#offical hustle hate post

[friendlynaborhooddisapointment]

the dream would be a 15hour week workday at a low stress job not that far from home but not too close it feels intimate to your home, a small mangable appartment that wont fall apartwith furnishings i like,bills that arnt stress inducing in a way that make me think about money all the time, and just chill and do my hobbies when im not doing all the other things people have to do in their adult to not be that sad life like cook and clean and talk to people

[bloodrvvvsh]

Needs Me When He’s All Alone. | Post-Prison!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer had broken up long ago — his work kept him too busy for a relationship, is what he told you. Now, several years later, when your paths cross again because you take a job as his boss's assistant, the feelings you both had buried seem to be rekindled.

Pairing: Ex-Boyfriend!Post-prison!Spencer Reid x Fem!Assistant!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), p in v sex, rough hate sex, dom!Spencer, sub!brat!Reader, afab + fem!Reader, hints at some sort of rivarly (kinda) between Spencer and Emily, face fucking, spit/drool, spanking, face slapping, very sloppy and messy fingering, hair pulling, hand around the throat (no choking), dacryphilia, lots and lots of biting, back scratching, marking, orgasm denial, praise, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, prick, asshole) + pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, good girl), creampie

Word count: 4.4K

Notes: Another PWP from me, who’s surprised. Anyways enjoy and stream Starfucker by Slayyyter ✨

It would be a lie to say you hadn’t thought about Spencer Reid since your breakup.

You tried not to think about him, but it was impossible to when you were still so hopelessly hung up on him. It was almost pathetic with the way you were always mentally comparing your dates to him, or spending the day dreaming about him and his big hands and big.. other things.

It was even worse when you considered the way he decided to dump you, too. Some excuse about his work keeping him too busy to maintain a relationship. What kind of a reason is that? It’s not like you ever minded when he was away on long cases, it just made the reunion all the more sweeter in your opinion.

But it wasn’t good enough for Spencer, apparently. You were not good enough Dr. Spencer Reid. 

Or, at least, that's what you told yourself when your mind wandered a little too far a little too late at night. It was the same thought that had been cycling through your mind for the past five years. Why else would he dump you for some lame ass reason after nearly three years of dating?

That was the past, though. You were moving on and moving forward. There were more things in life than an ex-boyfriend who happened to be really great at the time. The world didn’t end five years like you might have thought, the earth continued to turn and you continued to wake up every morning.

Today was a day you actually woke up with a sense of excitement bubbling inside your chest. Today was the first day of your new job. You had always preferred the quiet hustle of office jobs and this job was exactly that. 

While some might be intimidated by the idea of working for the FBI, you really didn’t mind it. It wasn’t like you were going out on the field every day. You were just an assistant, and you were fine with that. Living in DC, it was a little hard to escape all things governmental and the like, so really it was just another Monday for you.

You watched as the numbers on the elevator ticked by as you rose up. Tucked in the crook of your elbow was a manila envelope and a coffee in your hand. Your free hand fell to the hem of your skirt, tugging on it slightly to hopefully provide some more coverage to your body. The skirt was a little short, but you had paired it with some black pantyhoses to - quite literally - cover your ass. You weren’t sure how well it was actually working, though.

The elevator dinged with the arrival of you to your floor. You let a deep breath out through your mouth before you stepped out. Your heels clicked on the floor, hurriedly trying to make your way across the bullpen and to your new boss’s office like requested.

You had crossed the bullpen with seemingly no problem and you were just about to step onto the stairs when a familiar call of your name had your blood running cold.

“Y/N?” A pit settled in your stomach, dark and cold and full of horrible feelings when Spencer’s voice hit your ears. You swallowed. You turned your head slowly, like you were expecting him to disappear before you looked fully behind you.

But no luck. There he was, in all his glory. Although, he looked very different to the last time you had seen him. He seemed to have ditched his old cardigans and sweaters for tailored suits. His hair was longer, messier, and stubble grew across his face. 

Unfortunately for you, he looked even hotter than before.

And even though he looked so different, so unlike the sweet and dorky Spencer you used to date, now looking more like the gruff FBI agent he truly was, there was still a softness to his deep brown eyes that told you this was the same old Spencer Reid you couldn’t get your mind off of.

“Spencer,” you sighed. God, why did he have to be so beautiful still? “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he said with a raise of his eyebrow. Mentally you cursed yourself. How could you possibly forget? You were too starstruck to even think properly in that moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I also work here.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You watched his gaze flit up and down your body and suddenly you were too well aware of your outfit choices when he lingered on your thighs. You should have just worn pants, but no, you wanted to look cute for your first day.

For a moment, the two of you could only stare at each other in silence. What could you possibly say after your last interaction being a shitty breakup? And just as you were about to say something, another voice cut in.

“Y/N!” Emily called out cheerfully. A sense of relief washed over you at the sight of her, your whole body relaxing. You nodded your head at her, bending slightly at the knees to give a half-assed bow.

“Emily,” you murmured. You held out the envelope and cup of coffee to her, giving a little smile when she took them into her own hands. 

Emily’s attention turned to Spencer and you were almost certain there was some hint of smugness in her eyes. “I see you’ve met my new assistant,” she said with a hand falling to your back, giving it a soft pat. Spencer’s eyes narrowed.

His fingers curled tighter around the satchel slung across his body and you noticed a flicker of something - anger? jealousy? - in his eyes. “I have met her,” was all he said, his tone suddenly turning very curt. 

You didn’t know what they were doing, what sort of mind games they were playing, and you weren’t sure how to feel about being a pawn caught in between it all. The air was thick, tense, nearly electric. Like they were two live wires waiting for a spark. You could feel the prickle of the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

You cleared your throat, running your hand down the front of your skirt to rid yourself of your sweaty palms. “I, uh. I’m gonna.. go get some more case files that need to be sorted.” The minute the words left your mouth, you were already making a beeline to simply get out of there.

~

The rest of the day seemed to move by fairly smoothly. No more incidents between Spencer and Emily (to your knowledge) and you didn’t have to see Spencer again. A perfect day in your book.

You were actually almost finished with the day. You only had a few cases to be printed and sorted away, and then you were free to leave. Most had already left for the day, leaving the office vacant and eerily quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Sometimes that was better, no distractions from finishing up the last few things before you clocked out.

You stood at the coping machine, your back to the door, when you heard it creak open. You didn’t think much of it, it was a busy office, after all, and plenty of people used the copier room. You didn’t even think to look behind you to see who it was. Your mind was one track at this point, just looking to finish your tasks and go home.

You should have known better.

You knew it was too late when you felt a broad chest being pressed to your back. A warm breath fanned over your ear as large hands that you knew too well roamed your sides. It was pure instinct the way your body melted into his touch, a sigh full of wanton desires wafting from your lips.

You felt weak. You were weak. In that moment, you were nothing more than a mammal with the primal need to procreate. 

Your head fell to the side, leaning back to rest on Spencer’s shoulder, baring your neck to him, submitting to him like the weak little thing you both knew you were. God, you were really going to hate yourself when this was all over. You were already starting to feel that bubble of anger and hatred forming in your chest, creeping up your throat and burning like bile in your mouth.

Your hands snapped over his, stilling his movements. His lips hovered over your neck, mere inches from your pulse point. “You are such a prick,” you bit out. You sounded breathless, needy. 

You tugged at his fingers, trying to pry them off your body. You spun in his arms, turning to face him. His pupils were dilated, swallowing his irises whole and making them more akin to black holes than the warm brown eyes you used to love. His hair was a mess, like he had been running his fingers through it too many times, his tie askew. Your eyes narrowed. 

“You must have something wrong with you if you think I’m going to sleep with you after what you put through,” you hissed at him. You pressed yourself against the copier machine, trying to create some semblance of distance between the two of you, and crossed your arms tight over your chest.

“After what I put you through?” Spencer echoed almost incredulously. He had to be playing dumb, because you knew he was the farthest thing from stupid.

You scoffed. “You broke up with me with some lame ass excuse, and then you never bothered to talk to me again!” You could not believe him in that moment. It was like he was purposefully trying to piss you off.

“Y/N-” 

“Do not “Y/N” me,” you spit out like the words were venom in your mouth. “I am not your girlfriend, and just because I now work at the BAU too doesn’t mea-”

Spencer’s lips were crashing against yours before you could even finish your sentence. He always kissed like a man starved, like he was trying to consume you whole. You whimpered against his mouth, hands flying to grasp onto his wrists while his hands cradled your face.

The kiss grew even more passionate, somehow, becoming a mashing of lips and teeth and breathless moans and animalistic growls. You missed this - missed the intense fire Spencer lit in you, the passion that he brought into everything he did.

His hands flew down to the hem of your skirt, quickly hitching it up as you both stumbled around the room, barely breaking your kissing to catch your breaths. He hooked his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up onto a nearby table. You instantly spread your legs, inviting him in without so much another thought. He quickly shed his suit jacket, tossing it aside to some random part of the room.

Then you heard a distinct rip of fabric. You pulled away from Spencer’s addictive lips, pressing your hands on his chest and forcing him to let in some room between the two of you. You glanced down to see a huge tear on your tights and you gasped.

“You ripped my tights?!” you shrieked, landing a smack to his chest.

“Keep it up, and I’ll rip your panties, too,” he growled and you hated that the deep timbre of his voice sent flashes of arousal straight to your core. He didn’t miss the way you clenched your thighs together. He weaved a hand into your hair and curled his fingers around the strands of your hair, giving it a good tug to force you to bear your neck to him once more.

He pressed wet and sloppy kisses to the junctions of your neck, nipping at the neck, making you gasp and squirm. He pushed your panties to the side, not bothering to even pull them halfway. He plunged two fingers in, knowing you could handle it. You gasped even louder when he filled you so suddenly, your back arching into the feeling.

“You’re so wet for me,” Spencer murmured against your sweaty skin. The thrust of his fingers were hard, fast, making your head spin with arousal. You couldn’t remember the last time you had sex, let alone sex this hedonistic, but god, were you loving it. His fingers were so long, hitting all the right places in you without even trying. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

You hated profilers, and you especially hated Spencer Reid. “Screw you,” you hissed. You didn’t even notice when his hand seemed to have fallen to your ass, but you definitely felt the hard smack of it connecting with your flesh.

“What do you think I’m trying to do, princess?” He punctuated his words with another hard swat to your ass and a nip to the neck. You moaned at both sensations, grinding into the fingers deep inside you. “I don’t remember you being such a brat when we dated..”

“I don’t remember you being such an asshole,” you retorted. Another smack, another gasp from you. You glared at him.

Spencer’s fingers picked up pace, moving in and out of you in an almost messy and uncoordinated fashion, his thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit. The sloppy sounds of his fingers thrusting and your moans filled the air, creating a dizzying erotic symphony. 

“You never answered my question,” he breathed out. He moved his lips to your ear, teeth grazing along the shell. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” you lied right through your teeth and you both knew it. He delivered another spank to your ass, making you squeak at how sensitive you apparently becoming with his spankings.

“There’s no need to lie.” He bit down on your earlobe and you keened right as his fingers angled perfectly to hit your G-spot. He pulled back to look you in the eye, smirking at the sight of you unraveling under his fingers. “You missed me, and you missed my dick, like the stupid little slut you are.”

The Spencer you used to know, the man you loved, would have never called you any sort of name, not even bed. Hearing that word tumbling out of his lips had you clenching hard around his fingers and whining loud, eyes squeezing shut as your stomach twisted into knots.

“Admit it, Y/N,” he whispered in a husky voice, “Admit you missed me fucking you.”

“Fuck you.” More smacks to the ass. Three in the row this time, not even giving you time to recover. Each was harder than the less, leaving your skin tingling.

Spencer retracted his fingers from your messy cunt, making you whine at the loss of feeling full for the first time in far too long. “Open,” he commanded and you obeyed, much to your own disgust. His finger plunged into your mouth and you wrapped your lips around them without another word.

You licked them clean, tasting yourself, all the while maintaining eye contact with his intense stare. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth as fast as he did with your cunt. He cupped your cheek in his palm, gently caressing your supple skin. Then he delivered a hard smack to your cheek.

Your head snapped to the right and you gasped, hand automatically flying to your stinging cheek. You couldn’t believe him. And you couldn’t believe yourself for getting even wetter from it all.

Before you could react any further, his hand was tangling back in your hair, pulling harshly to drag you to your knees. He made quick work of his belt and unbuttoned his pants, fishing his hard dick out of its confines. Your mouth watered at the sight. It was so big, so pretty with its pale pink head and veins trailing along the sides.

Spencer chuckled at the hungry look in your eyes. “You missed this, didn’t you, baby?” he cooed at you. You found yourself nodding your head. He wrapped a hand around his cock, giving it a few lazy tugs. His thumb swiped at the tip, smearing the pre-cum gathering with a soft hiss.

He hovered it over your lips, teasing you. And in that moment, you weren’t above whining, which is exactly what you did. “Poor baby missed choking on my big dick, didn’t she?” Fake sympathy dripped from his words, making you feel oh-so dizzy and small. You nodded your head again, more frantically and desperate this time.

“Go ahead,” he urged, reaching a hand to the back of your head and pushing you forward, “Suck it, pretty girl.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You braced your palms on his thighs as you stuck your tongue out, flickering it over the tip of Spencer’s cock. His fingers carded through your hair and you nearly melted.

You licked a broad stride along the underside of his dick and you shivered at the groan you earned in response. You took the tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him as you made your way down his cock.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed out. His eyes fluttered shut, hips involuntarily rocking into your throat. He’d never admit it himself, but nothing could compare to your sweet mouth. He had spent more than a few countless nights dreaming about it wrapped around him once more.

