#i’m so obsessed with this shot and them

[monicaalexandraaa]

YESSSS !!!!! This is sooooo good! So excited for more🩷🩷

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.

--

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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. :)

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[auggieblogs]

The brow incident | Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x fem! reader

Author’s note: Hiii, loves!!! Hope you all are doing good. My first Spencer fic and definitely not my last because I cannot for the love of god, get that man out of mind. I AM OBSESSED so please expect criminal minds fics in the future. Anywaysss, happy reading💗

Warning: sexual innuendos

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

“Spence,” you said sweetly, leaning against the back of the chair he had just sat in. “You know how much I love you, right?”

Spencer glanced up at you suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. “Yes… and I feel like you’re about to weaponize that love against me.”

You grinned. “Not against you. For you. Your eyebrows, to be specific.”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. They’re fine. They don’t need fixing.”

(For weeks, you’d been trying to convince him to let you fix his eyebrows. Not that they were bad, per se, but there was just a little untamed chaos there that you knew you could tame.)

“They’re not fine. You’ve got stray hairs everywhere, and it’s driving me insane. I just want to clean them up a little!”

“I’d like to remind you that I’m a grown man and perfectly capable of managing my own eyebrows,” he protested, even though you both knew he never did.

You sighed dramatically. “You’ve left me no choice.”

Before he could protest further, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him and effectively trapping him in the chair.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” he exclaimed, his hands instinctively moving to steady you at your waist.

“Taking matters into my own hands,” you said with a smirk, pulling a pair of tweezers out of your pocket.

Spencer groaned again, his cheeks flushing pink. “This is unfair. You’re using my inability to physically overpower you against me.”

“Correct,” you chirped. “Now, hold still.”

He muttered something about how this was a violation of his personal space, but he didn’t move. You leaned in, examining his brows with laser focus.

“Okay, this won’t hurt too much,” you promised, carefully plucking the first stray hair.

“OW!” he yelped, flinching.

“Oh, stop being a baby,” you teased, gripping his chin to steady him. “One down, a hundred to go.”

Spencer huffed, his hands instinctively resting on your waist to keep you balanced. “I don’t even know why this is necessary. No one’s looking at my eyebrows that closely.”

“I am,” you replied, plucking another hair.

“Lucky me,” he grumbled, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

The next few minutes were filled with his exaggerated whining and your mock scolding, the both of you laughing more than anything else. But then, as you leaned in to focus on a particularly stubborn hair, you shifted slightly on his lap.

That’s when you felt it.

Your movements stilled, and you glanced down, realizing exactly what had happened. A slow grin spread across your face as you looked up at Spencer, whose cheeks were already turning a deep shade of red.

“Oh,” you said, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Don’t,” he warned, his tone a mix of mortification and desperation.

You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The sight of his flushed face and his clear discomfort was just too funny. “Oh my God, Spencer! This is hilarious.”

“It’s not hilarious,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he hid his face in his hands. “It’s biology. It’s involuntary.”

“Involuntary, huh?” you teased, leaning forward just enough to make him groan in protest. “So you’re saying this has nothing to do with me?”

“Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice a low warning. “This is serious.”

“It’s seriously funny,” you said, still laughing as you climbed off his lap, much to his relief—and apparent dismay.

But before you could move far, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. “You can’t just leave me like this,” he said, his voice soft but laced with need.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Leave you like what, Spence?”

“You know what,” he said, his pout returning full force. “You started this. You should finish it.”

His words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little longer. “Finish your eyebrows first?”

Spencer let out a groan, leaning back in the chair with a defeated look. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “And yet, you love me.”

He sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I do. Even when you’re torturing me.”

You grinned, stepping closer and letting your fingers trail along his jaw. “Tell you what, Dr. Reid. If you’re a good boy and let me finish your eyebrows, I’ll see what I can do about… your problem.”

His eyes darkened slightly at your tone, and he swallowed hard. “Deal.”

“Good,” you said with a wink, grabbing the tweezers again. “Now hold still.”

[etherealval]

actress!reader and chris sturniolo’s first time meeting | a/n: so excited to expand into this au !!

the party was in full swing, the bass from the music thrumming through the walls and floor like a second heartbeat. bodies packed the house, filling every corner with chatter, laughter, and the faint clinking of glasses. you stood in the corner, nursing a drink you didn’t even like, a sugary, overly sweet concoction that phoebe had handed you earlier. you’d tried to sip it as slowly as possible, mostly as a distraction from the fact that you didn’t want to be here in the first place.

phoebe had dragged you along, promising it’d be fun, that you’d meet cool people and make memories. but right now, she was in the bathroom, and you were stuck standing awkwardly by yourself, dodging glances from strangers who looked a little too eager to start small talk. part of you wished you were at home, curled up with a book, the soundtrack of this party replaced by pages turning.

when phoebe finally emerged from the hallway, you let out a quiet breath of relief, until you noticed she wasn’t alone. trailing behind her were three guys, all tall, with strikingly similar features. it took you a second to realize they were triplets.

