#they actually put thought and care into them

[capn-merca]

Chappel Roan also refused to encourage her audience to vote against making being trans illegal, and then went on SNL with a TERF. Her actions speak A LOT louder than her empty words; she’s just another cis “ally” who prides themselves on vocally supporting “those trans freaks” while being all to happy to sit back and let somebody else get rid of us. What a fucking coward. People like her don’t care about us anymore than we are a political argument to be won. Just once I’d like to be treated like a damn human being, but no, Chappel Roan is using me to gain clout with the queers, without ever actually having to stand up for us in a way that really matters, while actively throwing us under the bus. I really need her to shut up about trans people man, she was talking about how Trumps plans for us was no big deal! How the fuck is that in any way an ally? And again, she went on SNL with a well known TERF. She gotta shut up about trans people before I loose my entire fucking mind my god she makes me so fucking furious.

I should add that the main kick off for this rant was putting Gaga and Roan on the same level. Gaga is and will always be the goat. Also, sorry to be negative on what’s trying to be a positive post, seeing Chappell Roan beside Gaga just kinda set me off.

At least two major artists (Lady Gaga and Chappell Roan) making a point to vocally support trans people the Grammys is a big deal in this political climate.

[bytemee]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS — YU JIMIN.

“you're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay. but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me."

synopsis. karina wasn’t used to sharing. seeing you laugh with someone else? that didn’t sit right with her.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). 18+ (smut), g!p reader, pet names (she calls u puppy like it’s ur name), unprotected sex, p in v, jealous!karina, dom!karina, sub!reader and bad writing ahaa...

words. 1.6k

authors note. i could go for a chipotle burrito but damn do they be taxing

karina was used to having all eyes on her. she was the kind of girl who walked into a room and made everyone else feel like background noise. and you—shy, awkward, always fumbling over your words—were her favorite plaything.

it wasn’t like you were dating. she just liked keeping you close, liked the way you turned red when she got too close, and liked knowing that you’d drop everything the second she called.

but tonight, you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

she had invited you to the party—expected you to hover near her like always, expected you to wait for her to give you attention. but instead, you were downstairs, sitting on the couch, laughing at something some random girl said.

karina didn’t like that.

she watched from across the room, arms crossed, lips pursed, as she saw the way you were smiling—actually smiling—in front of someone else.

when the girl leaned in a little too close, touching your arm, something snapped.

before you even realized what was happening, karina was in front of you, slipping between you and the girl with a sickly sweet smile.

"oh, i see you’ve met my little puppy," she said smoothly, tilting her head. "careful with this one. she gets nervous around new people.”

you were about to open your mouth to say something then she sat down on your lap, draping her arms over your shoulders. you swallowed hard, your face going pink, completely caught off guard.

karina had always been shameless with her teasing, but this—this was different. she was staking a claim, making sure everyone in the room knew exactly who you belonged to.

the girl you had been talking to gave an awkward laugh, clearly unsure of what to do now that karina had inserted herself into the situation.

"uh, i was just—"

"leaving?" karina finished for her, still smiling, though it was obvious she wanted her gone.

the girl hesitated, looking between the two of you before mumbling some excuse and disappearing into the crowd.

you barely had a second to process what just happened before karina’s fingers were suddenly in your hair, twirling a loose strand between her fingers as she leaned in even closer.

your eyes widened, your face burning up under the intense stare she was giving you. you swallowed thickly, your hands gripping the couch, unsure of where else to put them.

and then, just when you thought she couldn't get any closer, she did, her lips brushing against your ear. "don't look so surprised, puppy."

she pulled away just enough to look into your eyes again. then she got up from your lap, smoothing out her skirt before grabbing your hand and pulling you upstairs, away from all the prying eyes.

and you let her.

karina didn’t waste a second. she shoved you into the first empty room she found, kicking the door shut behind her before pinning you against the wall.

it didn’t matter whether you were hers in name—because in every way that counted, you were. and tonight, she was making sure everyone knew it.

her lips crashed against yours, rough and claiming, like she had something to prove. and maybe she did. maybe she needed to remind you exactly where you belonged.

karina was a damn good kisser, and the longer she kissed you, the harder it got to stand on your own. your fingers curled into her shirt, clinging to her for support, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips.

she loved this. loved how easily she could pull you apart, how simple it was to make you forget everything but her.

when she finally pulled away, a thin strand of saliva still connected you for a brief second before it snapped, leaving you breathless. your head spun, your lips swollen, and you just stood there, waiting—because she was the one in control, and you both knew it.

her nails raked across your skin, making their way under your shirt, and you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan.

"you don't want anyone else, do you, hm?" she asked, her voice low and soft. she leaned in again, her lips brushing against your jaw, the gentle touch a sharp contrast to the way her nails dug into your hips.

you shook your head quickly, your heart racing in your chest, because no, no, you only wanted her. you only ever wanted her.

karina hummed, satisfied, her grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. "good," she murmured, "because i don't like sharing."

her teeth grazed your skin, and your breath hitched, fingers twitching where they hovered uncertainly at your sides. you wanted to touch her, wanted to pull her closer, but you knew better than to move without permission.

she noticed, of course she did, and it made her smirk against your throat. "what is it, puppy?" she taunted. "you want to touch me?"

you nodded, swallowing hard. "please," you whispered, barely able to get the word out.

karina pulled back just enough to look at you, tilting her head like she was considering it. her fingers trailed up your sides before she finally grabbed your wrists and guided your hands under her skirt until your fingers brushed against her underwear.

"there," she breathed out. "is that what you wanted?"

she was so wet, and the thought that she was this turned on because of you—because she was claiming you as her own—made you whine, the sound almost desperate.

"karina," you pleaded, the bulge in your pants growing more uncomfortable by the second.

karina's smirk widened. "you want me to touch you?" she asked, her breath hot against your ear.

you nodded frantically, still unable to form words, too overwhelmed by desire to do anything except obey.

"use your words." karina's grip tightened on your wrists.

"please," you whimpered, voice shaking. "please, touch me, i need you."

she hummed, satisfied. "that's what i like to hear."

and then her fingers were working at the buttons of your jeans, her other hand reaching under your shirt, sliding up your stomach before pressing against it to push you onto the bed, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

"karina," you moaned. "i—fuck..."

she didn't waste any time. as soon as you were flat on the bed, she crawled on top of you, straddling your waist, grinding against your thigh as her fingers wrapped around your cock.

karina chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. "you're so sensitive," she purred, her hand moving slowly, teasingly.

you whimpered, your hips moving involuntarily. you were starting to unravel, quickly losing control. karina knew it, and she loved it.

"is this what you wanted, puppy?" she asked, her lips brushing against your neck. "you like it when i touch you like this?"

all you could manage was a ragged moan in response.

her hand moved faster, sending a shock through your system, and you threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut. it felt so fucking good, and you couldn't think, couldn't speak, could only let her do whatever she wanted.

then suddenly she stopped.

your eyes snapped open, and you let out a whine, desperate for more.

karina ignored you, instead pulling her underwear down, kicking it to the side before she straddled your waist again, lining herself up with your cock.

her hands pressed against your chest for balance as she started to move, rolling her hips at an excruciatingly slow pace.

you groaned, your fingers digging into the sheets, trying to keep yourself from just taking over and flipping your positions. you knew that would just earn you a sharp slap and a scolding, something that you would much rather avoid.

karina leaned down, hovering her underwear above your mouth, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"open up," she commanded.

you obeyed, and she stuffed the fabric into your mouth. it tasted like her, and the thought of that alone made you twitch inside her.

your hands moved to grip her thighs, fingers pressing into the soft skin, holding her steady as she rocked her hips.

she let out a breathy moan as you tightened your grip on her. "fuck," she panted, her breaths coming in short gasps. "just like that."

you tried to say something, but all that came out was muffled by the underwear she had shoved into your mouth. karina smirked, her pace increasing, the heat in her core growing stronger, spreading through her body. she threw her head back, a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead.

"fuck," she groaned. "i'm gonna cum."

she could feel it building, her walls clenching around you, and she knew she was close. she knew the sight of her falling apart would send you over the edge, too, and that's what she wanted, needed, craved.

her grip tightened, nails digging into your chest, her breathing erratic, her hips rocking faster, harder. she was right there, teetering on the edge, and then finally, she toppled over.

"fuck!" she cried out, her orgasm ripping through her, her legs trembling.

the moment she started to come undone, so did you, unable to hold back any longer; you groaned into the underwear, your head thrown back, your spine arching off the mattress, thrusting your hips upwards as you came.

your hands held her in place, gripping her thighs so hard they would leave marks, but neither of you cared.

karina slumped against you, her chest heaving, her face buried in the crook of your neck. she was panting, trying to catch her breath, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart against your skin.

after a few moments, she pulled away, sitting back on your lap, a satisfied smile on her face. she reached forward and slowly pulled the underwear out of your mouth, her gaze fixed on you, taking in the aftermath of what she had done to you.

"mmm, looks like my puppy is satisfied."

you blinked, trying to clear the haze from your mind, but all you could focus on was the sight of her sitting on top of you, the mess dripping down her thighs, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen.

she looked so perfect.

"do you understand now?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. "no one else gets to touch you like this. no one but me."

you nodded, still unable to find your words.

"good," she purred, leaning in and kissing you, soft and gentle, a stark contrast to how she had been before.

[samkerrworshipper]

movin’ out

keira walsh x reader

i wrote a fic that isn’t super depressing or smut? sorry? it’s short, it’s a little bit funky and definitely not my normal style but it’s all i could piece together atm! i don’t think it’s technically a blurb but close enough! enjoy xo

warnings: none?

It’s been too long.

It’s all you can say or think the moment you see Keira.

Between you playing in England, her in Barcelona and then you playing for Australia and her playing for England the time you two can find together is so limited. Face times, constant texts and midnight calls are good for a couple of days, sometimes weeks but after months it becomes nowhere near enough to sustain a relationship. It’s the pains and trials associated with two professional athletes being in a relationship with each other, the disconnection was hard and the added hundreds of miles between you only made it harder.

You hadn’t realised how long it had been though, and just how much of a toll that might have started to take on your partner. Between the both of you playing a mid week game and then training every day in the lead up to weekend games you both hardly had enough time to make dinner and make room for your basic needs, let alone care from each other afar.

As you look at Keira now though, you’re really having second thoughts about the lack of check ins that you’ve been having with her and the amount of interactions you’ve been having that haven’t solely revolved around football.

“Hey baby.”

Keira looks ill, and not in the sick way, just her general features. She just looks unwell, like she hasn’t been sleeping at all, like she’s on the brink of a emotional breakdown and just generally miserable. You’d offered to pick her up from the airport but she’d denied your offer and you can see why now, she looks like she’s in tatters and is about to collapse in front of you.

“Hey.”

Every syllable is deflated, like she’s struggling to piece together the energy to move her lips.

You’ve known for a while now that Keira hasn’t been happy in Barcelona. Lucy leaving had been.. it had been tough. On top of the rest of the midfield finally being in good fitness and there being a lot less familiarity for Kei it was understandable that your girlfriend would be struggling, you just hadn’t understood how much.

You push her suitcase to the side in favour of bringing her straight into your arms. The way her hands cling to your jumper makes your heart thump.

“Hey baby, I’ve got you.”

You immediately feel sick with the guilt over the fact that tomorrow you have to leave, that you have a sweet twenty four hours to try and fix whatever this problem is before you are obligated to get on a flight and fly 20 hours further away. Your stomach actually hurts at the thought, here you are with your long distance girlfriend holding onto you like you’re her lifeline and your going to be dragged away in less than 24 hours.