You took his little curse and movements as encouragement, swallowing even more of him. You could never quite fit the entirety of him in your mouth, but it never stopped you from trying. 

Spencer took a fistful of your locks in his hand, tugging hard at the strands, and you winced at the pain radiating from your scalp. Lust flared down your spine, electrifying your body as he forced his cock all the way in your mouth. You choked around the intruding object in your throat, contracting around him and making him moan.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he crooned. His other hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as your eyes watered. He brushed away a tear that spilled down with a grin full of sadistic glee. “You look so pretty like this.. Your mouth has better uses than being a brat, don’t you think, pretty girl?”

He pulled you off his cock, leaving you to gag and heave heavy breaths. He clicked his tongue, faux pouting down at you. “Can’t handle it?” He didn’t give you any time to respond before he was pulling back down on his dick, pushing your head down until his pubes tickled your nose. “That’s too fucking bad.”

He repeated his motions, thrusting into your mouth violently until you got that dazed look in your eyes. Drool spilled from the corners of your lips and all over his cock. Praises from his lips, creating a chorus between his groans and moans of pure pleasure.

When you felt like you were seriously going to lose your mind from lack of oxygen, Spencer pulled out finally. You panted, dizzy and delirious, but so fucking horny. You whimpered when he guided you away from his dick, your bottom lip sticking out in a genuine pout.

He spun you around before you bending over the same table from earlier. You gasped, a sense of excitement bubbling in your stomach when you realized what was to come. His hands fell to your hips and you pushed your ass back against him, wiggling it with a pitiful whine. You glanced back at him over your shoulder and you were sure that you looked like some sort of pathetic slut, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

“Someone’s eager,” Spencer remarked with a chuckle. But he was just as ready to screw your brains out. 

He guided his cock to your soaking wet folds, taking a moment to smear your wetness around with his tip, up until you started whining again. He chuckled once more before finally entering you. 

Your jaw fell slack as his cock entered you, stretching you to your limits. He was so fucking big, stretching you so deliciously and filling you up in a ways that couldn’t possibly be replicated.  

“There you go,” Spencer murmured. He leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back firmly. “That’s what you’ve been craving, haven’t you, princess? Just needed some dick to turn your pretty little brain off.”

His hand snaked around to wrap his fingers around your throat. Not squeezing, rather just resting there, reminding you of your place, of his power over you. He continued to push until he bottomed out inside you and you both keened. How could you have ever broken up when you fit together so perfectly?

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby,” he hissed right into your ear. “Your pretty pussy definitely missed me, didn’t it?” His other hand landed on your ass once more and he delivered a hard smack on the available skin. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart, such a good fuckin’ girl..”

He pulled back slightly, roughly halfway, before slamming into you hard enough to make the table slam against the wall. Then he repeated himself, one rough thrust after the other. You felt so braindead in that moment, gone in your own head with pleasure, that you could moan and babble.

“Feels so good, Spence,” you whined, trying to grind your hips back against him. “Fuck, it’s so good, so good, please don’t stop, please, please-” You cut yourself with a heady moan when he slammed into you with force.

“Cockdrunk whore,” Spencer hissed into your ear and you could only nod. His hand moved from your ass to tracing your labia before finding his target - your throbbing and neglected clit. He rubbed hard and fast circles around the swollen nub and you nearly sobbed.

His lips drifted to your neck and began peppering every inch of your skin in kisses. Some light, some sloppy and messy, nearly bruising with the force of them. Your head fell forward, hair falling all over your face and sticking to your sweaty skin. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks.

Then came Spencer’s teeth, grazing along your neck before biting down, hard. You squeaked, hands curling around the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. Your cunt clenched, sucking him in even deeper. His groan rumbled deep in your chest.

“Taking me so fucking good, baby, such a good girl for me,” he mumbled against your skin. He picked up his thrusts, hips slamming hard against yours. The circles on your clit increased in their pace, as well, the coil in your stomach burning hot and heavy.

“Spencer,” you nearly shrieked. “Spencer, I’m gonna- Shit! I’m gonna cum, Spencer!”

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” His words were nearly a growl, deep and low and so fucking sexy. “You gonna cum?” He landed a harsh slap against your pussy and you almost screamed once more.

Spencer pulled out suddenly, leaving just as empty as you were earlier. Your eyes shot wide open, whines tumbling from your lips, distraught at being denied your precious orgasm. He was spinning around you once more, crashing your lips together.

You moaned into the kiss, arms hurried wrapping around his broad shoulders. His hands fell to your thighs, lifting you up and into his arms, making you squeak. When did he get so.. strong?

You didn’t have much time to ponder over Spencer’s sudden display of strength because your back was practically tossed against a nearby wall. He pulled apart from the kiss to take his cock into his hand again, guiding it towards your dripping cunt again.

Your nails dug into his back as he stretched you open on his cock again, head falling back and hitting the wall. His lips were attached to your lips again, suckling and biting to leave behind millions of different marks.

“So big,” you slurred. Your voice sounded almost foreign to yourself - high-pitched and whiny. “Filling me so good, Spence, it’s so good.” Tears had begun to cascade down your face, streaking your mascara and leaving thick tracks of black on your cheeks. Spencer had never seen you look more beautiful than in that moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” he praised between heavy pants. “Taking me so good, so good, like the stupid fucking slut you are.” His hand made contact with your face again, leaving a red mark in its wake and leaving your skin feeling electric. Your walls squeezed around him.

“You like that, huh?” he did again and you moaned loudly, unashamed now. “You like being smacked around, huh? Like being treated like the filthy lil’ whore you are? Is that right, princess?” He repeated himself, smacking you once, twice, three times and each you clenched around him.

Your orgasmed barreled over you before you could have possibly processed it. Your eyes squeezed shut, stars popping in your vision, legs shaking. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as pleasure washed over you in waves near akin to a tsunami in your body.

Spencer fell right over the edge right after you, teeth sinking down into your shoulder with a heavy groan. Sprouts of hot cum flooded your insides and you whined at the feeling of overstimulation washing over you.

You both stilled for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, panting heavily together. Slowly, Spencer pulled out his softening cock out of you, and you whined for the final time at being so empty. Your cunt clenched around nothing for a few seconds before beginning to seep Spencer’s seed, dripping down your thigh and onto the carpet.

You felt a bit bad for the janitor who would have to clean up your messes.

Spencer grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning your head to look back at him. His lips met yours in another kiss, this time much softer and full of something you might describe as affection. 

When you pulled apart, he smiled at you. “So good for me.” He was breathless, and you couldn’t blame him.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you again. Spencer cleared his throat before adding, “Did you, uh.. want a ride back to my place? I still have some of your clothes at my apartment, you could shower and change..” he trailed off, teeth catching his bottom lip. There was a hint of a pleading look in his eyes and your heart clenched at the sight. You could never say no to his puppy eyes.

“Only if you take me out to dinner after.”

“Deal.”

[bitebitekxll]

Childe w/ an Autistic SO

Notes: This was meant to be a self-indulgent thing for Valentine’s Day but then my internet broke around then so happy late February I guess? Yes I am autistic, and yes Childe is my favourite, so enjoy (also obligatory ‘I’m basing this on my experience of autism, which isn’t universal’ reminder)

Fun fact, the pattern recognition part is literally how I solve like 90% of genshin puzzles, very handy… except for when it randomly stops working.

CW: Very light sh mention during the meltdown part (hitting/biting). Skip the end of the post if you need to <3

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✧

Childe cooks for his siblings all the time, so of course he’ll do the same for you! He might be strict about making sure you eat healthy— gotta keep you fighting fit, after all —but if there’s something you genuinely can’t stand, it’s off the menu without question. Eating should be enjoyable, a time to enjoy the presence of your friends or family while having a delicious treat, and anyone who even dares to suggest you’re acting ‘spoiled’ or ‘rude’ by not wanting to eat certain foods will quickly find themselves facing the brunt of our boy’s pretty dead eyes. Whether it’s a food that could send you into a meltdown from the sensation, or just something you have a mild distaste for, you never need to justify or explain yourself to him.

Just say the word comrade, and you’ll never have to touch that dish again~

✧ 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✧

Not up for socialising? Don’t worry, he’s charming enough for the both of you! It doesn’t matter if you always struggle with social interaction, or if you’re just not able to handle it in that specific moment, he’ll direct all the attention away from you. If someone doesn’t get the hint that you don’t wanna talk, he’ll be happy to scare them off for you. He’s basically an excitable murderous big dog.

✧ 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✧

There are all sorts of treasures and secrets littered around Teyvat; ruins and domains and alcoves hidden behind tricky mechanisms. And with your wandering hands idly finding the correct combination to get through a puzzle, you and Childe can breeze straight to the fun stuff! Especially because these places are usually crawling with monsters for him to fight.

You can downplay it all you want, say it’s just ‘dumb luck’ and that you have no idea how you figure out what to do, that you’re not smart and just following a gut feeling, it all goes in one ear and out the other. Childe’s too busy cheering and he scoops you up and spins you around, celebrating both your ability and the fact that he doesn’t have to bang his head against the wall trying to figure it out himself.

✧ ��𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✧

The first time you get overstimulated he’ll panic, hating to see you in distress but not knowing how to help. But after you talk about it, and he experiences it a few times, he will effortlessly be able to do whatever you need from it. You’re his love, after all, and he takes your well-being more seriously than any battle,

He will absolutely abuse his position as a Harbinger to make sure you can get somewhere quiet whenever and wherever you need it. His office at Northland Bank, the Goth Hotel in Mondstadt, a private room in any high end restaurant nearby— there’s nowhere he can’t get in with a mix of money, power, and intimidation.

✧ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✧

Constantly gets you little trinkets and mechanisms to stim with. It’s similar to the toys he gets for Teucer, but palm-sized and with a few modifications. A little ruin guard with a top half that spins, a squishy Sumeru Fungus with giant adorable eyes, a small whale keychain with a felt underbelly that you can scratch— anything sensation you could ask for, he’ll get it made for you. At a certain point you wonder if he actually does have a secret side hustle as a toy seller (though likely not for long, considering he gives it all to you for free. Not exactly the best business model.)

✧ 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 ✧

With battle senses as honed as his, and the way he starts watching you like a hawk when he sees you in distress, he can practically act before the meltdown even hits. Childe will put his hands in the way to take the brunt of any hit you aim at your head or bite you target your arm with. Every. Single. Time. Don’t worry if you leave a bruise, he can barely even feel it compared to the injuries he’s used to!

And hey, if you can feel beforehand that you might hurt yourself, you can just hurt him instead! …don’t give him that look, it’ll be like a spar! Just swing at him; he won’t even dodge, not if it’ll help. And if it won’t, then he’ll wait for whatever you need like an overgrown puppy. Hugs or space, company or solitude, whatever will help. (He might be a little sad if you wanna be left alone, but he understands— he’ll resign himself to just worrying until he sees you again. He won’t blame you for it, of course not, never, it’s not your fault he wants to spend every second with you.)

TL;DR: our boy is attentive af and will do everything he can to make sure you stay safe and comfy.

[gurugirl]

an adorable bad boy | loveable!rogue!harry

This is part 1 of a Patreon series (all 10 parts have been posted on Patreon already). If you'd like more check out my Patreon! xoxo

A loveable rogue is someone who breaks the law for personal profit while being nice and charming, likely with a sad or dark past.

AU Premise: Harry has been in and out of jail for nearly a decade due to a string of bad luck and bad choices. But he's not a bad guy. Not really.

Summary: Harry's trying to keep on the straight and narrow now that he's out of jail but things have never come easy for him. And then he meets the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Maybe things won't be so bad after all. If only she'd give him her number.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: Mentions of drugs and the sale of drugs, mentions of jail time

❊❊❊

Harry’s life sucked. Every time he tried to get on the right track, his past would come back to haunt him. He took responsibility for the things he did and he knew he deserved to have the book thrown at him. But he also knew where he came from didn’t make things easier for him. Starting at a young age he had to act like an adult and do things most people would never imagine needing to do just to get by.

Now, nearing 30, he was determined to get his shit together. If he had to step foot in another jail cell again he was going to just end it. He couldn’t handle another sentence that had him losing a job, his car, the place he was staying… Every time he got into trouble it was like he had to start over again. From scratch.

And he was always well-behaved once behind bars so he usually got out early on good behavior. But keeping out of trouble as a free man was nearly impossible. He’d be tossed out on the street once he was released but with no place to go and not a dime to his name, times were hard. He had to hustle for a dollar. And when he meant hustle, it usually involved something illegal.

Getting a job that paid well was a joke. No one wanted a convicted felon. No one would hire a man who had a criminal record. Why risk it? He sure as hell wouldn’t if he were in their shoes.

There was no program to help him reintegrate. No help for a safe spot to sleep. Shelters wouldn’t even allow him a safe haven due to his past. He had nothing. Incarceration meant drudging through, keeping his head down, and following directions. That was easy. But there was nothing easy about rebuilding his life over and over again once he was out from behind bars.

His sister wouldn’t answer his calls anymore. He’d drained that well dry. His mother had cut him off too. His cousin was a last resort, but that’s sort of how his life was these days. Everything was a last resort.

“Harry! My dude! You get out?”

He was leaning against a tall residential building in an alley with a cigarette in hand. The phone he was using was the one that he had when he got locked up, kept for him upon his release. The officer helping him fill out his release forms allowed him to charge his phone before they pushed him out the doors. How kind.

The wifi signal from the bookstore gave him access to his apps so he could make the phone call he was dreading.

“Yep. Glad to be out of there. How are you doing?” He figured he’d make some small talk before getting to the point. He didn’t want to be rude, after all.

Saul gave him the rundown of what had been going on with everyone. And then Harry learned he was engaged.

