inuyasha’s hair should’ve been WAY messier, in this essay I will —

I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings

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Chapter 4: Cats and dogs

She laughs and it hits him then, as the breath catches in his throat. I want to marry her. His heart beats so fast he’s surprised she doesn’t hear it. He suddenly sees another child next to Jack on the swings; a girl, her hair dark and her eyes darker still, carbon copies of Emily’s. It settles in his lungs, a choking need to have this with her.

Or, 5 times Aaron tries to propose to Emily, and the one time he finally does it.

Word count: 2.3k

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JJ wonders.

Aaron Hotchner is not a hesitant man by nature. Each step he takes is well thought out, calculated, pros and cons carefully weighed before he makes a decision. Though she could understand why this would make him falter, she thinks it’s just a little weird there’s no ring on Emily’s finger five months after he bought it.

Scratch that, it’s a lot weird.

She doesn’t consider herself a nosy person, especially not with Hotch of all people, but one day she finds herself alone with him on the way to interview a suspect, and the question pops up in her head. It falls from her lips not much later.

“How come you haven’t proposed yet?” She blurts out, breaking the silence between them.

More silence. Then a long, tortured sigh that makes her turn her head in his direction. His jaw is set as he looks straight at the road, the line of it harsh with frustration. “Believe me it’s not from a lack of trying,” his hand tightens on the wheel. 

His brows draw together into an impressive frown, one usually reserved for the nastiest of unsubs, “It’s just been a shit show,” he mutters. 

JJ splutters out a small laugh, slightly shocked at hearing him curse so forcefully. His eyes flit to hers and he gives her a sheepish tilt of his lips, not quite a smile but definitely not the hard scowl he was directing at the road.

“How so?”

The rest of the ride is spent in his quiet retelling of his previous attempts, a low hum of frustration clinging to his voice as he talks. JJ holds back her smile as she listens, her heart warming at the way he so obviously just wants to marry her best friend and take that next step with her. They reach their suspect’s house just as he’s done and he takes the key out of the ignition before JJ can say something—in consolation or advice, she didn’t really have time to think.

She shoves it to the back of her head as they talk to the suspect and jots down notes as Hotch asks him questions, confirming his alibi and revisiting his relationship with the victim. She can tell it’s out of his head by the time they’re walking back to the car, but her thoughts start racing when he drives off again.

“There’s this place I go with Henry and Will,” she says after she’s thought about it. “It’s kind of like a meadow, really, with all these pretty flowers and tall trees.” Her voice is wistful, fond memories of spending time there with her family flooding her brain; Henry picking the flowers, Will leaning against a tree and her curling into his lap.

“It’s hidden in the middle of nowhere, we’ve been going for years and never saw anyone there. It’s a beautiful spot. Maybe you should check it out.”

Aaron smiles, a soft thing with dimples usually reserved for Emily and Jack. “I will. Thank you, JJ,” he says, his voice quiet but thick with sincerity.

JJ grins back. “Of course.” She waits a beat, then, “Emily better make me maid of honor after all my contributions,” she jokes lightly.

Aaron laughs, his mood lifted now that he has a new plan of action. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

****

It takes a few weeks before he’s able to check out the spot himself. Aaron follows JJ’s careful directions, smiling when he finally finds himself in the middle of the clearing, just as beautiful as she’d described. He goes back to planning, and by that weekend he’s holding Emily’s hand and leading her through the grass, their picnic basket hanging from his arm.

“How’d you find this place?” Emily asks in awe as she looks around, smiling at the sight of freshly grown wildflowers peeking through the grass. Aaron drops her hand to spread their blanket at the base of a tree and swallows to fight the rising panic climbing his throat.

“Stumbled upon it on one of my runs,” he mumbles, setting the basket down and grabbing her hand again to pull her down with him. “Pretty, isn’t it?” He asks quickly, hoping to fend off any other questions.

“Gorgeous,” she agrees and he looks around too, allowing himself to take in the seclusion of it. No interruptions this time; just him and her. Aaron breathes out a slow breath, the light weight of the ring in his back pocket calming his racing heart. He’ll finally get to do this.

“Jack would love it here,” Emily says as she looks up at the large clouds looming overhead, fluffy and bright, some of them occasionally covering the sun and casting them briefly in shadows.

“We’ll bring him next time,” Aaron assures, kissing her cheek before letting go of her fingers, “now help me unpack this.” He gestures to the basket.

He can’t help but feel he’s actually got it right this time. Emily helps him unpack the fruit plate but gets distracted as he pulls out the pastries, her eyes straying to the flowers, the clouds, the sky. The spring air ruffles her hair and she wraps her thin shawl tighter over her arms, covering the skin left exposed by her dress.

“I don’t see you working much,” Aaron teases as he sets the empty basket aside and organizes the food on the blanket in a way that’s so characteristically him that Emily’s heart warms. She grins and reaches for a strawberry from the fruit plate, popping it whole into her mouth.

“That’s what I’ve got you for, sweetheart,” she pats his cheek, sliding her hand into his hair to pull him down for a strawberry infused kiss. His laugh is stifled against her mouth, though his heart secretly bursts.

“Sweetheart?” He raises his brows when he leans back, his lips stretched into too wide of a smile to kiss her properly.

“Yeah,” Emily murmurs as she grabs a raspberry and gently presses it against his lips, signaling for him to open. She pops it into his mouth and grabs one for herself, “You’re my sweetheart, aren’t you?” She flutters her lashes playfully, though the way his breath catches is anything but. “You can say it to me but I can’t say it to you?”

He swallows against his dry throat, his hands automatically reaching for her before his brain catches up. He cradles her face in his hands, brings her closer and kisses the corner of her lips, “You can say it to me,” he murmurs, his voice slightly rough as her hands dig into his shirt. “I like it.”

Emily smiles and pecks him lightly, “Okay, sweetheart,” she laughs and pushes him back as her stomach grumbles. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

He rests his back against the tree and she sits cross legged in front of him, wrapping her shawl tighter around her as the sun starts to disappear more frequently beneath the clouds. Her eyes are bright as they eat, stories and jokes falling from her lips as they enjoy the pastries they’d gotten that morning.

Aaron feels his shoulders relax as he sinks further into the tree behind him, her familiar voice washing over him. She gestures wildly with her hands as she talks, something that makes him laugh even more than the tall tales she spins him. 

It’s really that simple, he realizes; just the two of them and the promise of forever hidden in his pocket. He itches to reach for it but she’s still snacking on the fruit, her fingertips lightly stained red with their juice, and he tells himself he can wait. He’s got all of today, after all.

“I bet this place would be good for stargazing at night,” Emily muses as she looks up at the sky. It’s grown overcast as they were eating, slowly graying clouds blanketing the sky and covering the sun. The cool spring breeze cuts through her dress and she shivers, leaning into Aaron’s side to leech some of his warmth.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t think so,” he says, idly running his fingers through her hair, “it doesn’t look like it from here, but it’s not as isolated as it looks. The city lights would still cover most of the stars.”

“That’s a shame,” Emily picks a few daises from the base of the tree they’re leaning against. “When I was younger I used to spend summers in the French Alps with my grandfather,” she says wistfully, smiling down at the daisies as she twists them into a crown.

Aaron’s brows lift in surprise. “You never told me that,” he murmurs as he drags his fingertips over the material of her shawl, sending her deeper into his chest.

“I like to keep you on your toes,” she winks at him, smiling when he chuckles. She feels it in her back, in her bones, right in her heart. She picks a few more daises to lengthen her crown. “It’s where I started to learn so much about the stars. They’re so bright over there. Not like here,” she sighs as she looks up at the sky, bleak and gray in earnest now.

“I’ll bet,” Aaron says as he looks up at the sky too, frowning at the sight of the clouds. The warm syrupy sunshine of that morning is nowhere to be found, reminding him once again of his dislike for spring. He shakes it off and smiles when he looks down at the half-formed crown in Emily’s lap. “What was your grandfather like?”

She smiles and turns her head to meet his eyes. “Quiet,” she whispers as she rests her chin on his shoulder, “a little grumpy,” a small, wistful smile plays on her lips. Her eyes have that faraway look, as if she’s back in the mountains, head tilted to the sky as her still chubby fingers traced out the shapes of constellations with her grandfather’s hand over hers; warm, steady.

“I miss him,” Emily says quietly, smiling when Aaron lightly squeezes her waist. “We used to go to a tiny old bookshop in town, and he’d let me buy as many books as I’d want. We had nightly debriefs,” she chuckles lightly, looking up at Aaron with sparkling eyes. “I’d tell him all about my book and he’d tell me all about his.”

Aaron smiles. “He sounds wonderful,” he presses a kiss to her temple as she goes back to completing her daisy crown.

“He was,” she agrees. “And he would’ve loved you.”

She doesn’t realize the effect those seemingly simple words have on him. Aaron’s chest expands and he’s suddenly aware of the black box digging into his pocket, trapped between his body and the tree bark. His throat goes dry and he swallows, removing his arm from around Emily’s shoulders. “I have something to ask you,” he says, but his words are drowned out by the rumble of thunder overhead.

“What?” Emily looks up, her completed daisy chain resting on her lap as she looks up at the sky. “I think it’s gonna rain,” she comments, just as fat drops start to fall from the clouds. In seconds the rain starts falling in thick sheets, immediately drenching the grass, the blanket, their clothes.

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

“For fuck’s sake.” Aaron groans, shoving his soaking hair away from his face as Emily jumps up from the blanket and reaches for his hand. She tugs to pull him up and he moves without feeling it, following her lead. The grass is slippery beneath her shoes, the rain falling into her eyes as she looks up at him. He’s scowling up at the sky, jaw clenched and brows drawn tightly together, as if the rain has committed a heinous crime.

“It’s just rain, Aaron,” she laughs as it soaks her skin and makes her dress cling to her body. Aaron doesn’t laugh back, disappointment once again settling into his bones. He was so fucking close.

Emily sobers up at the expression on his face. “Hey. What’s wrong?” She cups his cheek, reaching forward to soothe the wrinkle between his brows. Aaron blinks the rain out of his eyes and presses his slippery forehead against hers, his frustrated sigh lost in another rumble of thunder.

“I just…” He trails off as she looks at him expectantly, a small furrow in between her brows now. Aaron presses his thumb to her frown, his lips tilting upwards as he smooths it out. I just really want to marry you.

Her wet lashes are somehow impossibly darker against her skin. His heart swells and he tucks a few strands of wet hair behind her ear, the strands returning to their natural curl beneath the water. “Never mind.” Aaron kisses her wet forehead. “I love you,” he murmurs, so low she almost doesn’t hear it over the roar of the rain.

Emily smiles up at him, blinking the water out of her eyes. “I love you too,” she plants a quick kiss on his lips. “Now dance with me.” 

Somehow she gets him to laugh this time. Aaron holds her close as they move aimlessly to the patter of the rain, their hands slipping on wet skin, wet hair. He feels the velvet soaking through in his back pocket and takes a second to glare up at the dark sky, his cheek pressed to Emily’s.

You’ll get to do it next time, he tells himself. 

He’s getting really sick of next times.

Well, I’ve had a hell of a week. So far since last weekend, I have:

- Had a conversation with my roommate after which I became sure I would not be able to stay in my house. There’s been a whole thing for the last couple of months where my roommate is moving out and has tried to give our place to someone else, but I very much like this place (for reasons that range from good price and good location and it’s a good house, to I get too emotionally attached to places where I spend too much time) and want to stay here, and it’s long and complicated but basically I’ve had two months of being constantly stressed due to uncertainty about where I’ll be living in the fall. Then last weekend, I had a very confrontational call with my roommate – and I don’t do confrontation well – in which he informed that he was going to do something I had not previously thought of in order to give the house away, I was pretty sure it would work, got very upset due to the unexpected confrontation and due to the fact that I became sure I wouldn’t be able to stay here.

- Three days later, a couple of other people talked to my roommate, I talked to the landlord, a few things changed (including – I’m not saying my roommate will listen to men but not women, but when our male mutual friend made all the exact same points to him that I did, suddenly they made sense), and I’m now pretty sure I can keep the place. More sure than I’ve been for two months. The first time in two months that I’ve been able to lift almost all of that stress off my shoulders, and it’s an amazing feeling. I almost hesitate to write this for fear of inviting the worst, since nothing’s signed yet, it’s not for sure. Also I do still have to find a new roommate to cover the other half of the rent because his subletter’s moving out. But I can figure that out. It’s a huge relief to know it’ll very likely be okay.

- On Monday night, I accompanied my brother to one of his comedy shows, a decision I made partly to take my mind off worrying about whether I’d get to stay in my place (since I hadn’t yet heard the good news about that getting better). My brother convinced me to put my name in a draw, where whatever name they pick gets to perform in the one spot they keep open for that. My fucking name got picked. I performed stand-up comedy for the first time. I recited some shit that I wrote a while ago and have wanted to perform but haven’t had the guts to try before. It went much better than I’d expected, though that’s only because I’d expected it to be a catastrophic failure. In reality it went fine. People laughed more than one time, which wildly exceeded my expectations. Afterward, several comedians and several audience members came up to me to say I did well. Some were presumably just being nice (I’m sure “just being nice” also factored into the laughs, as I did immediately tell them this was my first time doing it), but they seemed to mean it, at least a bit. I think it actually was all right for a first time. Afterward I hung around the bar and drank with comedians and it was the first time in ages that I can remember having so much fucking fun without any part of it being difficult.

- On Wednesday, I went out to a live Celtic music night. This is because a couple of weeks before that, my parents went to a folk festival out East and saw a few of my favourite singers, and that made me sad, because I used to go see music all the time, and I stopped in 2020, and I’ve seen a couple of music things since then but not many, and I miss it. So, it occurred to me, there’s nothing stopping me from just starting it again. The day after the folk festival that I missed, I Googled folk music in my area, found a reasonably priced Celtic music night at a venue that’s relatively near me, that I’d never heard of because it just opened during the pandemic. I checked its schedule and it has a lot of stuff that I like, including monthly Celtic music nights. This sort of thing is part of why I care so much about staying in my place that’s downtown. Near my sport. Near my friend. Near comedy. Near live music. I’ve spent so much time staying in my house not doing stuff, I’m only just starting to do stuff again, I want to do everything, that is not a good time to lose my downtown housing.

So on Wednesday, I walked to this new music venue, and it’s so good. So good. The perfect size, big enough to fit enough of a crowd to bring in touring musicians, not big enough for the size of the room to impact enjoyment. Capacity of about 90 people, I think, and well spread out. Stage with enough room for a band with lots of instruments. A building that was clearly made with acoustics in mind, the sound quality was fantastic. And when I got there, I didn’t want to pay for the overpriced water bottles you get at venues, but I was so hot and thirsty from the walk that I decided it was worth it. So I asked at the counter for a bottle of water, and they told me I could just take a cup and fill it from their water cooler for free. I will be returning to that venue.

Then they played music! God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen that stuff live, I love it. It was a band I didn’t know, but was made of four people, two of whom I did know, from other projects they’ve done. Three were local and one from out East. They all knew their shit, played a bunch of classics and some of their own stuff. Stuck very closely to the “Celtic” remit (unlike some bands that will just define “Celtic music” as “anything with a fiddle”), explained the history of every song and tune, it was mainly Scottish and some Irish and a few Cornish songs. Was fucking beautiful. The show was just about to start when I got a text from my roommate telling me he’d spoken to the landlord and I’ll get more details later but I’m going to be able to stay in the house.

- On Thursday, I went out to a different comedy night. This is one I’ve been to before, a pub that runs comedy every Thursday just around the corner from my house. I went a bunch of weeks in a row this spring, and hadn’t been for a few weeks, but was pleased when the woman working at the bar still recognized me when I came in, asked me where I’d been. This was normal, she’d started recognizing me after I’d been going for a few weeks. What was less normal was that this time, the guy who runs the comedy night also went up to me, and asked if I planned to put my name in the lotto draw, the same type of thing that I did on Monday when my name got picked and I performed. The Monday and Thursday night things both have seven comedians who are booked ahead of time, and then leave open one “lotto spot” that goes to whoever’s name gets pulled from a pitcher.

I said no, because that hadn’t occurred to me, I hadn’t even started to think about how I wanted to try performing again, I’d only come to watch. Then I sat down, thought for five minutes, got back up, and put my name in. Because why not?

My name didn’t end up getting picked, but I enjoyed some of the comedy (not all of it, these nights can be hit and miss, but a few people were good). After it was over, while I was paying my bill, the guy who runs the comedy night came over to me again. He addressed me by my first name, which briefly surprised me because I’d not spoken to him before that night, and I hadn’t realized he knew my name. He said he was sorry I didn’t get picked for the lotto spot, but would I like to perform – as in be on the actual bill, not just in the lotto – on August 10th, in two weeks?

My first thought was genuinely that he’d made some sort of mistake, what with me not being a comedian. I asked him if he was sure, and he said, “Yeah, I saw you at [name of other pub, that runs the Monday night comedy], you were good. So do you want to perform here in two weeks?” I said yes, and thank you, and tried to seem relatively cool about it. Then I left the bar (after briefly apologizing to the guy who had compered the night for how quiet the audience was, including me because to be honest I’d been too distracted by wondering if I’d get picked for the lotto spot to laugh out loud much, but the compere was good and got visibly distressed about how little audience reaction he got, I told him he was funny and deserved a better response, and he told me that made him feel much better and my comment made his night, I’d been nervous to say that to him but then was glad I did, little life tip, if you have nice things to say to people you should say them), and walked home while trying not to shout out loud “I love this fucking city!” as though I was Jim Carry running across town at the end of a movie.

So... it wasn't just people wanting to be nice when they told me on Monday I'd done well. A guy who runs a comedy night thought I did well enough to put me on a bill.

- Last night, I went out for dinner with my best friend, hadn’t eaten in actual restaurant in ages, that was really nice. Hung out at my place afterward. Appreciated how convenient it is to live a fifteen-minute walk from a guy I’ve known for twenty years and still want to see all the time.