“Let’s go to the couch huh? Get you off your feet.”

It’s phrased as a question but really you have no intention of standing in the entryway of your house for a minute longer. You lead Keira into your living room slowly, pulling her onto your couch with you and letting the slightly shorter woman to ragdoll on top of you. You don’t mind the cllinginess, it’s a far cry from how she is with almost every other human and to know that for the most part you are the only person who gets to see this side of Keira is special.

“Arsenal put in an offer.”

It wasn’t exactly public knowledge, Leah had told you though a couple of weeks ago when it had happened, you’d been a little bit dissapointed that Keira hadn’t told you when it was happening.

“I know.”

A part of you didn’t want to hear that Keira didn’t want to come, that she’d denied the offer. It was the part of you that still felt insecure about your relationship slightly.

“They told me, management. They didn’t even think about it. Even after i’d told them I was interested in coming back, that I wanted to come back to England. A million dollars and they turned it down.”

You take a deep breath, whilst Keira had made it clear to you that she wasn’t happy in Barcelona that hadn’t directly translated in your mind to her wanting to come to England or Arsenal.

“You wnat to come, to arsenal?”

Keira looks up at you and you get a good look in her eyes for the first time since she walked through the door fifteen minutes ago.

“England first and foremost, but Arsenal with you and Leah would be ideal. Not that it seems like it’s going to happen until my contract is up.”

You smile at Keira big and wide, there hasn’t been a point in your career yet where you’ve been in the same city, she was at Manchester and you were in America, then you moved to Arsenal and there was a period of 3 months where you were finally in the same country. Then it was Barcelona and the drift had started again. The idea of having Keira in the same city as you, potentially in the same house makes you giddy. But that’s all it it, a thought, because it’s not real and you’re in the same predicament of her being in camp for the next two weeks and then flying back to Barcelona before you’re back in the country.

“That would be nice.”

You purposely murmur it as quietly as possible.

“Yeah, would be nice.”

The reality is that for both of you there is no point in dreaming about more, dreaming only leads to let downs, big soul crushing let downs.

“You’ve just gotta gold on, you’ve got Kika and Ellie and Aitana, you just need to hold onto the people you have and make the most of it. You’re winning silverware at least?”

When the sound of a sniffle falls against you, your heart only clenches more.

“I want to be here, I want to be with you, not trying to find any spare minute in my schedule so that we can see each other for a second. I’m sick of always feeling like we have to make up for lost time, I want to live with you. Get our own dog, our own home, have our things, our own lives together instead of living separately.”

You nod against your girlfriends fluff of curly orange hair, it’s not often that it’s as puffy as it is, it’s only another sign to add to the list of how Keira must be feeling.

“You know, I really like that idea.”

You focus on Kei’s hair, undoing it from the makeshift bun it’s in and tangling your hair in the roots, carding your fingers through the ends and working up to her scalp.

“Just you and me, all the time, no more constant face time, surprise visits, rewatching games, coordinating schedules. Just you and me. It’s a good dream.”

That’s the thing, it can’t be anything more than a dream for either of you, in theory it would be lovely, amazing even. But dreaming is what gives the biggest disappointments.

“Maybe more than a dream.”

You ndo to satisfy Kei, because the last thing she needs on top of her own struggles and doubt right now is yours on top of it. But in your mind it just doesn’t work out, how can you expect it to work out when realistically the both of you are always going to prioritise your careers. It’s why you’ve both worked together so well, because there hasn’t been any mistranslations about the fact that you both are always going to prioritise your careers. It’s why in your head it doesn’t make sense that Keira would leave, she’s playing at the best club in the world, she’s at the highest level she could possibly be. A part of you is slightly insecure that her priorities are shifting, and it feels good but it’s also scary. You aren’t anywhere near to shifting away from your priorities, it’s been decided since you’ve been 12 that football was going to be the one love of your life. There were never boyfriends or girlfriends or plans to have kids or go to university, it was always just football. Keira had been the one flaw in the plan, but it wasn’t a true flaw. Keira made things easier, or as easy as they could be. It was just so natural that it was just all cohesive. The distance was hard but it was what made it easier to focus on your career, there wasn’t any direct distractions in your life.

“Maybe.”

There’s a big part of you that worries that you might not be able to sustain a relationship that’s not long distance because you’ve never had to. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up next to a person and then get ready for football and prepare for a fame. Sure, over the summer you spend every waking moment with Keira, but normally there is a tournament or you’re so focused on relaxing in the little down time you have that having Keira around is just an afterthought. What you have, the love and affection from a far and occasionally for a couple of days is what’s been perfect for you, the thought of having it as a constant is terrifying.

“I invited Leah over later, I assumed you’d want to see her before camp and you’re surrounded by everyone else.”

Keira peeks up at you, her eyes wide and suddenly brimming with tears. The blue in her eyes is so much clearer when their wet, it’s like it reflects directly off of the features of her face.

“I’ll be with Leah for the next two weeks.”

The underlying tone is very clear.

“Well, I’ll never say no to a night with my favourite girl. How about thai and the love island episodes we haven’t watched on facetime together?”

You know you’ve said the right thing when Keira’s face immediately lights up, but after a few seconds it dims and all of the energy that seemed restored fades.

“I don’t want to disappoint Leah. every time I’m here it’s to see you, which I love but when she comes to Barcelona she always spends it with me.”

You lean down and plant a kiss to her forehead.

“Leah is not going to be offended that you choose to spend the little time you have with me, like I said, you have two weeks together. She will be perfectly happy with that, I’m happy to tell her that you’re overtired from the travel and I want to keep you all to myself.”

When she lifts her head up,you don’t hesitate to press what you intended to be a peck to her lips, but before you even know what’s happening Keira’s hoodie covered hands are reaching up behind your head, pulling you in.

It’s a good feeling, you like your relationship for this exact reason. You don’t know how the sparks would work, if they’d even be there if you had this all the time.

It’s supposed to be a dream to have this all the time, and yet the more you think about it, and the more the idea becomes slightly tangible the more you find yourself skeptical of the whole dream. It just doesn’t seem like something you should have.

“C’mere.”

You don’t miss the way you immediately relax as Keira completely collapses on top of you, her bones practically melting into your own. It feels so good, your body feels so much better with her around it, your head goes quiet and everything just fits into place. It’s the part of you that worries that if you have this all the time then that part, the magical part will somehow drift away and all the moments that keep you coming back will stall.

“I’ll order the thai, and I’ll text Leah. Tomorrow morning you’re going to call your agent and tell him that you want it made clear to Barca that you want to come back to England and the next offer available they should take it. Then you’ll help me pack for camp and we’ll have some really great goodbye sex and you’ll drive me to the airport and we’ll be all soppy and kiss and hug and cry. Then you’ll go on camp and tell Barca that you want a couple of days off when camp ends, and I’ll fly home as soon as my last match is over and we’ll spend whatever time we can get together. We’re going to make this work, we’re going to make something normal happen, okay?”

Whether it feels right or not, it sounds right, and as much as you aren’t sure about the future you know that right now Keira needs support. She’s not getting it at Barcelona clearly and you need to give it to her or as much as you can piece together. You need to problem solve this, you need to prove that even with all of your internal doubts that you can make whatever she needs or wnats work. She might not be your priority over football, or at least that’s what you think, but she’s pretty damn close and she’s the most stable thing you’ve had in your life for the past couple of years. You’ve put her through hell, and you need to fix the hell she’s currently living in like she would do for you.

“We’ll make it work?”

You look down at your perfect fucking girlfriend, on top of you, relaxed and smiling and it clicks, it all just clicks into place.

“Yeah baby, we’re gonna make it work.”

——————

anyways have a great day or night! love you all! maybe next time i post it’ll be a orgy 🤭

[astarless-fights]

A question I have always had: Do people care about the border because someone tells them they need to be concerned? Do they ever see proof? Or speak with someone who lives down there? Is it actually an issue or are people coming in and paying taxes, beefing up towns, and taking a part in the community? Is illegal immigration actually bad or is it a complex issue that is both good and bad and non local medias are just giving you a basic interpretation to have a talking point? Let’s dive deeper.

I have heard OP’s thoughts here before and it’s always come from border towns and border city limits. Which always tells me something else is going on.

Because here’s the thing, media reports and political agencies always misreport and misrepresent things that happen across the country. I have a couple examples as someone who comes from the East Coast but has had the pleasure of working in western states.

1. Remember when they introduced the wolves to Yellowstone in ‘95 and the media updated us back in 2016 “oh there’s wildflowers coming back! And the water is clean again”? I got that propaganda too on the East Coast. And sure, the good stuff probably happened. But wanna guess what I found out that year when I eventually shipped out to Idaho and spoke to wildlife biologists on the rivers?

They introduced the incorrect subspecies of wolf. Instead of using the historic Northern Rocky Mountain Wolves, they introduced a much larger, well traveling wolf called the Northwestern Wolf. The NRM wolves were small and tended to stick to a territory which would have been perfect for what they were trying to do for Yellowstone and the area surrounding. Instead they added a much hungrier wolf that follows its meals across the region, fucking up the ecosystems and wildlife patterns in surrounding states. Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana already had a pretty decent Rocky Mountain Wolf population that could no longer source its meals consistently due to wildlife patterns shifting dramatically, so they started going after the farms. Which if you are not someone who pays attention to wildlife laws and regulations, is the worst thing that could happen for them because farmers hold a lot of political power and often lobby local governments to increase population regulation (ehem, kill em).

2. When that kid died at Disney World… the one with the gator attack? Yeah, that was awful. I come from the southeast and growing up with gators nearby was a common experience for me. I was out in Idaho watching the news when it hit breaking news. The western media proceeded to push ideas that gators are controllable, it’s Disney World’s fault for not putting gates around the whole property to keep them out. It’s Florida’s fault for allowing this to happen.

Sure, should a gate have been placed around that beach? Totally. From working in tourism my whole life, the number one thing I have learned is that tourists are generally ignorant of local knowledge and common sense. I don’t mean this in a horrible way… but people forget they can die on vacation and tend to act as if it’s not possible so they disregard a lot of warnings. The gate would have been specific to people though. Gates don’t stop gators.

In fact they can climb. They can climb over a wooden gate, a chain link, climb up a tree, climb up the stairs… they are the largest vermin. They know no rules or boundaries. If there is water, they are there and they will find away to be there. It is common sense for those in southern coastal states to not go near the water at feeding times, watch the water, maybe keep your distance. If there are warning signs, then there’s definitely a gator that frequents the area but if there’s no sign, then there still is when no one’s watching. Western US media made it sound like they should have killed all the gators off and that just is so ignorant of the sensitive Floridian habitat. We need them there and in georgia, in south carolina, in Louisiana, and alabama. We need them in that ecosystem.

I remember listening to my boss at the time and my coworkers who had just listened to what I had were already shooting off the mislead comments of what the reporters had brought to light. Mostly because they didn’t know gators. They didn’t know Florida. None of them had ever been down there so when information is presented by a trusted source, why not trust that it’s correct?

Yes I explained to them before the topic left. But my observation still stands. Media that is not local to the topic will misconstrue the topic.

So when I see the LA fires and the east coast media telling everyone “the reason is due to them not taking control of their wilderness”, I want you to think of this post, what I have heard and seen with my own eyes, and search for a local reporter to the topic. Because I guarantee it is more complex than that.

Or when you see the border crisis and you aren’t from the border and neither is your favorite news channel… find a local news report to the topic.