“Wow. Congrats, cousin. Proud of you. You guys living together?”

“Nah. Not until after the wedding. She’s a really good girl. Super sweet. Her whole family is. Just like, the nicest people I’ve ever met. But she doesn’t want to move in until we’re married since that looks bad to her parents,” Saul laughed. “They’re super conservative about stuff like that. They think she’s still a virgin.”

Harry humored him with a chortle through the phone and then sighed. The sun was going down. Small talk needed to come to a halt. He had to get this part over with.

“So, uh… hate to ask this but um, could you let me crash at your place for a few nights? I’ve got nowhere to go since I just got out and gonna be cold tonight. Otherwise, I’d just sleep in the park or something.”

Silence for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“Did you ask your sister? I mean I’m sure–“

“She hates me right now. Won’t take my calls. But man, look, it’s okay if you can’t. I get it.”

“You know what? Sure. You can stay here for a bit. I know shit’s hard. How you gettin’ here?”

Harry let out the breath he’d been holding in and leaned his head back into the building in relief, “Gonna walk. Literally have nothing to my name. Just my old cell phone, half charged, and this free wifi I’m using to call you. I can get there in like an hour.”

Saul told him he’d pick him up but Harry didn’t want to trouble him anymore than he had. It was already embarrassing asking for help. Plus a walk through the city would feel good. It’d been a while since he’d seen the hustle and bustle of daily life in the city.

It was late September. He was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt with boots. At least he had a beanie on his head. His cousin lived in one of those “up-and-coming” neighborhoods. Gritty but recently gentrified. His flat was two floors up. A flimsy plastic call button for the residents hung outside the reinforced glass door that opened up to a small lobby with mailboxes in the wall to the left and just beyond that, old wooden stairs that led up to each apartment.

Saul was on floor three. Harry took the stairs two at a time and the door was already open with his smiling cousin waiting for him and then a warm embrace that made Harry feel like maybe he was going to be okay. Silly as it sounded. He hadn’t been hugged in over a year. Hadn’t felt safe and relaxed in over a year.

“Ordered some pizza from this fire spot. Should be here soon. Beer?”

Harry could cry. He hadn’t had pizza or beer in over a year either. There was a lot he hadn’t had in over a year.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you, man.”

Harry followed Saul into his tiny galley kitchen and leaned against the frame of the door as he watched his cousin pull a beer from the fridge, “And thank you for everything. For this. I really mean it. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a job.”

Handing Harry his beer Saul laughed, “We’ll see. Alyssa and I might need help for the wedding next summer. Her dad wants to have the wedding at their place. They’ve got this nice house with a massive garden in the back. But they need people to help landscape and do some manual labor to get it ready. Might save us a little money if you could help. But that’s a ways off,” he waved his hand as he walked past Harry into the living room. “Don’t worry about it right now. I’ll figure out a way you can pay me back.”

. . .

A few nights turned into a few weeks. And Harry did find a job, but he’d need to save up for a while longer to be able to afford a place on his own. He figured, at least he could pay Saul for food and help pay some of the bills in the meantime.

Fortunately, the job he found paid pretty well. Unfortunately, it was illegal. It was what had gotten him thrown in jail in the first place.

Selling drugs. Mainly weed. Some shrooms, ecstasy, molly… party drugs.

He applied to 28 places. Twenty. Eight. Dishwasher, food prep, janitor, midnight stocker, busboy, fast food line cook… everything he could find from places that might take a chance on someone with a record. After a week of having Harry sleeping on his couch, Saul appeared to be getting frustrated. So, Harry did what he always did when he needed money (and who doesn’t need money?). He called Memo.

Memo always had a spot for Harry. And because he trusted Harry he gave him an advance.

The first thing Harry did with his money was buy some clothes for himself and groceries for the house. Getting rid of his supply was easy. He still had all his old contacts to sell to and with Harry’s natural charm, he was introduced to even more people who wanted some killer weed and Harry was their man.

Saul seemed to lighten up a bit when Harry began paying him cash for his part of the bills and to help cover some of the rent.

Being a drug dealer bought him time. Eventually, he’d find a better gig. He knew there were places that would hire felons, he just had to be patient. But in the meantime, doing shady shit to get by was necessary.

“So, I’m going out tonight. With Alyssa and a few others. Just going to Ray’s. You can join us if you want.”

Harry was sitting on the couch readying himself for another night in but maybe going out with his cousin for a few beers could be fun, “Anyone I know going?”

Saul shook his head, “Doubt it. It’ll be Alyssa, her little sister, and a few of our mutual friends.”

Harry figured it was better if the people that were going to be there didn’t know him. And besides, what better way to spend a Friday night as a single man? Sitting at Saul’s house was fine, but going out and meeting new people with a few beers in hand sounded a hell of a lot better.

Harry nodded, “Why not?”

. . .

Roy’s might have been an old hole in the wall, but it was a popular old hole in the wall. Harry could hear the music before they walked into the black brick building with the lighted, vintage metal sign that hung above the door.

The smell of stale cigarettes and beer hung in the dark space, a shiny lacquered bar that ran half the length of the room, high-top tables, two pool tables, and a few booths.

Alyssa nearly pummeled Saul, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek as she squealed.

“We’re just over here! Tony got us a big booth 'cause he got here early.” She pulled Saul along with her. Harry followed.

The group that came into view were two young men and two young women. He barely had a chance to take it all in before Alyssa pulled his arm, “Everyone! This is Harry, Saul’s cousin. The one we were telling you about.”

The one we were telling you about. Harry knew what that meant.

Harry smiled and nodded as he slid into the booth. It was long and easily accommodated all seven of them.

“I’m Kelin,” the man he sat next to held his hand out to Harry to shake. The one next to Kelin greeted Harry, “I’m Tony,” he turned and looked at the girl next to him, “And this is my girlfriend, Dasha.” Dasha smiled and waved at Harry.

Then as Alyssa moved into the opposite side of the booth with Saul at the end she hugged the girl next to Dasha, “And this is my little sister, Y/n.”

Some moments in time are unexplainable. Like moments when things feel like fate but you don’t believe in that sort of thing. Or like when someone is speaking a language you don’t know but you swear you understood everything they just said. Sometimes it was more like a riddle you couldn’t figure out all day only to wake up in the middle of the night from a dream with the answer.

The moment Y/n set her pretty gaze upon Harry was like that for him. Something inexplicable. Something enchanting. Almost mythical.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Harry spoke as he tried to tear his eyes from the angel called Y/n. He forced his pupils away to look at everyone else but his heart was already beginning to thump violently in his chest.

Drinks were ordered and conversation resumed to wherever it was left off before Saul and Harry’s arrival.

“So, we were discussing anything but the wedding!” Dasha laughed as Alyssa moaned exaggeratedly.

“I was only letting you guys know the theme!” Alyssa laughed.

“Girl, tonight is a night off. And the wedding isn’t for like another 8 months!”

Harry tried to focus on the conversation as he sipped his beer but he couldn’t help allowing his eyes the indulgence of Y/n’s pretty face. She had some kind of clear drink. A vodka soda maybe. And when Kelin started talking about the Halloween party he was throwing Y/n’s eyes met Harry’s again and he thought he was going to fall limp to the floor in a puddle at her feet.

He didn’t even know what her voice sounded like and he was already imagining waking up next to her in the morning and getting to see her disheveled hair and warm pajamas and soft, tired eyes. He had never had such a visceral reaction to anyone before. Ever.

Another round of drinks made its way to the table and Harry hardly spoke a word. Y/n only laughed a few times at what was being said but otherwise, she remained quiet as she sipped her drink.

He needed to talk to her. He needed to learn all about her. He wasn’t sure why it felt so important, so vital to him. But every time she looked at him his throat went dry and he searched her face for any sign that she might be feeling the same odd connection that he was feeling.

“I need a cigarette,” Y/n spoke as she looked at Alyssa, making Saul and Alyssa scoot out of the booth to let her out.

Harry tapped his fingers on the table as he watched her walk past before speaking up, “Yeah, me too.” He hopped up from the booth and jogged to catch up with his dream girl before she could push the door open.

“Allow me,” he grabbed the handle and opened the door for her.

“What a gentleman. Thank you,” she grinned teasingly at him and Harry felt his head swirl and his knees go weak. She smiled at him and he was sure he was in love at that moment.

“I try,” he chuckled as he followed her to the edge of the building before she pulled out her pack of cigarettes. Harry liked the same brand.

He pulled out his lighter and held it out as she put the filter between her lips. The flame lit the tip and then Harry put his own cigarette into his mouth and lit it.

“You have good taste,” Y/n gestured with her cigarette toward his and watched his mouth as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs.

“Guess we both do,” he blew the smoke out and it mixed with the smoke she blew out at the same time.

“Heard you recently got out of jail. Alyssa told me to keep my distance,” she laughed as she took another puff, her eyes on his.

“Yeah. Trying to keep on the straight and narrow now. Jail sucks,” he let his gaze wander over her lips and jawline and down to her neck, “I’m not that bad, though. You gonna get in trouble with your big sister for having a smoke with me?”

She snorted (which Harry found adorable and irresistible) and shook her head, “I’m an adult. She tries to act protective and tough but she knows better than to tell me what I can and can’t do. In fact,” she took a drag and lowered her gaze to Harry’s outfit and then back up to his eyes before exhaling, “When she tells me not to do something it just makes me want to do it more.”

Harry felt his face grow warm as he listened to her speak and couldn’t help the smile that took over his face, dimples winking awake in his cheeks.

“Oh shit,” she leaned into the brick and crossed an arm over her middle, one arm angled out with the cigarette propped between her two fingers, “You’ve got dimples.”

Harry ashed his stick, keeping the smile on his face, “I guess I do. Is it okay?”

Y/n laughed softly, the prettiest sound Harry had ever heard, and nodded, “Of course it’s okay. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable…” Harry repeated as he leaned his shoulder into the brick and faced Y/n, “Think I’m adorable?” He pulled his lips into his mouth, tamping his wide smile as he blushed. Yeah, he was blushing.

She reached her hand up to his shoulder-length hair to tug at a curl, “You are. Pretty curls, green eyes, dimples. I get why Alyssa didn’t want me to get mixed up with you. An adorable bad boy. Dangerous combo.”

Harry shook his head and looked down at her feet before winding his pupils up her frame to her face, “Bad boy? Nah, not really. Just made some stupid decisions.”

Y/n shrugged and pulled at her cigarette before blowing out the hot smoke, “Mmm….” She pursed her lips and squinted at him, “You’re definitely a bad boy. You kind of emanate that persona. And I bet you use those dimples to charm all the ladies.”

Harry chuckled and looked down again to give his retinas a break from her breathtaking beauty. When he looked back at her he shook his head slowly, “If anything you’re the charmer. Making me blush over here.”

She giggled and leaned her head back as she looked up into the sky. Harry was not going to be getting over her laugh. He knew he’d be dreaming about it too.

“I’m just honest is all. Not particularly charming I don’t think.”

Harry shook his head and pointed at her, “No. You are definitely charming. Sweeping me right off my feet.”

“Oh, I am? Falling for me already, Harry?” She smirked at him and turned her body to face his, mimicking his stance.

Was it too soon for him to fall for her? Yes. But Harry was never one to play by usual timelines. He grinned and licked his lips, “Be bad if I said I was?”

She puffed out a laugh, “Probably would be bad. You don’t even know me. I’m really not all that great. Lots of issues. Very unstable,” she laughed as she gestured at her head and then wrapped her lips around the filter to inhale.

“If that’s the case, then you’re just that much cuter,” Harry parted his lips to place the cigarette between them as he kept his eyes on hers.

She bit her lip and turned to look out into the street, “You gonna go to the Halloween party next week?”

Harry shook his head, “Probably not. Wasn’t invited. Don’t like to dress up for shit like that anyway.”

“Hmm… If you go I’ll go,” she turned to look at him and raised her brows.

Harry stitched his brows together and tilted his head, “Are you serious?”

She nodded, “Sure. Why not. Wasn’t planning on going either but I will if you do.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and grinned, “Still wasn’t invited, though. We’ll see.”

Y/n tossed her butt down to the ground and stepped over the tip to crunch out the burning end, “Probably should get back in there. Alyssa’s gonna think we’ve run off together. That’d really get her going.”

Harry chuckled and followed suit with his own cigarette and nodded before following her back to the booth in the bar.

This time, as luck would have it, Harry scooted into his original spot and Y/n sat down next to him at the end.

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke,” Alyssa frowned at Y/n and Harry leaned forward to put his elbows on the table as he turned to look at Y/n’s profile. She was certainly stunning.

Y/n shook her head and looked at Dasha, “Will you pass my drink down?”

Harry looked down at his lukewarm beer and pushed himself into the seat, his back hitting the vinyl cushion behind him before turning his head to watch as Y/n drank from her glass.

Everyone at the table resumed their conversation but both Harry and Y/n were thinking about the way their thighs were pressed together and how warm it felt. How nice it was.

“You’re staring,” she whispered with a grin as she set her glass down on the table and turned slightly to see the limn of his outline in her peripheral.

He grinned as he leaned his shoulder into hers as he spoke quietly, “Can’t help it.”

Harry tried to be as subtle as possible with everyone around but his skin was tingling in delight any time she shifted to pick up her glass her thigh ran against the stretch of his jeans. He regretted that he couldn’t stare into her beautiful eyes but he loved her nearness. The smell of her perfume and her shampoo.

“So, Harry,” Tony spoke up, “What do you do for fun?”

Harry was caught off guard. He’d been far too focused on the girl next to him that he nearly forgot he might need to participate in a conversation.

He laughed and looked at Saul and then to Tony, “I like music a lot. Um… reading. I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“He used to be in a band. Plays guitar and sings. He can play almost any instrument actually,“ Saul chimed in.