- Today, Saturday, I’m about to drive to Montreal to see Tom Ballard and Josie Long, two of my favourite comedians, in a fairly small room at the Just For Laughs Festival. I am so fucking excited. Beyond fucking excited. I am not even going to try to explain how excited I am, because I won’t do it justice. I’ve written a couple of posts about it already. I can barely even think about it. I still can hardly wrap my mind around the idea that Josie Long is a real person and will be in a room with me, even though I’ve been sent pictures she’s put on social media of herself since she arrived in Canada earlier this week.

- Tomorrow, I am being sent to the seaside for my health. I fly out to my grandparents’ home on Canada’s East Coast, my favourite place in the world (Canada’s East Coast in general is a place I love, but my grandparents’ house, out in rural Nova Scotia and right on the ocean, where they’ve been living since I was two years old and where I’ve spent a lot of time every year of my life, is my actual favourite place in the world). My parents have been there for a couple of months now (that’s how they went out to the folk festival that I had to miss due to not being in the area), and I’ll be joining them for a week, and then we’ll all drive home next weekend, and I start a new job on August 8th.

My grandparents won’t be there – they moved into a care home a while ago, and my parents love that house so much and have been trying to figure out a way to keep it in the family, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to work. So part of why they went down this summer was to look into the process of selling it. They did do that a bit, and nothing’s happening immediately, but there’s a good chance this week will be the last time I’ll ever go there. I hope it won’t be. Selling it might take a long time and I might get there again. Or it might sell immediately because it’s the best place in the world.

Either way, I’m going to enjoy this time there. I feel really lucky to have had all the time with it that I’ve had for thirty years, and I feel lucky to get to see it again next week.

So, that's my life update. Things have been rather rough for a while, but they're really looking up. Not everything's sorted out yet, but to paraphrase 30 Rock's Liz Lemon, I am hesitantly allowing myself to feel slightly hopeful.

Colors

Encountered chance of colors

Kamisato Ayato X reader | y/n | I

Short story

Listen to - [ Pretty stranger - Prismo ]

a monochromatic vision

A snippet:

"Here you go" He returns the paper but for a moment I hesitated to take hold of it.

Was it the paper? Or did I just guess for a bizarre reason all along... It couldn't be possible that...

I held my breath and slowly reached the paper with my fingers. I couldn't care if the Commissioner sees my weird act by now but I need to see it again.

"Huh?! Colors!" I couldn't help but exclaim out loud when once again I could see the colors reach my hands.

"Oh... Please excuse me" I instantly added with a quick bow. I hold the paper with two hands to finally take it from him but surprisingly he hasn't let go of it.

I quickly stood up straight if perhaps he had something else to say... And that's when our eyes met.

"You... can see the colors, do you not?" He softly spoke as if intentionally wanting only me to hear him. His eyes filled with curiosity, eagerly waiting for my reply.

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

I used to admire a person. He's one of the Tri- Commission representatives. That person, he just doesn't make much of an appearance in the public. Unlike his younger sister, she's pretty much the face that people find most familiar with. But sometimes if you do get lucky, you could catch a glimpse of him from the side of the stage. I've seen him a couple of times, him standing there, proudly smiling at his sister's admirable speech. There's nothing better than seeing a person with vibrant colors.

Perhaps that day, I have been staring far too long or perhaps coincidentally a firework was being set up just in the area far behind me that it caught his attention... but nonetheless I couldn't be mistaken that his eyes were directly meeting my gaze. It was surreal. I wanted to make sure if I didn't imagine it at that time and hold the gaze but suddenly he pulled up a decent smile. It caught me off guard that I instantly looked away.

That was a year ago... I haven't been able to see him since as I was struggling with work myself that requires a lot of writing documents. I work during the day and only have a minimal personal time during the night before finally getting a peaceful sleep.

Another month has passed by and it's the same routine. How I missed seeing colors again... All these people are colorless to me, even myself. My eyes see the world similarly to the drawings that have been drawn only by using a black ink. I used to think that it was normal, at least perhaps when I grow older, I'll get to see the colors... But that wasn't my case.

"The Commissioner requested these arrangements. Is it possible to acquire it next week?"

I nodded and wrote down the requirements before sending it to my superior. Recently, the town has been busy preparing for the upcoming festival. It's the once a year festival, so everything needs to be carefully addressed and that includes the department I'm working with.

"Are you the person in charge of this area?" A worker points out a map to me.

"No, is there any problem?" I wasn't specifically on duty for that area but it was held by a colleague of mine.

"The Commissioner requests someone to immediately discuss the matter that needs to be changed"

It seems to be urgent, but my colleague was out to get the new materials from the port. Eventually after a quick discussion, I was instructed to assist with the matter.

I've worked for different Commissioners before but I never actually meet them in person. Usually the Yashiro commission is responsible for the festivals, could it be... perhaps it's Lady Ayaka.

When I arrived there, I wasn't expecting to see those familiar vibrant colors... It was so beautiful.

"Sir, we've got a representative from the department"

He turned around and I could only calmly ask what needed to be changed while my heart excitedly jumped in joy. Seeing him up front was different. The colors I see shine brightly... Sometimes I wonder if he's even real.

The colors of his eyes, his hair, his outfit... Is truly astonishing. Sigh... I wonder what my own eye color is... Is it blue, green, purple? I couldn't possibly know that, I never will. Not that I know to differentiate colors anyway.

While thinking all of that, I obviously did manage to professionally jot down his instructions and suggestions.

"I'll make sure to inform the person in charge."

He only nods.

"Right, please sign here, Sir-" I hand him the papers. All changes that should be made need a signature just to prove that it was directly instructed by the Commissioner himself. It was just the normal procedure.

He held the paper while I was still holding the other end. For a brief moment, my hand gave out a glow of color. Was that the color of my skin? How did that happen? Did I imagine it...

Surely I was surprised but what was that?

"Here you go" He returns the paper but for a moment I hesitated to take hold of it.

Was it the paper? Or did I just guess for a bizarre reason all along... It couldn't be possible that...

I held my breath and slowly reached the paper with my fingers. I couldn't care if the Commissioner sees my weird act by now but I need to see it again.

"Huh?! Colors!" I couldn't help but exclaim out loud when once again I could see the colors reach my hands.

"Oh... Please excuse me" I instantly added with a quick bow. I hold the paper with two hands to finally take it from him but surprisingly he hasn't let go of it.

I quickly stood up straight if perhaps he had something else to say... And that's when our eyes met.

"You... can see the colors, do you not?" He softly spoke as if intentionally wanting only me to hear him. His eyes filled with curiosity, eagerly waiting for my reply.

I have dreamed about a lot of things in life but the thought of someone knowing about what I experience without even telling them has never once crossed my mind. Perhaps he only tried to guess based on what I've accidentally said before... But who would've even been curious about that unless they know a thing or two?

"Sir, team A needs your approvement for the equipments needed"

He smiled and handed me the paper but could it be that he was disappointed? Those eyes have always been bright or did I imagine it changing?

I sighed in relief. Only fate allowed me to escape from answering that question of his... I wouldn't know if I want to honestly answer that to a person I didn't personally know...

The sun was almost set when I finally get off from work. With the final energy I have, I directly walked to that one stall that wasn't quite popular. I'm glad that I didn't need to queue because their dango milk drink tasted superb.

"What a coincidence..."

That voice... I turned only to be greeted by the person with vibrant colors. Surprised by the sudden encounter, I could only turn back towards the stall vendor as I paid for the drink I ordered.

If only this person was someone common... I would've rushed to become a friend. Seeing these colors bought by this person brings me joy. What a pity...

"Sir, are you buying drinks too?" I took a step to the side to make a quick polite conversation. I couldn't straight out ignore him either...

Unlike earlier, fatigue was clearly evident on his face and yet he still flashed the same pleasant smile.

"What did you order?" He asked

"Huh?" I was surprised if I heard him wrong "oh... Dango milk, I ordered Dango milk"

He nods before ordering the same drink as I did. I wonder if he'll like it? But should I walk away now... I have no reason to wait.

"I'll take my leav-"

"Do you like Oden?" He suddenly asked as he paid for the drink.

"Oden?"

He hummed softly, finally facing me with the drink in his hand. The drink looks absolutely weird with colors, I've never seen it before... Honestly, I wouldn't buy it if I saw it with colors but it's too late to regret it because the taste has long won my heart by now.

But why is he asking random questions now?

"It's delicious, I do like it"

"Good, I ordered for you too. It's on me"

"Huh? I wouldn't-"

"You wouldn't decline my sincere offer, would you?" He insists with a smile.

I would if you're not the Commissioner. I mean, I could've ended up in jail if he said so...

He casually sat on one of the tables for two nearby the stall, indicating that he knew I wouldn't decline the offer. This overly confident person...

The wooden chair and table glows with colors.

"Sir, I'm-"

"You can call me Ayato" he quickly insists on calling him with his real name while displaying a smile that reaches his eyes.

What's happening? I'm more than happy to have a meal with this person who has such vibrant colors however... I wouldn't want to trouble myself or get involved into any unnecessary situation especially with the Commissioner himself. His status is just too much... I couldn’t predict his actual intentions behind this sudden meeting.

Am I in trouble?

"My apologies... I'll try to get used to that... But I really wouldn't want to trouble you with this. I haven't done anything special at all to deserve a meal"

"Why... not at all. You can always pay me back if that makes you feel better, but am I not qualified to ask nothing in return?" He calmly spoke, looking up to me ever so elegantly, "Do I seem insincere?"

He effortlessly made me feel guilty...

"Well... Please excuse my bluntness" I quietly took the seat opposite him.

I slowly took a sip from the drink I bought earlier but actually it's just an excuse to not have any eye contact with the person opposite me. Standing a few meters apart was fine but this... We're on the same table, if I were to carelessly move my feet, I could accidentally step on his shoes. That thought alone troubles me.

"Hmm... This drink tastes good. A pleasant choice"

"Yes, it is..." I do feel awkward to be in this supposed to be a normal situation for most people. But for me, I just haven't had many encounters with random people, most are just close friends and family or colleagues that I've known for a few years.

Moments after, the stall vendor came by to serve the two bowls of hot Oden, freshly made with delicious looking ingredients. I gulped at the nice aroma of spices and flavors swirling in the air. Both of the bowls were placed at the center of the wooden table as I waited for the Commissioner to take his bowl first but unexpectedly he carefully placed a bowl in front of me.

For just a moment, colors spread across the bowl, a bright color of soup with a mixture of different colors inside it. I was truly amazed to see how bright the soup could be... Has it always been in that color? I've only been seeing it in a very uninteresting color all my life. People say food that turns bad will look grayish or have mold but all I can do to differentiate them is by the smell.

"Woah..." I couldn't help but feel surprised.

I was overwhelmed with feelings that I unconsciously met his eyes in that moment of excitement. Our eyes met yet again, only then did I notice my actions. A smile appeared on his lips that reached his eyes forming a crescent.

I cleared my throat, awkwardly looked away as I carefully grabbed a set of chopsticks.

He must've thought I hadn't eaten these things before... Have I really embarrassed myself now?

"Do you… like it..."

"Oh... Yes, of course." I sheepishly smiled. I'm never going to show up in front of him after this. It's way too embarrassing to be labeled as someone who gets overly excited over free food.

"The colors I mean, do you like it?"

"Huh? Sorry, I didn't get that?" I could've heard him wrong, right? Surely he didn't know that...

He let out a chuckle seemingly entertained.

"Aren't you curious to see your own colors?" He looked at me with an eager look, "...because I surely do"

"My apologies... But I don't understand. What do you mean by that?" I didn't have the slightest courage to admit it. I can only hide it along with an act, a fake confused smile.

However, what does he actually mean by that? I thought I was the one who couldn't see any colors... But why does he seem unable to see me with colors himself? More importantly, why is he even talking about colors as if he knew?

Due to my sight problems, I'm unable to differentiate the colors of my own outfits. Sometimes someone will point out if the colors of my outfit are overly unmatching. So, it's obvious that people can see me with colors. Does it mean that he doesn't?

He slightly sighed as he finally took a set of chopsticks for himself.

"Enjoy the meal" he smiled but the flicker in his eyes became a little dimmer.

How intriguing… Although I'm curious about the same thing he's been implying, how can I talk about that to him? He’s a total stranger, there’s no way he would be aware of colorless eye sight.

We both ate the food in silence until only a few centimeters of soup was left. He seems to be enjoying the Oden but I couldn't tell what he was actually thinking. Unlike me, I'm still restless about this person's real intentions. Everything seems too sudden, as if...

"Y/n would you mind going on a stroll with me?"

Unexpectedly, he knows my name too. I haven't told him my name but obviously he could easily find it from the workers logbook or official residence lists. Something like this would be easily accessible for him. I shouldn't be surprised. However, wouldn't that mean... He's been planning this all along?

"That, I..." I tried to find a proper excuse to refuse but yet again he insisted.

"Just for a little while." He softly spoke.

"But wouldn't that-"

"Please..." He pleaded while completely ignoring my excuses.

Truly he is the non-negotiable type. He won't even let me finish my sentence. No room for discussion at all...

So just like that... I happen to be walking along the sandy path near the Amakane coast. It was isolated but the bustling voices were still audible from afar.

"Come on, walk a little bit closer" he halted just to slightly turn to face me.

I think I wasn't that far behind, I'm just at a comfortable distance. Truthfully, I just liked to see the colors of the sand. Every footsteps he took, the colors would spread across along with him. If I were to walk side by side with him, it would be weird to constantly look down.

"Huh? Oh right... It's alright, you can walk on ahead"

"I believe that's not what I meant by taking a stroll with me" he swiftly walks back towards me, instantly closing the distance between us.

"Right. Understood."

He sighed seemingly revealing a helpless expression.

"We used to play mini games together during festivals, do you not remember?"

It could be possible that he somehow could have some time out just for festivals however having him as my childhood playmate would be highly out of the question. I don't believe I have such a friend.

"My apologies, I can't recall."

"Surely you remember the boy with colors?"

Colors? I do notice that he’s been talking about colors ever so often in between conversations. Is he hinting that he knows about my eyesight all along or he’s just trying to trap me into saying it myself? He’s quite an opponent. 

"No, I still don't..."

"Well, if that doesn't work then how about last year's festival?"

I don't know what is the point of these questions... But I guess he's trying to make conversations? Certainly that's not necessary.

"I know we've seen each other that day" he added before smiling ever so slightly.

"Right, I'm sure everyone did too"

"Yes... but not everyone chose to stand near the souvenir stall every year to watch the speech" he deliberately paused "or rather observing me"

He knows?! How did he know that? Am I in trouble for just staring at him during the festivals? Is it against the law for not paying attention to the speech? Am I truly exposed now?

"Do forgive me, this won't happen again. I wasn't being considerate of my own behavior. Truly, I mean no harm..." I quickly explained in one breath, I know I can't hide about that anymore. Still... I feel ashamed of myself. I feel like burying myself and never to be seen again.

"It's alright..." He laughed, seemingly entertained, "...besides how would I know if I wasn't acting the same way too?"

I’m sure he’s just trying to be nice… how can he be observing me amongst the crowd out of genuine interest… Unlike me, he’s probably here just to warn me to stop such behavior.

I'm scared to even take a glance at him now. I could only act like I'm listening with a slight nod while my eyes were looking elsewhere. I can't even focus on what he's currently talking about right now. I'm too embarrassed to even stand here, in front of him. Forget about the colors, I'm dreading this whole situation right now.

"Please don't be upset... I wasn't trying to belittle you nor do I blame you. Forgive me, if I've said something wrong. I-"

Perhaps my facial expression is betraying me or was it my silence that let him talk in such an apologetic manner? I slowly encourage myself to keep calm, I should be professional. After all, he's still the Commissioner I can't misbehave.

"No worries" I slightly laughed trying to cover up my emotions.

"That's good to hear... I didn't want you to misunderstand me" he smiled seemingly relieved.

"No, I'm fine. I was just wondering how you'd noticed despite the distance?" Of all questions, I couldn't think of anything better to ask as an excuse.

"Will you promise me to tell me your secret after I confess mine?" Suddenly, his tone became a little serious.

"Oh? Nevermind then... That wouldn't be necessary. I won't ask that again." I spoke a little too quickly. I'm not sure if that question somehow crossed the line that his facial expression changed too. Even if it didn't, I don't want to get involved with confidential matters.

"It's understandable that you're still wary of me" He sighed, "Truthfully I wouldn't be here if it's just for political affairs but I'm here with you because of personal matters"

Listening to his words make things more complicated. I just don't get it? Did he really mean that he's here because of his own reasons? Or was it a confirmation that I'm not gonna be in trouble? What is he trying to gain?

Despite it all, I stayed silent and didn't ask any questions. If meeting me was just his personal matter, surely I have nothing to give.

"I've always been curious about you for a long while... I just didn't know how to approach you and I didn't want to scare you either." He slowly explained as he looked at the distant ocean.

Honestly, I'm trying so hard to stay calm and patiently listen to him. At this point, I don't know what he's trying to come out of this?

"I've seen you before... It was a long time ago when we were still kids... It must be fate that I finally get the chance to have an encounter with you again" A genuine smile formed on his lips.

"My apologies, I can't recall any of this. Perhaps, you got the wrong person." I try not to act indifferent to his so-called personal matters. Even if he's the Commissioner, if this is his way for getting woman to like him-

"It's you, I know it's you." He confidently spoke, which instantly stopped my train of thoughts about him.

I frowned, feeling a little annoyed by now. Although, I still find the colors beautifully mesmerizing within the sun's glow surrounding him... I can't seem to-

"I know because..." He paused just to meet his gaze on me, "...you appear colorless to me, similarly to the ink painting on a white paper"

I blink in disbelief, have I listened to him wrong? Is he telling the truth?

"Wh- what? I..." I could barely form sentences in my mind, "...is that true?"

"What about you? Now that I've voluntarily confessed, wouldn't it be fair if you do too?"

I quickly looked away, feeling hesitant. Should I really tell him? Can I trust that he's telling the truth? But even if he isn't, my sight isn't even anything special. If I'm just being played, no one would believe him for the things I'm about to say.

"I can't see colors. The world is colorless to me..." I deliberately paused just to gather a little courage. I might embarrass myself for saying this but no matter, "... except you and the things surrounding you. I wouldn't mind if you didn't believe any of that."