If you see something being reported on from across the nation and you are not local, do yourself a favor and check out local to the topic reports. You’ll get more correct information instead of talking points used for political needs.

there is no border crisis. there is no immigration crisis. there never has been. it’s fear mongering, xenophobic, racist propaganda.

sincerely,

a life long borderland resident

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You mentioned how ace's dream was like a vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas but I think whats the best part about it was how the progression up to that point made sense. Theyve dropped so many moments showing ace caring dearly for yuu to the point where this dream as fanservicey like that it was it feels natural for ace to have such a dream if that makes sense WAAGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

What did you think of the dream though ms raven? The dream made me wail so badly ough hes finally cried too m sure hes been through a lot 🥹 seeing cater talk to ace so sincerly it hits me so hard in the feels im so glad hes finally got to cry (a little anyways)

Ace’s dream felt like fanfiction, but at least it felt natural or like everything up to this point was leading up to this being his wish. I unfortunately cannot say that for several other dreams. Certainly ones definitely felt egregious or contrived. Some were largely fanservice (Savanaclaw Rook, dorm leader Cater, delinquent Deuce) or just excuses to make new cards (merform twins), even if it didn’t make complete sense for the character to wish for it.

dgjswvizjsowk I know you’re probably expecting me to comment on Ace in his own darn dream, but I actually have a lot more to say about Cater. Ace’s motivations + butting heads with the rescue squad were what I expected them to be (though I give him props for being the only character so far to resist waking up right away). More on my precursory thoughts in this post (but based the exact wording of your ask. I’d be tired to guess you’ve already read it 😅)! But CATER????? TELL ME WHY HE WAS THE GOAT THIS UPDATE 😭

Cater does SO much???? First he suggests the third years help Trey cook BBQ so the darkness is distracted while the others can isolate Ace and try to wake him. When that attempt fails, Cater pretends to agree with Leona’s proposal to leave Ace behind to bait Deuce to come after him to play as his support. Cater sitting down to have a heart-to-heart convo with Ace??? And then mercilessly using his UM to gang up on Ace and beat him up??? 😭 Him reminding Ace about his courage facing off against OB Riddle… Cater confessing he wanted to run, but being encouraged to join the fight because aaaaah his kouhai looked so cool and dashing!! Thanking Ace??? Finally verbalizing some of his feelings???!?!?!?!???! CATER PULLING ACE OUT OF THE DARK????? MY GOD… OTL ThE biG BRoTHER EnERGGY WaS SO DTRONgGGGGGggGGGGG

And he kept this up even into Trey’s dream???????? Where Cater once again does a TON. He volunteers to investigate since makes the most sense (he is a Heartslabyul student so it’s not shady to be in the dorm and his UM is useful for combat). Cater also the third years with him into the kitchen to have a look around. Him saying he’s impressed with Silver’s will and how he would’ve given up so much sooner if he were him???? Dropping interesting lore about Trey??? Cater admitting that he has always been a spectator and now realizes he should have done more than just watch events unfold???

CATER CONSISTeNTLY puTTING hIMSELF AnD THE THirD YEARS IN hARm’s WAy FiRST… StRAtEGIzING… mAnIPULATING… AND ACTUAL SELF-REFLECTION AnD SINCERiTY????

Cater got to shine SO much this update, especially in Ace’s dream. He really came off like a big brother figure to Ace. A little mean, but also able to be so very vulnerable with him. Him not wanting to give up on Ace even though he later says if he were Silver, he’d have given up on everyone a while ago… MAN. CaTER cARES SO muCHHHHHhhh 😭 This might actually bump him up a little in my tier list… I didn’t like him much before 💦

[cutehoons02]

The Ice Prince loves the Ice Queen?

University series: Heeseung Jungwon Jake Jay

*pairing: pervy ice skating Sunghoon x queen ice skating Girl

*trope: Good boy/Bad girl - oppositive attractive

*synopsis: What would happen when the perfect world of the Ice Prince as well as one of the most famous, cynical and good skating boy of Korea must share its sanctuary as well as the ice chest with a "Bad girl" In all respects that she doesn’t care about the rules and that she likes to tease everyone especially Sunghoon? Sunghoon doesn’t want distractions but despite his ability to not mind those crazy rags, Y/n has a personality that defies every rule, attracting the attention of everyone, especially Sunghoon

*tags: Lots of tension between the two protagonists, they love to tease especially the female protagonist, sexual tension, Sunghoon stalked her on social media, possession, jealousy, fluffy, semi-public masturbation (massage room) (f. receives it) unprotected sex ( don’t horny ppl) pussy drink, pet names (noona,bad girl,doll) (ice prince,hoon,hoonie) Sunghoon is a little shy? a lot of kisses, suck, the girl is a bratty, Sunghoon is a little obsessed with her,Sunghoon is a bit territorial with her but slowly he understands that he likes it both physically and also carraterially because she’s the only one to keep them in front.

9.4k (⛸️)

(English is not my native language)

Sunghoon is already on the ice, as always at the perfect time. He slid with absolute grace, his face impassive while training. The few present observe him with admiration, but the attention of all shifts when the building doors are opened with a blow. A metallic sound echoes as a pair of skates are thrown to the ground with little grace. Sunghoon looked at the entrance of the arena and raised his eyes when he saw you "Y/n, The Ice Queen" the queen with dresses too short for judges, the social media queen while flirting with all her fans, and the queen of the ice rink for 5 years now, you won all the medals and competitions in the country but the only thing that was missing was the elegant behavior that all skaters had. Sunghoon was not at all happy to have to share his kingdom, especially with another "queen" because he was the ice Prince and would soon become the King of the track when he qualified for the Olympics.

"So this is where the legendary Ice Prince trains... What a bore, I was expecting something more impressive."

Sunghoon stopped and turned slowly. In front of him is a girl with her hair gathered in a high tail, the national team jacket thrown over her shoulders with carelessness, and a bold smile on her lips.

'And you would?' he said with a casual attitude, but inside, his heart was beating very fast. He knew who you were actually since he had seen you live five years ago when you were still a teenager stalking all your social networks. He saw all your races and, for a time, saved your TikTok.

"Oh, that’s polite. You should know that already. But let’s pretend... my name is Y/n. Your new training and college companion."

Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then turned to catch up skating. You raised an eyebrow, amused by his indifference.

"Oh, wow. Not even a 'nice to meet you'?" you thought you were the ice prince, not an iceberg."

Sunghoon stops again, sighs, and looks at you with icy calm.

'If you’re here to train, put on your skates. If you’re here to waste time, the door is that way.'

You laughed at his bad joke, without breaking. You bent down calmly to put on your shoes, watching him from under your cloaks.

"Cold as they say, eh? Who knows if you’re so cold underneath even in more... intimate situations."

Sunghoon barely jerks, but he quickly comes together, clenching his jaw. For the first time, a shade of redness touches his cheeks. You laughed and were satisfied with his reaction.

'You’re here to skate not to flirt with me.'

"Oh, whatever you say, prince. Let’s see if you can keep up."

And with a fluid movement, you jumped on the ice, brushing it with confidence and lightness. Sunghoon watches you for a moment, then he squeezes the blades and leaves, determined to show you who rules on the ice.

He hated you, couldn’t stand you, you were his nightmare, he didn’t tolerate your behavior for 2 weeks now, your cheeky to always arrive late, to flirt with all the guys, and especially to be so beautiful at the same time.

He should not have been there that night.

Sunghoon had stayed longer than expected at the arena, mentally reviewing his routine, seeking perfection as always. But when the music had begun to resound in the empty arena, something within him had shrunk. He thought it was an intruder. An ordinary idiot who had snuck in to play on the ice or one of those idiots from the hockey team; but when his eyes were set on the figure that was gliding naturally under the dim lights, his breath had cut into his throat.

It was you.

Not only were you sneaking - which is already annoying enough and illegal for the rules of the arena - but you were doing it with a magnetic intensity, a raw energy that he had never seen in anyone else. Your blades cut the ice with frightening precision, your body moved with an innate confidence, fluid and dangerously sensual.

Damnation.

Sunghoon instinctively moistened his lips, hiding in the shadows of the grandstands as he watched you. He had seen a lot of your performances live but mostly for TV or on social platforms but you were something else. The outfit you were wearing was tight at the right point, leaving little room for imagination. The way the fabric adhered to your legs, the way your body bent into perfect curves...

He should never have looked at you like that. But he couldn’t turn away.

He always found you annoying. Too cheeky, too casual, too... everything. But on the ice, you were another story. At that moment there were no provocative jokes, nor arrogant smiles. Just you and the ice, one with the aggressive music that resounded in empty walls.

When you landed a triple lutz without the slightest effort, Sunghoon felt an adrenaline rush rushing down his back.

You were one of the best skaters of the new generation and maybe for him, you were the best. It wasn’t just admiration for your technique - no, it was something more dirty, more visceral.

How can she be so damn annoying out of the ice and so... charming on top of it? He wondered as he watched you as a stalker as you danced.

Sunghoon’s fingers clenched. He had to stop looking at you. He should have stopped you, maybe even reprimanded you for breaking the rules, for being a goddamn rebel again.

Yet he remained there, hidden in the shadows, with his heart beating a little too fast and thoughts that he should never have had.

Sunghoon had instinctively stooped behind the balustrade, his heart pounding in his chest. Damnation. He should not have been there. He should not have looked at her like that. And most importantly, he should not have had... that kind of reaction.

But it was too late, when the music stopped you looked up and found yourself a few meters away near the railing that marked the path to enter the ice rink. You whistled lightly and a sharp whistle broke the eerie silence in the cold air, followed by your much too amused laughter.

"Well... who do we have here? Maybe my number one fan pretending to hate and despise me?"

Sunghoon felt himself sinking. Slowly he looked up and found you staring down at him with a satisfied grin, hands resting on your hips as you swung your perfect hairstyle. The black suit stuck to your body after the forbidden skating session, and it did not help the situation in which Sunghoon found himself.

He tried to keep a cool air, but the redness on his cheeks betrayed him. And to make matters worse, he felt the pants become slightly... Luckily the balustrade provided a physical barrier between him and his decidedly uncooperative ego. He was very well equipped to do so.

'Don’t make me laugh. Why should I be a fan?' he mumbled, turning his eyes away from you.

You leaned against the railing, tilting your head slightly as you watched him with those eyes full of mischievous fun.

"Mmmh... I don’t know, maybe because you were staring at me with your mouth slightly open? Did you like the show, huh? Didn’t know you liked sneaking around, Hoonie." You got too close to him for his taste.

Sunghoon held his breath as you leaned over him, until you were a few centimetres from his face and then felt a very slight touch on his mouth. A shiver passed through him when your fingertip touched the bottom of his lips.

"You know while skating earlier, I noticed something nice..." you said whispering with a funny smile.

Sunghoon swallowed, eyes chained to his own, unable to move.

"Your mouth was slightly open... almost as if you were holding your breath." You slightly tilted your head, the finger just tracing the contour of his mouth "Or maybe..." you bit your lip, pretending to reflect

"Maybe you drooled a little? Mh, don’t tell me I left you breathless."

A heat wave hit him hard. Sunghoon felt his jaw clench as his pride was stabbed by those damn provocative words.

Sunghoon almost growling, tightening the balustrade with force not to react instinctively said: 'Do not say bullshit you did a simple performance, nothing special and that I had never seen.'

You woke up slowly, almost amused by his reaction and words. You touched the bottom of the lip with your thumb again, as if you wanted to check if there was something there.