Harry rolled his eyes when everyone began to ask questions. He didn’t enjoy talking about himself because then that wound up leading to discussing his time in jail. Thankfully no one brought it up, though he was sure everyone already knew anyway. Saul wasn’t exactly discreet.

When the bill was paid after everyone threw down some cash, Y/n slid out of the booth with Harry right behind her, “Can I have your number?” He spoke so only she could hear as he brushed his fingers against hers.

She stopped and turned toward him, a mischievous grin on her face, “I’ll give you my number if you come to the party next weekend.”

Everyone began to walk to the door and Y/n turned to leave but Harry wasn’t done. He felt his heart walloping in his chest as he hastened his steps after her, pulling at her hand as stealthily as possible, “I can’t just crash a party I wasn’t invited to.”

When they stepped outside Y/n moved to the side to let everyone walk past and she looked up at Harry, “If you don’t come then you don’t get my number. It’s up to you.”

Harry swallowed as he looked down at the pretty girl in amazement, “Fine. I’ll be there.”

She smiled sweetly and raised her hand to poke at his dimple, “I know you will.”

NEXT PART (link goes to Patreon)

I hope you enjoyed part 1! This is the only part I'll be posting on Tumblr. If you want more check out my Patreon 💕

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[stxrsniolo]

ㅤ ㅤ⛧ㅤㅤ͏͏͏REBOUND ↷ HOCKEY PLAYER!MATT

𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖲 ❜ y/n, forced into journalism club for credits, gets assigned to interview matt for a big hockey game. she finds him naked in the showers post-practice, sparking a tense, defiant clash.

𝖥𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 › ㅤFROSTBITE!READER

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 › ㅤNO WARNINGS

CHARACTER AI BOT › ㅤCOMING SOON

the campus was a patchwork of red-brick buildings and skeletal trees, their leaves bleeding crimson and gold under a graying autumn sky. the air bites, carrying the crisp scent of frost and the distant clatter of pucks from the campus rink, a hulking arena of concrete and glass that looms at the edge of the quad.

y/n trudges across the frost-dusted grass, boots crunching, a knit beanie pulled low over her hair, an oversized sweater swallowing her frame. her notebook, clutched tight, is her armor, filled with lecture notes and doodles, her pen tapping a restless rhythm against its cover. she’s pissed, her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowed, summoned to an admin office for a lecture she didn’t sign up for.

inside the office, a claustrophobic box of peeling paint and fluorescent hum, ms. carver, a wiry woman in her fifties with a clipboard and a perm, sits behind a cluttered desk, her glasses perched low, her voice sharp as a skate blade.

“y/n, your academic record is impeccable: straight as, glowing professors’ reviews... but you’re neglecting blackthorn’s legacy,” she says, her tone clipped, flipping through a file with y/n’s name. “no sports team, no clubs, nothing to show community engagement. you need extracurricular credits to graduate. it’s mandatory.”

y/n slouches in the creaky chair, her boots scuffing the linoleum, her arms crossed, her beanie itching. “i’m fine without clubs,” she says, her voice low, defiant, her eyes flicking to the window, where students hustle through the cold. “i’m here to study, not play cheerleader.”

carver’s lips thin, her pen tapping the desk, a metronome of authority. “you don’t have a choice. join a club by friday, or we’ll assign you one, maybe figure skating.” her smile is tight, a jab at y/n’s past, though she doesn’t know it.

y/n bites her cheek, her options narrowing, and mutters, “fine. journalism club. i write decently.” carver nods, jotting a note, dismissing her with a flick of her hand, the air heavy with bureaucracy and unspoken threats.

the journalism club meets in a basement room in the english building, a cramped space smelling of burnt coffee, ink, and dusty newspapers. the walls are plastered with old issues of the blackthorn chronicle, yellowing headlines about hockey wins and campus protests.

lila, the senior editor, a wiry girl with purple hair and a nose ring, lounges at a table littered with laptops and empty chip bags, her voice lazy but sharp.

“welcome, newbies,” she says, eyeing y/n and two freshmen, her boots propped on a chair. “we’re short-staffed, so you’re all in. y/n, right? heard you’re a brainiac.” her grin is sly, like she knows something y/n doesn’t.

the room buzzes—six club members, typing, arguing over headlines, passing around a thermos of spiked coffee.

y/n stands at the edge, her notebook tight, her beanie low, her voice flat as she introduces herself. “y/n, history major, here because i have to be.”

the others nod, unimpressed, but lila’s eyes glint, predatory. “perfect. first assignment: interview matt, the hockey team’s defenseman. big game against st. lawrence in two days. he’s a beast, but he hates reporters, so… good luck.”

the room snickers, a low ripple of amusement, and y/n’s stomach twists, her pen stilling.

matt, the “butcher,” is infamous: a junior, boston-bred, a defenseman whose hits leave blood on the ice, his temper as sharp as his skates, his interviews nonexistent. lila’s smirk says it’s no accident; they’re tossing y/n to a lion, a hazing disguised as a task.

y/n spends the meeting silent, her pen scratching notes—matt’s stats, his game highlights, questions she knows he’ll dodge.

the club’s chaos swirls around her: lila barks edits, a freshman spills coffee, someone argues about font sizes. y/n’s mind drifts to the rink, her old sanctuary, now a place she haunts from the bleachers, watching matt’s brutal plays, never skating, her knee a quiet ache. she leaves early, her boots loud on the stairs, her assignment a weight in her bag, her destination the rink to track matt down.

blackthorn’s arena is a cavern of cold, the ice gleaming under dim lights, the air thick with the metallic tang of frost and the faint sweat of practice; it’s empty now, the team gone, the zamboni’s hum a distant memory.

y/n’s boots echo as she climbs the bleachers, her usual third-row spot vacant, her heart thudding—not from nerves, but from the ice, its pull and its pain, a ghost she can’t shake. she’s here for matt, told he’s lingering post-practice, probably licking wounds from a brutal session. the locker room is quiet, but a hiss of water draws her to the showers, a tiled alcove behind the lockers, steam curling like fog, the air heavy with soap and heat.

she pauses, her notebook gripped, her pen tapping her thigh, her beanie damp from the steam.

“matt?” she calls, her voice steady but soft, echoing off the tiles, unanswered except by the water’s drone. she steps closer, her boots squeaking, her sweater clinging, and peers through the haze.

there’s matt, alone under a showerhead, his back to her, water streaming down his broad, scarred shoulders, his dark hair slick, his muscles taut, his towel slung on a bench, his clothes nowhere. he’s a statue of power, scars from rink fights crisscrossing his back, his body unapologetic, raw.

“you’re naked, aren’t you?” y/n says, her voice dry, a mix of irritation and amusement, leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed, refusing to blush. she’s faced worse—hospital gowns, surgeons, her own broken body—but this is bold, reckless, her pulse quickening, not from him but from the rink’s shadow.

matt freezes, his head turning, his stormy blue eyes cutting through the steam, his jaw tight, a smirk twitching his lips. “fuckin’ sharp, bleacher girl,” he says, his accent thick, his voice rough from barking orders on the ice, not bothering to cover himself, water dripping from his hair, his body bare and defiant. “what’s your deal? stalkin’ me now?” he shuts off the shower, grabbing his towel, wrapping it low on his hips, his movements slow, deliberate, like a predator sizing her up.

“journalism club,” y/n says, holding up her notebook, her eyes steady, ignoring his taunt—she knows he’s clocked her in the bleachers, watching, never skating. “they sent me to interview you for the st. lawrence game. you’re not gonna play nice, are you?” her tone’s sharp, matching his, her boots planted, her beanie slipping, her heart racing, the rink’s cold seeping into her bones, her past a whisper she buries.

matt snorts, stepping closer, the towel loose, water beading on his chest, his eyes narrowing, all menace and curiosity.

“i don’t do interviews,” he says, his voice low, a challenge, his presence overwhelming, raw power in every step. “you’re wastin’ your breath, sweetheart.” he brushes past her, his shoulder grazing hers, his scent—soap, sweat, ice—hitting her like a shot, his smirk daring her to push.

y/n doesn’t flinch, pivoting to follow, her boots loud on the tiles, her pen tapping her notebook. “call me sweetheart again, and i’ll write you as a has-been thug,” she says, her voice cool, her eyes locked on his, unafraid, her defiance a shield, her trauma a shadow she won’t let slip. “ten minutes, matt. or i’ll make shit up and print it. your call, butcher.”

her words bite, her stance firm, the rink’s chill wrapping them, the interview a battlefield neither plans to lose.

© stxrsniolo ▪︎ no copying, translation, or plagiarism authorized.

[waitlexist]

MY TURNNNNN 😃😃

How does your OC customize Ramshackle, if they do at all? How do they cope with the state it's in when they first arrive?

Is there anyone your OC sees as family?

What chapter does your OC experience the most character growth, if any?

Are there any characters your OC absolutely does not get along with?

Has your OC ever been sent to Crowley's office for their (mis)conduct in class/on school grounds?

What's your OC's best memory since coming to NRC?

Has your OC ever been blackmailed? Or do they do the blackmailing?

Did they know about the plan to make Ramshackle a second Mostro Lounge location? How did they feel about it? If they didn't know, how did they react afterwards?

What's a hidden talent they have?

How competitive is your OC? How easy is it to rile them up?

Have they ever tasted Lilia's cooking. Did. Did they like it?

Do they stim? What are they and what triggers it? How much do they mask?

If they could go back in time and talk to themselves, what age would they want to talk to? What would they say?

Heheheh you can write as much as you want!! Take your time if you need some! And if you don't have any answers for some questions, it's fine!

taking eighteen days to reply to this:

some of these were answered here and here !

- “Are there any characters your OC absolutely does not get along with?”

Luna HATES Leona. Mostly. He reminds her of herself and it makes her upset and she does not want to relive the feeling of being stuck in a position with no control.

Luna does like Rook— but instinctively she is terrified of him— he has a bow? She died to one of those(she had a panic attack when he “delivers” the SDC tryout information…)! So most people mistake that for dislike, but they get along quite well when not speaking face to face!

Otherwise, she has minor dislikes for a few people, but those all fade FAST.

A. Ruggie, but as soon as she learns he’s a street kid too, dislike immediately shifts into respect.

B. Silver, ONLY when he’s being a baby in Book 7(vague for no spoiler reasons+). Like, dude. You won the orphan lottery.

C. THAT FUCKING OCTOPUS THAT I HATE (related video)

D. Ace, but only through prologue, really

E. Ortho— but only because she has no clue what technology is??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE HAS NO BONES??? +

- “Has your OC ever been sent to Crowley’s office for their (mis)conduct in class/on school grounds?”

IT WAS ACE’S FAULT NOT HERS +

^ 90% of the reason she gets sent to the office. Other 10% is to fix another overblot +++

- “Has your OC ever been blackmailed? Or do they do the blackmailing?”

A. Nope!

B. NRC/post NRC? Nope! Pre-NRC…? Ahahhhhhhhhh…. Yeah, no, Luna was a bitch in her old world. If she caught any gossip about any noble and found out it was true? She’d blackmail them just to watch them squirm. Money? No, she doesn’t need money, or companionship, or anything, really— just amusement. <- villainess ahh behavior

- “Did they know about the plan to make Ramshackle a second Mostro Lounge location? How did they feel about it? If they didn’t, how did they react afterwards?”

Luna wasn’t friends with/didn’t know Azul at this point, at MOST she MIGHT know Jade from looking into the Mountain Lovers club— so, she had no clue.

Mostly, she’s annoyed— she never would give up Ramshackle if it wasn’t for Adeuce and Grim. Business is business, though, even if it pisses her off, and Luna can respect the hustle. So, basically— she’s most mad at Adeuce and Grim for being dummies!

- “What’s a hidden talent they have?”

OOH THIS IS A HARD ONE… I think beast taming! More so than other fairies in her kind, Luna gets along quite well with animals. As a kid, she used to sneak into the forest and full on Disney princess it— similar to Silver! Although she’s also able to recruit larger animals— baby Luna’s dream was to have a pet owlbear(owl-bear animal hybrid)or catonis(cat-dragon animal hybrid).

Or maybe her magic, since she keeps it secret(or discreet, for better wording) up until Book 4-5ish. But she’s not very good with it up until then, so I wouldn’t count it. As always, she’s good at sewing and gardening, but Luna makes those obvious.

Perhaps masking her emotions? She’s good at pretending to be “normal”.

- “How competitive is your OC? Is it easy to rile them up?”

A. Luna can be very competitive when it comes to friendly sparring, battles of strength, video games!

B. It’s VERY easy to rile her up if you know where to hit. Insult her “exoticness”, sewing skills, fashion choices, or other people. Insulting her close friends or family is a one way ticket to the bottom of her list, and it’s very hard to come back from that.

- “Have they ever tasted Lilia’s cooking? Did. Did they like it?”

It probably doesn’t happen canon wise until post book 7. BUT in events and vignettes and such—

She has eaten Lilia’s cooking! She ate it with a smile.

Once being a starving orphan, Luna won’t complain about food. Food is food. She will eat literal dog food(or worse, in this case).

No, she most certainly didn’t like it, but she won’t complain about free food.

- “Do they stim? What are they and what triggers it? How much do they mask it?”

LUNA IS BASED OFF OF ME SO LITERALLY YES.

She becomes INSUFFERABLE once introduced to pop culture/memes.

“Uhm, excuse me, what the actual fuck?”