"Perhaps our slight age difference makes it hard for you to remember. At first glance, I thought you were a yokai but then your parents were there, ever so casually holding your hand." He softly smiled, while reminiscing about the past years.

My assumption of him was wrong after all... He was just trying to speak out the truth that even I can't remember. Of all things, he should've long forgotten about such an encounter, especially seeing me. I just hope I didn't traumatize him in a way...

"Weren't you avoiding me until now?"

"I didn't, I just finally get a chance today"

"I guess, you're really a busy man. I shouldn't be surprised"

"I could be... but just to clarify, my schedule is all under my control. However my chances are quite the opposite" he softly spoke as he continued walking.

"How so?" Honestly, I shouldn't be asking too many questions because as I recall, this was supposed to be a leisure stroll.

"Just like any other day, wouldn't you be ignoring every invitation that would come by now and then?"

Invitation? I've only received invitations from friends or colleagues asking to join dinner or drinks after work but I'd rather just buy takeouts and head home. If he meant this, I can only conclude that he actually knows a lot about me.

"Is that so... it seems, your appearance today is just to confirm your assumptions about me, aren't you?" I followed along while looking at the distant horizon on my right side.

“Not entirely… In fact, I’m just curious if you’d accept my invitation to join me for the festival next week?”

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

A/N: writing in first pov was quite fun.

Also, Ayato rerun for Christmas ^^

why do people assume everyone is the good protagonist that can't be hurt and is invincible and doesnt get affected by hate seriously i- listen i fully understand how you feel, and that you made an apology is amazing. But i also understand you rant on the internet because it hurt you more than you hurt anyone else. And now ppl are suddenly shitting on your hair, only because of one photo i seriously can't imagine how you must feel right now. I'm literally so angry.

Listen, this is what happened. Geezie worked super hard to create all the drawings she created, and did something admittedly pretty horrible once, and now people are ignoring the effort from earlier, hating on her, claiming she did it everytime, which i can kinda understand. But what i do NOT understand is that someone can come over and tell you to improve because you're mental health is affected by it!! I cannot grasp that mentality! You must have a great fucking life to be able to say something like that. Now if anyone hates geezie more because a FAN of her (aka not herself) can't take the critisism she received, dont you fucking dare to direct even more hate at someone who's been bullied for a reason, but nevertheless bullied. Listen, viceous words are as sharp as knifes and it hurts even more coming from a community that has loved and accepted you for a while. Can't no one understand that??

That’s honestly kind of where I’m at with it all..

Like, I know I fucked up, trust me. I am in no way trying to excuse what happened, or minimize it in the slightest.

But the amount of pure hate I’m receiving about personal shit due to something as vulnerable as fetish art that was instantly taken down, apologized for, and even the reblog that started it all was deleted.

The space I felt the safest with who I am suddenly made me feel like less than nothing over something that could have been handled by sending me a dm and I would have had the same reaction.. But instead there’s people insulting my appearance, and I can’t even scroll through my dashboard without seeing someone post about it. I’ve drawn over 200 pieces since April when I joined, which is an embarrassing amount of hours and finger calluses from my Apple Pencil.

And all of it was set on fire because no one could just shoot me a message..

So I feel, as someone who is diagnosed with a grab bag of mental illnesses including bpd, and autism, I’m allowed to feel depressed that 4 months of work and all of that time I’ve spent on art to go up in smoke..

Yes, I definitely caused it and haven’t tried once to defend my actions. I am extremely sorry.

But the hate I’m getting is so hard to not internalize when I already struggle every day with keeping my head above water.

Idk, maybe I’m expecting too much, maybe I’m just rambling and this will just further the clown image I already have going on for myself. Idk

either way, thanks for your support and kind words, it really means a lot to me.

Please. I need more merman foul legacy. I needs him to be happy!

since yall seem to love the first part so much, here's part two!! hope you enjoy, also human Childe is kiiiinda in this a bit <3

Read Part One Here!!

~ * ~ Sea Monster AU HCs (Part Two)

Fluff

Warning for beaches, water, and getting sick

PART TWO

~ * ~

-It’s been days since you were able to go to the beach -Summer brings long days full of sun, without a cloud in the sky -Usually the beach is filled with tourists during this time of year and NORMALLY you wouldn’t be bothered by it -But this time it’s filled with hunters trying to catch and kill the “sea monster” -And you also happen to KNOW the “sea monster” personally so you’re not keen on something bad happening to him -Every time you try going back someone stops you, explaining that you must’nt enter because they’re so close to catching that dastardly sea monster -Yeah right. It’s been MONTHS since the hunt started and they haven’t made ANY progress -Still, they’re doing great at keeping you out of the beach and before you know it over a week has passed -Luckily you’re very persistent, and you finally find a night where everyone has gone home, tired and sunburnt from “hunting” -You climb your favorite rock and quietly call Childe’s name, but he doesn’t surface like he usually does -At first it seems like no luck, but your ears pick up the sound of someone groaning -You hop off and hide behind the rocks, certain that it’s someone coming to tell you off -But you hear no footsteps, only the waves splashing on the shore and quiet breathing -So you peek around to see what’s up, and your eyes fall on a man laying on the shore -You’ve never seen him before so you slowly walk over to get a better look -But when you get close he opens his eyes, and you’re suddenly staring into the deep sea -He leaps up and you jolt backwards, only to watch him stumble and fall back to his knees -He smiles brightly despite your wariness, clumsily repeating your name over and over again -You’re backing away slowly when you squint and glimpse his hair under the moonlight -It’s ginger, with a noticeable streak of white, something you’ve only seen once before -It seems like a bit of a stretch, but… -You whisper his name, as more of a question than a statement -”Childe…?” -He nods happily as you kneel beside him, wrapping his arms around you and smushing his cheek against yours -His attempts at trills and coos turn to happy hums now that he’s got human vocal cords -You feel him shiver with cold, goosebumps raising on his arms, and you draw back much to his dismay -He’s wearing only a pair of shorts and his skin is misted with seawater so you give him your coat and hurry him back to your house -When you get there you promptly wrap him in a soft blanket and make some tea -You sit next to him, rubbing your head to try and process everything, and ask him HOW THIS HAPPENED -He just shrugs- he seems very unperturbed by being human, so you decide that it’s late, you’re tired, and it’s probably just a normal thing for him -You can feel your eyes closing, and register a pair of arms pulling you close to someone’s chest -When you wake up Childe is snuggled into your side, arms loosely keeping you close. You nudge him and he blinks awake with a sleepy hum -The next week is you getting accustomed to having a human Childe following you everywhere -You teach him how to stand and walk, as well as how to talk a bit better- he’s not perfect but he can say his name and yours, and a handful of other words and sentences that he deems important -Your town is also in a tizzy seeing how the sea monster sightings have abruptly stopped, and you can only do your best to keep Childe out of sight -He’s curious about everything, and you showed him around your house as he looked around with wide eyes -But one day when you get home you hear pained whining from the living room, and you rush to see what happened -You find Childe laying on the ground in his merform, claws scrabbling at the polished floorboards -Apparently he can only keep his human form for about a week and he leans heavily on you as you rush to support him -You know he needs to go back to the sea, but a chill runs down your back when you remember the hunt -And even when you suggest it he whimpers so sadly at the thought of being separated from you -So you do the next best

thing: You help him slink up to the bathtub, fill it with water, and situate him there instead -He splashes happily around in the water, and you sit down next to the tub in relief, eventually falling asleep -You wake up to find the end of Childe’s tail draped in your lap as he naps next to you -You go about your days but check up on him whenever you can, watching as he visibly perks up when you enter the room -But you silently know that he doesn’t belong in a bathtub, so you’re not particularly surprised when he starts to act tired and listless -His scales and armor look duller and you can occasionally hear him coughing when he thinks you’re not listening -Eventually you straighten your shoulders, walk into the room, and tell him that he has to go back to the ocean -Not because you don’t want him here! But he isn’t made to live like this- he should be in the open sea -He cries out and clasps his claws on your arm, the end of his tail wrapping weakly around your wrist -You’re trying not to tear up yourself, leaning in and pressing your forehead against his as you quietly tell him that you’ll take him back tonight -He whines in dismay, nudging his head into your hands, asking for a hug which you gladly give -When night falls, you make sure no one is around before helping him out the door -You have to stop several times to makes sure he can breathe properly, but luckily your house is close to the beach and you arrive without any interruptions -Childe wedges himself in your arms and gives you a gentle lick on the cheek, then reluctantly slips into the sea -You watch him swim out, turn to glance at you one more time, then dive underneath the waves -You stand there for a bit, contemplating the moonlight, before leaving to go home -The next day the beach is empty, most people having assumed that the “sea monster” is long gone -You take a stroll up to your little rock and sit down, enjoying the sun -Something knocks against your foot, and you look down to see a perfect pearl settled in a groove -A deep purr threads itself around the splashing waves, a shining eye blinking at you, and you smile

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕 

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present. 

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response. 

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises. 

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not. 

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming. 

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little. 

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing. 

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye. 

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either. 

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist. 

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it. 

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line. 

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body. 

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out. 

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder. 

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!” 

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even -  which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you. 

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch. 

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench. 

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde. 

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream. 

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him. 

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises. 

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver. 

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off. 

It’s too much for your brain to take. 

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him. 

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. 

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

What has been your experience, if any, with new age spirituality. And what is your opinion on it? Do you think it has a strong leg to stand on?

I talked about it in my last ask/answer a little bit actually! But New Age Spiritualism is such a broad category and concept I'm going to try break it down a little bit.

The Good:

By introducing concepts like meditation, mindfulness, and compassion- it has improved the lives of many people in a way traditional religion was just unable to do.

It's overall shifted our culture for the better and opened the door for discussions we would have never been able to previously have without being labeled heretical or crazy.

Largely is responsible for Wicca and the rise of witchcraft in general. Were it not for Wicca being invented during the first rise of the hippie and New Age movement ( drawing heavily from their influence), many of us would have never had the resources now to get into other forms of witchcraft. Including myself probably.

The Meh: It's become an aesthetic to be purchased in stores by people who do not even begin to actually bother with its true teachings or get into the real work of it. Same with a lot of Witchcraft, likely due to its rebirth through the New Age Movement. Those people who tell you "you can use any ingredient for this spell at any time for any reason without any experience and it will work" those are people deeply skewed by New Age Fluffy Bunny ideals. The "witchcraft is entirely positive and nothing bad can or will ever happen it is easy and happy and totally good in every way" yeah that's them too. They're not really damaging, but its not where you are going to grow and learn the most. I have no beef with them, (they definitely have beef with me) but it's just not for me.

Wicca is almost certainly a New Age religion and it's really neither here nor there for me. It has some good and bad aspects of that, but as a whole I just kind of ignore it. It helps guide and improve the lives of a lot of people, while also being problematic for others. Unfortunately though, its founders helped to plant a lot of bad roots in the pagan community that we still grapple with and are listed below.

The Bad: (I will be referring to practitioners of this as 'Crystal Lickers'. A term my mentor taught me that refers to people who buy a ton of crystals or spiritual objects and that's about where their willingness to put effort into spirituality begin and end.)

It's been boiled down. Like in my last story, it has been adopted by people who barely grasp the concepts at all but wave them like a banner. The new age lady I mentioned last time smuged, read tarot, did yoga, got frequent reiki sessions, tried to commune with spirits, and read energies and auras and presented herself as a guru - all on a 2 month retreat in India. Many of the things she practiced require years of training and experience to really truly grasp and embrace and the New Age movement encourages people to pick them up like fun little spirit candy.

It's appropriative. Cultural appropriation is a complex subject and I won't go into it here. But essentially- if you want to do yoga, read pendulums, and hang a dream catcher in your room all at the same time that's totally fine. Just understand you didn't invent yoga, pendulums take time and practice to master, and buy that dream catcher directly from the tribal people to which made them originally. (and some might refuse you depending on their beliefs about dream catchers must be gifted to work- and you have to be ok with that too). Some stuff you can use, some you can admire from afar, and some you just leave alone. New Age doesn't get that.

It's commercialized. Much like witchcraft is becoming, spirituality has become a commodified thing for the rich to buy. And the flip side of that it has been labeled as a fad thing for rich white people, which has discouraged in some cases, minorities from engaging in the actually beneficial and totally free aspects of it. It's the idea that if you buy enough evil eyes, tote bags, and crystals and suddenly you are the real deal. These are Crystal Lickers

It doesn't demand change or work. One of the biggest things that draw people to New Age Spirituality in its many forms is the opportunity to improve their life and become happy worry-free beings of light. But what that often becomes is "How To Manifest Wealth and Romance" and looking to others with a sense of righteous pity and dispensing your unsolicited wisdom now that you have ascended thanks to that podcast you listened to once. Most of the spiritual people I know, have never actually challenged themself through their practice. They're not actually looking in the mirror and going 'how am I maybe the bad guy' 'how do I hurt people' 'what do I need to let go of for OTHER' people. True spirituality will demand you to put others first and remove yourself from ego, watered-down versions say to love yourself exactly as you are and just let those bad vibes go.

It can be toxic positivity. The best example of this I could imagine is my old coffee shop. We had this big mantra painted above the door about love and acceptance. The crystal licker owner was very adamant that this was a place of healing and growth for people to come and be their vulnerable authentic selves. She also once asked a queer kid talking about their traumatic experience with their parents with their friends in a corner to leave because 'their energies were not conducive to the space' .

It can target the vulnerable: In the great case of my most prominent Crystal Licker she actively sought out struggling and vulnerable people to present herself and her divine guidance as the answers to their woes. Talking them into doing things for her for free and taking advantage of people until they became totally dependant on her to feed her ego. This is not uncommon in the slightest among the New Age community. Basically New Age Spirituality at its worst boils down to this: Love yourself and all creatures in perfect unity, encouraging the growth and aspirations of ones authentic self through healing and community. As long as it's my healing, and you're not too annoying about it or call anyone out. There's also a bunch of stuff you have to buy in order to do it. I don't know where any of these objects or traditions come from or why you should do them but I saw it online once. Tl;dr: If your spiritual journey is easy and exclusively positive the entire time, you probably haven't even started yet.

color me red | jungkook

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: college au | fluff

word count: 1.5k

warning/s: profanity.

summary: You hate Jeon Jungkook but who are you trying to fool?

Part of BTSGhostieMarathon (Dialogue #2)

masterlist

all rights reserved © vantaenims - do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

--

“Your handwriting is so small”, Jungkook squinted his eyes as he brought his head down towards your binder, “I think I need a magnifying glass to make out the words.”

You sigh, “Do you want my notes or not?”

“I’m just saying”, Jungkook teased with that annoying smile of his despite the deadly glares you’re throwing at him.

“Then i guess you don’t need it” you grabbed your binder away from him but curse Jungkook’s fast reflexes because next thing you know, Jungkook had your binder behind his back but bad for him, you’re not in the mood to play his silly games, “Jungkook”, you warned.

“Alright but i do need your notes so i could photocopy it”

“As if you’re actually going to read it” you scoffed as you went back to read your textbook.

Jungkook smiled, ignoring your statement as he stood up from his seat to walk around the table, sitting himself down to the seat next to yours so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders to squeeze you into his side.

“I’ll be back real quick, don’t want you to wait too long”

“Go away” you made a face as you shrugged his arms off of you, making Jungkook chuckle.

You look away from your textbook for a moment just so you could take a glance at Jungkook who’s currently walking himself out of the cafe and once you’re sure that he’s out of sight, you squeezed your eyes shut as you let your head fall on top of your textbook, groaning to yourself.

You hate Jeon Jungkook.

It was during the first day of the semester when you first met Jungkook. The whole class went silent as he entered the room, meekly apologizing for being late but you were too busy writing down your notes to take a look at who it was.

“Do you mind if i sit here?” you looked up from your notes and you could now understand why the room fell silent.

Jungkook is fairly attractive and you won’t deny that you’ve been swooned by those good looks of his as you immediately nodded your head, allowing him to take the seat next to yours but looking back now, you wished you didn’t say yes if you only knew how troublesome he was going to be.

As the semester went on, you’ve come to learn to look past his looks and make him out to be the annoying seatmate that constantly chats you up in between lectures and an airhead that kicks your chair to beg you for answers during exams.

You hate Jeon Jungkook.

Sighing, you leaned back on your chair as you thought of how stupid and pointless it is to repeat those words in your head because for all you know, Jungkook is the one responsible for putting those unwanted butterflies on your stomach you've been getting for a while now.

“Miss me?”

“No”, you firmly said.

“I got you this” Jungkook placed down a plate of cinnamon swirl right beside your textbook but you just pushed it back across him as you tried to act uninterested.

“Thanks but I already ate”

“Iced Americano isn’t a meal”

You eyed him suspiciously, “Don’t act like you actually care for me.”

“And if i do?”

You blinked at him as you try to decipher if he’s just shitting with you or if he does actually care about you but this is Jungkook you’re talking about, so it has to be the former, right?

“I know you’re just sucking up to me because the finals are next week” you stated as a matter of fact.

“I’ve been studying” Jungkook defended himself.

“What do you know about studying, Jungkook?”

“Ooh that’s harsh”, Jungkook clutched his shirt right above his chest where his heart resides as he feigned a pain expression, “Why do you think I always come here in this cafe?”

Well, that’s one thing you’re curious to know because ever since Jungkook coincidentally spotted you here and invited himself over your table three months ago, you know you’re done for. Specially, when he made it a habit to come here often and eventually made himself as your study partner that you did not ask for.

“I don’t know? So you could possibly annoy me even more?”

“You make studying more bearable.”

You snorted at his cheesy reply, “Yeah, it’s thanks to my notes, right?”

For a smart girl like you, Jungkook thinks you’re quite dense when it comes to things like this or were you just purposefully trying to reject his advances? It’s not like he could blame you, he’s totally aware that he incorporated a bad impression on you.

“Look, why don’t you try to eat just a little bit? I’m not trying to insult you or anything but you seem tired”, Jungkook said with pure concern written on his face.