“this is nick, matt, and chris,” phoebe introduced, her tone casual, as if she hadn’t just walked over with some of the most recognizable faces on the internet.

your eyes flicked between them, offering a polite smile. “hi,” you said softly, unsure of how else to respond. but before you could even finish your greeting, the one in the beanie, chris, you remembered. stepped forward with a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

“wait a second,” he said, pointing at you like he was making some grand revelation. “aren’t you that girl from that netflix show?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the playful accusation. “uh… i guess? if you mean stranger things, then yeah.”his grin widened, and he snapped his fingers like he’d just won a bet.

“knew it. max mayfield in the flesh.” he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in an exaggeratedly cool pose. “wow, never thought i’d be rubbing elbows with a big hollywood star tonight.

you rolled your eyes, but a laugh bubbled out before you could stop it. “you’re being dramatic,” you said, shaking your head. “i’m not that big of a deal.”

nick, standing just behind chris, snorted. “you’re kidding, right? this dude is obsessed with you. we’ve heard about you, like, a hundred times.”

“nick,” chris hissed, his face flushing as he shot his brother a sharp look.

your brow quirked, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “oh, really?” you asked, tilting your head as you met chris’s flustered gaze.

“ignore him,” chris muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair. but the telltale redness creeping up his neck betrayed him. “he’s exaggerating.”

phoebe, who had been watching the exchange with an amused expression, leaned closer to you and whispered loudly enough for chris to hear, “looks like someone’s been caught”

“whatever,” chris muttered, his usual playful confidence faltering for a moment before he straightened up again. he met your eyes, a boyish grin creeping back onto his face.

“i’m just saying, it’s cool to meet you. no shame in admitting it.”the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest that wasn’t there earlier.

“thanks. it’s nice to meet you too.”“so,” he said, leaning a little closer, “what’s a big hollywood actress like you doing in the corner of a party like this?”

“hating every second of it,” you admitted dryly, a playful glint in your eyes. he laughed at that, the sound rich and warm over the music.

“then let me make it better,” he said, his voice softening just enough to feel genuine. “stick with me, and i promise i’ll keep it interesting.”

and for the first time that night, you didn’t feel so out of place.

taglist: @heartsforvin , @sturncakez , @matts-myloverboy , @mattsbitchh , @zayluvss , @ilyttmatsa , @sturniolosluttt

[grapejuicebrat]

tide of control - r.c.

Warning: This piece contains depictions of a toxic, manipulative relationship, emotional abuse, and coercion. Please proceed with caution.

———

The moon hung low over the shoreline, casting silver light across the waves as they crashed against the sand. You sat on the edge of the dock, your legs dangling over the side, the salty breeze cooling the tears streaking your face. This was the fifth time you’d tried to leave Rafe Cameron, and you were terrified it wouldn’t be the last.

The problem was Rafe didn’t let people leave—not without a fight, not without taking something from them. And you? You were his favorite game, his obsession.

“Running again, huh?”

The voice sliced through the stillness, sending a jolt of panic through you. You whipped around to see him standing at the edge of the dock, his broad frame illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

You wiped your face quickly, standing up. “What are you doing here, Rafe?”

“I should be asking you that,” he said, taking a step closer. “Thought you were done with me. So what are you doing here, crying like a little kid? Missing me already?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, crossing your arms. But the tremor in your voice gave you away.

He smirked, his head tilting slightly as he studied you. “You’re so predictable,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “Always thinking you’re better off without me. But we both know you can’t handle it. You can’t handle being alone.”

“I’m not alone,” you shot back, though you weren’t sure if you believed it. The words felt hollow, a pathetic defense against the way he got inside your head.

Rafe laughed, low and humorless. “Oh, that’s cute. Who’d you run to this time? One of your little Pogue friends? Think they’re gonna save you from me?”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling up to the surface. “I don’t need saving,” you said, your voice rising. “I just need you to stay the hell away from me.”

He stepped closer, the smirk vanishing from his face. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually listen. But then his lips twisted into a snarl.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to just walk away from me. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”

“Done for me?” you scoffed, taking a step back. “All you’ve done is hurt me, Rafe. You’ve ruined me.”