“That fucking bird that I hate…”

She represses a lot of them, though! She’s only comfortable really being herself around a select few(and for once, Riddle and Azul are not included— she can’t embarrass herself in front of them when she stims this…)(all of the first years + Idia + Floyd are the ones she feels comfortable enough to do this kind of stuff around! Especially Epel!appleblossom…)

I really hope among us doesn’t exist in Twisted Wonderland because I still giggle when I see a suspiciously shaped trash can

ANGST WARNING!!!

- “If they could go back in time and talk to themselves, what age would they want to talk to? What would they say?”

Any age from 5-14.

“You’re perfect, and I love you. You’re doing so well.”

[witchygirlaud21]

Modern/normal Highschool au headcanons for one piece part two

Brook: music teacher OBVI but he’s like the old teacher who had a really good career and then got bored of retirement so went into teaching. He’ll talk to the class about his glory days.

Jinbei: (I’m not post time skip so this prob isn’t that accurate) he’s a philosophy teacher. He went to a really good school and had a really good career but decided that he just wanted to be a teacher. His students think his class is fun but it’s not an easy A class so a bunch of kids go into it thinking it’s a goof off class and then talk bad about it because it’s not.

Koby: in the ROTC or JROTC. Used to get bullied a lot but then Luffy transferred and fought the bullies so now he doesn’t get bullied anymore. Wants to be a police officer or work in the military because he wants to help people the way Luffy helped him.

Ivankov: theatre teacher who has favorites but the favorites are actually talented. Doesn’t cast based on gender or specific looks which is why a lot of students like them. Also doesn’t cast based on seniority.

Garp: P.E coach health teacher on the side AND helps out with ROTC. Students either hate him or love him. He cares but he uses tough love so a lot of people think he doesn’t care. In kahoots with the principal so if you mess up with him you mess up bad.

BONUS FOR THE LAST POST BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF MORE

Sanji: smokes cigarettes instead of vaping because he thinks it makes him look cool but it just smells bad.

Nami: has a gazillion side jobs in school and out of school. She’ll hustle you in 7th period and then when you walk to the McDonald’s afterschool she’s at the drive through. Like that one chick from Austin and ally (idk her name) gets fired a lot though because she and her friends cause trouble while she’s working.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Misaki: Fuck the Blues

Also Misaki: *Ends up in a polyamorous relationship with the Blue King, the Heartless Woman, and Homra’s Traitor (post ROK)*

(No one, least of all him, knows how he pulled this off XD)

No one realized that when Yata said ‘fuck the Blues’ that was actually a request XD I imagine this starts with him getting closer to Fushimi post-ROK, unaware that Fushimi has a polyamorous thing going on with his bosses. Yata has a crush on Fushimi and has been trying to think of a way to admit it, maybe he tries to non-subtly ask if Fushimi’s dating anyone (not like Saruhiko would ever date anyone though, or at least Yata thinks). Fushimi considers and then clicks his tongue and says ‘something like that,’ Yata’s all wait what does that mean. Fushimi shrugs and changes the subject, unaware that Yata is now spiraling trying to figure out who Fushimi could be dating. He gets his answer one day when he decides to stop by S4 later in the evening, having spontaneously decided to ask Fushimi out for drinks. The office is largely empty, the squad all off duty or out on patrol, and Yata ends up accidentally walking into a conference room just in time to see Fushimi, Munakata and Awashima all in a three way makeout session. 

Yata’s immediate thought is that Munakata is definitely preying on Fushimi’s innocence (like he has any),  meanwhile Fushimi is like quietly having a complex over Yata catching him. Munakata swiftly takes charge and hustles Yata into his office while Awashima calms Fushimi down. Once Yata stops yelling Munakata is able to explain the nature of their relationship and assure Yata that no one is taking advantage of Fushimi. Yata’s suspicious because he doesn’t trust the Blue King but Munakata urges him to talk to Fushimi about it, he is an important friend to Fushimi after all and Fushimi would be upset if Yata chose to treat him poorly over this. Yata’s like why the fuck would I do that, deciding to go talk to Fushimi. Before he leaves though Munakata makes a sidelong comment that Yata would also ‘be welcome anytime’ if it’s something Fushimi wants, and Yata is like what’s that supposed to mean. 

Yata does talk to Fushimi and gets a vague version of the story, that Fushimi is in a relationship with both his superiors and it’s fine, no one’s taking advantage of anyone. Yata ends up admitting that he was more upset because he’s actually in love with Fushimi, trying to pass it off as a silly thing, but Fushimi’s just struck when Yata says that. As it turns out he’s in love with Yata too but he also has feelings for Awashima and Munakata, and Yata doesn’t want to make Fushimi choose. And that’s how Yata suddenly ends up in a relationship with all the top three of Scepter 4 and he’s not even sure how it happened, like it started with him just dating Fushimi on the side and then he got pulled into the threesome and now he’s in their weird polycule with a trio who two years ago he would have sworn he hated.

[dei-lab-assistant]

Nothing Builds a Friendship Like a Crisis (part 3)

Co-written with multifandoms27 Summary: Kaiba hired you to assist Mokuba as he performed his monthly inspection of the local, Domino City branch of Kaiba Land. Unfortunately, Mokuba was kidnapped before your eyes, and now there's nothing left to do but talk to Kaiba about what happened. Dub canon plus a version of DSOD. Female Reader. Set maybe two years post DSOD. Fun fact: I always write my Reader character with personality and specific description. Each reader character also has a specific place in the Yu-Gi-Oh world, and is basically an OC with set connections and feelings about the various canon characters and other reader characters. This is reader B, who is immune to the siren song of romance, cheap, eccentric, logical, and hands-on. Word count: 2,217 You can read part 1 here. You can read part 2 here. The next minutes were a blur of worrying about Mokuba, security men asking questions, and being hustled through staff-only sections of the park. After the third round of debriefing, in the second nondescript meeting room, you wished with all your heart there was a way to help instead of repeating yourself to various Kaiba Corp employees. But there was nothing you could do. You had helplessly watched as men kidnapped Mokuba, and nothing had changed since then—you were still unable to act, stuck in a state of frustration, failure, and misery. By the time you were brought to Kaiba’s office, you braced yourself for his anger. It was almost welcome. If one more soft spoken individual kindly told you everything would be alright, the situation was under control, but would you mind answering a few questions… You hated being lied to, and all the comforting fabrications from total strangers were grating on your frayed nerves.

As the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath. You imagined running away. Each step towards Kaiba felt like a bad idea. Since the plush green carpet ate up the sound of your footsteps, the room was silent but for the urgent clacking of the keyboard as the company president steadfastly ignored you. It had been a long time since you had been here—and back then, Mokuba was filling in as the company president. Another step. Behind Kaiba, light flooded in from the windows making up the entire back wall of the office. Step again. Nestled up against the left wall was a table with a detailed model of Kaiba Land, which you remembered Mokuba showing you the night you had been here last. Step. You couldn’t think about Mokuba now. Step. You needed to stay focused, present, involved. You reached the desk. Kaiba had his laptop out beside his desktop monitor, switching back and forth between the two machines. He never looked up from his screens. You hated to interrupt, so for over a minute You stood in silence, watching his fingers fly over the keys. But if he told his men to bring you here, he must have wanted to see you, or at least chew you out. “You wanted to talk to me?” “In a moment.” Kaiba kept his eyes buried in his monitor, as you took a wider stance and clasped your hands behind your back. Eventually, he asked, “How do you feel?” What?! You thought you could count on Kaiba to not ask about your emotions—they weren’t something you wanted to talk about. “Worried. Guilty.” At last, Kaiba looked up in exasperation, “I meant physically. You were drugged, after all.” “I feel… well enough. What do you mean, ‘I was drugged?’” Kaiba reached into a cardboard box perched on the corner of his desk, and pulled out a clear plastic cup containing neon green liquid. He all but slammed the cup down on the polished wood, “Lab results show trace amounts of an expensive medical concoction in your drink.”  “But… how? When could someone have slipped drugs into my slushy?” “This was from Bishop?” You nodded. “Yeah, and I didn’t set it down until after Mokuba left. So there’s no way anyone could have—” “I don’t have time for your naivete. Bishop drugged you.” “Wha—Why? He was always so nice to me….” Your mind reeled. No one had ever betrayed you before, but it was the simplest explanation. And you had seen three men leave the tunnel and fly off in the helicopter. “I’m sure he wanted two of the guards to stay behind with you.” Kaiba had resumed typing, although he was moving slower now, giving half his attention to you. “Kaiba, I’m really sorry. I should have stayed with Mokuba—” “And what would you have done? Got yourself shot like the other guard with my brother?” “Shot?!”

Kaiba glanced at you, “Consider yourself lucky Bishop only drugged you.” “Is he dead?” “No, but he’s in the hospital.” Kaiba almost sounded, for a fraction of a second, like he regretted his employee being in such a state. But he kept working, acting like the conversation was a secondary concern. “How did Bishop stop the roller coaster?” Your mind had been mulling over the question of stopping the cars ever since the incident.  “He carried a localized field which blocked power to the brakes and triggered their failsafe, causing them to lock up until Bishop left the area.” “That’s impossible. You can’t dampen electricity like that. An EMP might have knocked the power offline, but then the cars would have been stuck there.” “It’s possible. My stepfather sold designs for such a device to the military.” You crossed your arms, “Fine, but no one would have access to those designs, much less the device itself.” “Despite my efforts, there’s still old Kaiba Corp tech scattered across the globe, and not exclusively in the US military.” “Seriously?” You supposed even Kaiba couldn’t always buy his way out of other men’s contracts. “But in this case,” Kaiba switched to his laptop, “an unauthorized individual accessed those files internally. Probably Bishop.” “He’s a hacker?” “Or his boss is, and Bishop followed his instructions in order to steal the plans, as well as several other, more recent files related to Solid Vision.” “I would have thought that was impossible too.” “Almost impossible. The bypass was impressive. I’ve been rebuilding the system’s security protocols from scratch this week, but the damage was already done.” Silence fell again, and you wondered if the conversation was over. You were tired. Shoving your hands into your pockets, you asked, “Am I still going to need to talk to the police after this?”  “Why would you talk to the police?” Kaiba stopped typing and stared at you with genuine curiosity. “Because I watched your little brother get kidnapped!” “I know, but what do the police have to do with it?” “Well, yeah, okay, it’s probably the FBI’s job, and not the local police, but you know what I mean.” You were rarely sarcastic, but there was no reason for Kaiba to be so pedantic. To your surprise, Kaiba stopped typing, leaned forward on his elbows, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I thought Mokuba explained our situation to you.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were more confused than angry. Kaiba sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard the super rich can do whatever they want?” “Yeah, but I’ve never believed it.” “It would be more accurate to say we can do whatever we want, to those in our league.” You stared blankly.

“If a corporation kidnapped a random child, the government would intervene on behalf of the kid, but they won’t interfere with something like this. I’m expected to use my own resources to rescue Mokuba, or take revenge on his kidnappers—whatever I want, so long as the perpetrator is playing the same game. And of course, there’s always the possibility for further retaliation from the other side.” You grasped desperately for words. “This is…” Kaiba had ripped aside the curtain, revealing a view of the world you were never supposed to see. “Where does this leave someone like me?” “Employees of Kaiba Corp are under my protection. Any of my rivals who bothered or harmed my people would know to expect retribution. And of course, we’re careful not to harm unrelated… civilians.” Kaiba paused, as though questioning his choice of words, then continued. “If someone like Pegasus grievously hurt one of your sisters, then the government might get involved, and the whole thing could drag out in a multi-year legal battle. No one wants that.” “And where do I fit into this?” It felt like you had tumbled into a dangerous world running parallel to your own. “You?” Kaiba leaned back in his chair, “Right now, you’re an edge case. Although your decisions today will plant you squarely in, or out, of the game.”   You wondered what decisions Kaiba was talking about, but didn’t feel ready to ask about them. “So, why would Bishop do something like this? Shouldn’t he be on your team?” “Until last year, Bishop worked for Knightly Rook. When he applied here, he said he didn’t respect his boss, and wanted to work for someone with real power. But now, I know he never left his previous employer.” Kaiba smirked, “The man will regret crossing me.” “Knightly Rook kidnapped Mokuba? Why on earth would they do that?” “The company has been pestering me to meet with their president for months now. Apparently, they won’t accept that I refuse to collaborate with talentless hacks.” “And their president thought kidnapping Mokuba would enable him to win you over? The man is a moron.” “He thinks he can use this to prove he’s better than me.” Kaiba aggressively struck a few keys on his keyboard and swung around his desktop monitor to show a paused video. A graying redhead with a roguish grin and playful green eyes stared out of the screen—the president of Knightly Rook, Reginald O’Malley. Wearing a silky black shirt and perfectly tailored matching suit, the man looked more professional than Kaiba; and his mahogany tie and cane added an extra smidge of respectability. As the video resumed, the camera slowly zoomed in on his face. “I tried to play nice, Mr. Kaiba, I really did. We could have built something grand together.” From behind his desk, Kaiba snorted at the assertion.