“Fine then, if it’ll get you to shut up”, you cut yourself a big piece as you shoved it into your mouth until you were able to catch on the last part of his sentence, growing conscious all of a sudden, “I haven’t slept in 3 days. Is it that obvious?”, you whispered as you observed your appearance from your front camera.

“Well, that explains why you’re grumpier than usual”

You don’t look too menacing when you’re glaring at him with your cheeks full, making Jungkook smile at how silly and adorable you look but he was quick to purse his lips as he went on to do a motion of zipping his mouth, choosing to play it safe with you.

With Jungkook silent, you were able to read your textbook in peace but you find yourself glancing at Jungkook from time to time and you’ve never seen him this serious about his studies until now. Jungkook had his brows furrowed in concentration as he reads your photocopied notes whilst having the end of his pen stuck in between his teeth to chew.

You were unaware that Jungkook caught you looking at him until a sly smile appeared on his face, prompting you to look away as you shove another piece of cinnamon into your mouth to mask your embarrassment.

“I’ve been meaning to ask but what do these colors mean?” Jungkook referred to your color-coded notes.

“Why’d you ask? You don’t seem to be bothered by it before” you said with your mouth full as you try not to make eye contact with him.

“I told you, I’ve been studying”, Jungkook said, “But i mainly just want to know more about you.”

You choked on your cinnamon as soon as you heard those words and you think you’ll be dead in no time if Jungkook persists to act like this towards you. Nonetheless, you kept your composure as you took a sip of your Iced Americano before explaining to him what every color in your notes signifies.

“Red can be easily spotted among the other colors so i used it for terminologies since they’re very important, Blue is for the key words, Yellow is for the classification, and Green is for enumerations. Now, can you go back to being quiet?”

Jungkook momentarily kept his eyes on you with a smile on his face before he went back to read and you’re just grateful he never mentioned the part where he caught you looking at him. Instead, he did as told to remain silent but it was not for long until he called your attention once more.

“I have a question”

“I’m sure you could just search it up on the internet” you dismissed him as you’re too busy highlighting down your notes.

“No, you’re the only one who has the answer to this”

“I told you-”, you were cut off when Jungkook suddenly grabbed your hand to have you draw a red colored crooked line down his palm, “Why did you do that?”

“Am I important now for you to listen?” Jungkook raised his brows as he waited for you to speak.

You sigh at his wit, “What is it?”

Jungkook’s hand flew right back to his nape as he fidgeted with his hair whilst he tried to look elsewhere but you. From his actions alone, you could tell that he was acting nervous and shy though you’d like to know why his cheeks are getting redder by the second.

“I like you”, Jungkook blurted out, catching you off guard at his sudden confession, more so when he removed the red marker from your hand so he could replace it instead with his hand.

You could feel your heart hammering so loud and you were scared that Jungkook might be able to notice your quickening pulse through your wrist thus you tried to shake his hand away from yours but that just prompted him to squeeze your hand tighter.

“T-That’s not a question”, you stammered.

“Then will you go out with me?”

You roll your eyes as you try to bite back a smile, “Shut up.”

--

(sorry my tumblr app glitched so im not sure if this was sent twice) taking a chance for the requests! how about a seokjin or namjoon arranged marriage au with this: “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 🎄 happy holidays!!

↳ Playground Promises

1.9k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

The bell rings.

Moments later, children are sprinting from the doors and flooding the playground. You watch in fondness as some climb the monkey bars while others sit and dig into the sandbox. All of them were forging their first friendships they’ll remember forever and you were their witness.

This is one of your favourite times of day. You enjoy seeing the kids have their fun, listening to their laughter and giggles, watching their games of tag to play pretend. But today, your enjoyment is interrupted by a certain male teacher that comes to stand behind you.

Tall. Dark. And handsome. His broad shoulders carry the weight of the third-grade class and practically the entire elementary school. But you’d never admit that out loud.

“It’s a bit chilly out today. You should’ve brought your coat with you.”

You hum.

Every staff member, married and single, swoons over Kim Seokjin. It’s hard not to. But if others knew what your relationship was with him, you’re sure you’d never hear the end of it. The kids would make a big fuss and so would all the staff and faculty, and you’d rather avoid that.

“I didn’t know you were on playground duty today.”

“I switched with Sana,” he says and leans over to smile. “Thought you could use some company.”

You scoff. “She’s perfectly fine company.”

The corner of his plump lip pulls. “If you want to talk about the mathletes program. And I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

Before you can respond, a boy approaches the two of you with pink cheeks and wind-swept hair. “Mr. Kim, can I go to the bathroom?” the third-grader asks in the midst of catching his breath and the older man nods.

“Go ahead. But don’t run in the hallway, Lucas.” 

Said boy grins and dashes off.

Seokjin turns to you and lowers his voice. “My mom’s been asking about the kids.”

Your brows furrow. “Why? They’re a good bunch.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean your class’ kids, I mean our kids.”

You blink owlishly. “There are no our kids.”

“That’s the problem.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Wasn’t getting married enough for them?”

Seokjin shrugs with a faint, mischievous smile. “They want to go out for brunch with your parents this Sunday. Are you free?”

“When am I not free?” you retort lightly, but slip your phone out of your pocket to check your calendar anyhow. Seokjin glances over to your screen and once you finish, you slip it back into your pocket. “I have some marking to do, but I’ll probably finish by then.”

“Okay.” The pair of you turn back to continue monitoring the children playing and you’re glad to revel in the silence that’s been created between you. But after a beat, Kim Seokjin pipes up again. You don’t know why you’re surprised. He’s quite the talkative guy. “Hey, Y/N.”

You look over and he meets your eye.

He asks, “Am I your lock screen?”

Your face heats. If you were once cold, now you were warm from head to toe. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” you mumble. It was just a picture from the other day and you wanted to change things up on your phone. You had nothing else to use. It was convenient. That’s it.

Your entire relationship with him is built on convenience. At least...on his side it is.

Still, Seokjin grins and fortunately, he doesn’t tease.

You rush to change the subject. “A-Anyway, yeah, Sunday works for me. But we should probably talk about this after work.”

“Why? No one’s around.” His smile is spread from ear to ear and he leans in, whispering, “Are you that scared of people finding out we’re married?”

Immediately, you whip your head in all directions. Luckily, there’s no kid or nosy faculty member. You turn back to him, glaring. “I already said, I like to keep my private life under wraps.”

“I remember. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were embarrassed of me.”

You scoff and a murmur unintentionally spills out of you, “That’s impossible.”

You don’t notice Seokjin’s smile.

It’s been three months since you got married. It was a summer wedding. More importantly, it was an arranged marriage. And not because you were both wealthy and needed to be wedded to get the inheritance under some arbitrary contract rule or because it was your grandmother’s dying wish. No. You live a much more mundane, normal life than the dramas, movies and books.

It was your mom who threw a fuss. She was scared you’d be alone and unmarried, an old maid like your aunt — you didn’t say it, she just heavily implied it. But following her practically senile meltdown, you agreed. Partly to appease her worries and partly just out of curiosity.

You always wanted to get married. And deep down, you always wanted your own kids. But at the rate you were going, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to meet someone on your own.

What you didn’t expect on that blind date was for the other person to be Kim Seokjin, third grade teacher. Down the hall from you at the school. Someone across the room every lunchtime. Your dads were apparently long time colleagues, but Jin was still as equally shocked as you were during that first meeting. Yet, he easily agreed to getting married when you brought it up. Even when it was only after two months of occasionally seeing one another outside of your workplaces.

You still don’t know why he said yes.

“Ms. L/N!”

You’re torn out of your trance by a little girl at your knees. 

She pouts. “Jennie won’t let me play on the slide!”

“Did you ask her to share?”

“Yes!”

Before any more can be said, she drags you over and Seokjin trails after you. There’s another girl with brown braided hair climbing on the slide, and she swivels her head over as the two of you approach, eyes the size of saucers. 

“Are you taking turns, Jennie?” you ask her, and she vigorously nods.

“I am!”

“Well, you’ve been on it for a while. How about Lisa takes a turn next.”

“Okay,” she draws out and gets off of the slide before turning to her friend. “Here you go.”

It’s always little problems you have to solve — from sharing to knee scrapes and monkey bar accidents. Sometimes it’s difficult for the children to compromise, difficult for them to apologize and difficult for you to find a good solution. But you undoubtedly wish your own issues were this simple.

While you’re stuck in your thoughts, you miss Jin watching you fondly. 

“You’re good with kids,” he says as you move out of the way of running children and walk back to the perimeter.

“I wouldn’t be doing this job if I wasn’t. But I deal with older kids much better.” There’s a reason you teach fifth graders and not any lower than that. Seokjin knows it too.

“Remember when we had to supervise that kindergarten class together?”

You shudder. “It was a nightmare.”

“You weren’t that bad,” he tries to say but then laughs. You feign a glare, and he adds on, “Okay. I’m sorry, but I still mean it. It’s not as terrible as you thought. You’d make a good mom.” 

At that, your glare vanishes in favour of furrowing brows. You really shouldn’t, but you can’t help it when curiosity pries — so you break your own rule against discussing private matters at work. 

“Do you want my kids?”

Seokjin is wide-eyed and he turns to you. “Why not? We’re married.”

“Yeah….but…”

“But? Do you not want kids?” 

“No! I definitely want them,” you declare, almost a bit too boldly. He nods and you explain, “It’s just...I don’t know if you’re serious.”

Seokjin blinks. “I’m being perfectly serious.”

“I mean I don’t know if we’re serious.” You add, “Enough to have kids.”

“What’s more serious than being married?” Jin has a genuinely inquisitive and amused expression, head quirked to the side. 

You inhale a sharp breath and his gaze coaxes you to go on, so you do. “It’s just that you agreed so quickly to be married to me. It doesn’t….feel real. I don’t know if you wanted to marry me, if you did it on a whim, if this is some kind of joke—”

He frowns. “This isn’t a joke, Y/N. I wanted to marry you.”

Your mouth hangs open. Your eyes are rounded.

“Wh—”

“Mrs. L/N!” You’re interrupted by your fifth-grader, Park Jimin. He sprints to you, huffing and puffing, before leaning his hands onto his knees to catch his breath. “Have you seen Taehyung?! We’re playing tag!”

“No, I haven’t.”

Jin suddenly points to the left. “He went that way.”

Jimin books it.

Silence fills the spaces between you and Seokjin again, but it isn’t like normal. It’s filled with unanswered questions and the suspenseful cliffhanger of an unfinished conversation. The laughter of kids on the playground and field resound around you, but for the first time, you don’t listen to it. 

It fades into the background as you turn to Seokjin, wanting to know more. “What did you just say?”

The man smiles softly. “You have to know.”

“I don’t,” you assert. “So tell me.”

“I’ve always liked you.”

You blink and he continues, “Since you substituted for the art teacher and I saw you squirt red paint all over yourself. It’s something I couldn’t forget. Plus, the way you draw those stick people.” Seokjin laughs heartily and you’re trapped in your spot, unsure of how to react or what to say. He reads your expression and softens. “Did you really think I would rush into a marriage if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“I…” Your mouth is agape. “I don’t know. Why did we never talk about this?”

Seokjin shrugs. “You never asked and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t feel the same way. I knew you married me for convenience.”

“That’s not true,” you retort within a beat. This whole time, you thought he married you for convenience sake. But it wasn’t entirely like that for you.

Seokjin’s eyes are big and you swallow down your embarrassment. “Isn’t it obvious every single breathing person loves you? It’s hard not to.”

Slowly but surely, a grin spreads into Seokjin’s puffy cheeks and he’s smiling from ear to ear again. “Well, you’re very good at hiding it then.”

Suddenly, the bell rings.

All the children reluctantly climb off the equipment, some dusting their hands while others grabbing their friends, and they rush into their lineups. There’s a few stranglers lugging their legs while groaning. But busy in their small playground worlds, no one turns around to notice you leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to Seokjin’s mouth. It’s shy and brief, like the first peck exchanged between two for the first time. And you pull away just as fast, lips left tingling.

“We can continue this later, Mr. Kim.”

You stride off while Seokjin’s left smiling. After a breathless moment, he chases after you like children who have just made promises of their first love on the playground.

A Captivating Voice

Pairing: Cassandra Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: Working as a servant in Castle Dimitrescu is already a workload for you. However, one job has finished early and you take the opportunity to get time to yourself and sing out some vocals, with caution. However, a Dimitrescu daughter has been captivated by your angelic voice.

Warnings: Some Angst(??), blood, Fluff/slight nsfw at the end

A/N: Finally have a story for all three Dimitrescu daughters! Still thinking of some ideas for the Lady Dimitrescu herself so hopefully I’ll have one out soon!

Line Without a Hook | If I Could Tell Her

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

6 months.... 

That's how long it has been since you've been working in Catsle Dimitrescu. It's been a living hell, hearing the faint screams of fellow maidens from down in the dungeons had freaked you out enough. 

"Will that be all milady?" You ask 

Bela, being at least more sensible than the other two, had asked for your help with whatever it was. You didn't really question her about it, so you just went with it. 

"Nope," she says, "is that all you have to do today?" 

You nod, "I managed to finish cleaning the east wing early today. Not until dinner, I have nothing else to do Lady Bela." 

"Then that is all y/n," she says 

You bow your head and begin heading back to your quarters. If anything, with the much time you had before your next task, you immediately grab your acoustic guitar and begin heading to a secret spot. Secret, because no one else knows about it. Although you could have trusted Bela, you also didn't want to risk getting into unnecessary trouble with Lady Dimitrescu. As you climb the walls of the castle, you close the window so they won't know someone went out. You seat yourself along the rooftop, you tune your guitar. It was a warm afternoon. Perfect for a small one-person jam session. 

I don't really give a damn About the way you touch me  When we're alone  You can hold my hand If no one's home Do you like it When I'm away? 

From where you just exited, Cassandra walks past the window and hears a faint singing voice. She stops in her tracks and backtrack to the window. 

Oh baby I am a wreck When I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day  I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said  To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh, and if I could take it all back  I swear that I Would pull you  From the tide 

Cassandra continues listening to your captivating voice. She wanted to open the window to see your face. However, would lead to certain doom if she had done so. 

Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am not a boy  Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am just a line without a- Oh baby I am a wreck when I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh and if I could take it all back I swear that I  Will pull you from... The tide.... 

As you finish the last note, you look out to the village you had come from. To be honest, you were a tourist.... Then someway somehow you unknowingly became a servant to Castle Dimitrescu. Well, it was better than death really. However, you made one request; you'd keep one of your possessions, your acoustic guitar. Somehow Lady Dimitrescu was lenient enough for that request to be approved. However, with the rough tasks, you barely touched it since starting your time there. However, it was rare. You'd find some time to yourself before the next task so you found that specific spot outside along the castle where you could feel free enough to play your guitar. As she heard the window beginning to jimmy, she turns into her usual swarm of bugs and hide in the shadows. You open. The window and quickly hop inside and shut the window before you could be noticed. However, just before you could get back to your quarters, you could feel a bug on the back of your hand. 

"Oh...... No...." you sigh 

You jerk your hand back into you as the bug leaves a scar along it. 

"So it was you huh?" Cassandra appears out of the shadows 

"L-lady Cassandra," you say, nervously, "I'm-Im sorry if I made any unessecary noises. I'll-I'll promise I won't do it again." 

You try to brush past her however, she catches your bleeding hand and brings you in close to her. You could feel your heart beating harder. She raises your hand and she licks off the seeping blood. 

"You should play for me some more," she suggests 

"Milady?" You ask 

"Don't make me repeat myself," She leans in close to your face, menacingly 

You nod your head as she lets go of your hand. 

"My quarters after dinner," she says, "Not early, not late. Bring that with you. Got it?" 

You nod, not willing to argue with her further. She licks your bleeding hand one last time before letting it go and turning into a swarm of bugs. Your heart was beating at an uncomfortable rate. You couldn't find the courage to sneak back out again, so you decided to sit in your quarters until it was dinner.

You followed every single request as best as it can get. You were considered one of the best servants in the castle, according the Lady Dimitrescu. However, as you were pouring Daniela another glass of wine, your fingers had suddenly turned into butter and the bottle slid out of your hands, crashing onto the floor. In a fit of rage Daniela uses her sickle and your reflexes kicked in, you hold your arms up to your face however, she slashes the palm of your hand. 

"Keep your dirty mits off her you idiot!" Cassandra yells, grabbing Daniela by the wrists 

Another servant comes over to help you clean up as much as possible. You were dismissed by Lady Dimitrescu, but she didn't seem angered. More like, sorrowful. 

As you kept your promise to Lady Cassandra, you took your guitar and walked up to the door to her quarters. 

"Lady Cassandra?" You call, knocking on the door 

"Come in," she calls, monotonus 

You open and close the door and notice that she's already in bed, she was on her side, facing you, awaiting for you to seat yourself. 

"My apologies for Daniela," she says 

"No no my apologies milady, me and my butter fingers," you try to chuckle it off 

"Your palm?" She asks 

You raid it for the both of you to see. Unfortunately the palm Daniela had sliced was your left palm, in order for you to play to Cassandra was to use your left hand for the notes. 

"Oh don't worry milady, I'll be able to manage," you lie 

You didn't not want to play because of some stupid injury you brought on yourself. When you tried to play one note, you draw your hand back. 

"Let me see your palm y/n," she says calmly 

You unwrap your palm and hand it to her. 

"How do you know my name?" You ask her 

You've barely interacted with her. You've mostly interacted with Bela as she needs your help with whatever it was she needed. 

"Bela tells us about the help you bring her when we talk at dinner," Cassandra says, slightly in a jealous tone 

Oh, that's fun, Bela likes to run her mouth. You were worried she would have bitten off one of your fingers but, her touch was gentle and soft. You'd think she'd make a fuss about your injured hand. She takes your palm and her tongue gently running itself along the cut. You felt weird about it.... a sadistic woman gently tending your wound. You didn't realize this but when she moves her tongue, the scar was gone, only a silver lining remained. 

"How-how did you do that?" You ask her, surprised 

"Guess I'm just full of surprises," she flirts 

"Well, that makes two of us," you smile, "Any requests?" 

"Sing the one you sang when I heard you earlier today," she says 

Oh.... That one.... Alright. 