His expression flickered, a flash of something vulnerable crossing his face before the mask of anger slid back into place. “You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re just mad. You always say shit you don’t mean when you’re mad.”

“I mean it this time,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that this—us—isn’t killing me.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he took another step forward. “You’re being dramatic,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “You’re just scared. That’s all. But it’s okay, because I’ll fix it. I’ll fix us.”

“No,” you said, your voice breaking. “You don’t get to ‘fix’ us, Rafe. You’re the reason we’re broken in the first place.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Then, before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer.

“You don’t get to leave me,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You think anyone else is gonna put up with you? You think anyone else is gonna love you the way I do?”

“Let me go,” you said, struggling against his grip.

But he only tightened his hold, his eyes boring into yours. “You need me, Y/N,” he said, his tone turning almost desperate. “You don’t even realize it, but you do. I’m the only one who really knows you, who really loves you.”

“That’s not love,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “What you do isn’t love, Rafe. It’s control. It’s—”

“It’s all you’re gonna get,” he interrupted, his voice cold and sharp. “No one else is gonna want you after me. You’re mine, Y/N. You’ve always been mine.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to scream, to fight, to break free, but the weight of his words—and the fear of what he might do—kept you frozen in place.

“Say it,” he demanded, his grip tightening. “Say you’re mine.”

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “No.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might snap. But instead, he let out a bitter laugh, releasing your wrist with a shove that sent you stumbling backward.

“Fine,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “Go ahead. Leave. But don’t come crawling back when you realize no one else can handle you.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “You don’t own me, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “And I’m not coming back.”

His expression hardened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing across the dock.

As you watched him go, a part of you wanted to believe it was over—that he would finally leave you alone. But deep down, you knew better.

Rafe Cameron wasn’t the kind of person to let go.

[advisorykitty]

hello! I’m the person who wrote the Randal x wheelchair user request (I’M ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH IT AAHH)! I was maybe wondering if you could do a part 2 or maybe one shot? :3 no pressure at all! You don’t have to do it ofc. I hope you’re doing well!

Just a trip!

Hope ya like the oneshot!!! I hope you're doing well too ^_^

The sound of creaking metal and distant echoes made your stomach churn as you rolled your wheelchair along the uneven ground. The air was damp and heavy, carrying a metallic tang that left a strange taste in your mouth. You didn’t know why you agreed to this—or, more accurately, how Randal had convinced you. Again.

“We’re gonna have so much fun!” Randal chirped, pushing your wheelchair down the narrow corridor of the abandoned factory. His mismatched shoes squeaked against the grimy concrete floor. “This place is perfect, don’t you think? So spooky! And dangerous. I love it.”

You gripped the armrests of your chair tighter, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Randal, I… I don’t think this is safe.”

He leaned over your shoulder, his wild grin almost brushing your cheek. “Safe? Pfft. Where’s the fun in that? You’re with me, so you’ve got nothing to worry about!”

That didn’t reassure you at all. Randal wasn’t exactly known for his careful planning or concern for other people’s well-being. Still, you’d never seen him this excited, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him no. You never did.

Randal continued to chatter as he pushed you deeper into the building. “Did you know this place used to be a meatpacking plant? Lots of sharp tools and hooks and stuff. I bet they left some behind! Ooh, maybe we’ll find something really creepy, like… I dunno, a severed hand or a haunted chainsaw!”

You swallowed hard. “Why… why would we want to find that?”

“Why not?” Randal shot back, giggling like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He stopped abruptly, making your chair jolt. “Oh, look at this!”

He darted ahead, leaving you alone for a moment. Your chest tightened as you glanced around the dimly lit space. The flickering light from Randal’s flashlight cast eerie shadows on the cracked walls, making them seem alive. The faint hum of distant machinery—though the factory had been abandoned for years—sent a shiver down your spine.

“Uh… Randal?” you called out, your voice trembling.

“Relax, bunny! I’m right here!” His face popped out of the darkness suddenly, and you let out a startled yelp. He doubled over with laughter. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen your face! Priceless!”

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. “Don’t do that!”

He tilted his head, still grinning. “Why not? You’re so cute when you’re scared.” He grabbed the handles of your wheelchair again and started pushing you down another hallway. “C’mon, don’t chicken out now. We’re just getting started!”

The two of you eventually reached a massive room filled with rusted machinery. Chains hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly in a nonexistent breeze. Randal parked your wheelchair near a conveyor belt and hopped onto it, balancing precariously on the edge.