“Alas, I could handle your refusals,” the video continued, “but your spurious claims that my company is nothing but pathetic puffery were an affront to my pride, sir.” Twirling his cane with practiced ease, the man continued. “And as you can see, I’m ready to challenge you, to show the world it is Seto Kaiba who should be pitied, as I rip from your inhospitable grip everything you hold dear.” You had heard O‘Malley many times, but never like this—with menace lurking behind each cheerfully delivered word. Although as his threat grew more obvious, some of the cheeriness fell away. “But of course, I propose a fair match, Mr. Kaiba, me and my Queen, against you and yours.” O’Malley switched to a mocking tone, “And worry not, I am aware you are a pathetic man, who has never known the sweet joys of a female companion, but I speak metaphorically.”  You and Kaiba shared an annoyed look at the assertion of singleness being equal to patheticness.  The video continued, “I am the black king, you are the white king, and each of us shall bring our strongest piece with us into symbolic battle via your favorite game. The stakes are high, and poor, young Mokuba awaits his dear older brother.” O’Malley chuckled, “The black king has made the first move, what will you do next, Mr. Kaiba?” Kaiba paused the video and rotated his screen back to its usual position as you asked, “I thought white always made the first move in Chess?” “Correct. But apparently he overlooked that detail when composing his speech.” Kaiba crossed his arms. “Will you be my tag-duel partner against this imbecile?” You were caught off guard by Kaiba’s question, delivered without preamble, “Shouldn’t you ask Yugi to be your partner for this duel?” An image of Mokuba suffering because you lost surfaced in your imagination, only to be ruthlessly shoved away; you needed to stay focused on the conversation. Kaiba stared at the top of his desk, “Yugi’s in New York, and we’re on the clock.” The last time you had agreed to help Kaiba, the two of you had ended up scrubbing floors in Pegasus’s castle, which felt like nothing compared to what was at stake today—Mokuba’s safety. “Why choose me?” You trusted Kaiba to give you an honest answer. “I’m not the strongest duelist around.” “You care about Mokuba almost as much as I do.” Kaiba’s mask of impassivity slipped, an almost childish desperation in his eyes. “And I trust you.” Having tasted betrayal for the first time today, you understood the value of his declaration. Your mind splintered into factions, wanting to accept his offer, arguing other candidates would be a better choice than you, screaming to take action, whispering that joining Kaiba on this venture could cost you a great deal—your privacy and anonymity, your safety, your right to be excluded from these power games. But your friend was asking for help, and your almost-a-little-brother needed you to rescue him. The seconds of confusion ended. You planted your hands on the edge of the desk and leaned towards Kaiba. “I’m in. But not as an employee, or a subordinate. As friends. Equals.” Kaiba stared into your eyes, as though seeking your resolve. “Very well.” “Also, you know that outfit you had made for me last year that matched yours? I wore it to Pegasus’s party to help you try and win a bet?” “Of course.” “Do you still have that? ‘Cause if we’re gonna play this guy’s stupid game, I want to lean into the aesthetic while we trounce him.” A smile tugged at the edges of Kaiba’s mouth. “I’ll see what I can do. Here.” Reaching into the cardboard box again, he handed you the deck box you had left in a locker back at Kaiba Land. “You’ll need this.” Part 4 ______ Want to try something slightly different? Check out my reader-insert masterlist.

[astrologicaldiary]

Reviewing my solar return chart 2023

Scorpio Rising

This year was a transformative year for me . I really had to work on personal things especially surrounding family. I got more into astrology and tarot, and also in some spells. I was wearing and buying a lot of black clothes. If I wasn’t working in the office , I would have some piercings and tattoos. And since Mars also rule Scorpio, I was in a car accident which I had a big settlement on.

Pluto in 4th house (Aquarius)

This one was tough, I had some family drama. I even shared a secret which left me to not support or trust my family as a whole especially a parent of mine . This was when I moved out which is against my culture. My culture think a woman should only moved out when she’s marry….And I don’t agree with that bs, and I’m a rebel . This was a huge shift for me …

Saturn and Neptune in 5th house (Pisces)

Definitely delay in dating and creativity. I created a YouTube and TikTok to create content and hope that I can do it as a side hustle. That shit didn’t work out …. I really didn’t date like that , but I wasn’t playing about my standards.

Chiron in 6th house (Aries)

One of my parent has Aries placements, so there are definitely a clash in our relationship. Plus , I hated doing chores and having a healthy routine. Plus my best friend is a Aries rising . So she would come to my place and help me clean a little but of course she was cursing me out to clean this and that ! I mean she was right but I’m a Taurus rising. Don’t tell me what to do 😂. Plus going to work was just a drag , I even tried to apply for new jobs that just didn’t work out ….

Uranus, mercury, north node and Jupiter in 7 house (Taurus )

I really disappointed in this placement! Y’all told me that if you have this placement, you could get in a relationship, which wasn’t true at all ! I had some connections with other people in some group therapy…. Ooohhhhh, my descendant is in this house . So I was connected with people who have went through some harsh trauma. But they aren’t friends though. I wish I had a lover, yea I didn’t have a lot of connections going on…

Sun in the 8th house (Gemini)

Definitely I wish interested in occult and some witchcraft…. Plus , I felt happy or sane when I researched on astrology, numerology and other taboos stuffs. I had some refunds from school too.

Venus in 9th house (cancer )

This one I’m a little confused. I didn’t have no romance from school or another country. I did good in my school, even though I feel like it took up most of my time . I was aware about any international news. And I was cooking a lot 😂

Moon, MC and mars in 10th house (Leo)

I’m not going to spend so much on it. I spoke about another post. I really was yearning for creative career, and it just didn’t work out….

[onestormeynight]

Meeting The Canales

It was one of those rare days where everyone's schedules aligned and Rosie took the opportunity to take the twins to Oasis Springs to meet their grandfather, uncle and aunt. Rosie was nervous about how Ellie would treat them, but she steeled herself to follow through. Despite her efforts, Ellie just wasn't interested in a relationship with her except on the most surface of terms. Rosie suspected that if Ellie didn't adore Penny, she herself would not have been tolerated.

Uncle Sam, however, was more than happy to meet the girls now that they could properly remember him. He wiped at his nose and sniffed, hoping no one would notice.

"Hey Nellie, Ida," He said, nodding to each one.

"You got it backwards," Nellie said. "I'm Ida."

"I'm Nellie," Ida said.

"You're both tiny liars," Sam laughed. "I've known you your whole lives, I can tell the difference."

"Drat!" Nellie said.

"Come on, munchkins," he said ushering them towards the playground.

Rosie greeted her brother with a quick kiss on the cheek as he took her girls over to the space ship to play. Ellie gave him a judging look over her glasses as he went past.

"It's so good to see you," She said, grabbing Ellie's attention back. "It's been so long."

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Ellie said.

"Ellie," Ricky hissed. She rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"And how are you, Rosalie?"

"I'm good," She answered, slightly nervous now. "How have you guys been? How's school and work?"

"It's like, fine, or whatever." Ellie pulled her phone out and started typing away to someone.

"Things are going well," Ricky said, taking over the conversation. "I got the corner office I wanted last week."

"To our left, General!" Ida shouted to Nellie.

"That's your right, Captain!"

"No, that's left."

Sam jumped up with a roar and both girls screamed in glee. He pretended to shear off part of their ship and hustled off to "hide" in the bushes while they repaired. Captain Ida left her post to brave the outside of the ship, repairing the arm that held one of their engines.

"Oh, you don't really play chess?" Rosie said. "That's okay, I can teach you. I learned from my Grandfather Darion."

Ellie made a choking kind of laughing sound. "Um, like, okay? This is like, nerd shit, though."

"It's actually really good for your brain. I play with Sam when we hang out, too."

"Yeah. He's a nerd."

Rosie dropped her cheery demeanor. Minding the mean streak her husband and mother so recently pointed out to her, she stayed firm but without malice. Very calmly she moved one of her pieces.

"You don't like me," she said.

Ellie looked stunned to be called out so directly. "You're just not my vibe," she offered.

"That wasn't a question. You don't like me."

"Fine. You're right. I don't like you."

"Can you even give me a valid reason or is this your mother still talking?"

"Her reasons are valid. You more than likely are not Dad's. You're not my sister. You and your mother just wanted their relationship to fail and you got what you wanted."

"So," Rosie said, sitting back. "To be just perfectly clear, it's me and my mother's fault your mom decided to pick up strange and throw her marriage out the window? It's our fault that she said with her own mouth she hated being a mother and wife?"

Ellie paled under the bright sun. Clearly, Ricky had never given her the full story. Why would he? She wasn't an adult. It was complicated and heavy stuff. There was a way her body language changed, like Rosie had found the soft spot in her armour.

"Oh, I see. Well, I will say, that was really kind of Dad to spare you from," Rosie continued. "But, since we're having a heart to heart, I'll tell you. Your mother abandoned Sam because she didn't want the responsibility. My guess is that she favored you while you were small and malleable, but now that you have your own mind, she doesn't like you quite so much. She liked having a doll, she does not like having a daughter. Did I get that about right?" She looked her sister up and down. "Yeah. I think I did. One last thing, Ellie. It's fine if you want to be a heinous bitch to me, but if I see so much as a fucking sneer in my children's direction..." At this, she leaned over the chess table and made direct eye contact with Ellie. "I will solve the problem. "

"Are you threatening me?!"

"Directly."

((prev)) ((next))

[atlafan]

in case it wasn’t already glaringly obvious before these messages came out, this was all a stunt. The “ban” happened before midnight, and came back on the day it was supposed to go down. Two days before this, the ceo of tik tok was already thanking Trump for his support

in case you don’t remember, Trump was the one who started all of this ban bullshit back in 2020. Biden didn’t give a fuck about TikTok. He was doing what was actually important and combatting covid, making sure vaccines were being rolled out, and also trying to fix the foreign policy that Trump all but obliterated

people were worried about their livelihoods going under. And this wasn’t just influencers who only used TikTok as their income, college students used it as a side hustle. It was a side hustle for a lot of people. Not to mention all of the people in the US who work for TikTok the company. They had no idea if they were going to have jobs or not. Love or hate the app, but it became a part of economic ecosystem. TikTok shop was annoying as hell, but people were buying shit off it! Sponsored ads were annoying, but they still prospered.

the government officials are part of the 1%. They didn’t actually care about data. If they did, we wouldn’t have the internet anymore. They cared about money. Their own money. They didn’t care about the anxiety they were putting people through. This was a distraction from the hearings for the under qualified people Trump wants in office. It was all a ploy.

Do not let this sway you. Let this empower you. Remember this anger in two years when it’s time to vote again.

They can turn things on and off at will. They are trying to keep us separated and in the dark. TikTok, for better or worse, brings people together and gets information to people. Credible news orgs live stream on there. People who witnessed horrors tell their stories on there.

If the only thing you were upset about was that you wouldn’t be able to see concert videos or shit posts and memes, then I implore you to take a second and think deeper about things. This is not the land of the free and the home of the brave. We are not free, and the people in the most important seats in our government are weak, cowards. Not a brave person in sight.

[sholiofic]

Whumptober Day 26: Breakfast Table

Absolutely not a single bit of whump in this one. Although it's a nightmare from Algy's point of view ....

No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I’m haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

Implied Biggles/EvS. Also posted on DW.

***

"Can't say I care for bally old Copper Horizon's chances at the Royal Ascot -- not a single farthing's worth," Bertie remarked sadly as he pored over the racing scores in the paper, amidst the results of a demolished breakfast in the Mount Street flat.

"So don't bet on him then," Algy said heartlessly. He'd spent most of his life aggressively uninterested in horse racing, mainly because of growing up around people who expected him to have opinions about it, and now Bertie had lured him into actually knowing the names of various racehorses; it was an intolerable thing to have to face before he'd finished his first cup of tea. "Pass that?" he added, holding out a hand into which Ginger plopped the butter dish.

"Isn't the chief up yet?" Ginger asked through a mouthful of toast. "He's always on us if we sleep in, and now it's almost gone eight and he hasn't put in an appearance. I don't suppose he's sick?"

"He's been looking a little peaky lately, don't you think?" Bertie asked, lowering the paper. "Or distracted, at least."

"Looked fine to me," Algy said sharply, plucking a piece of toast off the toast-rack.

Just then Biggles breezed into the breakfast nook, looking neither peaky nor distracted, merely tousled and cheerful in his dressing gown. "Morning, chaps," he announced, reaching over to snatch an already buttered piece of toast off Bertie's plate. "I'm headed out for breakfast, but if there's coffee, I wouldn't mind some."

"He's in the bathroom, isn't he," Algy said flatly, taking in Biggles's old brown dressing gown, the one he knew Biggles had shoved to the back of the wardrobe after it had worn thin and frayed. Algy could guess all too well where Biggles's nicer dressing gown had wandered off to, or more accurately, on whom it had wandered.

"No idea who -- that is, what you're talking about," Biggles said, turning slightly pink. Clearing his throat, he went on briskly, "The reports for the Amsterdam jewelry heist need to be filed today. Algy, you're on that. Bertie, see if you can get a grip on those mechanical failures at Woodley, you can run down in the Bentley. Ginger, you can go with Bertie, it'll go faster with two."

"Where will you be?" Ginger asked.

"At breakfast, as I said. I'll catch you up at the office. Oh, I'll take that too." He appropriated the toast off Algy's plate and hustled off with it, untouched. Algy heard low voices in the hall a moment later.

"Sick? We should be so lucky," Algy said in a voice of gloom, and grimly buttered another slice of toast.

[cheesus-doodles]

The Flag We Serve Under: Chapter 3

Yandere Azur Lane

Masterlist

‎‎

<< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

took me longer than expected to get this finished, but glad its done regardless! look forward to something else being posted soon as well (secret heheh)

The sudden wave of silence that washed over your pounding ears as you closed the door behind you was a relief in itself; you didn’t think there had been a time since you graduated from Officer school where you have had to meet so many new faces. Even the few steps you staggered to the comfort of your well-worn office chair was hard fought; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you stated that it took every ounce of energy you had left. Slumping down into what was once a plush, comfortable seat, you were completely drained and utterly exhausted, commander cap laying abandoned atop a scattering of reports and maps across the large wooden desk. How many new girls did you meet today? Was this just a taste of what was destined to be your life going forward? An endless crushing cycle of strategic meetings and paperwork, trapped by your sense of duty to those under your command? A question neither you nor the quiet world had neither answers to, yet one you couldn’t simply let go just yet.