"As you wish milady," you sigh, tuning each string 

You wanted to leave Cassandra's room with no scars so you take in a deep breath and begin strumming calmly, you wanted it to be gentle and smooth. 

I don't really give a damn About the way you touch me  When we're alone  You can hold my hand If no one's home Do you like it When I'm away? 

As you continued singing, you looked behind you and noticed how Cassandra was still facing you, but she looked peaceful. Her eyes were closed as if she was watching you through your voice. Feeling bold, you turned your body so that you're fully sitting on her bed, singing to her. 

Oh baby I am a wreck When I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day  I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said  To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh, and if I could take it all back  I swear that I Would pull you  From the tide 

Cassandra sits up and reveals that she wasn't wearing any form of clothes other than her under garments. You blush at her fine figure but snap your eyesight back up to her facial features. 

Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am not a boy  Singing, she's a she's a lady And I am just a line without a- Oh baby I am a wreck when I'm without you I need you here to stay I broke all my bones that day I found you Crying at the lake Was it something I said To make you feel like You're a burden? Oh and if I could take it all back I swear that I  Will pull you from... The tide.... 

You strum out the last chord and look up, Cassandra is captivated. You slightly smile, hoping that eased her senses. 

"Why haven't you sang to me sooner?" She smiles 

"Oh- I'm not sure," you sigh, "I wasn't sure if you would be the kind to like a servant's vocals." 

"Same time tomorrow evening," Cassandra demanded, but in a calm voice 

"Yes milady," you blush 

You swing the guitar against your back however, before you made your leave, Cassandra pulls you back toward her by your wrist, startling you. 

"Maybe, I should keep you too," she whispers seductively 

Your heart was racing, you couldn't find the right words to say. Even if you did, they wouldn't come out of your mouth correctly, fearing your demise, should you say something. 

"Little Angel has her tongue tied," she lowly giggles, "Same time tomorrow angel." 

She finally lets you go. With haste, you make your way out of her quarters and back to your quarters until the next morning. 

As Cassandra steps into the dining room for breakfast, her sisters and her mother look up at her. 

"Somebody sure slept in," Daniela teases 

"Good morning to you too dummy," Cassandra groans 

"Did you hear that person singing last night?" Bela asks Cassandra 

"She has such a beautiful voice how haven't we had her perform for us before?" Daniela asks 

"Because it's such a silly task," Lady Dimitrescu says, "However, you are right about her having a lovely voice." 

"Do you know who it is Cass?" Daniela asks 

"Hmmmm, perhaps," she smiles 

"Who is it????" Daniela pleads 

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," Cassandra snarls

As you were cleaning Lady Cassandra's room, a song came into your head. You couldn't help but hum along to the chorus that was playing in your head. Any kind of music helps you get the job done easier. You were just about to organize Cassandra's vanity before you hear the sound of buzzing. Here we go again.... As you looked up from the mirror, there she was. You weren't sure if she was checking something on her dress or if she was admiring you. 

"Hi little angel," she smiles, coming closer to you, "Did you miss me?" 

"More than you could imagine," you flirt back, feeling bold all of a sudden 

She turns you around and snakes her arms on both sides of your waist. Your heart began racing once more and you were sure that Cassandra could feel it too. 

"Little angel's heart is racing, is it because of me?" She smiles menacingly, leaning close to your face 

You put your hands on her shoulders, and lean in. But, before the both of you could do anything, you hear the voice of Lady Dimitrescu calling for her brunette daughter. 

"Do you remember what's tonight?" Cassandra asks 

"Here, after dinner. Not early, not late," you remember her words from the evening before 

"Good girl," she smiles menacingly once more 

She turns into her usual swarm of flies and disappears into the castle halls. Good girl.... She just called me a good girl.. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle before facing her vanity once more to organize it. 

When you had finished cleaning Cassandra's room, it was cleaning the dining hall before dinner. Fortunately Lady Dimitrescu didn't assign you to be a servant for dinner tonight however, you wouldn't be able to see Cassandra until her requested time to see you. You end up changing into your sleep wear just in case Cassandra decides to keep you in her chambers for the night. 

"Milady Cassandra?" You call from the other side of the door, knocking 

"Come in love," she says, calmly 

You open the door and close like like you did last night and seat yourself at the edge of her bed. 

"Any specific songs you would like to hear milady?" You ask, turning your head to her 

"Lets make it your pick tonight," she smiles 

You blush, as if you were hoping for her to say that. You tune your guitar like clockwork, and begin plucking your strings. 

I said There's nothing like your smile Sort of subtle and perfect and real I said You never knew how wonderful That smile could make someone feel 

Those weren't the exact lyrics, you changed them to expressing how you felt about Cassandra. Even though you knew she was the sadistic daughter of Castle Dimitrescu, she's shown you otherwise. 

But I kept it all inside my head What I saw, I left unsaid And though I wanted to I couldn't talk to you I couldn't find the way But I would always say: If I could tell her Tell her everything I see If I could tell her How she's everything to me But we're a million worlds apart And I don't know how I would even start If I could tell her If I could tell her 

You turn your body so that you're facing Cassandra. You again begin strumming like it was your last. 

I thought You looked really pretty, er— It looked pretty cool when you put indigo streaks in your hair And I wondered how you learned to dance Like all the rest of the world isn't there But I kept it all inside my head What I saw, I left unsaid If I could tell her Tell her everything I see If I could tell her How she's everything to me But we're a million worlds apart And I don't know how I would even start If I could tell her If I could tell her But what do you do when there's this great divide? She just seemed so far away And what do you do when the distance is too wide? It's like I don't know anything And how do you say I love you? I love you I love you I love you But we're a million worlds apart And I don't know how I would even start If I could tell her If I could 

As you strum the final chord, you look up at Cassandra, who was just in a daze as much as you were. You place your guitar against the wall and climb into her lap. 

"Y/n?" She asks 

Before you or her could question further, your lips crashed against hers and the both of you began fighting for dominance. You didn't want to be bested in a simple kiss. However, it seemed that Cassandra was still caught off guard by your action. Feeling bold,, you stick your tongue into her mouth, hearing a deep moan coming out of her mouth. Oh, but she did you one better, she puts one palm under your arse and the other beginning to run under your bra. You gasp, making you pull away to breathe, you see Cassandra smiling. 

"Stay with me draga mea," she pleas 

You nod happily as you let yourself fall onto the soft mattress and follow Cassandra under the crimson sheets. 

The word got out fairly quickly that you were now Cassandra's lover. However, everyone was supportive about it, especially her sisters and Lady Dimitrescu. Cassandra persuaded her mother to have you play for the entire family when they would come over. However, when the night comes, when its only the two of you would be alone, you'd sing her a song only she would want to hear for herself. 

"You captivated me with your voice draga mea," Cassandra whispers as she cuddles her head into the crook of your neck

“Were you now?” You ask

“What was your life like before you came here?” Cassandra asks

“Well, I used to be a musician,” You say, “I traveled the world, street performing and such. But, I’m here and I’m saying it’s not a bad thing though. I’ve come to love being here. Thanks to you.”

Cassandra lifts her head and the both of you give each other a good night kiss.

Title: Learned Helplessness.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Mindbreak, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Themes of Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and Implied Kidnapping.

Sometimes, Keigo had to wonder if there was ever a point where you hadn’t been afraid of him.

It’d always been there, even if Keigo liked to remember your anxious smiles and stuttered greetings in a kinder light. It made sense, in the moment, the way you kept your eyes on the floor when you first approached him, struggling to introduce yourself as you fumbled with the disposable cup in your hands, caught between the urge to leave an off-shift hero alone and the temptation get your favorite idol’s autograph before he could slip out of the small, back-alley bar you found him in. You’d been nervous, obviously, hesitant to admit you were just as eager as he was when he asked for your number, when he called you for the first time – hell, it took him months just to get you to spend the night in his apartment. You were shy. He liked that about you. You’d always been so timid.

The fear, the genuine fear, started later on. He remembered it, the weeks you spent holing yourself up in the smallest corner you could find, how many times he tried to lure you out and how many times he was met screaming and thrashing and struggling, but you’d always been scared, slow to adjust, reluctant to sit still and listen when he asked you so nicely to try. You wanted to be loved, but you didn’t know how to let your guard down. You wanted him, but…

But, he was making excuses. You were never shy. You’d never really been scared. Even when things went bad, he doubted you were ever really afraid of him.

You were afraid now, though, and if he’d been a better man, he might’ve been able to admit he was the reason why.

Your hands were shaking. Violently, visibly, despite your attempts to keep them folded behind your back, to keep the evidence of your paranoia out of sight and out of mind. It was enough to give you away, though, and if it hadn’t been, your posture would’ve done it, too stiff and too rigid to be comfortable, or your bowed head, or the smile you couldn’t seem to force onto your grim expression as he let himself into the kitchen, stopping to lean in the doorway. Already, it felt like an invasion, despite the fact that he’d taken you to his villa, on his property, far away from anyone or anything you’d interact with willingly. He was home too soon, and this wasn’t his territory, anymore. He wasn’t your caretaker, anymore. He’d lost the right to think of himself as such a benevolent figure.

But, he tried. You had to give him that. Out of the two of you, he was the only one trying to make this work. “No need to be shy,” He started, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. You didn’t react well when he raised his voice, and when he tried to be more gentle, to soften himself into something delicate and unimposing, you never bought the act. He couldn’t blame you. If he didn’t know how sweet you could be, how playful and how loving, he wouldn’t know to be dissatisfied with the frightened thing you currently were. “I don’t bite, (Y/n), you know that. You can calm down.”

He wanted you to correct him. He wanted you to grit your teeth, to cross your arms, to get angry. You only nodded, narrowing your eyes at the tiling. “You… you’re early.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a mumble, but it was still an improvement. Not long ago, you’d refused to talk to him at all, and when he could choke a few words out of you, he’d have to deal with the breakdown that came afterward, the pleads for mercy forced out between hitched sobs. This was better. He could tell himself that this was better, even if it was less, too. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there to greet you. I would’ve, if I thought you were going to—”

You were rambling, again. Keigo didn’t have a problem with that, not by itself, not when so many memories he had of your absent-minded tangents were still tinted with that sparkling, rose-colored haze, but he didn’t care for this, panicked muttering only made more painful by the way you shifted your weight, managing to hold your tense smile, this time. Did he ask you to do that? Smile when he was around? Play house and pretend you were happy when your captor chose to pay attention to you? It seemed like something he would do, back when he still thought that wearing you down was the solution. Fuck, it seemed like something he would do now, if he didn’t already know how painful it was to watch you try.

“It’s alright,” He cut you off, taking half a step forward. Instantly, reflexively, you flinched back, that slight shudder suddenly more pronounced. It wasn’t just your hands, now, your shoulders were shaking too, your jaw locking into place as you leaned into the sharp edge of the countertop. “Sweetheart,” He tried, moving forward before realizing his mistake and freezing, cursing under his breath. Predictably, none of it did anything to soothe you. “Baby, I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I got off early, and I figured we could—”

A stifled gasp interrupted him, just the hint of a sob. A month ago, he would’ve taken it as a sign of disobedience, another bad habit you had to be trained out of. Now, it was all he could do to stop himself from wishing you would cry, kick and bite and scratch at him until you’re too exhausted to care that he'd be the one comforting you. At least that way, he’d get to touch you. At least that way, you’d be something, other than afraid.

“Please, I just—I haven’t done anything!” Because you’ve been good. Because so much as being near him was a punishment. Because he wanted you to love him and now, he was paying the price for hoping he could ever do something so shamelessly heroic. “I can’t— please, don’t come any closer, I don’t know if I can—”

He wanted to hold you. That was all he could think about. He just wanted to hold you, the actual you. Not whatever shell he’d gotten used to living with. “Stop talking.”

You clenched your eyes shut, then you opened them again. Like a child, trying to blink away the remnants of a nightmare after just waking up. “I’m so—”

“Stop talking.” In his defense, he didn’t yell, he knew how much you hated it. He did yell, he didn’t throw a tantrum, not like you would’ve, not like you were about to by the time he stepped forward, crossing whatever ridiculous boundary you were so convinced he had to respect. You moved to shrink into yourself, but he grabbed you before you could collapse, catching you by the bicep and latching onto your hip, refusing to let you fall and make him seem like the bad guy. You already had your fun. You’d already gotten away with enough. You had to know he would put his foot down eventually, and you didn’t have the right to seem so shocked, when he finally did. “Just stop talking. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word until I tell you to, fucking brat.”

Now, now, you were crying, tears welling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, your entire body trembling like he’d ever given you a reason not to trust him, like he’d ever hurt you a reason to think he had anything but your happiness in-mind. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not about the tears, not about the excuses you were stumbling through, and not about the way you were holding yourself, your arms crossed over your stomach and your nails embedded in your sides, a moment away from drawing blood. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

You didn’t say anything, but he still shook his head, sighed, made a show of cupping your cheek and idly brushing away your tears. “It’s my fault,” He admitted, letting the disappointment seep into his voice, allowing his tone to dip into something superior. Compared to your whimpering, at least. “I trusted you to get better on your own, and I shouldn’t have. I thought you could pull yourself together, but clearly, I was wrong. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

You looked like you wanted to say something, to argue. You didn’t, but you looked like you wanted to, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat on its own.

“I’m tired of this.” Just as quickly as he took you up, he let you go, watching in silence as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Go to your room. Yours, not mine. I don’t want to look at you if you’re going to act like I’ve done anything but help you.”

You looked at him, at that, met his gaze for the first time since you decide doing so was a death-wish. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second, but he still saw it – that spark, that light, that hint of something other than thoughtless, blank fear. It wasn’t positive, the adoration he would’ve liked or the resigned neutrality he would’ve tolerated, but it was something. It was something, and it had been so, so long since you’d given Keigo anything.

He couldn’t make you love him. He’d tried, he failed, and he’d tried again and made thing worse. It was over. He just couldn’t do it.

But, he was beginning to think you didn’t need to love him. Not as much as he loved you. Not at all, really.

Not if he could get you to hate him enough to make up the difference.

You Light The Spark In My Bonfire Heart

Kyle Rayner x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I HAVEN'T HAD ANY WIFI ALL DAY BUT NOW I DO AND this is my new obsession and pair and you can tear it from my cold dead hands. Enjoy! -Thorne

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Kyle had an easy morning routine: get up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, workout, shower, drink protein shake, and draw. It was simple and effective, and helped him maintain a sense of normalcy that he didn’t always have when he was up in space. He typically started out with sketching small things, mostly faces and limbs from memory, the occasional suit redesign, then he’d get into the bigger works, drawing comic panels and the commissions he had. And while Kyle loved to be up in space, to be a Green Lantern, drawing felt like coming home to him, like it was the natural state. That being said, he didn’t love being interrupted when he was in the middle of something important—it was bad for the groove.

***

As the second round of knocking sounded on his door, Kyle grunted and stood from his desk, padding through the hallway to his front door; he flicked the lock and pulled open the door, surprise etching across his face when he saw the eldest Wayne leaning against the door frame—rather cockily, Kyle added, because the soldier’s arm was propped on the frame, the other stuck in the side-pocket of his dark tactical bomber jacket.

“Good morning, Kyle,” he greeted with a smirk. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

The Lantern blinked, shaking his head. “Uh, no, you’re not, (Y/N).” he looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Had some business to take care of for my dad, and since I was in the area, I figured I’d drop by and see if you wanted to get some lunch with me.”

Kyle took a moment to lean out the doorway slightly, looking down the stretched hallway. “How’d you know where I live?”

“Please, a magician never reveals his secrets,” he deflected coolly, gazing at Kyle. “What do you say? Wanna get some lunch? I know a really good sports bar that serves great food.”

He looked back at (Y/N) and smiled. “Yeah. Let me go get dressed.”

The soldier merely winked in return and with fumbling hands, Kyle managed to shut the door before his cheeks burst into flames, hurrying back to his bedroom to pull together an outfit that would impress the man.

***

Kyle almost dropped to his knees when he saw the car parked outside his apartment building, and (Y/N) knew it too, because he chirped, “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

He nodded dumbly. “Is this a McLaren 720S?”

“Mhm.” He opened the doors and slid into the driver’s seat, looking through the passenger door. “Coming?”

“Am I ever,” Kyle breathed, climbing into the seat, immediately running his hands along the dashboard and seat. “I’m in love.”

“Wait till you hear her purr,” (Y/N) said, closing the doors, and pushing the ignition. The sports car roared to life and he grinned at the way Kyle’s face melted. “Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He put the car in drive and looked through the side mirror, then pulled out onto the street.

“Is this one of your dad’s cars?”

“Nah, I bought this for myself a couple months ago.” He pulled the sunglasses from his t-shirt and put them on. “This and an Audi TT.”

Kyle huffed a laugh. “Jesus, you billionaires live it up, don’t you?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Hey, I live life in the fast lane. Might as well drive in it too.” He pushed a button on the touch screen and music filtered through the speakers, and Kyle’s face pinched in confusion. “What?”

“This isn’t—James Blunt isn’t the music I figured you’d play.”

“What’d you think I’d be listening too? Rock?” he chuckled, turning the volume down a bit. “Don’t get me wrong, I listen to all kinds of rock music, but I figured you’d want something easy rather than head-bang your brains out rock.” (Y/N) stopped at a red light and glanced over. “You can look through the artists on my phone if you want.”

Kyle shook his head, relaxing into the seat as the melody flowed through him. “No, I like this artist.” The soldier merely smiled in return, pressing the gas pedal again, and Kyle suddenly remembered something. “Speaking of artist, I saw the canvas in your bedroom the other day. Do you draw?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Not like you. It’s more of a pastime than a lifestyle.”

“You’re good at it. You’re painting your family in their suits. Details and designs included.” The artist regarded him with impression. “That takes skill.”

“I’d like to think I just have a steady hand and a lot of patience for stressful tasks.” (Y/N) turned the wheel, coming up behind a line of cars. “It’s an easy way for me to relax and mentally run through past events.”

“Like what?” Kyle questioned curiously.

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, but not in a loathing way, more of a thoughtful one. “Missions, conversations, things I could’ve done differently, things I will do differently.” He shrugged again. “Painting for me is just a time when I think about everything and nothing.”