“Check this out!” he said, kicking at a chain to make it rattle. “Doesn’t this place just scream ‘horror movie’? Imagine all the things that could’ve happened here. Blood. Screaming. Death. Awesome, right?”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes were glued to the dark corners of the room, where the flashlight’s beam couldn’t reach. Every creak and groan of the old building made you flinch.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Randal hopped down and crouched in front of you, his face uncomfortably close to yours. “You’re not scared, are you?”

You hesitated, then nodded slightly. “A little…”

His grin widened. “Good! Fear makes everything more exciting. It’s like… seasoning for life. Or maybe dessert. Yeah, fear is dessert.” He stood up and twirled the flashlight like a baton. “But don’t worry. If anything tries to hurt you, I’ll rip it apart. Easy peasy.”

You weren’t sure whether that was comforting or terrifying.

The mood shifted abruptly when you heard a loud clang from somewhere above.

You froze. “Randal… what was that?”

“Probably a ghost,” he said nonchalantly, tilting his head to listen. “Or a rat. Or a ghost rat! Oh, wouldn’t that be cool? I should make a doll of that.”

The sound came again, louder this time. It was followed by the unmistakable groan of metal straining under pressure.

“Uh… maybe we should leave,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Randal waved you off. “Nah, it’s probably nothing. Besides, brother would kill me if I came home this early.”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fumbled to pull it out and saw Luther’s name on the screen. Before you could answer, Randal snatched the phone away.

“Brotherrr!” he sang into the phone. “Guess where we are!”

You couldn’t hear Luther’s response, but judging by the way Randal winced, it wasn’t pleasant.

“Relax, big brother! We’re just having a little adventure. You worry too much.” He paused, then laughed. “Okay, okay, fine. We’ll head back soon. Jeez, you’re no fun.” He hung up and handed the phone back to you.

“Big brother is such a buzzkill,” Randal muttered, kicking at a loose bolt on the floor. “But I guess we should wrap this up. For now.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “We still have to get out of here alive.”

As Randal wheeled you back toward the exit, the building seemed to come alive around you. The groaning metal grew louder, accompanied by distant thuds and the occasional sound of shattering glass.

“See? Isn’t this fun?” Randal said, laughing as he dodged a falling piece of debris. “It’s like the whole place is trying to kill us! What a rush!”

You couldn’t even respond; you were too busy clutching the armrests of your chair, your heart pounding in your chest.

By the time you finally reached the exit, you were shaking. Randal, on the other hand, looked like he’d just had the time of his life.

“That was awesome!” he said, spinning in a circle. “We should do this again sometime.”

You stared at him, your face pale. “Randal… you’re insane.”

He grinned, leaning down to meet your gaze. “Maybe. But you’re stuck with me anyway, bunny.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue.

As the two of you made your way back to the street, Randal started humming a creepy little tune under his breath.

You promise yourself that next time you'll Sebastian handle him.. well more like endure..

Hope ya guys enjoyed this! Also i cba asked to proof read so mind the msitakes pls!! ^_^

[neahtrix]

I’ve been waiting for a week to see these results lol

The general consensus is that Five would win the games, followed by Klaus and Lila tied for second, and Diego in third.

(Analysis below cut)

🥇 Five: I think Five would have a very good shot at the games. He’s smart, willing to do whatever it takes to win, and agile. He’d be able to outsmart other participants and would not have any shake in tricking them into getting eliminated. With his teenage body he’d be a lot more agile too. However, if he was in his older body, he probably wouldn’t do as well. I don’t think his powers would make much difference either apart from games like Green Light, Red Light and he could probably just blink home. Even without his powers though, he’d do really well.

🥈 Klaus: Klaus kind of shocked me at joint second but after seeing everyone’s opinions I can see it now. His powers would come in handy; he literally cannot die. But he’d also be able to have the ghosts cheat for him and find out what the next game is in advance (like 067 in S1). He’d probably pull a main character style and constantly have his ass saved by everyone but be on of the last with his humanity in tact which aids him in winning.

🥈 Lila: Lila wasn’t a big surprise lol. She grew up with commission training so she’d be a great fighter and very agile. She could also use everyone’s powers so she’d be unstoppable. However, I think she’d falter if Diego was in danger which could ultimately be her downfall. But she’d 100% be an unstoppable force.

🥉 Diego: Diego was also a bit of a shock but, out of the others left, he’d be one of the strongest. He can literally bend the bullets away form hin if he were eliminated, but he’s make it quite far before he would be. He literally spent years as a vigilante- however successful he was is trivial- but he’d still have the extra training. He’d falter if he had to eliminate somebody else though, unless they’d done something bad beforehand, which could be his downfall. Alike Lila, he’d hesitate if she was in danger too, which could also give him a disadvantage.