Letting out a long sigh, you reluctantly pulled yourself up, bringing your tired attention back to the mess in front of you - where was it again you had left off before you had been summoned to Naval HQ? The words only seemed to blur together in defiance, tap dancing across the paper when you tried to will yourself to focus. Seconds ticked by feeling more like hours, and your eyelids only felt more and more weighed down by the neverending senseless papers. You let out a groan, throwing up your arms and the report along with them, though you were quick to grab them before the loose leaves of papers could fall out of order; the last thing you wanted was to have to sort through what you had already packed previously. Not while you still had so many other papers to go through and pack. Curse your unordered past self.

At least you could be grateful that your office was mercifully quiet, devoid of any other soul save for your own (a stretch, given you felt pretty dead at the moment), and that the rest of your schedule laid empty and unoccupied; the heavy wooden doors and its creaky hinges that you had to fight everyday to open sealing off the hustle and bustle from the busy outside. You remembered a time when you hated every moment you spent in this damned place, the light flooding in through giant windows you had your back to only reminding you of the open ocean that you lost the chance to experience; never would you have ever expected this place, usually associated with a long, hectic day, to suddenly become an elusive paradise on your former peaceful base. 

It had already been a long day, surely (with a nice helpful side of crossed fingers), surely the world wasn’t going to not end if you left work a little early for the day as a well-earned break. Finally taking notice of the now cold, abandoned cup of what you were sure was coffee sitting at the corner of your desk, you grimaced as you chugged it down in one go; it was still the ghost of what was left of your drink for one, and for two, you didn’t want Alabama to see all her hard work learning how to operate the coffee machine go down the drain. She would never forgive you. 

The shuffling and crinkling of papers was all that filled the last few minutes of your work day as you tried your hand at some last minute organization for your future self, though a knock at your door quickly distracted you from stuffing files and maps alike into your briefcase for some nighttime light reading (or so you hoped at least). “Come in,” you called out, though it was clear whoever it was that had just burst into your office hadn’t even waited for your response. 

Two white ponytails tossed backwards in her draft as Alabama wandered into the room holding several files, her half-lidded eyes and neutral expression giving little clue as to her mood beneath, though you did notice those red eyes scanning your table. “You’re leaving already?”

“Ah, Alabama. For the day, yes,” you replied, before continuing to struggle with sliding the papers into your bag in tact. Why wouldn’t these fit? “Did you need anything before I go?”

But it wasn’t the answer that the tanned battleship girl was looking for. “I meant on that…trip.”

Your gaze snapped up, sharpening as it met Alabama’s. “Who told you about that?” 

But the other wasn’t the slightest phrased from your pointed question. “So it’s true. You are going somewhere.”

“Alabama, you might be my secretary but that’s classified information. Who did you hear that from?”

She once more ignored your question. “So where are we going?”

You threw your hands up in exasperation for the second time - you really weren’t going to get any answers around here that easily, huh? “I,” you emphasized. “Am going on a classified mission. Which you will not be able to join me on. You will be staying here with everyone else.”

“When?”

“We’re setting sail tomorrow, late morning.” Looking over your desk one more time to make sure that there would be no need for a return trip, you finally lifted yourself up from your office chair, the worn chair rolling back with a groaning protest to make space. The other simply nodded along as she turned to face the door, waiting to leave with you as she always did.

And then something clicked behind Alabama’s crimson eyes, your words only just registering - you swore that the tanned girl would have broken her spine with how fast she whirled around if she was just a human like you. “Wait, what do you mean I’m not going?”

You picked up your briefcase, and in one smooth move, swung it over one shoulder while lifting your commander cap off the table and back onto your head with your free hand. “It’s what I said. You can’t come on this one.” 

“So who’s going?”

“That’s classified.”

“Where are you going?”

“That’s classified.”

A few paces were all you could take till you were face to face with Alabama, the other refusing to budge. “Then you aren’t going,” she stated, as if it was enough to resolve the matter. The tension in the air was palpable, what was essentially divulging into a standoff between you and her; not that you could blame the battleship girl. After all, it would be the first time since you became a full-fledged commander, the first time since she joined your ranks, that you would have ever traveled anywhere without her. 

You sighed, shaking your head as you side-stepped her, waving at her to walk with you. “If only it was so simple, Alabama,” you said willfully, the evening rays having just started to dance through the closed windows that framed the deserted corridors outside of your office. The bustling sounds of life from the sudden influx of new girls under your command still echoed down these hallways, their chattering merging and muffling into the new normal background sound of the once quiet forward base out in the middle of the ocean you called home. “Orders from the top, unfortunately.”

Alabama seemed to instantly know what you were referring to, looking mighty unimpressed. “That call?”

You nodded. Stepping out to the sight of a pink sky, you squinted in the direction of the setting sun, taking in the beautiful glittering ocean that stretched infinitely into the distant horizon against the glare. You shouldn’t, but you wanted to. “It’s a lot later than I had thought. Would you like to get some dinner, Alabama?”

“Dinner sounds good,” she instantly agreed - it was at least clear to her that you were extending an opportunity for her to probe this matter a bit more deeply. You didn’t like to leave your closest friend out to dry. “Now?”

“How about thirty minutes’ time?” You patted your briefcase. “I'd like to go and drop these off first.”

‎

‎

“Enterprise?!” Akagi gnashed her teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously, knuckles turning white how tight her fist was. “How dare they?!” Of all the possible minders those fuckwits at Naval HQ could send with you-

“That’s enough, Akagi.” Nagato ordered, though the solemn expression on her face at the news was as clear as day, with Yamashiro all but quaking where she stood, attempting to hide behind the figure of her older sister Fusou. There was no doubt the higher-ups at Azur Lane knew of - and were absolutely taking advantage of - the rocky history between the Grey Ghost and the Sakura Empire; it seemed like those clunkerheads had finally awoken to the value you brought as a full-fledged commander and had the incentive to keep you safe. 

Kaga seemed to be simply caught in the middle, glancing back and forth between her sister and the Sakura Empires’ Combined Fleet Flagship and Emperor with much uncertainty. Despite the moon having already hung amidst the starless skies for several hours now, the dim, flickering ceremonial fires that warmed the court were still lit, though the usual bamboo partitioning curtain that obstructed the view of Nagato having been raised to fully reveal the small figure of the girl with the fox ears, dwarfed by the riggings of her battleship around her; a highly uncommon sight on top of the late night meeting, she determined. 

She wasn’t certain what was going on at the moment, what with this…obsession (if she had to term it) they had with you, an unknown “Commander” she had never met. Was there something so special about you which would warrant such fanfare? But no doubt it wasn’t the right time to investigate this matter, the tension already weighing heavy in the air, almost too heavy to breathe. The white-haired dared not even shift should the wood beneath creak.

The single minute that passed before Nagato spoke again was agonizing. “Is there nothing we can do?” Her child-like voice echoed throughout the otherworldly silent room.“Yamashiro, Fusou, did they say anything else?”

The two black-haired mikos snapped back to attention, glancing at each other before Fusou responded. “I think they mentioned that the Commander was already underway with her escort, Nagato-sama.”

“Did our contact say anything about a limit of stay for the Commander?”

“No, I do not recall such a message being passed along.”

Akagi and Nagato shared a look, a simple meeting of eyes that communicated so much. It seemed that they had a plan. “Everyone except Akagi is dismissed. Thank you for your time.” Nagato ordered, a final dismissal that warranted no further questions. And so the younger of the two from the First Carrier Division was forced to leave her older sister behind, following Fusou and Yamashiro as they excused themselves with a deep both, the silhouettes of both shipgirls left in quiet discussions disappearing behind the rising stairs as Kaga returned to their shared abode alone.

‎

‎

Letting out a yawn, you stretched out across your deck chair, lazily adjusting your sunglasses before they could slip off your face. It wasn’t something you should be doing per se, openly relaxing in front of those under your command, and you were sure to receive hell if upper management caught wind of it, but you were really too winded to care too much. Safe to say, last night’s talk with Alabama hadn’t gone as well as you had hoped, though fortunately neither had it turned into the worst case scenario that you had replayed over and over in your mind. You did have to break some of the confidentiality agreements to tell Alabama who you were sailing with and to let her accompany you part-way, but it was the least you could do to ease her anxiety.

The late morning sun was warm through your uniform, the whip of the ocean breeze as the aircraft carrier slightly glided through the water cool enough to stop any perspiration from forming. It was amazing to sail the great blue again; no matter how many times you made the journey, the vast ocean would never cease to amaze and humble you. Two distinct sets of heels clicking across the wooden deck caught your ear, and you looked up to meet two sets of eyes glancing down at you.

“Commander.” “Commander.” 

You had of course heard of the legendary Big E from your colleagues back at Naval HQ despite having never had the opportunity to work alongside her, and no one - not even Alabama - would have ever gotten you to admit to the internal fangirling you had allowed yourself to indulge in in the privacy of your own room the night you found out you would be sailing with the famed aircraft carrier. After all, she was almost a mythical figure among the commanders, a capable, reliable and battle-hardened shipgirl whomst tales you had relegated to you time and time again by the veteran commanders. But your white-haired battleship friend was already narrowing those crimson eyes at you in suspicion, and so you swallowed your excitement. 

Reluctantly pulling yourself up from your exceedingly comfortable position, you acknowledged the two arrivals. “Enterprise, Alabama,” you returned their greeting with a firm nod. Lifting your arm to take a glance at your watch, you stood up, adjusting your cap. “It’s about time?”

It was about time to part ways with Alabama - she couldn’t accompany the two of you any further without risking exposing the destination of your mission, and that was a part of the confidentiality that you couldn’t risk exposing. The white-haired battleship girl already had her rigging on, one tanned hand firmly wrapped around that signature red scythe. But it was the look of uncertainty behind those tired eyes that had you sighing. You couldn’t just leave your bestfriend hanging. “Enterprise, if you could give us a minute?”

“Of course.”

A moment of silence as the Eagle Union carrier strolled off purposefully in the opposite direction before you turned to face Alabama once more. “Alabama-”

“You’ll stay safe?” She interrupted, pulling you into a tight hug that underlaid the worry absent from her expression. “And come home quickly?”

You broke into a smile, reassuringly patting her arm. With how tight this hug was and how much your face was being pushed into her chest, you were sure that Alabama was all but trying to merge you into her. “I promise. I’ll be back before you realize it, take care of the girls for me, alright?”

The reluctance as the battleship released you from her grip was palpable, but Alabama finally moved to leave. “See you later,” she mouthed, before leaping off the deck of Enterprise. You waved at her as her much smaller figure skated across the water till she disappeared from sight, before collapsing back into your deck chair. The things you would do just to keep your girls happy - you could only hope your one-up never found out. 

‎

The large Torii gate that seemed to stand atop the shimmering water greeted you as the manifested aircraft carrier sailed into the territorial waters for the Sakura Empire, the bow of the enormous ship cutting through the waves silently. Looking down from the command center nestled near the top of the superstructure, you bit back the sigh you felt emerging from your throat, with Enterprise standing just to the right of your shoulder, violet eyes scanning the world outside through the large glass panes. You had been hustled inside the moment the two of you had crossed the line between No-Man’s Sea and the Sakura Empire waters, and you had no doubt that Enterprise took her job as your bodyguard very seriously - who knew what she had been briefed on by Naval HQ? 

But you were sure that no harm would come to you.

From a distance, you spotted two figures approaching - shipgirls, one you identified as Kawakaze, and the other who you didn’t recognize, skating across the water towards the slowing carrier with a small boat in tow, signaling with a handheld light for permission to approach. Clearly they weren’t looking for a fight, you reasoned, glancing back at Enterprise. “Let them aboard,” you ordered, standing from your commander’s seat and grabbing your coat. “I’ll head down to meet them.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Commander,” Kawakaze greeted, bowing slightly, waving her hand towards the girl next to her with a set of horns protruding from beneath her black fringe, dressed in what seemed like a modified set of school uniform. “This is Noshiro, an Agano-class light cruiser. We’re here to accompany you to the main island.” 

You noted amusedly that they were very studious in ignoring Enterprise’s presence, but seeing that the other hardly seemed bothered by the slightest, and was instead studying the two Sakura girls, you decided not to bring it up. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I didn’t expect Lady Nagato to send her handmaiden just for little old me.” 

Kawakaze broke into a rare smile as she beckoned for you to follow, helping you gently into the small boat that the two towed, but said nothing more. A distance away, you watched with awe as the enormous aircraft carried de-manifested, Enterprise landing on the water surface with her rigging now attached to her, bow in hand. The waters nearer the main island were too shallow to dock, but you weren’t complaining. No, you were happy to watch the ocean speed by as the island neared, the pink of the evening sky a twin match for the lightly swaying cherry blossom trees that grew larger and larger as your group approached.

The little girl with the enormous riggings, decorated with red and white-banded shimenawa, stood out amidst the golden beach.

“Commander!” Nagato cleared her throat, straightening up as best she could as you were helped out from the boat and instead doing a little curtsy, her equipment following the graceful movement with nay a creak. “I mean- Commander. Welcome to the Sakura Empire.” 

“This is a much bigger reception that I thought I would receive.” You chuckled, instead spreading your arms in an undeniable invitation. And in an instant, all pretense of formality evaporated, Nagato flying forward to accept your offered hug, careful to avoid smacking her rigging into you - goodness knows how fragile you were next to shipgirls like them. “I don’t think I ever was your commander, Lady Nagato. But it is good to see you again.”

Enterprise looked curious, you noted, but you didn’t explain any further, nor did any of the Sakura Empire girls elaborate. None of your fleet knew of your past before you became a Commander, and despite you thinking that it wasn’t a big deal, telling Enterprise before any of your other girls might stir a storm that you rather not have to deal with. 