“Well, you’re great at it, (Y/N).”

He snorted. “It’s just a bunch of paintings of my family and friends and military shit.”

Kyle blinked and leaned over. “Wait, is that painting in the den—”

“The one of the F-18 Super Hornet?”

“Yeah. You painted that?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. I got Hal Jordan to take me up in one a few years ago and decided to commemorate the trip.”

“Wow,” the Lantern breathed. “I stared at that canvas for at least an hour the first time I saw it. I was just so blown away by how amazing it was.” He chuckled and shook his head. “And to find out, you drew it and not some world-famous painter.”

“Hey, I could be world famous if I wanted.” (Y/N) shot back, turning onto a less busy backstreet. “I just choose to retain my talents for family and friends.”

“Because of your job?”

“That too.” He agreed. “My squad and I take careful precautions to avoid our faces being seen during any missions for the safety of our families.” His face turned as solemn as his voice. “We do what we do to make the world safer. To keep our families and friends safe. It’s imperative that we’re not seen.”

Kyle cocked a brow. “But you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?”

“I am,” he nodded. “But I’m not as…out as the rest of my siblings. You’d be able to recognize them from press photos, but me not so much.” (Y/N) pulled into a parking spot outside the bar. “People only recognize me when they see the name on the credit cards. And I prefer to keep it that way.” A goofy smile crossed his lips. “The high life isn’t for me.”

“Says the man that drives a 710 horsepower sports car.” Kyle shot back with a grin of his own and (Y/N) stuck his tongue out as he turned the car off and opened the doors.

“Okay, I’m not actively in the high life but that doesn’t mean I don’t like luxury.” He closed the car doors and opened the front door to the bar for Kyle. “After you.”

“Thank you.” He replied, and walked inside, only stopping to turn and ask, “Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?”

(Y/N) tipped his head to the side. “I’m down with both, but I like the bar more.”

“Bar it is,” Kyle said and slid into one of the chairs, (Y/N) the other, and an older man wandered over.

“Well, I’ll be damned, is that (Y/N) Wayne I see?”

He turned, expression morphing into joy as he reached out and shook the older man’s hand. “Jack, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you son. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, you know me, sir. Nothin’ changing but the weather.”

Jack snorted. “And the desert where you dig sand outta your ass.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Damn straight.” He looked at Kyle. “Kyle, I’d like you to meet Jack Dagher. He’s an old CO of mine.”

Kyle shook the man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“It’s all mine,” Jack replied. “It’s been a while since (Y/N) brought anybody here.”

At that, Kyle turned to the soldier who was busy looking anywhere but his face. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. Sonovabitch doesn’t bring his dates here unless he really likes ‘em.”

(Y/N) coughed, glaring at the man. “Alright, we get it. Aren’t you supposed to be taking orders?”

Jack gave him a smug look in return. “What can I get you boys to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Kyle said, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“No shit, kid. What kind?”

(Y/N) snickered as Kyle flushed. “Uh, a Heineken.”

Jack sighed. “And he had such potential. (Y/N)?”

“Gimme a strawberry daiquiri then water after.”

“Still ordering fruity drinks, huh?”

“Hey, they get you drunk faster than horse piss does, you old fart.” He shot back and the old man chuckled.

“Touché.” He slapped the bar. “I’ll bring those to you with an order of chili fries.”

“Thanks Jack,” (Y/N) smiled, watching the man walk off before turning to Kyle who was watching one of the baseball games. “You like sports?”

He tipped his head side to side. “I don’t not like them. I was never a sporty kid in school, but I like watching them.” He looked at the solider. “What were you like in school? Jock or prep?”

“Probably a bit of both,” he answered. “I played sports and had the highest grades.” Shrugging, he added, “And being a Wayne boosted me into the top tier of schools, so, there’s that. To be honest, I think all of us Wayne kids were and are a mixture of every stereotypical category.”

“I can see that,” Kyle laughed. “Especially with Jason and Dick.”

“Shit, I was talking about Timmy.” (Y/N) said. “That kid’s a grade A nerd.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

The two of them laughed and a woman placed their drinks in front of them, both giving their thanks as they took sips.

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”

“My muscles are one hundred percent real. Especially my abs. Which you’re allowed to feel on in envy if you want.”

Kyle snorted into his beer, wiping his mouth. “No!” a few more chuckles passed his lips as he wiped the bar. “Are you…you know…?”

“A Leo?” (Y/N) offered with a smile, but his eyes told Kyle he knew exactly what the Lantern was asking, and he said, “I like the liquor, but I don’t care what label it has on it.”

The other man smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“But if you want the technical term, I am pansexual.” He regarded Kyle a moment. “You?”

“Bisexual.”

His lips pulled in an impressed fashion. “Pretty fly for a bi guy.”

Kyle gaped at him for a moment, then shoved (Y/N) in the side as he buried his face in his arms and laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

“Ah thank you,” he grinned. “I get it from my old man.”

“You,” he cut himself off with a cackle. “do not get that from him.”

“Look, you know the big man in the suit. You don’t know the complete goober we live with,” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling at the waitress who placed menus in front of them; he picked his up and flipped through it.

“What do you recommend?”

“Hmm…anything with bacon on it.” He showed the menu. “If you like salads, get the steak and blue cheese one, it’s fantastic. Or if you’re more into tacos, they’ve got these awesome shrimp carnitas with chili peppers.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed as he looked the menu over. “What are you gonna get?”

“My usual. Tomahawk steak with garlic butter and mashed potatoes.” (Y/N) groaned and rested his head back. “I haven’t had a good steak in months, and I can just taste it already.”

“So, you’re a meat and potatoes kind of man?”

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed. “Unlike the cup noodle and Hawaiian roll man beside me.”

“Ouch. Hit me where it hurts.”

“C’mon Kyle, hit me with your best shot.”

“Better watch it, (Y/N),” he grinned. “You might be the next notch in my pencil case.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

***

“Holy crap,” Kyle breathed, hands resting lightly on his stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

(Y/N) moaned. “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”

“Done?” their waitress laughed. “You haven’t even finished your desserts yet!”

“Oh God, don’t make me,” the Lantern whined. “I’ll explode.” He looked over. “(Y/N), take one for the team.”

“Pass,” he replied. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds just looking at the rest of the cheesecake.”

The woman laughed. “I’ll wrap the leftovers for you boys.” She wandered off, leaving them alone, and a blaring ringtone filled the space between.

(Y/N) jumped a little, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I get this really quick?”

Kyle shook his head. “Go ahead.”

He slid his thumb along the bottom and rested the phone on the bar. “This is Wayne.”

Captain! Finally. I’ve been texting you all afternoon.

“I know,” he snorted. “I’ve been ignoring it.”

Yeah well, the longer you ignore me the slower it takes for the radar dish to get replaced.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) asked. “I thought you’d procured one.”

I did. Then the buyer told me I wasn’t registered for official military hardware.

He frowned. “That’s odd. You did contact Thomas, right?”

Yeah. Beady eyed looking motherfucker who serves on the George Washington, right?

“That’s him.” (Y/N) hummed. “Tell you what, I’ll call him later this evening and get it all sorted out, yeah?”

Sounds good. Hey, did you take that guy out yet? Your little brother won’t stop texting me about some twinkie you’re into.”

(Y/N) froze as he felt Kyle’s eyes drilling into the side of his head and he stuttered, “Uh, Nadeen, now’s not the best time.”

What do you mean best—oh…ohhhhhh. I, uh, I gotta go, Captain.

“Yep. Bye.” He locked the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, refusing to meet Kyle’s eyes. “So…you catch the baseball game?”

“Which one of your brother’s thinks I’m a twink?” Kyle asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s Jason, isn’t it?” he grunted in his throat, deadpanning, “I can’t believe my best friend thinks I’m a twink.”

“It’s Dick, actually.” (Y/N) grinned, turning to face him and he reached over, pinching Kyle’s cheek. “It’s just ‘cause you’re so cute and perky.”

The Lantern merely glared at him, griping, “I’m not as strong as you, put I can punch pretty hard.”

“Ooo, those are fighting words,” he shot back with a smirk, letting Kyle go. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

“I feel like I’m talking to Hal.”

(Y/N) whined, all but collapsing onto Kyle who started snickering. “I’ve just been murdered.” He buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder. “Can’t believe I was just compared to Highball. The world must be coming to an end.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby. You’re not dying.”

“I am!” he turned his head, gazing at Kyle. “You’ll have to carry me to safety.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I did not say that.”

“You did, but in more words.”

“Alright, now I’m talking to Guy.”

“THAT’S SO MUCH WORSE!”

***

He leaned against the door frame as Kyle unlocked his front door and pushed it open, turning to look at him. “I had a lot of fun today, (Y/N).” he murmured. “Thanks.”

Winking, he replied, “I’m glad you did. I’d like to do it again soon if you want.”

Kyle nodded. “I’d like that.”

They stared at each other for a few moments and (Y/N) smiled, patting the door frame. “Well, I’d better be heading out. Have to get home in time for dinner.” He paused, giving the man a warm look. “Thanks for having lunch with me, Kyle.”

He’d not gotten two feet from the door when Kyle’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Wait.” He turned and the Lantern leaned forward, pressing his lips to (Y/N)’s cheek. “Be careful on your way back.”

“I will,” he murmured, watching Kyle wave and disappear into his apartment, the door shutting behind him.

begin again - part four

Jax Teller x female!Reader

Summary: After the return of her abusive ex-boyfriend, the reader plots her escape

Word count: 2,9k words

Warnings: bad language, alludes to the death of a minor character, physical & verbal abuse & kinda angsty

Author's note: Enjoy the fourth installment and all feedback is welcome! :)

If you’re in an abusive relationship or you suspect that someone you know is being abused, speak up and reach out to the correct people!

Beta read by @crucifixedbitch

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

💀💀💀💀💀

You examine your face in the mirror, pleased with the job you’ve done to conceal the marks left by B/N. Last night was brutal and you would do anything to erase it from your memory. To never have it happen again.

“Toots!” A loud pounding sounds on the bathroom door, “Come on, sweetheart, we’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I-I’ll be there in a second.” Moving quickly, you pack your makeup back into your cosmetic bag. “I just need to grab my bag.”

“Five minutes, okay?” he sounds irritated with you. “We’ll wait outside.”

With a shaking hand, you zip the bag closed and leave the bathroom for the bedroom. Your handbag is on the bed but your phone’s not on its usual spot at your bedside table and you just know B/N has something to do with its disappearance. And you know that it’ll be a while before you see it again. You’re so upset, it brings tears to your eyes but there’s no time for them. He’s waiting for you and being late will lead to trouble.

S/N and B/N are on the small patch of grass outside the house, kicking around a ball.

“You gotta kick the ball to me, okay kid? You gotta kick it hard.”

S/N scurries towards the ball and kicks it so hard, it zooms between B/N’s open legs and bounces off of the fence. They both cheer from excitement, and S/N runs straight into B/N’s open arms.

“That was amazing, buddy!”

You clap your hands, drawing their attention to you.

“Did you see that, Mommy?”

“I did, ace, and it was so good.” You walk over to join them on the grass, “Hey, sweet boy.”

You haven’t seen your son all morning. You lift him off the ground and hug him to your chest, it feels good to hold him so close to you, and for the second time in the last five minutes, you feel you might cry. The three of you make your way over to B/N’s rental SUV parked on the small driveway.

“Mommy, are you feeling cold?”

You briefly glance over to B/N who’s prepping the baby car seat. “A little. Mommy’s not feeling too well.”

“Do you need chicken soup?”

You chuckle and press a kiss to his forehead, “Will you help me make it when we get back?”

He pinky promises you to. You hand him over to B/N who buckles him into the car seat. It’s not his intention, but you can’t help but feel humiliated by S/N’s question. A turtleneck and jeans in the dead of the summer in Charming, California? That’s sure to raise suspicions.

“Baby, do you not think I should stay behind?”

B/N turns in his seat, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

Pointing at your turtle neck, you explain, “It’s going to draw attention. It’s summer and I’m dressed for winter.”

“And you care what these people think of you?”

Yes, a lot. It’s your fucking hometown, of course, you care! You want to scream at him, claw at his face, but you’re weak. Pathetic. You can’t even muster the courage to get away from him.

“Sweetheart, no one’s going to be looking at you. Trust me.”

Ouch.

“Don’t ruin this outing by being so self-obsessed.” He starts the car’s engine and backs out of the driveway, “Do you want to listen to some music, buddy?”

Today’s your last day in Charming, B/N’s orders. Later on today, you’ll embark on a five-day road trip back to North Carolina. The idea of being trapped in the car with B/N has you regretting every decision you have made in your life that has led you to this point. Forty fucking hours? The car just isn’t big enough and no amount of eagerness from S/N can change your mind.

“When we get back, I need to see Mabel.”

Mabel’s a friendly neighbor who lives down the street from your mother’s. She moved to Charming a few months before your escape to Charlotte, and since your return, she has been a great help.

“Who’s Mabel?”

“She lives down the road.”

“Why do you need to see her?”

To use her phone to call Jax. “I want to give all my mother’s old furniture to charity. She offered to help me organize it.” It’s a believable lie, “It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

After a dragged-out silence, he murmurs a soft ‘okay’ and warns you not to do anything stupid. “I might not be able to stop myself this time around.”

The chilling part is that it’s not an empty threat. You look back at S/N who’s softly singing along to ‘Old MacDonald Had A Farm’, gazing out the car window. Leaving Charming was a decision you made for his sake, to protect him from his father’s world. To give him a shot at a normal childhood, to raise him away from gangs and violence. Instead, you found yourself in the clutches of a wicked man who will one day kill you.

“Mommy, will we see Abel before we leave?”

“No,” B/N responds before you can.

God, you fucking hate him. Your feelings towards him are violent, and you’ve got to come out of the car before you act recklessly.

“Stop the car.” You unbuckle your seatbelt prompting the seatbelt alarm to go off. “Stop the car, B/N, now!”

He pulls into the empty parking space in front of a bridal shop. You frantically open the car door and stumble out of the vehicle, gasping for air. So glad to have distance from the devil you call your boyfriend.

“Toots, what’s wrong?”

You take a step away from him, needing the space. “I need to breathe, B/N.”

That upsets him. “What are you trying to do? Huh? Get in the fucking car so I can drive to the grocery store.”

You pace around in a circle on the sidewalk, contemplating your next move. You can’t run off, B/N could easily catch you and S/N’s still in the car. You can’t leave him, even though you know B/N would never harm him. He loves him too much. Think, think, think! You have a moment of clarity when you look across the street and see who you believe to be Bobby Munson sitting at an ice cream shop. What are the odds?

“Ice cream and candy!” You spin to look at B/N who’s shooting daggers at you. “I want ice cream and we need candy for the road trip, don’t we?”

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

You walk back to the car to open S/N’s door and start unbuckling him from his car seat. “D’you want ice cream, ace?”

His face lights up. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” he chants.

“Alright. Come on.” You shut the car door, S/N clutched tightly in your arms, “It’s just a small pit stop. Do you want any?”

B/N looks furious but there isn’t much he can do to you out in the open. He’s starting towards you when his work phone starts ringing. He has to take the call and so he tells you to go ahead, he’ll meet you inside the shop. You flash him a smile and make your way to Scoops & Sweets. Now that you’re closer, you’re certain it’s Bobby, and he’s standing behind the counter with his arm in a sling, drinking beer.

“Bobby?”

“Y/N?” His stony expression morphs into a smile, “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Bobby.” For the first time in the last 12 hours, you feel safe. “I thought it was you.”

“Who’s the kid?”

“This is S/N,” you look proudly at your son. “Say hello to Bobby, ace?”

Bashful, he waves awkwardly at Bobby before concealing his face in the crook of your neck. You casually look over your shoulder to check if B/N’s still on his call before you turn back to Bobby.

“Bobby, is there a phone I can use? I want to call Jax, there’s something I want to tell him, and my phone’s broken.”

He looks out the window to B/N who’s pacing next to the rental. “Why didn’t you ask your friend to use his phone?”

“He doesn’t like to share.”

Bobby looks back at you. “Jax’s upstairs. Come, I’ll take you up to him. Bring the kid.”

Bobby calls for Chuckie who emerges from what you assume to be the staff break room. When you last saw Chuckie, he had fingers.

“What happened to your fingers?”

“Chinese cut them off,” he holds up his prosthetic hands. “These were a gift from Gemma.”

You regret asking. Bobby orders him to keep watch of the shop and starts leading you towards the flight of stairs.

“Uh Chuckie, a man will come in here looking for me. Could you tell him I went into the bathroom?”

Chuckie nods and you continue on your way with Bobby.

“Is this the new clubhouse?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Bobby leads you and S/N down a short hallway and stops in front of a closed door. He knocks once before he opens it, “Visitor for Jax Teller.”

The men in the room, consisting of Jax, Chibs, Tig, Happy, and Juice, all turn to the door. From their expressions, you’d swear they’ve just seen a ghost. You might as well be a ghost.

Jax raises off his chair and crosses the space to join you at the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Hi, boys. I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting,” suddenly, coming to Jax seems like a bad idea. But B/N. You put S/N on the ground. “I just wanted to see you before we leave this afternoon.”

Jax scowls.

“We’re headed back home to North Carolina. Driving.” You throw your arms around your ex, wincing at the discomfort you feel at the contact. “I’m so glad I could see you again.”

He returns your hug, holding you flush against him and you don’t care that you’re in pain. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that the bottom hem of your sweater’s risen, probably exposing the bruises on your lower back. There’s a pang of pain in your heart when he releases you. The tears blur your vision. God, you hate that you’re so emotional today.

“How are you getting home?”

“B/N arrived last night, he’s waiting for us downstairs.” Probably impatient and suspicious. “We should probably get going.”

Downstairs, B/N’s at the counter listening to Chuckie recount the time he had his fingers cut off by Lin’s men. S/N leaps out of your arms and runs over to B/N.

“Here’s your candy.” Chuckie slides two bags of candy to you, “Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.”

You smile at him. “Thank you.”