TLDR: Basically I’m merging my obsessions and now have a very strong urge to make a Squid Game AU for TUA…

Very self-indulgent post but I’ve been wanting to make a TUA x Squid Game au sooo…

[nexstage]

Stars and Pyramids AU

Planning a new life

The first time Mabel saw someone shaking hands with Bill Cipher was during her first summer in Gravity Falls. Gideon, who had become an obsessive, callous jerk, somehow possessed the knowledge to summon the dream demon, and after doing it, made a deal with him to take over the shack.

Thank goodness they stopped him. Then, Dipper made a deal with Bill because she didn’t help him decipher the password of the old laptop they’d found. The contents of the note still sent shivers to her core due to how close she was to losing her brother. Which reminds her of the fire covering her pinky and Bill’s as they sealed the deal.

She had made a deal just like Gideon and Dipper. Did that make her a bad person?

But wait, Gideon did it because he was a greedy jerk. Dipper, because he was desperate and she didn’t help him due to the play to impress Gabe. What was the point of this deal? Helping Bill and his friends to escape a dying dimension; however, was that as bad as Gideon’s purpose or worse?

“Ehem, hello~? Earth to Shooting Star? Have you lost your mind already? I mean, great for you. The more madness, the better but let’s postpone the chaos party until we are out of this place.” Bill’s voice was the final hit that broke the ice of surrealist shock as she slowly accepted that yes, this was real. Bill reached out to her for help. Bill was desperate enough to ask for her help. They had made a deal already.

“…I… I made a deal with Bill Cipher!”

“Wow, kid. Thank you for the surprise. I know I wow you just like anybody else but trust me you’re not the first nor the last one. I can even tell you some dirty family secrets in exchange for another deal.”

Welp, now that reminded her why she must step up in her new role. “Whatever they are, I’m sure they’re lies. We must think of a way to get you all out of here. Any ideas?”

Oh, he had some. His mind traveled back to the many attempts to get the Rift out of Sixer’s hands only for his former pet to outsmart him every. Single. Time! His damn paranoia had leveled up each one of the defense mechanisms of the shack. Much worse, even if had deceived Shooting Star to lead him to the shack while he possessed Blendin, Stanford would’ve suspected the sudden appearance of a time police officer asking for the rift. Then he would’ve tackled him, shown the yellow eyes to everyone, and then shot the buffoon in the head.

What an irony, uh? That of all the people he was asking for help it had to be the same person who, unbeknownst to them, had ruined his plans. Oh well, at least Shooting Star wouldn’t screw this up. He hoped so.

“There are two ways,” He began. This was incredibly risky, saying a truth that he shared with Stanford without the fool knowing it but maybe it would gain him some points with his niece. Honesty points as she’d like to say. “One of them is in the hands of Stanford. He’s protecting with nails and teeth so it’s impossible to reach it. The other way is…a biiiiiiit controversial” ‘More like you’ll hate it because I did that to your brother’

“What is Grunkle Ford protecting?”

Ok, this might either push her more into his side or blow up in his face. “After he was brought back from the multiverse, a bit of the other side -that is, what was on the other side of the portal- was poured into your world. It’s like a little floaty mass of space and, to prevent its expansion, Stanford built a snow globe-shaped device to contain it. I called it the Rift; heck, I bet Sixer had the same idea. Anyway, he and I weren’t the only ones who know about this, your brother does too.”

Mabel’s eyes almost popped out of her sockets. “Dipper was told about it? Why didn’t he tell me anything?”

Bill laughed both cruelly and bitterly. “Welcome to the club of being wronged by Stanford Pines, kid! I mean, you think just because you inadvertently helped in bringing him back, he would be cool with you as much as he is with Pine Tree? Pffft, fat chance. Favoritism is the same as calculating pros and cons for him. And you don’t even wanna know how much he projects into you and your brother just because he can’t speak like a normal guy with Stanley for five seconds.”

He feigned watching his non-existent nails, peeking subtly at the teenager as his words penetrated her psyche. They were aware of what happened back then; what he said landed her into uncomfortable, painful memories. Memories she pushed away every time she was asked about Dipper, about his whereabouts and what he was doing.

She had to make up a convincing story for her classmates as Ford’s comment ‘Isn’t it suffocating?’ echoed in her head whenever she remembered Dipper’s choice of staying in Gravity Falls.

It didn’t get better with their parents’ divorce. They were so wrapped up in their own issues and staying as far away from each other as ever that Dipper being in Oregon barely elicited a reaction from them.