"Nah, you’re fine. No slime... Shame. It would have been nice to see you so vulnerable, Ice Prince." you said in a sweet but mischievous voice.

Sunghoon felt his self-control crumble.

'Stop acting like a rebel you shouldn’t be here at this time, you’re here for 2 weeks and you’ve only brought chaos.'

You chuckled, getting even closer to him. "Hmmm? You didn’t seem like it. You look quite... upset."

Sunghoon swallowed. You were so close now, leaning on the railing with your face a few inches from his. He could smell your slightly sweet scent, in contrast to your bad girl attitude.

And then, without warning, your fingers crept into his soft hair, stroking it with an exasperating slowness. Sunghoon stood still, every muscle tensed like a violin string.

"They’re softer than I thought... very cute, Hoonie." Whispered, with a smile as sweet as it is.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, desperately trying to keep control.

'Stop it, Y/n.' But he didn’t seem to be very convinced by his own words.

And you, of course, did not listen to him and leaned even more, until your face was touched with a warm breath, causing a shiver along his back.

"We have a secret now... Woe to you if someone finds out, I like skating without those silly rules that I have to follow from how many jumps I do or the music I put on; it’s the only time of the day when I can be myself and release all the stress." You said whispering them near his ear now quite red maybe because of the glacial cold inside the arena or maybe because you had teased him enough

Then, with the same grace with which you had skated away. But before you left, you took a small step back and cast a satisfied look at him, purposefully shaking as you left the track.

Sunghoon stood still for a few seconds, unable to move, breathing slightly erratically.

Damn it. You were a problem. Big, damn problem no girl had taunted him so much in his life and who the hell did you think you were?

The party was lively, music resounded through the walls, and the boys laughed and joked while drinking something light. Sunghoon, for once, felt at ease with his friends; it was rare to see him relaxed out of the ice, but in the company of other members of Enhypen and TXT, He could forget for a while the pressure of the track and the upcoming race to qualify for the 2026 Olympics in Italy.

Sunghoon leaned against the counter, sipping his drink. Jake was next to him, talking to Heeseung about nerd video games. He was about to make a distracted comment when a familiar sound and laughter made him turn away instantly.

The voice and laughter of Y/n made him look up to heaven.

Sunghoon frowned, following the sound until he noticed a figure that should not be there. Y/n was friendly chatting with Jake’s girlfriend, laughing with that laugh he knew too well.

But it wasn’t his laughter that was driving him off the road, it was the way you were dressed. A black tight-fitting dress wraps your body perfectly, revealing more than he could bear without feeling the blood rise to his cheeks. Above, a short leather jacket that lets you see the shoulders and a black choker that seems to shout provocation. On the feet, high heels that made your legs infinite.

Sunghoon clears his throat, trying to look away, but his eyes seem to have a will of their own. It felt strangely hot, and it was certainly not because of the crowded pub.

<< Hey, are you all right? >> asked Jake noticing his mood change

Sunghoon looked up, trying to keep his cool

'All right. Just... her.' he nods to you, without hiding the annoyance in her voice.

Jake chuckled, amused by his reaction << Oh, Y/n, the ice queen? Yes, she’s friends with T/N. Didn’t you know?"

Sunghoon sighs deeply, trying to calm down.

How was your friend the sweet girlfriend of one of his best friends? You were the perfect representation of a "bad girl" always in search of rebellion and breaking the rules instead of Jake’s girlfriend was a vlogger where he made reviews of books full of love and cute things!

But when you turned and saw him, the smile painted on your lips made him even more nervous.

"Oh, look who’s here. My dear number-one fan! Don’t tell me you were following me here too, Sunghoon!"

Sunghoon approached with an impassive expression, but his cheeks revealed a slight redness.

'I wasn’t following you. It’s you who appears everywhere, like a problem that doesn’t want to be solved.'

You burst out laughing, completely ignoring his irritated tone "Problem? Interesting choice of words. But... you don’t seem so upset."

You approached him, pretending to fix a tuft of hair, but letting your perfume wrap it. Sunghoon clears his throat again, trying not to look at you, but the short dress and the way your leather jacket exposed your back didn’t make it easy.

Hoon clenched his jaw, looking down at you ' Don’t you think it’s a bit... too much for an evening like this?'

"Too much? Oh, honey, that’s just the minimum. I can’t go around in my skating suits, can I?" You chuckled, leaning nonchalantly against the counter, purposely showing the line of your leg.

Sunghoon felt a shiver down his back. He tried to think of anything else, but the mind played tricks on him, proposing the image of you on the ice, with those same provocative movements.

You came even closer until your fingers touched his arm

"So, Sunghoon. are you going to spend the whole evening sneaking around, or do you want to offer to keep me company? You know, just to show everyone how close we are... on the ice."

Sunghoon took a step back, trying to regain his composure.

"Stop playing and flirt with me is not your pastime. And cover yourself, you’re drawing too much attention," he said in a brusque tone.

You approached his ear, whispering in a low and provocative voice

"Jealous, Hoon? How sweet are you when you’re so protective of a girl older than you!"

You walked away, turning around with a satisfied smile, shaking as you approached the girls' table. Sunghoon follows you with his gaze, unable to decide whether he would like to shout at you and put you in your place or come closer to you again. Sunghoon to himself, biting his cheek

-It’s not jealousy. It’s... control. You just don’t have the slightest sense of decency. Right?-

But a fleeting thought crosses him, warming his face even more. 'Damnation... how can a party become a battlefield?'

Sunghoon couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to. He watches you laugh and joke with a tall, brown-haired guy who seems too interested in you for his taste. Every time that idiot comes closer, you laugh louder, leaning towards him with mischievous. And Hoon knew it was obvious that you were doing it to tease him and drive him away.

Indeed, now and then your sparkling eyes would gaze upon Sunghoon, studying him with that brazen smile he knew all too well.

Sunghoon squeezes the glass harder than necessary. What the hell is she doing? And why do I care so much?

The boy leaned towards you, whispering something in your ear. You laughed again, letting your leather jacket slip off your shoulder, revealing your pale skin under the dim lights of the room.

Sunghoon feels the heat rising inside him, like a pressure cooker ready to explode, and in the end, he can’t take it anymore.

He gets up and goes across the room with long, determined steps. When he comes to you, you have understood that your beautiful game of provoking him was bearing fruit, he did not say a word while he looked at you badly: he grabs your wrist gently but firmly and drags you away, leaving the boy with whom you were talking slightly confused.

You were not entirely surprised by his reaction and you were amused, you let yourself be carried away without resistance with a satisfied smile on your lips.

"Hey, where are you taking me, Ice Prince? You don’t seem like the type to grab girls from the pub."

Sunghoon doesn’t respond until he drags you to a more secluded and isolated corner of the room, away from the eyes of others. Then, finally, he looks at you with eyes burning with frustration.

'Stop acting like that.'

You bowed your head, pretending not to understand. "Stop what?"

Sunghoon tightens his jaw. '

To act like this, you don’t need to get the attention of all the guys at the club. You don’t need to flirt with anyone who looks at you.'

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with provocative air.

Flirting? Hey, it’s not my fault I’m beautiful and others notice me. Maybe you should get used to it, hoonie is my specialty flirting and getting everyone’s attention."

You came a step closer, the voice that was lowered to become a whisper.

"And then... who told you I wanted to get all the kids' attention?"

Sunghoon stops for a moment, his breath short as your words hit his stomach like a punch and he looks you in the eye, trying to figure out if you’re joking or not.

'Then what did you want to do?' You smile, this time more softly, and raise your hands to rest on his chest, sculpted tight in a black shirt, where he raises his toned chest. Your little fingers clasp on the tight black shirt, feeling Sunghoon’s irregular heartbeat beneath it.

"I wanted to attract the attention of only one boy... but it seems that he needs a little help to understand."

Before Sunghoon could answer you lifted your toes slightly and put your lips close to his neck. You felt a gentle scent of wild fruits and the smell of some mixed sweat from Hoon’s skin. You started with a light kiss, then another, until you felt him stiff under you, Sunghoon leaned against the wall, unable to move, as the heat spread over his whole body.

"Doll..." The word escapes him before he can stop, and is full of confusion, desire, and a touch of submission that irritates him.

Laugh softly against his skin. "So good, Hoonie. You know how to make me feel important."

Then you went back to leave another kiss on his neck, this time more forceful, sucking him slightly, Sunghoon clenches his teeth, trying to keep control, but every fiber of his body seems to betray him as he puts his big hands in your backside to draw you closer to him.

'N-Noona...' The voice is husky, almost appealing to him, invading you in all senses and you put your breasts into his chest and rubbed them slightly while you continued kissing him, giving little bites to Hoon’s ethereal skin. You wanted to brand him, you wanted them to understand that you understood that he had a little twisted obsession with you and you wanted him to find the next morning a nice gift in his neck, so he would be ashamed but also remember what you were doing.

"You like me so much, Hoon?" you ask, biting your lip with amused air.

Sunghoon looked away, the redness that warms his cheeks and it was lovely to see him so helpless, where was the cynical ice prince who spoke all in the pre or post-race. 'Be quiet.'

You woke up again, stroking his chest with a light touch. "Don’t worry, Hoon. It’s our little secret... remember?"

And with a last kiss on the neck, you slowly drifted away, shaking as you returned to the center of the room, and before you had gone away, you turned around and threw a kiss with your hand. Sunghoon remains motionless, with one hand still on his neck where you had left the mark. His breath is irregular, and in his head, there’s only one thought: I’m fucked.

University ice rink

Sunghoon skated with the usual elegance and precision. Every jump was calculated to the millimeter, every harmonic step. The ice was his kingdom, the place where he never made a mistake, his home, his outlet valve but at the same time of millimetric precision because if you were wrong the ice would not easily forgive you the mistakes. With the upcoming race for the Winter Olympics qualification, he had no time for distractions, had been raised by his family to win at least one Olympic gold medal and he had wanted her since he was 4 years old with all of himself and no one would be able to distract him from his n*1.

Or so he thought.

On the other side of the track you were doing your program, but the stern tone of your coach was getting more and more insistent throughout the block. Many boys and girls were giving you curious looks, all putting you on the pedestal except your coach and maybe the Ice Prince.

Your Coach exasperated yelled at you for the thousandth time that day -Y/n ! Your triple flip is completely off-axis! You have to close the rotation faster, otherwise you will keep landing on the wrong foot.-

Sunghoon turned to you to understand why for over an hour he only heard screams from the opposite side of the ice rink as you attempted to jump again. Your blades incised the ice with initial grace, but then, exactly as before, you misbalanced the rotation and landed in an unstable way, spreading too much the foot of support.

Your coach sighed heavily, reaching her forehead

-I can’t believe you’re still getting this item wrong. You had a perfect landing last week! You lack control and if you behave like this at the race next weekend they will beat all the newbies. Maybe you should look at how Sunghoon does it.-

At those words, Sunghoon felt all the glances on himself. It was not intended to intervene in your training, but certainly could not refuse to show you again who was the best and why everyone called him the ice prince of Korea. He was silent for a moment, then nodded slightly as if it were obvious.

With a fluid movement, he picked up speed and prepared for the triple flip. He had performed that jump countless times, and as expected, the landing was flawless. The dry sound of his blade cutting through the ice resounded in the track, and his posture remained perfect, without any hesitation and some children sitting in the audience looked at him with open mouths.

You crossed your arms, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Ugh, what a bore. Ice Prince is perfect as always."