B/N snatches the candy from the counter and the three of you make your way out of the shop. It’s a short trip to the grocery store and luckily for you, there aren’t a lot of people buying groceries whilst you’re there. The tension from earlier has subsided, and the ride back to your mother’s house is a sing-along with S/N leading you. You’re helping B/N unload the bag of groceries from the car when you spot a familiar van at the end of your street.

“When will you go to Mabel’s?”

“After lunch,” you start unpacking the groceries, “I’m sure you boys are hungry.”

“Starving.” He leans over to press a kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll have a beer with my lunch.”

He leaves you in the kitchen to join S/N who’s building Lego in the living room. You’ve just finished laying all the lunch ingredients on the counter when you hear the thunderous roar of a motorcycle outside your house. Shortly after, a knock sounds.

“I’ll get it,” you call from the kitchen.

Unfortunately, B/N beats you to the door. He angrily signals for you to go back into the kitchen.

“Do as you’re fucking told,” he warns through gritted teeth. “Go back to the kitchen.”

You open your mouth to protest but he marches over to you, grabbing your arm harshly, and drags you through the kitchen to the laundry nook.

“You’re hurting me!” you complain, struggling in his firm grip.

The sound of the back of his hand connecting with your cheek bounces off the walls of the small space. You forcefully shove him away from you and try to escape but he hooks a strong arm around your waist and hauls you back into the nook.

“Let go of me!” you claw at his arms and the pain causes him to release you.

“You little bitch!”

He lunges towards you but you’re quicker than him. You grab the first item in your reach which happens to be an iron and whack him on the head with enough force to make him cry out from the pain. You dash past him and run to open the front door at the same time Jax is about to shoot at the door.

His scowl deepens at your disheveled appearance. “Where is he?”

“In the laundry nook. I hit him on the head but he’s still conscious.”

“Where is the kid?”

S/N! You run into the living room, your eyes frantically searching around the space for your little boy. His Legos are strewn on the floor but there’s no sight of him. “S/N?”

“Mommy!”

He’s behind the couch. You find him curled up, his eyes closed and his hands covering his ears.

“My baby.” You scoop him in your arms and carry him towards the front door. “Jax?”

He calls back from the kitchen and tells you to go outside. “Rat’s got the van out front.”

“But Jax–”

“Go!”

You rush out of the house, S/N cradled in your arms. You’ve just stepped onto the patch of grass when you hear grunts coming from the house. Ratboy meets you at the gate and takes S/N from your shaking hands to carry to the van. He helps you into the vehicle before he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Gemma’s.”

💀💀💀💀💀

S/N and Abel are asleep in Jax’s old bedroom and you’re sitting at Gemma’s dining table staring blankly into space. If you had been told a week ago that you’d be seeking asylum at Gemma Teller’s home, you wouldn’t have believed it. You replay the last twenty-four hours in your head, you’re somewhat in disbelief of all that’s happened.

Gemma places a gentle hand on your shoulder, drawing you back to reality. “Here you go sweetheart,” she places a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of you, “it should help calm your nerves.”

“Thank you.” You place both of your shaking hands on the mug, watching as Gemma takes her place across the table from you. “Have you heard anything from Jax?”

“No,” she reaches for the box of cigarettes on the table. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

You nod, your eyes dropping to the mug. “Did he… did he tell you why he had Ratboy bring me here?”

“Psycho boyfriend,” she takes a pull from the lit cigarette. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

The shame brings fresh tears springing to your eyes. It makes it worse to know that this time around, S/N was awake to hear it all. You feel like you’ve failed him, exposed him to the very thing you vowed to protect him from when you left Charming all those years ago.

“What do I tell S/N?”

“Nothing,” she stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray. “You shouldn’t worry yourself with that right now. You should try get some sleep, you can worry about that tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” You take a small sip of the hot tea and sigh, “This is all my fault.”

“Sweetheart, no.”

“It is and now I’ve gone and gotten Jax involved in this mess.” The frustration is eating at you, “I just–”

You’re cut off by the kitchen door opening. Jax’s back. Thank the heavens! Gemma rushes over to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Joining you at the table, Jax pulls you into him and tenderly strokes your back. All your fears and concerns are alleviated once you’re in his arms.

“Did he hurt you?”

He chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You shouldn’t be worrying yourself with that.”

“I can’t help it,” you laugh through your tears.

“You should get some rest.”

“All my stuff is back at my mom’s.” The thought of returning to the scene of last night’s brutality has you shuddering. You pull away from Jax and roughly dry your tears. “I don’t… I can’t–”

Jax pulls you back into him, holding you tighter than before, and gently rocks you. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

Guilt. You feel a tremendous amount of guilt. Is he dead? Possibly, and your guilt deepens when you recognize a small part of you overjoyed by the possibility. He deserves it. How could you even think that? No one deserves to die — not even B/N.

“How are you going to get rid of the body?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, instead, he tells you that he’ll get Rat to bring yours and S/N’s bags to Gemma’s.

“Jax, don’t leave,” you plead, the surge of panic hits you like a freight train and has you fisting the hem of his shirt. “Stay.”

He presses a kiss to your covered shoulder. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

💀💀💀💀💀

PART FIVE

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Reminiscence - Second Tempo

A/N: So! Second Tempo is a continuation of the First Tempo posted here. Just like the last, it’s part of the Haikyuu! HQ Server Collab; check out the rest of the work on the flaming smut pile.  ===================================================

“Oi, it’s Ukai. Leave a message.” “Oh, Keishin…” Your body writhed against your fingers, phone pressed against your ear as another gasping moan ripped through you. The pads of your fingertips glided over your sensitive nub effortlessly as you grinned into the phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear. The game of cat and mouse had been going on for well over six months between yourself and Keishin; the ceaseless war of attrition had the teams and your students wondering who would break first. An international volleyball conference had you and the Karasuno girls’ team pulled away from Miyagi, from the handsome coach with those sharp, leering eyes.

“I know you’re away for training camp with the team…But I need you, Keishin.” Lust coated every syllable, each word dripping with desire as your fingers teased over your nipples and dripping folds. Another lascivious moan echoed into the receiver as you slipped a single dainty finger into your twitching hole. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off of myself…god, I wish it was your fingers slipping inside this tight, needy hole…” Sprawled out on your hotel room bed fresh from a shower, your wet hair plastered itself against your neck as you continued to rock into your own hand. 

He invaded your thoughts; like intrusive kudzu he wrapped himself around your senses even halfway across the world. Did he know how you had ruined two pairs of panties at the last voicemail he sent you before the girls’ last match that day? Did he realize how desperate you were to be home? Could he hear it in your voice? 

“Keishin,” you whined out, fingertip just brushing your g-spot. With a soft growl, you snatched your phone from your ear and put the device on speaker so you could angle yourself to reach deeper. With your body able to contort a little easier, the phone rested next to your flushing face against the pillowcase. Your body jolted into waves of pleasure as your legs tensed into your stroking. “Fuck, I can’t wait to come home, oh fuck, oh fuck, Keishin…”

The familiar stars dotted your vision as you bucked into your hand, clit rubbing fitfully into the meat of your delicate palm. You could almost see the flash of bleached-blond hair, the tanned skin stretched across those long, toned forearms. Painfully arching your wrist to drive your curling fingers into that familiar, soft spot you clenched tightly around your thin digits. You couldn’t fight the orgasm that threatened to overtake you quicker than anticipated. “Oh, fuck, Kei…Keishin!” Your words were gasping, breathless sounds, the same sounds he took pride in drawing out of you. 

“It should be your cock I’m cumming on. Why isn’t it your cock, Keishin? Fuck, I…” Another cry left you trembling as you came around your fingers. The ecstacy you felt solo was a pale shade of what you had grown used to with the snarky coach. You whimpered into the phone and shifted the sheets around you, arms hopelessly searching for him in the stark white abyss of your hollow afterglow. 

“I can’t wait to see you, Keishin…Until then,” you closed and hung up the phone. A small grin bloomed over your features as you came down from your brief high. The back and forth of phone tag and stolen video chats for the past week made you long for the thug-faced twenty-something coach fiercer than you could imagine. For the moment, the extra pillows in your bed would have to suffice as a sub-par substitute before you could nuzzle into the warmth and inhale the smoke and sweat from his skin again.

~

It was a long day of drills and penalties for the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club at the joint training camp with Fukurodani and Nekoma. The boys continued to run themselves full tort against the other two teams, trying to refine and rebuild their skills on the court. Keishin found himself getting frustrated with the lack of progress the team was making, even considering the upperclassmen were bordering on complacency. Daichi assured him they were trying their best and maybe it was time for their coach to take a break. 

He ambled from the gym with a lazy kind of grace and fumbled for his cigarettes and phone from his pockets. His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the voicemail notification he saw across the screen. The tiniest of cocky grins stretched his mouth into a crooked curve as his thumb hovered over the play button. “Damn, must’ve just missed her,” he sighed, pressing play and holding the phone to his ear. The second your moan, your deliciously sinful voice graced his ears his face heated up and his ears flushed a deep red. Your voice went straight to the growing tent in his sweats, an ache he would be sure you repay you for in kind when you returned. The wailing fit on the other end was audible to passers by as the flustered coach turned the volume down with thick, numb thumbs. A dark-haired Fukurodani student passed by, green eyes narrowed at the coach’s flustered appearance and wordlessly made his way into the gym, no doubt to start another four-on-four match with the boys of Karasuno. At the end of your message, Keishin leaned into the brick of the gym and finally lit his cigarette. He took a long drag, longer than he would have normally if it wasn’t for your scintillating voicemail. Once his heart slowed, his thumbs furiously typed out a reply. K- You could have warned me, little girl. Y- And ruin the surprise? You liked it. :)

K- Time and place. Y- Is that all you have to say? :( This different timezone stuff is the worst, Keishin.

K- That’s something we can agree on. It’s just another day, right? Y- I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. Closing ceremonies run until tomorrow afternoon, but flight leaves a day after. K- Text me next time, little girl. And tell the girls to kick ass during their last exhibition match. Y- Does it make you mad that my team’s doing better than yours, Mr. Big Bad Daddy Crow? >:D

K- Just wait, little girl. You haven’t earned your wings yet. We’ll see how much fight you have in you with my hand around that pretty neck of yours and your lips wrapped around my cock. 

He chuckled darkly at the thought of your ruined face, chest heaving, gasping for oxygen as he held your lips against the hilt of his cock. He knew you well enough to know that your face would be about thirty shades redder than his was listening to your siren song after reading his message. God, you were never more beautiful to him than when you were sobbing out for release, begging for him to make you his. Fewer things kept him warmer at night when his wide palm wrapped around his cock than thoughts of you with that lewd, haunting passion playing in your eyes. When you didn’t reply, he shook his blond head and snuffed out his smoldering cigarette filter against the wall. Of course you’d have your fingers stuffing your cunt; it couldn’t compare to his touch. He adjusted his headband deftly and pocketed his phone again, only glancing down at his cock, half-mast for a moment before another distraction pulled him away from his thoughts. Two days were going to feel like an eternity. At least he had your voice in his pocket. 

~

You yawned as your girls took the court in their last match against the American team. The manager eyed you suspiciously as you blearily watched the game unfold. “Long night, Coach?” You nodded and hummed, rubbing your eyes. The boy stood a whole head taller than you, appraising your drowsy visage. “Must be hard being away from home.” “Mmmhm. It’s easy to miss home from so far away.” “I’m sure Coach Ukai feels the same way, Y/n.” “Toshi!” Your tone was scandalized in your chiding as the younger boy stifled a chuckle. “We should be focusing on the girls. How do you think they’ll do today?” He smiled, pride swelling as he watched his team warm up. “It’s been a long week.” “They’re tired, but they’ll push through. We’ve taken the W with less in the tank before.” It was your turn to feel proud of your girls. It was true– their rise to the top, for the acknowledgement that came with the invite to a tourney on the international stage was huge, even if it was just an exhibition tourney. There was something about the game that kept you grounded despite the tumultuous turns of your life. It brought you back to those long-thought forgotten memories, brought you closer to your high-school crush. Part of you was glad you took on coaching the counterpoint to the boys’ club; it brought meaning to your career to that point. “Michimiya! Remember, it’s supposed to be fun!” you called out to your team captain, Toshi nodding in agreement solemnly from the sidelines. Aihara, your ace nodded and gave a quick thumbs up before the ball went into play. Before the other team had a chance to receive the serve, your attention was pulled from the court to the vibrating phone in your tracksuit pocket. You had half a mind to silence it, leave it ignored and let it go to voicemail. Your attention should have been on your team, your girls, but… You pulled the phone from your pocket and bit your lip at the sight of his name reading across the screen. You excused yourself from the sidelines and made your way to the hallway leading to the locker room, bringing the device to your ear. “You were gonna keep me waiting, little girl? That’s no way to earn your wings,” his voice rasped out between hurried pants. “Oh, fuck…” Heat crept up your neck from your neat, white tracksuit jacket. Suddenly, everything was too hot. You worried your lip between your teeth and fought back a whimper as Keishin growled in your ear. You did some quick maths in your dazed state and gasped into your phone. “You should be asleep, Keishin! It’s nearly two in the morning…” “Couldn’t sleep, not when I had to get you back, naughty little girl. Did it feel good cumming on those fingers without me? Did it satisfy you knowing you were cumming without my permission? Was it worth it?” “I…” “Answer me, little girl,” he continued to groan, the sound of skin gliding across skin caressing your eardrums between his moans. You could practically feel his smug expression over the phone. The sinful breath on your ear had you wishing you could be there to watch, to touch him and run your fingers through his hair as he worked his cock in that large hand he loved to wrap around your blushing throat. “I’m waiting,” he teased. “It can’t compare,” you whispered, striding with hurried steps into the locker room. His voice frayed at the edges and had you practically dripping down your thighs under your track pants. The power his voice had over your body was undeniable. “I couldn’t help myself. I…” “Aw, poor little bird. At least you’re honest.” You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat at the nickname, but struggled. Mouth dry and thighs coated in your slick, you struggled to find your way back to reason, to the here and now. Half a world away, you sunk to the locker room bench and let out a shuddering sigh at the sound of the other coach’s debauched moans. He was close, that much you could tell. How long had he been stroking that thick cock? Was he imagining your lips cradling his glans, your saliva dripping down his balls? Could he see you dragging his head along your lips and your eyes peering up at him through a fringe of dark lashes? How many times did he listen to your voicemail before he thought to call you and dish out a dose of your own medicine? “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me like I need you, little girl.” “I…I want you,” you whimpered, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear. You fumbled with your track pants and slid them hastily to your knees, your practiced fingers rubbing yourself through your soaked cotton panties. “Oh, Keishin, I need you.” You bit back a soft moan, still tender from your activities from the night prior. “That’s it, little bird. Don’t stifle yourself. Let me hear you. Where did that gorgeous voice go?” “I…Keishin, I’m at the tournament,” you gasped, that sensitive nub twitching with arousal under your busy fingertips. He let out a surprised grunt and you swore you could feel him double over on himself. “Fuck…fuck, Y/n, I never took you to be such an exhibitionist. My little bird’s getting brave on me, huh?” The sound of the door to the locker room opening made you freeze for a second before shuffling your pants back up your thighs. “Coach? Coach, are you okay? The other team’s called a time-out. Did you want to do a swap?” Toshi’s earnest voice echoed in the otherwise empty room as you struggled to get the words out without sounding like you were another second away from moaning like a porn star for the man on the other side of your call. “Answer him, little bird. Don’t stop touching that clit for me. Let’s see you earn those wings…” “Ah…yeah, have Watabe swap in. I…I need a minute. Must have been something I ate this morning.” Keishin grinned on the other end, still stroking himself languidly as he listened to you lie through your teeth to your team manager. When you heard him retreat back into the gym, you let out a shuddering sigh, your legs trembling around your hand. “Such a good little bird. I’m close. You gonna come with me?” You nodded as if he could see you, still focused on the sounds coming from your phone. His breath hitched as he choked on his moans, movement stilling on his end of the phone call. You gasped in tandem, fingertips slipping inside your waiting heat. He must have known you were close based on your breathing alone. He let you continue until he howled out his release, leaving you breathless at how completely beautiful he could sound coming undone at the thought of you. “Please, please, Keishin,” you huffed out, sweat trickled down your neck as you ground yourself into your fingers, stretching against your slick, velveteen walls. “Stop.” “But-” “I said stop, Y/n.” “But…but Keishin…” “Naughty little girls don’t get to cum when they’re bad. Mm, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck, Y/n,” he teased again before hanging up. You sat in silence, frustrated and slick with your own fluids. Aggravated, you pulled your pants up the rest of the way and stripped off your jacket. Approaching the sink, you patted cool water against your burning skin and stared yourself down in the mirror. So it was another challenge he wanted? You had him eating crow out of your beautifully manicured hands before and you could do it again. Your team wouldn’t be the only ones getting a win. A plan came together, neatly, quickly despite the lingering haze of lust. Spite and frustration cut through your need like a white hot razor, and all you could fixate on was the thrill of victory both on and off the court. “Setters aren’t the only big brains on the court,” you mused to yourself as you reappeared on the court, hands buried deeply into your pockets. Toshi cast a sidelong glance in your direction, subtly taking in the hard set of your jaw and the color rising in your cheeks as you stared down the opposing team’s coach from across the gym. You grit your teeth, eyes dark with determination. If he wasn’t mistaken, he almost thought you were taking this game more seriously than just a simple exhibition match. Regardless of the reason, the team manager found himself grateful he wasn’t the object of your ire. “Hit it ‘til it breaks, Sasaki!!” Your yell rattled the team manager as it echoed through the gym over the roar of the crowd. The puddle in your panties only fueled your frustration the longer you dwelled on Keishin’s denial. You wanted to breathe smoke, to destroy something beautiful just to prove you could. “Stupid, big-brain setter,” you growled under your breath as your team took another point from the Americans. “Coach, why do I get the feeling you aren’t talking about the other team?” “C’mon, girls, you’re better conditioned than that!! Go for the kill!!” “Yeah, you’re definitely not talking about the other team.” The conference couldn’t be done soon enough, and the next two days were going to feel like the longest of their lives. ~ Few things in life brought Keishin Ukai more solace than quiet mornings over a cup of coffee. The only thing that could have made it better was your groggy face smiling sleepily across the table at him. Sunlight bled through the kitchen blinds, staining everything in garish gold and yellow in the pale light. Hair loose, he carded his long fingers through his bedhead with casual grace and absently scrolled through his phone as the coffee continued to brew. It would be just a few hours before you would be home; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited for your return. In the safety of his home, he could let some of that boyish glee bleed out as he searched through your old photos. As if he could forget your face, the sway of those devastating hips, or the way you’d catch your lower lip between your teeth when you were flustered. As much as he owned you, the power you held over him and his emotions was undeniable. From the moment you stepped foot on his court he was your willing captive. He set his phone aside to pour himself his first of what would be many cups of coffee. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the heady aroma, dark and bitter before it hit his tongue. Relaxing in his seat a little more, he sighed through his nose. The chiming of a text alert pulled him from his brief reprieve. Y- Good morning, Daddy Crow :D! We’ll be home in a few hours. I can’t wait to see you. Keishin chuckled into his steaming mug and took a long sip. Wryly amused and even a little annoyed by your pet name for him, he typed out his reply unhurried. K- We’ll see how tired you are when you get back. Ten hours and change is a long time to spend in the air.