As the silence stretched, Bill glanced at Mabel wondering if maybe his movement might have hit a bit too hard. His suspicions were confirmed as the teenager bit her lower lip, holding back tears. He’d better put a stop on that or they’d be here forever.

“Hey, come on, Shooting Star. Cheer up!” One of his fingers lifted her chin softly. “So, Sixer thinks you’re not good enough, so what? It’s not that he’s better. I mean, the portal, where did it come from? His head? Nope! From mine. I gave him lots of ideas and an infinite well of knowledge.” Hey smirked in his usual salesman persona. “I can do the same for you.”

“…Cramming books and nerd stuff into my head?” She cringed at her response.

“If that’s what you want, sure. However, first, we need to find a solution to my relocation issue.”

The sadness in her eyes was replaced by determination as she recalled what she’d asked him moments ago. “You’re right. Well, the Rift is not useful if we can’t get closer to it, and I don’t want to get in trouble with…Grunkle Ford,” she mentioned his name almost inaudibly. “What’s the other way?”

This might get explosive. “…The other way, is that I possess some—“

“Oh no, you won’t! You even planned to throw my brother’s body from the water tower!!” Brilliant, she had to keep that in mind. Maybe the note was overdoing it although it was fun.

“I’m sorry, kid, but those are all the options I have. No wait, there is also building me a new portal but that would take lots of time, a huge brain, and going to Gravity Falls which may attract Stanford to our hideout, and bam! Demon hunting will be on the go!”

A lightbulb flashed inside Mabel’s head. “What about inanimate objects? Like action figurines or dolls?”

“Kid, that’s a great idea!” She smiled. “If you want to use me as your piece of entertainment on Halloween, which nope. I’m the host and soul of the party, not the clown!” She frowned.

“But can’t you make your own persona? You know, like a body to possess? Much better than taking over someone’s body.”

Bill’s eye twinkle in delight. “You are more clever than I expected, Shooting Star. Yes, there are some spells to create a body of any kind. Flesh and blood, crystal, rock, lava, you name it. But it needs some stuff: a place filled with magic or supernatural energy, specific runes, the vital force of the user of the spell, and a clear image of how the body will look. And seeing that we’ll also possess those vessels, the first spell must be connected to one of permanent linking.”

“Linking?”

“Possessing a body is different than to be linked to one made on your own. By linking yourself to a vessel, you make it your new body.”

“And what will happen with the old one? Does that mean you won’t be a triangle anymore?” Suddenly, a huge realization hit her. If Bill created a human body to inhabit, would that mean he wouldn’t have his powers anymore? Or would they be weakened? Weakened or non-existent, such an event reduced the danger of having him on Earth. And if the same happened to his friends, much better!

Bill, on the other hand, didn’t like where this was going. While escaping the void hadn’t left his mind, becoming a lesser being, powerless and vulnerable, made him gag. How could he keep taking advantage of idiots with his deals if he didn’t inflict fear on them or make a stellar first impression? His original form had everything he needed. Power, immortality, no need to eat, sleep, or even breathe. The whole jackpot!

Sure, he loved the sensations whenever he possessed someone but it was way more convenient than having a body on his own that couldn’t take a single hit. Humans were experts on fragility so what was the point of a body so squishy? Even jellyfish handle pain better than them!

He bet, no no, it was clear as water that Shooting Star might want to take advantage of such detail. Having Bill as Bill put a damper on her lame concept of “safety”; having him as a human would put both on the same level. As equals! Eugh! First dead than that!

‘Not if I keep some key details of the ritual secret from her though’, Bill contained his glee at the idea. Shooting Star wanted to help him be a human. Sure why not? But his new body would be created on his terms.

“Welp, kid, I think we have a plan in mind, don’t we? But if we want it to be successful, I must guide you through everything.”

“How? We can only communicate through dreams. And no, I won’t let you possess anyone.”

“Didn’t you mention dolls? I can use one of them and from there we can handle the rest.”

“Can I do it even if I’m not in Gravity Falls?”

“Unless you have some specific runes connected to the vessel, you can’t. Your home is too weak in magic standards, although it’s not impossible, there must be no one when we do this or we’re bust.”

“I’ll make you a plushie,” Uh, what? “You need to give me the runes, I’ll write them on paper and put them inside it. Then you can possess it.” Not bad.

“It has to look like me. If you color it green or whatever, I’ll burn your house.”

“You won’t. You’ll be a plushie,” She said it so confidently Bill would’ve been impressed if it weren’t for the slight anger and annoyance at her bluff.

“Put all your attention to this, Shooting Star. The runes must be written perfectly and in the next order.” He raised his hands, blue fire erupting from them, summoning a ball of azure flames that took the shape of strange symbols.