Sunghoon turned to you, noticing the way you were passing your tongue against his lower lip with a pensive look. His coach immediately pressed you:

-Did you see it? It must be so! Try again until you do not exactly will not leave the hut.-

You sighed, then went back to the track and prepared for the jump and Sunghoon watched you carefully as he was speeding.

One Over. Three steps. Spin... and then a wrong landing again.

One more time.And again. And again. After the fourth consecutive mistake, your coach gasped exasperately and shook her head.

-What’s wrong today?! You’re distracted by nothing! Maybe Sunghoon should follow you step by step. Maybe his discipline will teach you something, I always told you that it is an extremely good example to take even if he is two years younger than you is the representation of perfection.-

Sunghoon felt a slight discomfort. He had never trained anyone and with you... it would not be easy. But then his eyes came on you, there was something strange.

You were wrong, of course, but the way you did it... it was not random. Your posture was too relaxed, your landing almost deliberately imperfect. Your mistakes seemed... controlled and Sunghoon opened his eyes.

Wait a minute... is she doing it on purpose? He thought as he looked at you, he looked better as you prepared for the umpteenth attempt, but there was a shadow of a smile on your lips and when you were wrong again, your gaze fell directly upon him.

Sunghoon crossed his arms, his eyebrow slightly ruffled as he watched you skate with an innocent air.

"Oops. I’m really bad today, huh?"

Sunghoon felt a shiver of discomfort mixed with... more. Why, damn it, were you looking at him like that? As if you were enjoying seeing his reaction?

He approached you slightly, lowering his voice in a barely audible tone.

'Stop acting like a child, you know I’ve figured it out you’re doing it on purpose right?'

You flashed your fake eyes surprised by his words, putting a hand on your chest with theatrical air "I? Why should I?"

Sunghoon looked at you. "Because you are impossible and love to attract the attention of everyone."

You chuckled, with a smirk as it bites your lip "Or maybe I like to attract the attention... of someone in particular."

Sunghoon felt a sudden heat rise to his head. His heart made a small leap in the chest, but immediately recovered and passed a hand through his hair, exasperated, while you threw him a last mischievous look before returning to the center of the track. Sunghoon turned to the coach, trying to look as impassive as possible.

-Can you follow her around for a few laps? Maybe learn something from yourself. -

Sunghoon nodded reluctantly but as he approached you, he couldn’t help thinking that once again you had found a way to make him play by your rules. And the worst? He was falling for it.

The hot shower water was running on Sunghoon’s skin, loosening the tension of his muscles after a grueling workout, the race for the qualifiers was close and he had to be perfect and flawless as always. No mistakes, no hesitation, no distractions, and with the head focused only on skating.

He passed a hand through his wet hair, sighing but nevertheless, his mind kept returning to something or rather, a person, you were now fixed in his thoughts and every day was a continuous struggle against himself not to fall into your trap.

You were the representation of the girl from whom he had to stay away because you were a rebel but also because you would mess with your problems.

You stayed to try the program even after everyone had left. Stubborn as you were, you wouldn’t give up until you had executed that damn double Lutz perfectly. Leaving the locker room Sunghoon with his hair still wet and a towel saw you there again, alone, your body moved towards the track to perform all the sequence of your race program: steps, transitions, trotters... Everything is perfect, except for that damn double Lutz.

Once again. And another time. And another time.

Unstable landing.

Wrong landing.

Failed to land.

Sunghoon leaned on the railing, watching you. You had your hair in a mess, your breath in a stupor and your eyes burning with frustration yet you kept going until you heard a dull noise: your body falling on the ice and then, the sound of a broken breath you were in the middle of the track, Collapsed on the ice with hands covering your face while you were breathing hard and crying like a little girl.

Without thinking twice, he ran to the locker room and quickly put his shoes back on. He returned to the track and slipped towards you, stopping by his trembling body, Sunghoon knelt beside you and with a firm but gentle tone said to you:   

'That’s enough for tonight.'

You looked up at him, your eyes bright with tears and full of frustration and with a broken voice, trying to keep control of the screams.

" It’s not your business, Hoon. I don’t need a babysitter, let alone a kid who thinks he knows everything."

Those words struck Sunghoon but they did not make him back, instead, he leaned down towards you and gently took your arms, trying to help you get up.

'Won’t leave you here to destroy you. No sense, tomorrow is another day and I’m sure you’ll do well.'

"I said I don’t need you!" Sunghoon wavered for a moment, but then his face hardened and he took you firmly by the hips, lifting you and you watched him with surprise as you tried to wriggle again but he wouldn’t let go.

'Stop treating me like a kid! I’m trying to help you, Y/n!' and he came closer, his face a few centimeters from yours. 'You’re not invincible. I know you’re tired. I know it hurts. But you don’t have to face it alone.'

You were stuck and your hands pressed weakly against Sunghoon’s chest but your voice seemed to have broken.

He looked at you with intensity, his dark eyes fixed on yours, and at that moment something inside it surrendered.

With a sudden surge of emotions - anger, frustration, but also a deep desire - he lowered his face towards you and kissed you.

At first, the kiss was hard, full of tension and anger. His hands were holding your hips tightly as if he was trying to make you understand how frustrated he was. But then, slowly, the kiss changed. He became sweeter, slower. His lips moved with a delicacy that contrasted with the initial fury as if he wanted to convey to you everything that he had not been able to say with words.

You were initially surprised but found yourself returning the kiss immediately and your hands relaxed on Sunghoon’s chest, sliding towards his shoulders and feeling the warmth of his body, the way he held you, and he understood that he was not only there to judge you or prove himself better. He was there for you. When you two separated, you were out of breath. Sunghoon looked at you and his breath was irregular and his cheeks were red.

"I’m not your enemy, Y/n. And stop treating me like one. I can be what you need... if you let me."

You looked at him for a moment, still confused by the emotions that had overwhelmed you. Then, with a light tired smile, you shook your head.

"You’re too perfect for me, Hoonie. I’m complicated and sooner or later everyone leaves."

But Hoon did not move from you and gently smeared a cheek on your face and pulled a strand of hair from your face.

'I like complicated things Y/n, otherwise, I would not have chosen to base my whole life on skating!'

Hoon came near you again and this time it was you who took him by the collar of the sweatshirt and slammed your lips in his, his hands went to lean into the tight of your leggings, Hoon wanted to hear you all by himself and he got a slight moan when you put your tongue in his mouth and at the same time pulled his hair. When you left for a moment you looked at him with a mischievous smile and whispers, with a roaring voice and full of intention:

"Hoonie... don’t you think this is a little too exposed?"

Sunghoon stared at you, puzzled, as his gaze wandered towards the empty runway.

"The massage room is right there. How about that?" you said with a slight whistle, pointing to the door behind them.

He hesitated for a moment. He had always followed the rules, and always kept control but with you every barrier seemed to collapse. At last, he nodded slowly, taking your hand and leading you to the closet.

The massage room was small and poorly lit, with a padded bed in the middle and some shelves full of towels and oils. The door closed behind you with a slight click.

Sunghoon turned to you, you quickly approached, holding his waist and pulling him for another kiss. This time it was you who took control, your lips moving with confidence as your hands slid under Sunghoon’s sweatshirt.

"This sweatshirt looks good on you, but... I think it’s better on the ground."

Before Sunghoon could answer you pulled the sweatshirt in one fluid movement, revealing his tight t-shirt and his well-defined chest, and wasted no time: your lips moved along his neck, Leaving small kisses and slight bites that made Sunghoon shiver.

'Noona...' The word slipped from his lips without him being able to control it you stopped for a moment, looking at it with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

"Noona, huh? You like to call me that, Hoonie?" you chuckled laying your hands on his chest and drawing little circles with your fingers.

Sunghoon determined not to let you have complete control, grabbed your legs and lifted you with ease, making you sit on the massage table. You looked at him surprised by the force with which he had moved it, but you did not have time to say anything. Sunghoon’s hands lay on your hips, squeezing them lightly as he approached you again.

'Do you think you’re the only one who knows how to tease, Noona?'

Smiles, but your breath was speeded up when he felt Sunghoon’s hands slipping into your leggings, stopping just above the fabric of your panties and you looked him in the eye, challenging him to continue.

"Prove it to me, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon did not make him repeat it twice. Your hands moved along Sunghoon’s shoulders, pulling his shirt up. When the shirt fell to the floor your fingers explored her chest with a light touch and full of curiosity.

"So perfect, like an ice prince, but with so much fire inside." You chuckled as your kisses descended on Sunghoon’s neck

Sunghoon shivered at his touch, but he was not willing to let you have the last word. With a sudden move, his hands fell on her hips and she took off your leggings with a brusque movement and found you only in panties.

'You... you’re the queen who knows how to make me lose my head but let’s see if today it will be you to lose your head for me, doll'

Hoon gently laid you in the cot and you obeyed immediately and leaned slightly lying on the edge of the cot he started to touch your thighs lightly until he touched the fabric of the panties and when he moved it slightly he saw that you were already Excited only for him.                           

'So pretty' cursed Hoon licking the finger he had just touched, 'Sweet as I imagined' moaned, fingers going on your clitoris to feel more of your moisture.

He moved slowly, sliding his finger over your swollen clitoris and rounding it through the fabric of her panties. There is an intense amount of heat rising between you two. The way you are positioned with him, his large frame that traps you between the edge of the cot, and his big hand pushing inside you doesn’t help you feel any less aroused. You can feel it becoming slippery the more pressure it puts on your clitoris. " Please...I need more", you murmured as if you were embarrassed by your own words.

'Since you’re so shy to ask this kind of thing Y/n?' Hoon has been looking at you and thinking about you like that for months. Let his finger get in and slide as you take off your panties, now pressing directly on your lump. Your back bows because it wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world but also because you were waiting for him to do more "Hoonie.." whimpering. He looks up from your pussy and is so happy to hear his nickname comes out of your lips in that position and sees your thighs twitch; you cried when he added another finger, Pushing it in and then pulling it out until only the tips of his fingers remained inside.

After a while he started making circles on your clitoris, repeating the action and licking his fingers before returning to work, he wanted you to come with lips that shouted his name because there would be no other guy and from that moment you were hers.

"Fuck" you moaned when he increased the pace of his fingers fucking you. His fingers worked so well, and you never doubted that he had talent when you looked at his beautiful hands with those super long, tapered fingers that were hammering you at the time and making you come.

Sunghoon saw your orgasm coming, your chest moving heavily up and down as tears stung your eyes, and he had to show you that even though you said he was smaller than you were he was the one making you have an orgasm in an almost semi-public area.

Your stomach was twitching and your legs were filled with chills, you felt your orgasm approaching quickly. You tried to warn him, but it took a clever movement of your bud with his thumb to push you over the edge. Your body trembled at the intensity of your orgasm, his nails stuck in his tufts of hair, Hoon put a finger around his lips and sucked it in front of you and saw how his smile was a little shy? But at the same time proud to have made you come, his big hands pushed you to sit down and he drew his forehead with yours while you were still breathing slightly exhausted.

You would never have imagined that he was so good and an unhealthy idea took hold in your mind and with courage you asked him: "Do you know what I think? We could be... friends with benefits. Would you like it, Hoonie? No complications, just fun."

The words came out as a challenge, but you didn’t expect the reaction that Sunghoon had, he stopped completely for an instant and then started to laugh, a deep and warm laughter that resounded in the closet. You looked at him in surprise and you punched him lightly on the chest.

"What’s so funny? I’m not serious enough for you?"