Y- Don’t remind me. No idea what I’m going to do to stay occupied. 

K- I can think of a few distractions. 

He waited, watching the ellipsis flicker over the text banner for your reply, his heart rate picking up in anticipation. What fresh hell awaited him when you finally hit send? Vaguely he had an idea of how badly you wanted to get back at him for leaving you hanging during his last call, but you were too sweet, far too forgiving to want revenge. Y- I’m sure you can. What do you have lined up for today?

K- Not a thing. Just waiting on you. It wasn’t like you to not take his bait; he could practically feel the ice from your reply. Was it the distance? You were only gone for a week, but was it enough time for your relationship to cool? “Shit,” he muttered, rolling a cigarette between his fingers as he reread your reply another six times. “Guess she is mad…” He mused and fussed over your text before lighting the paper tip and taking a careless drag. The blue-gray haze hung around his kitchen like a comforting veil. He waited another moment before he saw you typing another response. He tore his gaze away from the device to ash his cigarette in an empty beer bottle he had sitting on the kitchen table; when he returned to it, the sight that met him had him melting in his chair. Your delicate frame was seated on a sea of white, the barest hint of emerald lace curling in elegant patterns along the swell of your ass. Hair pulled to one side in effortless waves of jet, your bare back was on full display, tantalizing him with the gentle curve of your spine and adorable dimples framing your tailbone. Your face in profile, he could see the faint rose dusting your cheeks and nose, the dreamy sparkle playing in your eyes as you held your breasts away from view. He knew that far-away gaze all too well– it played behind your eyes when you would look at him, when you would think about his strong hands exploring your body. His eyes lingered on the definition of your thighs, all the while longing he could feel them squeezing his head as you trembled into his waiting mouth. It wasn’t the lewdest photo he’d ever seen, but it hit differently when it was you. His mouth went dry and he felt himself get lost in every detail, as if he could memorize every scar, every freckle if he stared long enough. Y- Enjoy your distraction, Keishin.

When did you find the time to take photos? Was that the only one? Questions raced through his mind as he lingered on the picture, fingertip tracing along the swell of your hips. God, he was such a sucker for those wide hips and built thighs. He might have admired your drive and ability to keep up and run drills with your team, but he really wanted to see just how far he could push you until you broke.

“It’s just ten more hours. I can hold out for ten hours.” ~ Six months together and it took a week apart for him to salivate over the smell of your perfume. All the distance, despite the frequent calls and text messages, only intensified his undeniable thirst. You were his meet-cute, the high school crush who got away. There would always be that part of him that wondered how he got so lucky crossing your path not once but twice in his lifetime. If he were a betting man, he’d probably put more stock in fate or soulmates after meeting you, but it wasn’t his style to be so sentimental. Travel always took a lot out of you. Keishin caught you yawning on your way from the baggage claim, only aware enough to know where to step without tripping. Grinning like a fiend, he took his moment and pulled you into an empty lounge. Startled, you swung your first and jerked out of his hold, only stopping your thrashing when you caught the bemused twenty-something rubbing his stubbled jaw. “Fucking hell, is that anyway to say hello, little girl?” “Oh my god, Keishin!” Your hands flew to his face and he could have died a happy man on the spot. “I’m so sorry! You can’t just do that!” Your chest tightened at the rumbling chuckle that reverberated under your fingertips. “Keishin,” you sighed, holding his stubbled face in your thin hands. Studying the sharp planes of his face, your eyes practically sparkled with delight. He was here, real under your palms flashing that same cocksure grin that had you flustered since you first stepped up to challenge him on the court. “You gonna keep staring at me or what, little bird? C’mon, let’s ge-!” Rising to your toes, you pulled him to your lips and left him struggling to catch his breath, your perfume lingering after you withdrew and bounced away, tugging him along from the airport lobby. Head swimming, he followed, allowing you to lead him around until you remembered who drove and the simple fact that you had no idea where the car was. It was easy to forget you were an accomplished adult when you let your excitement take the wheel, but it brought Keishin closer to what might have been before you disappeared when you were still children. He never got the chance to watch you play back then, a regret he tucked away with the first night you murmured his name in your sleep. His single-minded ambition kept him from really seizing the chance to get to know you as a person instead of an idea back then. Packed away in his well-loved sedan, you couldn’t help but fidget in the passenger seat, anxiously bouncing your foot below the dash. Unfazed, he reached over and placed a hand on your knee, halting the bouncing movement with a stern glance. Color bloomed in your cheeks at the gesture, body relaxing just enough under the warmth of his palm. Braver still, he slowly ran his fingertips along the line of your thigh, stopping just below the clothed apex of your leg. Keishin never took his eyes off the road, but he knew just where to brush to make your blood sing. He followed your movements, subtly tracking your reactions to his innocent caressing. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, little bird.” 

The bait was set, almost painfully obvious as you continued to squirm into his waiting palm. “I’m not shy. I’m..”

“You’re what? Use your words,” he smirked, dragging his knuckles against your sex. The motion was so casual you might have applauded him for his audacity if it hadn’t been a week since you felt him touch you. Muddled between your jet lag and the growing haze of lust ensnaring your senses, you fumbled over your words and whimpered something about thinking about how much you missed him. “That’s what I thought.” Whether it was the nonchalance or the gentle pressure he exerted on your core, you felt yourself slip closer into that familiar euphoric headspace. It was almost embarrassing how wrapped around his finger he had you; it wouldn’t be long before he’d have you wrapped around him literally as well. 

~

You wanted to scream, to gnash your teeth and beat something to a bloody pulp. At least you could take out your frustrations on the court. The girls took the day to strength train in the school’s weight room, leaving you to your own devices in the second gym. You could see his almost-apologetic face, the slight upturn of his lips when he sent you to work with a chaste peck on your hair. 

“I just couldn’t bear to wake you…”

“Tch, likely story. Stupid, big-brain setter!” You hissed through your teeth and imagined it was his disembodied head you were spiking over the net with a satisfying crack. Your attentive team manager threw another ball and watched as you continued to fume. 

“Are you trying to pop a ball, sensei?" 

"Less talk, more throw, Toshi.” He shook his head and tossed another ball, only for you to bounce it off the floor twice to center yourself before your inevitable spike. Unsatisfied, you shook your ponytail and jogged to the opposite end of the gym to practice your jump serve. Toshi watched on, hanging his head as you sent another ball flying in his direction. “Jesus Christ, Himewari!” he screeched, ducking out of the way. You huffed in irritation, barely registering the clattering of gym doors opening. The ball rested daintily in your hand, your eyes narrowed with the smooth rubber leaving your palm before the inevitable punch. Keishin knew better than to leave the safety of the annex when you were serving, but he could watch you soar forever. Leaned against the cool wall, his headband gently digging into his scalp with his blond head resting into the drywall, he couldn’t help the crinkle of his eyes when your hand finally connected with the abused ball. Sweat glistened like diamond dust on your skin, the crop top you wore doing nothing to temper his wandering gaze. As you hung in the air, he hummed to himself, remembering Shimizu’s words when he first saw you serve. “You really do have wings, little bird…” When you landed and reached for another ball he made his presence known, his footsteps falling faintly over your light panting. This was how he liked you best, dark hair mussed and sweat dripping down the valley of your breasts. It was almost a shame, he thought to himself, that he wasn’t the one making you such a mess. He stopped just a few feet behind you only to catch the tail end of your cursing his name for leaving you high and dry on your return. As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, like catching the faint scent of ozone on the wind before a squall, Toshi took his leave and escaped into the weight room, leaving you alone with the other coach. Caught mid-approach, Keishin wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and buried his nose into your ponytail. You froze at the sudden intrusion of your personal space and the ball fell from your waiting palm, its fall echoing through the empty gym. “Thought I’d find you here,” he purred. Hackles raised, you pushed away from him and made a dash for your club jacket. Keishin used his height and longer legs to his advantage and followed close behind. If it was a chase you wanted, he’d give it to you. He let you sprint to the locker room, hand resting on the handle before he turned you by the shoulders and caged you against the wall between his arms. Looming over you, he smirked and licked his lips at the deepening flush creeping down your neck and across your collarbones. He smelled like tobacco and neroli, his cologne making your head spin. The smoke lingering on his breath had your thoughts racing– you were in high school again, fantasizing about being trapped in those arms with those sharp eyes drinking your timid expression so patiently. “What’s the matter, little girl?” he started smugly. His pupils dilated, leaning his head in to bear down on you further. “Can’t rise to the challenge? Where’d all that fight go?” Keishin licked his teeth and breathed into your ear. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” he teased, running his nose along your hairline. Your breath hitched; how did he always know how to make you feel so small? The thought incited more anger, more fuel to the fire burning in your belly as you jerked your ear away from his hot breath. “No, you don’t get to do that. I’m not going to let you win that easily, Keishin.” Your voice was low, almost dangerous. The animosity was one-sided, and the other coach snickered at your new-found boldness. “I don’t think you get it, little bird,” he growled, wrapping a firm hand around your thin neck. “I’ve already won.” Swallowing hard, you worried your lower lip between your teeth, his favorite tell, and stared him in the eye. The predatory gleam made you weak in the knees– he knew it. He could feel you falter under his capable palm as he gave your neck a gentle squeeze. Keishin loved seeing you like this– wrestling between reason and your desires, pinned beneath him with that fire burning behind your eyes as if to remind him that you only permitted his control because you knew how completely yours he really was. The nip of his teeth on your earlobe sent you reeling, swooning into his stubbled cheek. “Please,” you whispered. “Not here.” “No? You sure?” As if to capitalize on your wavering resolve, he raised a knee to rest just between your thighs, a silent dare to test him and see just how far he’d make you go. Instinctively, you ground your pelvis against his knee and shuddered at the delicious pressure on your core. He grinned against your cheek. “Because I think this is exactly where you want it.” Hips rocking, your anger slowly melted away as he continued to tease you, still pinning you to the door by the throat. “I think you like the idea of almost getting caught, little bird.” Your whimpers doused kerosine on the slow burning embers he stoked with his teasing. “Keishin,” you gasped, his free hand trailing down your sticky body to pull your hip hard into his waiting erection, grip hard enough you were sure you’d have bruises by the time he was done. “We don’t-” “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you then.” Your thighs squeezed around his knee, cunt fluttering at the thought of your combined spend trickling down your thighs on the walk home. His grin was sinful, eyes sharp and hungry as you melted into his knee. He could feel your slick soaking through your shorts, the sensation earning a groan you just barely made out. “Mark you as my little crow inside and out,” he purred, long fingers feathering along the waistband of your shorts. “Yeah, I think you like that idea.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You caught his gaze through your dark lashes, leaning into his hand and waiting hips as if to lay your own bait. Your own hands caught in his hair and pulled his headband down. How you loved running your fingers through those blond waves; you rolled your hips and gave his hair an experimental tug, earning a low groan in return. He surged forward and captured your lips, a fight for dominance to the end. Tongue tracing hungrily along the curl of your lips, he softened his hold on your neck and pulled you closer. Hand on your nape, he let out a hiss when you bit him, a flash of blood lingering on your lip in return with a satisfied grin. “Oh, cocky now?” Keishin gave your shorts a shove over your generous hips. Anxiety and excitement bubbled in your chest as you squirmed against him. He was still hard muscle and sinew despite years away from the court, more than enough to handle you at your worst. “Let’s see you be cocky now, little bird.” His fingers glided along your sopping cunt, earning a sharp moan at the sudden brush along your neglected clit. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fuck,” he breathed, too enraptured by your responsive body. “Keishin, please,” you whimpered, clutching his shoulders as his deft fingers continued to tap and rub slow, agonizing circles around your glistening clit. “Please, please fill me…” “How quickly your resolve falls apart, my little crow,” he purred into your hair, fingers now sliding into your drooling pussy. You bit back another moan, head arching back into the door as Keishin scissored his fingers against your already fluttering walls. “You’re fucking drenched.” “Please, please…I need you. I need to feel you, Keishin.” Legs trembling, you rocked into his hand, keening at the pressure his hardened fingertips exerted on your g-spot. Even accidentally, he had a way of luring out the most beautifully debauched moans from you. He continued to work you open, trying to make up for a week without laying claim to you in the span of minutes. Keishin growled low, feeling himself get lost in your whining, in the warm squeeze of your welcoming cunt around his fingers, in how completely devoted he was to hearing you moan his name like that one more time. You heard the zip after you felt the lonesome ache of loss, only to be filled again to the hilt with a gasping cry. Keishin grit his teeth and leaned into your writhing frame, bracing himself against the door as you squeezed his cock from head to hilt like a velvet vice. “W-wrap your leg around my hip,” he ordered shakily, peering at you through a curtain of soft gold. You did as instructed and felt him wrap his arm around your back, pulling you closer as he rocked into your heat with a moan of his own. “So fucking tight, Y/n…” Stars faded throughout your vision and left you feeling dazed. “So good,” he moaned, resting his forehead against yours to glance down where your bodies connected. You balanced on your toes, meeting his thrusts with your own. “Keishin,” you cried in return, arching your back off the locker room door as your first climax claimed you. Keishin grit his teeth and fucked you through the first of many, angling his hips to drive his cock deeper still, earning a harsh shriek. “Keishin, don’t stop!” “Wasn’t planning on it,” he groaned, bottoming out with a stutter. “It’s like you were made for me.” You let out another cry, clinging to the coach as tears pricked your eyes. He rutted against your cervix with a pained grin, knowing the longer he pressured against that button the sooner you’d be begging to be filled and defiled. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, slowing as your walls clenched around his cock with the advent of another orgasm. You trembled helplessly against him, body practically weightless in his arms as he continued to prolong your pleasure if only to draw out his own. When you came down, you brushed your nose along his and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Toes curling in your trainers at the devastating sight in front of you, you gave another keening cry and buried your face into his shoulder. “Y’know, for someone so worried about being caught you sure are loud.” He grinned into your hair and hammered his hips into yours, earning another loud wail in protest and in pleasure. Your nails caught the tanned skin of his back, a vicious trail of red left in their wake as he brought you to another peak. “That’s three…” You bucked against him, fitfully chasing again after that same high only his cock could bring you. His name a prayer on your lips, he allowed you to take because you gave him so much in return. Every moan, every gush of your juices around his cock he took and devoured, knowing you wouldn’t be afraid to earn his end in return. “I can feel you twitching, Keishin. You’re close, Daddy Crow.” His hips stuttered as you whispered the pet name into his ear, holding you tightly as he bottomed out in your spasming cunt. “Hard not to when you’re fucking milking me.” He’d never admit it, but he would stay buried inside you forever if you’d let him. Only the unsynchronized whisper of your breathing and the slick slap of skin on skin surrounded the two of you in the empty gym. Entangled with the other coach in the darkened hallway, you found his lips to muffle another moan when your attention was pulled away from your bliss by the slamming of the gym doors. 

"Coach Himewari! We’re getting ready to go!” It was Michimiya your team captain. Her footfalls echoed softly, rubber tapping against the laminated wood. She paused for a moment when you didn’t answer. Keishin grinning sadistically against your lips, he held your hips flush against his, grinding his cock into that spot that frayed the edges of your vision and made your quiver around his girth. “Hm, I guess she already left…” the team captain mused before shuffling closer to the locker room door, only to quickly turn away at the opening of the door. 

“Come on, Yui! Let’s just go! Toshi can catch us up later.” Grateful for Aihara pulling her friend’s focus, you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. Keishin redoubled his efforts, dragging his teeth along the hollow of your neck. Even muffled your moans were music to his degenerate ears. You stiffened against him with the sinking of his teeth into your neck, a stifled cry and final squeeze signaling your end. Keishin wasn’t too far behind, growling into your salt-slicked skin. The heavy doors clattered shut as he moaned out his release, the heat building in your core as he spasmed into your waiting womb. 

“Fuck me, Keishin…” you breathed, half chuckling half panting. He held against you, comfortable in your combined heat as he peppered soothing kisses along your neck and into your hairline. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you like almost getting caught.”

He hissed, slowly withdrawing from your core and watched as his cum slowly started trickling from your pulsating hole down your sturdy thighs. He tucked himself back into his jeans and watched you languish against the wall for a moment, playful grin lighting his face. Deftly he collected the escaping seed and shoved it back into your abused cunt, earning a pained whimper before he pulled your panties and shorts back up to keep the rest from spilling. “Don’t waste it, little crow.” He wiggled his fingers along your lips and you greedily sucked them clean with wide, innocent eyes. Your combined taste coated your tongue, sweet and bitter all at once. “That’s my good girl,” he crooned, planting a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. 

Your anger evaporated, you slumped against him, head resting comfortably into his chest. “I’m ready for a nap, daddy crow…” you whined. Blond hair slicked with swear, he carded those long fingers through and hoisted you up onto his shoulder, carrying you out of the gym with your mess ruining your panties and shorts. 

“Oh no you don’t. As soon as we get home you’re making up for every voicemail and tantrum, Y/n.” It was going to be a long night.