As Mabel memorized each rune, a part of her unconsciously wondered if Ford and Dipper knew about these symbols, if this was another lesson only they shared between them, or if she had been chosen to be told about spells and magic so ancient, so mysterious than not even her uncle could understand.

[louferrignojrofficial]

the shoulder touch of it all

[rystiel]

shipping chart thoughts

(billford always happens and they always break up. ford was obsessed when bill was his muse, then bill is obsessed after they’re no longer together and he realizes what he lost) (this dynamic is just canon, really)

(fiddauthor is always present at some point but in one route they end up together after canon events, and in another route fidd moves on) (it’s possible that they had a thing in college but consider it “typical college experimentation” because it’s the 70s and denial is strong. they still go through canon events)

(fiddlestan only happens during the fiddlestan route. otherwise canon events stay the same and they barely actually interact with each other. in the fiddlestan route they work together in the 80s and grow old together)

(billstan isn’t really romantic but it is a one-sided obsession. bill just can’t stop obsessing over the stans… for very different reasons…) (dare i say an unrequited kismesis dynamic?)

(ford and stan are brothers. that’s it. leave them out of the shipping dynamics.)

(fiddlebill isn’t really included here but i feel like the only way this would happen is if bill was possessing ford and wanted to fuck with fidd by using his crush on ford against him) (this one’s basically only possible if it’s fiddauthor-adjacent)

[slushi-chan]

Thanks for the tag💜, I love doing tag games so much

Last Song: The Perfect Girl-Mareux

Last Book: either House of Leaves or Something Wicked This Way Comes, I’m still reading both and I don’t remember which one I technically read last

Favorite Color: Purple, black and blue are tied for second, yes my favorite colors happen to be the colors of bruises

Last Movie: Nosferatu, saw it in theaters to celebrate my birthday (like almost a week late) had a blast

Spicy/Sweet/Savory: sweet by a long shot I have a major sweet tooth, I don’t like spicy stuff for the most part and even if I did I can’t even really eat mildly spicy stuff or i get acid reflux rip

Last Show: Criminal Minds, I’m on like my fifth rewatch of it, I’ve been on this fix for like five months

Current Obsession: Criminal Minds, Elden Ring, Horror (specially Near Dark and Alien/Aliens), Billy Idol (someone told me they think of me when they hear Billy Idol and that’s the biggest compliment), Bill Paxton, MGG, god knows what else my hyperfixations are a fucking mess

Last Thing I searched up: ….fanfic, you get no more detail than that

Looking Forward to: getting to see my friends again, and going to the mall and to see movies with them, and showing my friends the vinyl store

Tagging: @unidentifiedprimate @vanellygal anyone else who wants to do it

tagged by @babieswrld !! ❤️

Last Song: Truck Bed - Hardy ...that hook, though.

Last Book: Confessions of Johnny Ringo. So good.

Favorite Color: Since leopard print isn't a color.. I'd have to go with pink or red! Pink is an aesthetic color I love getting things in, but red is my power color when I want confidence!

Last Movie: Wynonna Earp: Vengeance on Tubi. Go watch it..it's awesome.

Spicy/Sweet/Savory: Savory or Spicy!

Last Show: Currently binging Big Love (SO MANY SPICY BILLY PAX SCENES) , before going to binge Wynonna Earp.

Current Obsession: All things yeehaw. Has been like that for a few years, but with my trip coming up in October, it's gotten so much more intense lol. Also obsessed with developing my gunspinning skills more lol.

Last Thing I Searched Up: Trying to find damn tutorials on how to make Peacemaker ...Good ol' Buntline Special.

Looking Forward To: Pinup season! Got soooo many cute outfits and stage routines planned!

Tagging @tragantia @slushi-chan @msookyspooky @mrsvansickle04 @themuseinthewoods @oleskellybones

[noturlondonboy]

You Would Never Hurt Me

Bishova angst-shot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Warnings: angst angst angst, nightmare, gun, choking

A/N: the girls are having a hard time and I’m so sorry, i just needed to write something short about them struggling

——

Kate isn’t a complete stranger to being woken up with a gun pointed to her head, but she’s definitely not used to it being Yelena itching to pull the trigger.

The cold metal of the muzzle of the gun is pressed harshly into her forehead, biting into her skin. She lays frozen, not even daring to breathe, her body pinned to the bed by Yelena’s weight. Her girlfriend is breathing hard, her teeth bared as soft snarls echo from her throat. There’s a wild look in her eye, the same hollow, glassy sheen that overtakes her in the throes of bloodlust and sorrow.

