is completely false, by the way. When I first wrote about this was when I learned, because it took me four years to get around to checking the source material.

I mean…

It doesn’t matter if it’s false.

But it is a pretty funny example.

And chances are, you might have thought that Carlos Santana was a Silent Hill fan for some reason.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[overanalysingfandoms]

dude a draw. Not super accurate to what I wanted and imma try again later, but it reminded me of your Robin Hood AU.

Oh my god this is amazing!!!!!!!

My boiiiiiiiii he looks so goood ajrbwkdbskndnd

I absolutely love the purple!!!!! It's very regal (fitting for a Prince) and also very Grian, especially paired with the red!

He just looks so cute! With the puffy sleeves and the skirt skdbdksndksndj

And his facial expression is perfect!

I genuinely love your art style, my boi looks amazing!

This is genuinely soo cool <3<3<3

In return for this wonderful fanart please have the first draft of an incomplete fanfic for this au I wrote in one sitting like a year ago:

[Context, they're in Grian's room at the castle and it's around 6:00 in the evening]

Grian opened his mouth to fire back another witty mark when a knock at the door froze them both.

There were a few seconds of silence before another round of knocking and a questioning "Your Majesty?" snapped them out of their trance.

BigB.

Ren's advisor had mentioned to Grian at dinner a few nights before that he would be coming round sometime this week to go over some of the new defense plans and check if any changes needed to be made. Apparently he had chosen the absolute worst possible time to have their little chat considering the wanted criminal currently in Grian's room 2 inches away from him.

For a brief moment they stared at eachother in panic. Then the Prince jumped into action, pushing Scar in the direction of his wardrobe and shouting a hasty "Just one moment" over his shoulder. It took a few seconds but Scar seemed to get the message, rushing towards the wardrobe, throwing open the doors, and attempting to clamber in.

Unfortunately, a combination of the man's height and his natural propensity for clumsiness led to him snacking his forehead off the top with a grunt. He tried to get in again but the space was too small and rather inconveniently, though perhaps predictably, filled with Grian's clothes. Scar turned around to the Prince with a shrug and Grian groaned.

He grabbed Scar's hand and dragged him over to his bed. Glaring at the outlaw's suggestively raised eyebrows, he pointedly gestured for the outlaw to get under the four-poster. Once Scar did, not without an endearing obnoxious wink might he add, Grian hurriedly adjusted the sheets so they covered the gap between the bed and the floor, leaving a little room for Scar to peak out.

Finally, he ran back to the wardobe and slammed the doors. Probably a bit too hard if the concerned "Grian?" that came from outside was anything to go by. The Prince winced, he would have to figure out a way to explain that.

Brushing down his skirts he called an answering "Coming!" and ran to the door.

---

BigB sighed as he made it to the Prince's room. It had been a long day and thankfully this was the last thing on his list. He knocked. And... heard nothing? That was odd, he could have sworn Grian had said he had nothing planned this week when BigB had mentioned his visit a few nights ago.

"Your Majesty?"

A harried "Just one moment" was followed by a series of strange noises and eventually a loud slam. That didn't sound good, "Grian?" he questioned,

"Coming!" came the answer and a very frazzled looking Grian opened the door.

He must have seen the obvious confusion on BigB's face and explained "I was just putting all my socks away"

"Riiight... All your socks?"

"Yeah, I was organising them in colour order" he responded smoothly, as if it should answer BigB's questions rather than create more, all the Royal advisor could do was stare at him.

"What? Don't you like having all your clothes organised? Drives me mad if mine aren't"

There wasn't much BigB could do other than shrug with a nervous chuckle. It was probably another of those weird royal habits Grian seemed to have a whole lot of.

"It's not really something I think about to be honest"

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

"Welllll..." Grian began awkwardly "Did you want to come in?"

BigB breathed out a sigh of relief, "Yes please"

---

From where Grian had put him under the bed Scar had a pretty limited view of the Prince's room. He could see the back of the open door that Grian was talking to BigB through and the desk with the vanity by the wall next to it, but that was pretty much it.

He was just shifting to get a bit more comfortable - not that there was much he could do, lying on your stomach is pretty awkward no matter what position you're in - when Grian brought BigB in.

The Prince shot him a look, no doubt warning him to stay still and not make any noise. He of little faith. Scar was a renound outlaw! He knew how to handle himself in a situation like this, it was practically his job. He responded with a pout before giving Grian a quick wink and got an, admittedly fond, eye roll for his troubles. Really, so rude, you'd think Grian didn't care for his plight at all.

The outlaw stayed silent as Grian hauled himself onto his desk, back to the wall, and gestured for BigB to sit in the chair, the advisor's back conveniently facing Scar. The outlaw grinned as he made eye contact with Grian, anyone in The Resistance could say what they wanted about the prince being a risky informant, but they couldn't deny his cunning.

[That's all I wrote 😭]

I planned more but never got round to it haha

I want to continue it at some point

[coriander-candlesticks]

I was pouring a promised libation out to Hermes, Apollo, Aphrodite, and Dionysus this afternoon (I'd asked them for help with a personal matter involving a sibling) and as I was looking up at the sky talking about the situation I saw three hawks start to circle something a little ways in the distance. Hawks aren't exactly uncommon here but it had been a while since I'd seen any, let alone three at once, so it caught my attention.

And while I was trying to figure out what type of bird they were (not an eagle, too short a neck to be a vulture, etc) one of them swooped down into a neighbor's backyard and back up along the tree in my backyard, close enough that, if a branch weren't in the way, I would have been able to see its feather markings. While hawks were somewhat usual, experiencing that certainly was not. So, of course, when I got inside I looked up if any Greek gods are associated with hawks.

And, of course, Apollo is.

I've been thinking a lot about the difference between "this is just a Thing That Happens" and a sign so it was nice to see a direct example of how something differs when it's coming from a god.