“Please, just Nagato.” The black-haired girl mumbled into your ear, a light flush brushing across her cheeks for a fraction of a second before she cleared her throat and pulled away, the redness of her face already gone. Lightly tugging at your hand for you to follow her, no one mentioned anything that she never did let go. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your quarters.”

“I assume we will be sharing the same accommodation,” Enterprise spoke up for the first time since her arrival, though her even and surprisingly soft voice carried the authority and weight of a ship of her might.

Nagato simply nodded. “Of course.”

They had to get you away from your chaperone and somewhere private, but that was a plan for a later time. For now, it was to get you settled in, nice and comfortable, and everything else would fall into place.

‎

‎

Back at the forward base, Alabama let off another volley of shots into the open ocean, letting out a huff of frustration. How could you, she fumed, the whirl of her guns as they reloaded barely audible over the sound of crashing waves. More so, how dare you?! How dare you leave her behind to run off with Enterprise, of all people to god knows where?

So what if you had a “classified mission” from Naval HQ? Those clowns barely knew what they were doing from their high throne, you should have just turned them down and ignored it. Was it that you liked Enterprise, what with her legendary status? She saw the admiration in your eyes, and it made her blood boil. Was it that she had white hair too? Was it because Enterprise was an aircraft carrier and Alabama was just a battleship?

She was the one who had served you loyally all these years, standing by your side through thick and thin, protecting you from the fuckheads at Naval HQ. She was the first ship in your fleet, your secretary ship, your bodyguard. She should be your only.

Gritting her teeth, the firing of her large guns temporarily overpowered the niggling voices in the back of her mind, the smell of gunpowder clearing her head. Alabama took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t be letting you go so easily.

‎

From a short distance away, South Dakota simply observed. Like the rest of the Eagle Union ships, she had recently been transferred under your command, where the youngest of her sisters had been part of your fleet for a substantial amount of time. But this was most unlike Alabama - the battleship had been stewing for the past day, as difficult as it was to believe, her bad mood written across those half-lidded eyes. Alabama had always been the easygoing, lazy sister in the South Dakota-class, and to see her this worked up; it was worrying.

SIghing, South Dakota shook her head, turning around and heading back to base, leaving Alabama out alone on the waves. There was no doubt your secretary ship was plotting something, seeing how protective she was of you - but as to what, she would have to wait to find out.

‎

tags: @lexthetiredstudent, @bbbexee, @noncon-photobomb

[thewinter-eden]

almost summer | kim seungmin (02)

02 : YOU'RE STILL ANGRY

Pairings: KIM SEUNGMIN x OC | YANG JEONGIN x OC

Rating: mature

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and wattpad under alone-at-last.

Warnings: post-breakup emotions, angst.

almost summer masterlist

< last chapter | next chapter >

You have to love somebody that much to also hate them that much, too. -Sherman Alexie

glossary :

fireteam: a military active duty team consisting of four or fewer members.

Upon dismissal from the captain's office, Maven set to getting herself back to her room as quickly as possible and escaping Seungmin's torturous presence behind her. Minho's office was all the way across the ship from Accommodation and two floors above it. Her chances weren't looking good.

She thought she might have lost him when she slipped past a group of technicians on break and put them between her and him, but then the sound of jogging boots struck the polished floor behind her and her chest seemed to clench. The desire to see him again and the hatred of his decisions and what he'd put her through battled within her.

"Maven," He fell into stride beside her, arms swinging almost haphazardly at his sides, like he didn't care if he smacked her on accident or not. "How have you been?"

His low, gentle voice hit her ears with another flood of memories. Memories of that voice in her hair, against the shell of her ear, against the curve of her jaw. And then, like a shock of cold water, memories of that voice hurling her carelessly out of his life.

An overwhelming urge to break fist-sized holes into his ribcage made her skin flash hot.

If you murder him in the passageway, you'll be court martialed, and there goes your career. Maven sucked in a short breath and let her hands curl into fists. It wasn't enough to dispel the violent energy in her muscles, but it would have to do. "I've been fine, Agent Kim. And yourself?"

He didn't miss the clipped tone, or the way she refused to look at him. "Oh, you know. Graduated Special Warfare. Got top marks. Actually, I'm the first person to graduate with a perfect record."

"I heard about that." Maven muttered, passing through a hatch to begin down the stairs.

He followed. "It will be great, us working together."

Nothing in his voice indicated that he even remembered any of their history. He approached her like they were friends or buddies, like he hadn't reached into her chest and ripped apart her heart right in front of her a year ago.

Maven had nothing to say to the prediction. She didn't share his opinion in the slightest. In fact, she wasn't sure how she'd make it a day without trying to crush him under her hands. Just one more flight of steps. Maybe he won't follow to the bunks.

"I'm really looking forward to going back out in the field with you." Seungmin was hustling down the stairs at her heels. He gave a slight pause and then said, "I've missed you."

I've missed you.

He missed her? Oh, that's fine. He missed me. Maven's heart was in her throat suddenly, eyes watering. He broke everything—destroyed everything—on his own without any help, and he missed me.

She stopped in her tracks and spun on her heel, finally facing him. She took the familiar weight of his dark eyes on hers, intensely aware that he was reading her, gazing into her thoughts as he always used to.

How dare he tell her he missed her when the fault for that was his own?

Insult and abuse on the tip of her tongue, Maven clamped a hand down on the rail, only to be silenced by the hurt that flashed across his face.

"I guess you hate me," He muttered, looking down at his shoes. "I just wanted to say I missed you and I'm glad we're working together again."

I don't have the energy for this. Swallowing the angry words, Maven turned away and kept moving down the stairs. "We always worked well together. We'll complete this assignment just fine." Her voice was unfeeling and carefully contained, and she didn't care what he thought of it. After a year of wondering what she'd say to him when she ran into him again, she hadn't expected him to pretend he hadn't done what he did.

"Yeah," Seungmin said quietly behind her. A moment later, he seemed to have forgotten about his moment of nostalgia. "Anyway, I'm not worried about the assignment. I've got plenty of operational experience to get us through; we'll be fine."

Maven huffed out a sigh. His arrogance had really blossomed in her absence.

"You got your orders?"

"Where are you going? Did you get the Vesper? Are we stationed together?"

Two of Maven's friends were waiting for her in her billet when she finally escaped her new partner. She marched into the tiny room, all of the strength leaking out of her posture. Dropping down on the bed and tossing her orders down next to her, she let out a shaky breath and a long groan.

The first girl who had spoken, Jennie, sat down next to her. "You okay, Spanaway?"

"You are frightfully pale." The second girl, Jia, leaning against Maven's desk, peered at her with a concerned frown. "I didn't think Captain Lee was that scary."

Both women had been in Maven's Special Warfare class and had already received their orders. Jia had been assigned to stay onboard the Vesper and work information operations for deployed teams. Jennie, however, had been sent to California, where her new command would put her to work.

Maven leaned back, closing her eyes, "I got my orders."

Seungmin's face flashed into her head. His warm smile, his soft hair, the broadness of his shoulders. She remembered the way the smell of his cologne had hit her like a train, taking her back a year in time; even just thinking about him, she could almost smell him the way she could when he'd fold her into his arms and hold her against his chest.

A year of healing was slipping away from her, right through her fingers.

"You say that like you're being sent to the Middle East." Jia observed, reaching out a leg and kicking at her friend's boot. "Come on, what's got you so shaken?"

Jennie's hand found Maven's shoulder.

The comfort of her touch loosened the tight grip of her jaw ever so slightly. A deep sigh racked through her sunken frame. "I got Seungmin."

There were a few seconds of silence.

"What do you mean you got Seungmin?" Jennie demanded. "Kim Seungmin?"

Unable to speak, Maven nodded.

The way he'd stared into her eyes mere moments ago hit her all over again.

"You and Seungmin are stationed together?" Jia guessed, leaning forward to place a hand on their friend's knee. "How bad is it? Can you avoid each other?"

Maven shook her head with a calloused laugh. "Fireteam. It's just us working an operation."

Jennie and Jia were the only people on the Vesper who truly knew the repercussions of her orders. They were the only ones who understood the tormented look on her face, and the trembling in her hands. She'd cried on their shoulders and passed out in their bunks and been seen at her worst by them. They'd heard her rant and rave and mourn the very same Kim Seungmin who now had his name on her official field record.

"Maybe it'll be okay." Jennie said, still rubbing Maven's shoulder. "Maybe the two of you can get to a place where it's not so painful anymore. You know? Get some of your friendship back."

Jia looked skeptical, but nodded along. "Yeah, and, you know, if you can't, you can always push him out of the helicopter and say he lied about being the best in his airborne class."

Maven spent the night studying her orders. She examined the maps of the Houston suburb, analyzing the satellite photos of the extra terrestrial portal and troops pixel by pixel. VALOR had learned that the aliens were a species called the Nokken—a brutish, clumsy, unintelligent hoard of beasts. They had the ability to shapeshift between the form of man and the form of beast, which made identifying them out of uniform a complete nightmare.

According to the images, the Nokken troops had constructed their building in a matter of days. They looked like ants working in a swarm, building mindlessly until the job was complete.

The second wave of troops brought machinery. Based on the images alone, there was no telling how much equipment they'd brought over or how they'd installed it.

Based on what VALOR knew about the Nokken, it made sense that they could build an outpost and create a military presence. It did not make sense, however, what they were planning to do with the technology they were filling it with. No record of Nokken activity supported the idea that they had the intellectual wherewithal to drive a forklift, much less operate the electronic devices they'd hauled through the portals.

Maven flipped through the pages. Since the portal site had become active, no law enforcement had disturbed or approached it. VALOR had managed to get the state of Texas and thereby the city of Houston to cooperate in delaying action until Maven and Seungmin could get onsite and do their reconnaissance.

Seungmin floated through her mind again.

She turned the pages back to the beginning of the folder and found his brief dossier stapled under hers. Her eyes scanned the document, flitting past all of his academic and operational achievements until she found his codename.

Call sign: Ego.

Maven snorted. Of course it is.

[bisluthq]

As a fan of her music who also happens to be a woman who makes questionable-bad choices ™️ (though of a different nature), and has blown up aspects of my life in a much smaller scale (because it’s easy for me to have work, friends, family all know a different version of me cause I’m not a global superstar)…. I very much appreciate Taylor releasing TTPD and letting it all out and sharing such personal details.

As a fan of the woman and only wanting good things for her, I can’t help but feel releasing a large portion of TTPD was equally cathartic as it was part of the self harming.

Like it’s cathartic to write and get it all out. And it’s cathartic for her to sing those songs and have them sung back to her because it makes her feel less alone (her words) and I wonder if she feels she has a “duty” to release some of this stuff because she knows it’ll hopefully resonate with someone…. But she also painted a very unflattering picture of herself - which I admire cause it’s real and… good for her. But for someone who has been so image conscious for nearly 20 years, releasing the songs that paint her in a bad light and make her look psychotic - so much that she in part ANTICIPATED the reaction because she called it a manic phase and self harm… like was releasing it part of throwing her life to the wolves or ocean rocks? Is she wanting to be understood by people who don’t need to, or don’t deserve to understand her and the whole tatty thing? From an image pov, the consensus was she was so heartbroken and fucked in the head that she rebounded with a “loser” because she was so broken. Did she release all those songs to defend his honour or explain herself? Or just sharing dope songs?

One of the best things my therapist told me was that when I feel misunderstood (which is a lot lol) it’s actually ok and not a bad thing that the person at the post office thinks I shop too much online (but they don’t know that I’m buying things for a side hustle), or that a colleague thought I had no personality for having a capsule wardrobe (I did it to reduce decision fatigue and be economical. I had a uniform and never had to iron, sort my washing or think what to wear). Or a friend thought I was rich cause I went to a string of concerts in a row (she had gone on an overseas vacation, I did not go on a weekend away and just spent my money on concerts and festivals which just all happened to be in the summer). Weird examples, but there wasn’t any problem in those people perceiving me the way they did and it didn’t affect me in a meaningful way that needed correction. If my colleague thought I didn’t shower and said I stank and told HR, or thought I was coming to work high - that is worth saying ‘umm actually…’ or if someone thought I was cheating on my partner or doing something bad where it affected those relationships, then it’s important to correct the narrative. This has been a huge issue for me and I’ve worked with my therapist when she realised I was starting a lot of my downfalls by over sharing lmao because I just wanted to be understood and hate hate hate being misunderstood!!!! But “not everyone needs or deserves to understand you” honestly changed my life.

I’ve typed too much but idk ijbol but yeah like I’m not saying Taylor should have kept TTPD in a vault, and there are some songs that wouldn’t have added to the shitstorm in Texas. But she created a bigger monster when she released it and idk I just wonder if for her, if that was healthy… or if she really wanted the songs in the wild if she would have been better off releasing a ‘eras from the vault’ but not saying when the songs were written. Like half could be John mayer smack cams and Smallest Man would’ve been better received if it was perceived to be him outside the fandom imo lmao.

I love so much of what you’ve said and I’m gonna reread it later because it just hits tbh. I love it. There are so many true things here.

Taylor releasing TTPD should put an end to “she only does this for clout” because yes absolutely she didn’t have to tell us all this.

Taylor should go to therapy lol like ofc she should. most of us should and she doesn’t have money barriers to it so there’s no reason she doesn’t go regularly (I do think she’s been but didn’t like it and you’re not supposed to every time)

Taylor as of TTPD does not seem well lmao like that shit’s not okay and it’s relatable and stuff and she’s very productive but she… does not seem well… and that’s fine lol I’m not judging but come the fuck on lol. People acting like she’s super okay and better than she’s ever been are a bit weird. She seems unwell but that’s fine like we all do dumb shit sometimes ykwim?