Sunghoon stopped laughing and leaned back towards you, this time taking your face in his hands and looking at you with a determination he had never seen before.

Sunghoon with a firm and serious voice told you. 'Noona, don’t get me wrong... but if you think for one second that I want to be just a friend with benefits, you’re mistaken.'

You slightly flashed your eyes, surprised by the strong tone of his voice.

'I want more. I want you. I want you to be mine and not of anyone else, if you can’t accept it, then tell me now but don’t ask me to be anything less because I know that underneath you like me and don’t make it difficult because I see how you look at me, Y/n."

Hoon’s words left you breathless. For a moment you just looked at him, trying to figure out if he was really serious. Then you smile, a sincere and slightly embarrassed smile something rare for you.

"I didn’t know you had so much passion, Hoonie, and that you were so territorial with me," you said in a whisper, as your hands slid down Sunghoon’s chest.

'Told you, doll. When I want something... I don’t give up and it must be mine and no one else’s.'

And with those words, your lips met again, but this time with a new intensity. There was no more hesitation, no more games.

The racing noise filled the arena you were sitting in a corner, on a bench with headphones firmly on your ears. The music was supposed to help you calm down but the knot in your stomach didn’t seem to melt.

That hateful little pastel dress made you feel out of place. It wasn’t dates, it didn’t represent who you were on the ice but to qualify for the Olympics that day you had to act like a doll. You wanted to dominate the track with intense colors, with clothes that spoke of your true essence: passion, strength, sensuality. Instead, here you are wrapped in a layer of blue dress that made you feel more fragile than you wanted to admit.

Immersed in your thoughts, you did not immediately notice the figure that had entered the room. Only when you felt a light touch to your ears, he pulled you back. The headphones slipped away, and there was Sunghoon in front of you.

'It seems that our Queen Ice is not so sure of herself today.'

You puffed crossing your arms, but the fast beat of your heart betrayed you, Sunghoon was beautiful with his impeccable black suit and some silver decoration on his shoulders, his hair was extremely fluffy and his sissy didn’t light up anything good. Sunghoon’s touch had been so gentle, almost affectionate, and now he looked at you with that typical ice prince expression: unflappable, but with a gleam in his eyes betraying something else.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine."

Sunghoon lowered his face a little, bringing it close to yours. One of his hands lifted and with the back of his fingers touched your cheek and you felt the heat rise immediately, but you tried desperately to remain impassive.

'Oh? Then why are your cheeks so red?' he said giggling

You stiffened for a moment and then, with your usual sharp tongue, I answered: "It’s just for the cold, stupid. You should know we’re an ice-box."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his reply. 'Really? Too bad we’re indoors, Noona.'

You felt your ears go up in flames. He was too close, too sure of himself that day, and it made you crazy. You tried to maintain your usual confidence, but couldn’t help biting the inside of your cheek, a sign that you were more nervous than usual.

Sunghoon watched you in silence for a few seconds, then with a sweetness that completely shocked you slid a lock of hair behind your ear.

'You don’t have to be nervous, you know? I bet you’ll beat everybody out there and qualify for the Olympics with an absurd score.'

His voice was so warm, so reassuring, that for a moment you forgot to provoke him and felt a shiver running down your back, but it wasn’t just because of the cold of the track.

"I’m not nervous. And I don’t need you to be my babysitter or my supporter anyway." Sunghoon smiled and walked away, leaving you with his heart gone mad. But then, with a suddenly darker look, he stared at you again, barely tilting his head.

'Okay, okay. But if you need me...' (came closer once more, his voice lowered to touch your ear) '... you know where to find me, Noona.'

You tried to answer with a sour joke, but he interrupted you with a lower, more dangerous whisper.

And Sunghoon with a sure smile continued saying 'And who knows... maybe, if you do well today...' (he stopped for a second, letting the silence full of tension make you crazy, then tilted his face even more, until he touched your jaw with his lips) 'and if you behave during the race, tonight... I’ll make you mine.'

You stared for a moment, the breath-stopping in your throat. Sunghoon’s voice had been soft, slow, insinuating. The way he said it, without any hesitation, as if it were a fact, made you vibrate inside.

You saw him lift his chin with a satisfied air before moving away, leaving you there, weak legs and heart pounding.

"Damn Ice Prince..." you said, biting your lip to hold a smile.

You were staring at the ceiling of your room, still incredulous. You had won. You had made that damn jump to perfection and qualified for the Olympics but what kept coming back in your head was not the echo of the public in delirium or the congratulations of the coach.

It was the voice of Sunghoon.

"If you behave tonight I’ll make you mine."

Those words had made you miss a heartbeat. Was it serious? Or was it just a provocation to motivate her?

You put a hand in your hair, still in the outfit from home: oversized sweatshirt and short shorts. You couldn’t deny it during the whole award ceremony you had looked for him with your eyes and you exchanged a friendly glance, but nothing more. Sunghoon had disappeared soon after, busy with the celebrations with his team.

"Tsk. I knew it, just a provocation." you thought, sighing."

You were about to get up to fetch water when the bell rang and you flashed your eyes. Who the hell could it be at that time?

With your heart beating harder, you approached the door and opened it without thinking too much.

And there, in front of you was Sunghoon.

Slightly damp hair, a sign that he had just taken a quick shower. The unbuttoned jacket and the suit pants fell perfectly on his athletic physique. But above all... that look. A look that instantly melted you.

You didn’t even give him time to say a word. Without thinking, you grabbed him by the collar of your jacket and lured him inside, closing the door with one foot before kissing him with all the intensity that you had held for days. Sunghoon was not surprised, but he kissed back without hesitation, immediately squeezing you by the hips and pushing you against the entrance wall.

The kiss was hungry, deep, full of all that had not been said until then and Sunghoon’s hands moved on your back, making you shiver.

You just took off, short of breath, dark eyes fixed in his.

"So it wasn’t just a phrase thrown there to motivate me, huh?"

Sunghoon smiled, looking down at your still-wet lips. Then he looked back at you intensely.

'Noona, do you really think I would say something like that without wanting it?'

Sunghoon wrapped your legs around his pelvis and you kept biting his neck and groaning him until he sat in your big bed you eagerly took off his sweatshirt and did the same with yours, his hands immediately went to tease your breasts full already turgid and began to tease the buds of your breasts now sensitive and you continued to run through his chest tonic with your hands and at the same time to lay kisses and mark it on the neck. An involuntary groan of satisfaction slipped from your throat as you felt Hoon tickling with one hand the entrance of your short, crisp shorts, feeling how his cold hands ran along the edge of your panties, and with a surge of safety you moved your hips, A light and insecure movement at first, but which made Hoon sigh against its length still fully covered. Hoon’s reactions were what you needed to continue and you turned your hips harder, making him throw his head backward against the padded keyboard of your bed; His eyes darkened when he saw you biting your lips and with glazed eyes he made you rise slowly from his legs and slid the short shorts down your legs.

"What are you planning to do me Park Sunghoon or Ice Prince" you said to ask between kisses and deep sighs.

'Thou shalt find out' murmur against thy lips. 'And thou shall love every second of what I will do to thee this evening. You felt your legs tremble and you rubbed against him even harder, making him moan softly and bite your lips hard. Hoon stopped your hips, pushing you down a little lower than it was enough to unlace his pants and a slight moan came out of your lips when you saw his Calvin Klein boxers slightly wet in the middle.

Hoon slipped his hand back into your panties, the tips of his fingers slowly crawling over the thin tissue tickling you.

"Hoon" moans.

'Tell me what you want' he mumbled against your mouth.  

'You must tell me, doll. Where’s the cheeky girl I met a couple of months ago?'

At that moment he liked to be a bit of a provocative asshole, finding fun in the way you react and your body trembled at his touches. Sunghoon slips your panties off and her finger finally makes contact with your clitoris.

"Please" you tried again, refusing to say it out loud.

'Doll I want you to tell me, use your beautiful little mouth to talk!'

"Hoon, please..." you started but failed again as he felt you now your shiny and excited pussy

"Poor ice queen, you can’t even use the words are you so desperate to have me?..." he made fun of you for all those times when he felt trapped with you

"Park Sunghoon, I swear to God if you..." your words were interrupted by a moan when he stuck his middle finger in your wet pussy, smiled when he saw you fight again with the words, Only because of him and was definitely a real booster for his ego.

'If I...?' suggested, provoking you again as he slid a second finger, bending it to hit that specific point that makes you tremble and writhe in his ears due to the stretching. You leaned forward, placing your hands on his chest and hiding your face in the hollow of his neck.

You felt a knot forming in the lower abdomen and bit his shoulder to relieve the sensation, moving your hips alone, chasing the peck he was giving you as he pumped and curled his long fingers against you.

Your groans became louder and more frequent, and Hoon took them as an incentive to go faster, always aiming for the point where you would react in the way he liked.

"Hoonie, more please" His name-related groans left your lips and you stuck your nails harder in his shoulders.

'Come for me doll' he whispered in your ear as you came, his name left your mouth like a song, while your body became even hotter and ready to have his cock inside of you. Hoon kept moving his fingers, slower this time to help you get off your high; When you relaxed a moment with slightly trembling hands you looked at him carefully and made a nod to you with the head and pulled out his cock that came proudly to his hips. His red tip shone for the pre-ejaculate, the veins sticking out on the skin, making you tighten your pussy excited, you were as unfocused as it was perfect his cock and you ran your tongue in your lips.

You grabbed his cock by aligning it with your pussy. You went down slowly, holding your breath as you felt it opening you inch by inch. His hands grabbed your hips harder, pushing you down to help you keep moving.

'Fuck you’re so tight, Y/n.' Groaned when he reached the bottom. Despite the urgency that Hoon felt to move, he remained motionless so you could adapt to his size. Groaning for the discomfort, not being accustomed to its size, but somehow the initial stretching was quite pleasant and you felt it already almost completely inside you have raised your hips, you waited a while trying to prepare yourself emotionally and you lowered yourself again slowly Hoon closed his eyes and bit hard on his lip. He wanted to take things at your own pace, but he seriously needed to take you and he roared slowly with the need to destroy you and have you all to himself.

You accelerated little by little, gaining confidence as you moved, but it wasn’t enough yet and your thighs were burning with effort. You tried to go ahead, wanting more grunts and whimpers from Sunghoon but you were extremely excited but at the same time tired when you felt him get inside your pussy all the way.

'What’s the matter, Noona?' he asked, caressing your hair to comfort you.

"Tired.... I need to have you inside me but you must take the reins" you whispered. After a few seconds of silence, you heard him laugh.

"The ice queen maybe a little spoiled wants me to do all the work? Where is the cheeky girl who teased me every day? '

"Please, Hoonie"

Sunghoon pulled himself out of you and he put you leaning on your pillows and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so that you could kiss him again and surround his waist with your legs. Hoon can only think of how you will be his death, but that moment does not last long because he is pushing again inside you and this time he is seriously in charge and his pushes are not at all delicate.

Groaning louder, feeling it deeper than before until he felt his hand lay in your stomach and with a grin said to you 'Look how you’re taking me at this moment Noona, I’m hammering you so deep in' groans at his words and also by the intensity of how your pussy could take her cock divinely.

"More, Hoon" you asked and he happily acquiesced to your whining.

He holds your thigh, puts it over his shoulders, and places an arm on the bed’s keyboard to support himself, going even deeper. You feel your intoxication coming for the second time that night and unintentionally you get around him, making him growl and go harder.

You pulled his hair, coming again and this time Hoon followed you, pouring his sperm inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, something you had never felt before and did not imagine feeling so soon, much less not being in a relationship with this person that made you crazy every day.