A strike of fear tries to shoot up Kate’s spine, but she clamps it down and refuses to humor it. Yelena is stuck in her head. Yelena had a nightmare. Yelena doesn’t know it’s her.

Yelena would never hurt her, she tells herself. Yelena would never hurt me.

“Yelena,” Kate dares to whisper, her lips barely moving. The blonde’s hand is pressed firmly to her chest, the flesh of her palm molded by Kate’s sternum. It’s started to move, inching to Kate’s neck, fingertips hooking over her collarbones. Kate doesn’t dare to swallow the saliva that’s building under her tongue.

There’s no response, no change to the way Yelena’s brows are furrowed, no twitch to her lips as they curl over her teeth. Her incisors practically gleam in the darkness.

“Yelena, baby.”

Yelena’s hand lands on Kate’s throat, fingers trembling as they brush over her windpipe, tracing her Adam’s apple and squeezing ever so slightly into the muscle of the sides of her neck. Kate’s breath catches, her eyes wide. Yelena is looking right through her. The gun presses harder into her forehead, the pinch a dull echo through the haze of panic that’s starting to build.

Her girl is speaking now, the Russian thick and slurred, too fast for Kate to pick through and decipher. She’s begun to tremble, chest heaving and gun rattling in her grasp.

“Yelena.” Kate can feel something cold and horrible building in her stomach, underneath her skin. She slowly raises her hands so that Yelena can see them, and hazel eyes snap around, her lips pulling back further as the low snarl that hasn’t ceased for a moment in her throat only seems to grow. “Yelena. It’s me. It’s Kate.”

“Kate is dead.”

Kate feels her blood run cold, and she can’t stop her body from trembling. “What-”

“She’s dead.” Yelena has leaned closer, her hand tightening on Kate’s throat. She’s breathing hard, panting through her nose and between her teeth, and the look in her eyes has only deepened, shattering over her face. “She is dead.”

Her finger is twitching over the trigger, and Kate’s eyes dart over the firearm. The safety is off. The cold metal has cut through her skin, and she’s distantly aware of a thin trickle of blood seeping down her forehead.

The fear overpowers her will, and Kate reacts before she can think. Her hands dart for the gun, trying to push it up and away, her head pressing down into the pillow to get out of its aim.

Kate’s ears are ringing. Tears sting her eyes. The gun went off. The gun went off. Yelena shot it. Yelena shot her-

No, not her, she can still think. Her brain is still inside her skull. Her eyes are functioning in their sockets. There’s a throbbing in the side of her head, and the ringing has turned into a scream, but she’s mostly sure she’s not dead.

The shot seems to have woken Yelena fully, her mouth hanging open and eyes staring directly down at Kate. She seems to take it in all at once- her girlfriend, laying underneath her, pinned down by her weight. Her hand, wrapped much too tightly around Kate’s throat. The pistol that she keeps in her nightstand, pointed only inches away from Kate’s ear, and the bullet hole in the headboard, splintered wood jagged as it pokes out.

There’s a moment where the world completely stops, and for a moment, there’s nothing but Yelena and Kate, one breathing and one not, one scared and one horrified, both with tears on their cheeks and uncertainty on how to move forward in their chests.

Yelena is scrambling off of Kate and out of bed half a second later, the gun dropping to the blankets silently as she yanks the window open and disappears into the cold night. She has to get out. She has to get away. Far away, where she won’t almost kill the one thing she has left to love.

Kate doesn’t move to follow her. She lays there on her back, throat aching and head spinning as she sobs, and the fear only tightens its grip on her shaking body.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

They’re so irritating 😭😭😭 wtf is wrong with them 😭😭😭😭😭 I love them so much 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[katabay]

haccho and goro :)

there are so many things in this show I'm obsessed with, it's an absolute cake that has everything I want to sink my teeth into and I cannot stop eating it (literally, I think about it all the TIME) and someday I'm going to get my hands on the comic. but. until then. these two have some kind of hold on me

[mistresscitrusslice]

A few months ago when I was into BG3, I couldn’t stop thinking about God Gale/Ascended Astarion and Dark Consort Gale/Ascended Astarion.

…and then I realized I had just circled back to what was essentially reskinned Divorce Era Jayvik and Augmented Jayce/Machine Herald. 😐

My brain only has one setting.

[wrathofrats]

Yes I can totally make this first time zephrit fic short why do you ask (it’s 1k and they haven’t kissed yet it’s just weird sexually tensioned wound cleaning)

[banhchao]

Anthony Bourdain : Parts Unknown | Iran | S04 E06