You were lying beside Sunghoon, breathing still as you tried to recover, and could not believe how intense that moment was, like every touch, every look, and pierced heart. You sunflower on your side to look at him: he was leaning against the pillow, his hair disordered and his chest that rose and fell regularly, with an expression of satisfaction but also of quiet sweetness.

"You know... I didn’t expect you to be like this."

Sunghoon turned to you, eyebrow slightly raised.

'So how?' he said with amused

You looked down while playing with his hands.

"So... real. You were the only one who didn’t treat me like I was made of glass. As if I was something to protect, to keep away from too strong emotions or too intense moments."

Sunghoon looked at you intensely, his dark eyes looking for yours.

"With you, I felt human. You looked at me as if I wasn’t afraid to break. As if... as if I was enough, just as I am."

Those words struck Sunghoon more deeply than he had expected. He approached you by running a hand through your hair and then gently stroking your cheek.

'Y/n, you’re anything but fragile. You’re strong, stubborn and... honestly, you drive me crazy. But that’s what I like about you."

Blush, but do not look away, captured by the sincerity in his voice.

'It’s not now that I like you. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at you, thinking how different you are from anyone else. And... I’m glad you’re mine now. That we are... us.'

Those last words made your heart overflow and you came closer to him, clinging to his chest as you felt a heat enveloping you completely.

"I’m happy too, Hoonie. And... I promise I won’t stop driving you crazy." 'No doubt, Noona. But know that I will never back down. You are mine, and I’m not going to let you go.' he said with a smile.

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[neiptune]

like real people do

cw: 2.8k wc, female reader, friends to lovers, literally black cat x labrador dynamic, you showed up one day and are still part of his life, it’s an axiom he would never expect to change. until one day you meet his brother for the first time and rin shits himself

“We should hang out tomorrow. Are you free?”.

“No”.

You frown.

“Would you have said yes, if you were?”.

Rin takes a moment to reply.

“Probably not”.

The grin you offer right away doesn’t surprise him, if anything it makes him roll his eyes with fake exasperation.

“I love how you never change”.

He nudges your shoulder with his arm, hands buried in the pockets of an expensive coat.

“You’re annoying”.

“I know, it’s my whole thing. You kinda agreed to it when you accepted me as a friend”.

“I never did such thing. You showed up one day and never left”.

Your giggle echoes across the empty street and Rin finds himself basking in your usual affection, something he’s well aware he hardly deserves.

It’s true, though. One day, back in high school, you were assigned to the same group project with two other classmates and that’s when the information of being in the same class in the first place was presented to him. You talked too much and smiled too often but when it came to doing actual work, you turned into a weirdly serious, responsible student. Instantly, too. Which would’ve been an interesting aspect of your personality, if he so much as cared.

You both ended up being the only two putting in real work to finish the project but the only thing Rin could think of was that he was relieved his perfect grades could stay perfect despite the dead weight. Except, you didn’t leave him alone ever since, apparently happy (always way too happy) to have found a new friend. He doesn’t remember how many times, throughout his high school years, he had to repeat that you two were not friends. Over and over again, the deterrent had failed miserably.

Rin has kinda made peace with your presence in his life by now, despite adulthood and your careers playing a significant role in keeping you apart, whenever he visits his hometown you’re there and whenever you happen to be where he is, you insist on seeing him. Stubborn as he’s always been, in his own mind Rin stands his ground that there’s nothing tragically wrong in allowing you to consider him your friend, still. There’s also nothing particularly dramatic in letting himself indulge in someone else’s obstinate fondness.

You’re a good person, he knows that much. Patient, generous, always the first to offer help and the last to ask for anything. You’re stupid. And gullible. Way too easy to take advantage of. It’s why he, to this day, still keeps an eye on you, walks you home in the middle of the night, doesn’t shut the door like he’d do with anyone else when you show up uninvited to his house. Sometimes he brings you something too, little mementos from his travels that hold no real meaning, despite the way your eyes shine with wonder when he begrudgingly hands them to you.

Rin knows you like him. Or at least you used to, so many years ago. He remembers hearing you confessing the secret to one of your closest friends. You never really told him, a good person but still too proud to give him the satisfaction of rejecting you, stood by his side when no one else would put up with his pissy attitude, always disregarding your feelings. Even when he had girlfriends you were there, feigning nonchalance. Stupid. He remembers how he immaturely tried to get you to admit it, shared petty details of his dates, told you he thought he was falling in love with other girls. Your smile barely faltered.

Why did you do that to yourself all that time, he still wonders. But then again he’d have to ask himself why his impatience, or rather lack of understanding, led him to kiss you when you were both visiting your families for the holidays, back from college.

Rin remembers the snow, the umbrella you were holding trying to clumsily cover him too. He remembers you were babbling some nonsense about how proud you were of him, of his career, the way you always knew he was destined to great things, his blue lock jersey still stored safely in the back of your closet. Rin remembers the way he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, dry and chapped from the cold. Was that truly the only way to get you to shut up? He doesn’t know. He just knows he didn’t expect you to take a step back, thank him for walking you home. The kiss was never mentioned again, the following day you acted like it never happened and he was glad he could carry on without the burden of weird expectations. Well, almost completely glad.

He didn’t kiss you because he liked you or desired something as unnecessary as a relationship, he’s sure of that. He just wanted to, in that moment. A stupid whim. And if the urge of shutting you up in the softest way has possessed him multiple times after that day and throughout the years, out of mere curiosity or simple convenience, he’s never really admitted it to himself. 

You showed up one day, never left, are still part of his life. It’s an axiom he’d never expect to change. Perhaps he finds some comfort in it.

“You really can’t hang out tomorrow? ”, you’re doing that thing you always do when you’re disappointed, furrowed brows over big eyes that are rapidly losing their usual glow as you blink a few times. He sighs.

“I really can’t”.

“How long are you in town for?”.

“A few days”, he pauses for a second, then decides to concede, “we’ll have plenty of time”.

The way your lips immediately curl into a sweet smile almost makes him crack one too. Rin also loves how you never change.

“Oooh, you wanna hang out with me so bad!”.

“Shut up”.

“We’ll have plenty of time! Because I’m your best friend in the whole, entire world!”.

“Now you’re really pushing it”.

You laugh again, something tender settling over your features. He once more recognizes the affection in your gaze and has to look away.

Rin has hated October 10 for as long as he can remember.

It wasn’t always like that, as a kid it was a special day he got to celebrate his favorite person on. His brother went from being his personal hero and best friend, to a stranger he couldn’t recognize, to an adult he tries to have a decent relationship with, now. Still, October 10 is a hassle. If Sae is in town, something he tries to do for their sake, their parents always insist on having a small birthday celebration at home.

His mother spends hours decorating the living room, orders a cake so big it would require at least ten additional guests, they have so many gifts ready and wrapped by the table. For the past few years, Rin has been getting his brother a gift too. Not exactly a peace offering but the promise of getting there, perhaps.

It infuriates him that Sae still acts perfectly normal around him, never hostile, indifferent at best. They barely talk to each other but Rin doesn’t want to spend his entire life seething, he doesn’t want for one single feeling to define him anymore. So he also accepts the birthday gifts his brother sends him on September 9.

It’s just a day, he mentally repeats, it will be over soon. But he doesn’t expect the doorbell to ring, everything has already been delivered and they didn't invite anyone.

Rin certainly doesn’t expect you, standing on his doorstep with a million dollar smile and clearly hiding something behind your back.

“What are you doing here?”, he’s frozen, in disbelief. You’re not supposed to be there.

“Surprise!”, you grin, “look what I finally found!”.

You’re suddenly holding something so close to his face he has to take a moment to focus to understand what he’s looking at. It’s a horror game, one he’s looked everywhere for because they don’t sell those anymore. Rin only mentioned it once but of course you mentally took note and conducted your own, personal research. It must’ve costed you a fortune. You’re such an idiot.

“It’s not a good time”, he takes a step back, hoping you’ll get the hint and do the same. Your smile falls.

“I know. I just wanted to drop this off. Here”, you hand him the neatly packed gift. Rin takes it, then meets your gaze for a second. He wants to say something, apologize, but you’ve already turned your back to him and are quickly granting his wish of being left alone. He asks himself how much patience you have left, how close you are to abandoning him and his asshole ways for good.

“Who are you?”.

Rin freezes a second time, the voice behind him so close and oddly interested. You stop in your tracks, whip around to look at someone who isn’t him. Something hard flashes across your features but it’s quickly whisked away when you offer one of your usual, polite smiles.

“No one, I was just passing by”.

Something inside Rin cracks. No one? You can hardly ever shut up about being his friend. 

Sae hums.

“You should come in. There’s extra cake”.

When their mom catches sight of you, she also invites you in and there’s really no turning back from that. You’re too well mannered, too acquainted with his family to refuse. So you indulge them.

From the kitchen, he observes something he never thought would (or should) happen. Sae, the most infuriatingly detached, impassive person on the planet, is sitting next to you on the couch, where you’re making polite conversation. He’s listening. Rin knows he’s listening because he keeps his eyes on you, stance relaxed. Who knows what nonsense you’re rambling about this time, unfinished cake in the paper plate balanced on your knees. He says something, you chuckle. Rin focuses on his own unfinished cake, suddenly nauseous.

All these years, this is the one thing he didn’t want to happen, you meeting his brother. It’s petty and childish and Rin isn’t even quite sure why the desire to keep you from him has burned ardently this entire time but the fact that his efforts have vanished in the space of one afternoon brings a strange weariness.

By the time you excuse yourself, his parents are begging you to stay over for dinner. You refuse, thank them, thank Sae the most and wish him the happiest birthday. He dismisses your formality with the vague wave of a hand, says he hopes to meet you again. You smile sweetly.

“There’s no need”.

Rin ignores your objection similarly to how you ignored him the entire afternoon, finishes buttoning up his coat instead. He always walks you home and today will be no exception.

The silence between you two is so uncharacteristic it irritates him, to the point of affliction. Are you that upset with him? Ah, the magic must’ve finally flickered out.

“So, how was it?”, he spitefully pushes, “meeting the legendary brother”.

You keep your gaze on the street.

“It was okay”.

Rin scoffs.

“Just okay? You two really hit it off”.

“He was kind to me”.

“I’m sure he was”.

You finally stop in your tracks to look at him.

“Just because we’re friends it doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole all the time, you know”.

Rin stops too, lips parted, breath condensating into a tiny cloud by his mouth. The serious look you’re fixing him with makes his shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry”, he murmurs. Your gaze softens and he hates it, how easy it is for you to cut him some slack.

“Can you tell me what’s really wrong, Rin?”.

He feels like throwing up.

“Nothing is wrong”.

You hum, pensive, take the time to kick a tiny rock with the tip of your boot.

“I really think you should give yourself some grace. You deserve some peace”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“It means you’re so focused on protecting yourself from imaginary threats, you can’t see”.

“See what?”.

You offer a sad smile.

“How bright you shine”.

Rin is so taken aback he doesn’t know what to say, surprise paralyzing his entire body. He hasn’t felt like this in a while, perhaps years. It’s not fair that you have access to such a vulnerable side of him, it’s not fair that he can suddenly sense a weird lump in his throat.

“I don’t shine-”, he spits the word out, disgusted.

You’re usually very careful about his boundaries, whether they’re a hoax or not. But this time? You do something you’ve never done before, roughly take his face in your cold hands to make sure he keeps his gaze on you instead of avoiding it like a coward.

“You shine, Rin. I’m so tired of you being the only one refusing to see it. You’re the most resilient, talented, hardworking person I know. You did good. But the challenge is over, there is no war anymore, you don’t have to persist in this stubborn seclusion”, your eyes are suddenly wet, tears precariously collecting in your lash line, “you get to rest, now. Please, be proud of yourself and rest. There’s nothing to be on your guard against”.

He doesn’t remember his heart ever squeezing as painfully in his chest before, the urge to take your face in his hands making the pads of his fingers itch. He doesn’t remember the last time he came so close to let a few tears fall.

He’s gonna take you too. Just like he takes everything from me.

The thought takes his breath away for a moment. He feels your thumb gently stroke his cheek.

“You’re the legendary brother to me, anyway”, you smile, then sniffle.

Has he split himself wide open for you or are you simply that good at reading him? Rin can feel his hands shake when they fist the fabric of your plush jacket.

“Why are you telling me this?”, he can barely recognize the desperation vibrating in his own voice, “why do you even put up with me?”.

You blink a few times, astonished. Then smile again, warm and bright like the sun. Oh, he doesn’t shine, you do.

“Because I love you, obviously”.

And Rin doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to wonder what you mean. He knows. He’s known all this time.

“Why did you never tell me?”.

“Because you wouldn’t have let me do it in peace”, you chuckle, “you don’t like me like that so you wouldn’t have let me love you. As if I needed something in return. As if loving you as a friend couldn’t possibly be enough, anyway”.

His fingers are hurting from how tightly he’s still fisting the fabric of your jacket. It feels like his insides are exploding with a million different emotions and he doesn’t have nearly enough time to interpret them. But does he really need that, after all? Time. He’s known you for so long. 

“Stop putting up a fight, silly”, you let go of his face but flick his forehead, to which he grimaces, surprised, “let me love you. I’m your best friend in the whole, entire world after all! Who cares about your stupid brother? No wait, that came out mean, I just meant I care more about you than-”

Rin’s sudden embrace is suffocating, you’re pressed against him so tightly you genuinely struggle taking a single breath. You don’t remember him ever hugging you, the most noteworthy intentional contact you can recall is his arm around your shoulders when you insisted on taking a cute selfie, once. Every other hug, you had always initiated. His arms were always loose around you, cautious, despite his forehead often resting on your shoulder.

His clothes smell nice. He smells nice. You close your eyes, bask in a warmth so strange yet familiar. You don’t think you’ll ever love someone the way you love him.

“You’re so stupid”, Rin murmurs against your neck. With a smile, you nuzzle your face further into his chest.

“So I’ve been told”.

He thinks his heart might be seconds away from slamming itself free from his ribcage.

“Can you tell me again?”.

“What, that I don’t care about your brother? Sure, fuck Itoshi Sae. Oh no, that was also way too mean, don’t tell him I said-”

Rin pulls away abruptly, hands kept on your shoulders to keep you there or maybe to steady himself. You shut your mouth, don’t comment damp cheeks dusted with pink. It may be the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him.

“Not that, you idiot”, his pitch is gentle, with a hint of amusement. One of his hands cradles your cheek, thumb gently skimming over your lips.

“I love you”, it comes out less bold now, timid. Something melts in his chest all the same.

“Will you pretend it never happened, if I kiss you now?”.

Your exhale is shaky.

“No”.

All these years and this is the first time you’re seeing Itoshi Rin truly, openly smile. The sight does something funny to your stomach.

“Good”.

[todosdream]

stress relief | ony

15k wrds. strangers to friends? to lovers. slow burn. plot with smut. fem black oc. see the moodboard.

warnings: MNDI! lots of profanity, usage of n word, pet names, mentions of weed; smut: unprotected sex (PLS BE SAFE), edging, a spank or two, naaasty talk, degradation? more like brat-taming, dacryphilia for two seconds, ony rightfully has a bbc, begging, ony’s a talker (duh), choking? really just a hand necklace, pussydrunk ony, lowkey d/s but not explicitly mentioned

additional #: oc needs to get laid fr. kt needs her headphones. becca needs a new job. author doesn’t box. shout out mrs. etta. ony is chalanting with a girl for the first time. (and he’s vibing with it.) oc really needs to get laid. oc is a bit bratty… sorry. ony needs to get off his ass. oc is actually very bratty, damn. oh hell, oc gets laid!

“girl, I’ma be real with you… you need some dick,” crystal’s best friend tells her through her screen. kt’s giving a look, an interesting mix of pity and annoyance. her knotless braids are framing her face, mocha skin radiant as always but lashes looking quite barren. “yeah, and you need a lash refill, ho,” crystal snorts. since she’s bringing up needs and shit. it’s unfortunately been a while since they’ve hung out, kt now visiting family in colorado for about a week.

being the type of friends they are, the both of them have no issue communicating through tiktoks and sending pictures of silly things. just yesterday kt sent a picture of herself holding up a peace sign with a joint between her lips. she stood next to a 'no smoking' sign, the ‘no’ smudged. she thought she was just so clever. crys in return sent a saved picture of an unimpressed squidward, a typical exchange between the two goofballs.

“yeah, okay, ho. I’m just saying. maybe you’d be a little nicer to me if you got some,” she rolls her eyes, giving yzma. her rescheduled lash appointment can’t come quick enough. “says the girl getting some every day and still being mean to me,” crys scoffs.

kt’s living with her boyfriend, expecting his title to change to fiance after feeling a certain anticipatory energy from the man. her time consists of working and chatting with friends, and being with and posting videos with her partner. crys, however, explores her free time in many ways. picking up hobbies that have about a 50% chance of sticking, trying different restaurants, teaching her dog funny tricks, and the occasional friend hangout. it’s friday night and she’s doing her own nails just for the hell of it. although the uninhibited girl’s words trigger an automatic negative response, crys knows why she’s speaking them. when the phone call ends, kt will turn over and cuddle up to her man, maybe ‘get her shit rocked’ as she likes to so delicately put it. crys, however, will be left with her dog, her empty home and bed, and whichever toy she vibes with for the night.

she likes being alone, it’s an accomplishment for her to feel confident and comfortable being single after wasting her time with people that don’t care, men that don’t even actually like her. but when it’s all said and done, people are meant for connection. of course platonic, family, community… but that pull? that yearning? it can’t be replicated, no matter how many times she rewatches bridgerton or insecure.

it’s been a while since she just let go with anyone other than those already close to her. the last time she let someone new in, he showed her exactly why ‘niggas ain’t shit’ is such a popular phrase. it was a situation that didn’t make any sense, and in retrospect, she cringes. the embarrassment, the useless attempts at communication, the settling… never again. however, that’s a part of her life that’s being fully neglected. no dates, no late night rendezvous, no flirting, no sex.

one word: cobwebs.

“why are you more worried about my coochie than I am, anyway?” crys jokes as she fixes her gel polish, deflecting the conversation. it’s not something she wants to discuss or harp on. that’s just life for her right now. she’s tired of people wasting her time, so she became unavailable. simple. plus, she knows kt’s nosy ass man is lying next to her and listening because that girl never wears her damn airpods. “you think that’s an insult? girl. that only makes you look bad, not me,” she sasses. crys hears a soft snicker in the background. “oh, fuck you,” the girl mumbles in response. “and will you please put headphones on the next time you decide to go talkin’ bout my coochie? cause I’ll happily tell all those stories about yours, pimp.”

“stories?” crys hears in the background of the call. “ain’t no way she just called you that. what the hell that mean, crystal?” the bestie purses her lips and squints at crys. she watches as the brown skinned girl tilts her head, making her curls flop to the side with a ‘gotcha’ look. “I know where you live, you know that, fo’head? have a good night with your vibrator, ho,” she speaks lowly. shuffles are heard as she drops the phone onto the duvet next to her. “she don’t mean that, pookie, she’s just all pent up.” kt’s middle finger is all that’s visible on the screen before the phone echos a tone a few times, indicating the end of the call. crys snorts in response and sits her phone to the side. she sighs, looking over her nails for any imperfections as her mind echoes her words.

she wouldn’t be opposed to a night in the sheets. it’d be nice to dust off the cobwebs. get some head, maybe get her shit rocked like she hasn’t had in a while. part of her wants the slow and sensual, romantic sex with someone special. the kind of sex that touches her soul, that you can feel on every level. the other part… well. that part stays right in the cage where it belongs. that part likes to drown in frisky pleasure even if the one giving it is a life source draining leech.

it’s normal to want pleasure, it’s human. but the thought of all the bullshit that comes with dealing with another human, let alone a man in this day and age is enough to make her reconsider taking that step. so like usual, she brushes the words off and refocuses on her spa day so that she can be at her best for the work week.

ᥫ᭡

despite her best efforts, the next week is particularly irritating. mercury must be doing her shit, maybe all the damn planets, because so many people have had wack ass attitudes and it’s rubbed crys wrong. terrible interactions with customers, coworkers called out and left her in a busy store with little help, and she broke a nail doing something very much so not in her job description. on top of that, the amount of random things outside of her control that have gone haywire is deeply irritating. her tv crapped out and decided to just stop working out of nowhere, her wifi is out for local renovations, and her trash can is missing.

again.

it’s a wonder she hasn’t either had some type of crash out or just cashed in her pto for a fucking break. instead, she decides to get dressed for the gym and puts on a purple workout set. if she wants to be cute and sweaty she damn well will be. she grabs her favorite gym shoes and her essentials. she leaves her curls alone for now, but takes a scrunchie to put it up later. when she gets to the gym at a completely different time than she’s used to, it’s practically empty, save for a young and obviously bored receptionist that’s glued to her phone and a middle aged woman power walking into her destiny.

seriously, crys will have some of what she’s having. the woman is on fire.

sighing to herself, the frazzled girl goes to scan her member qr code, only for the damn scanner to decide to stop working. the blonde receptionist behind the desk sighs as if doing her job is the last thing she wants to do. crys usually wouldn’t blame her for that, but the way she’s popping her gum has the curly headed girl imagining a modern re-enactment of that one scene from that madea movie. the receptionist seems to be in absolutely no rush to fix the scanner, completely oblivious to the metaphorical cloud over crys’ head that’s growing by the minute. she fights the urge to furrow her brows and take a week’s worth of irritation out on the worker, deciding to take a deep breath instead.

the brief look up that the girl gives in response has her immediately regretting her decision.

before she can even think of something to say, the door opens behind her. she’s in no mood to look at the person, figuring they’ll both be waiting in line. she doesn’t want to seem open to small talk because she’s just not. however, the receptionist— becca, her nametag reads— looks up like the sun just graced the sky for the first time in centuries. she stands up straighter, obviously trying to make herself look like she’s doing the job that she’s been failing at, and calls over crys’ shoulder. “hey, ony, technical difficulties. you’re free to go ahead you don’t have to wait, I can check you in once this is fixed,” she smiles. that lucky bastard. it’s the first smile on her face in the entire time the bristling girl has been there. crys swears if this was a cartoon scene, the blonde girl would be fluttering her lashes with hearts in her eyes.

there’s a deep chuckle from behind. “thanks, becca. they should give you a raise,” a low, raspy voice responds. crys’ eye twitches. the hell they should, she thinks. hand me the damn performance review form cause I got shit to say. becca, now looking as if she’s on cloud nine, waves him off dismissively. “just doing my job. leg day?” she questions, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like her drool is threatening to ruin the damn scanner beyond repair. “mhm,” the stranger hums. “nice kicks,” he mumbles.

crys is too busy zoning out and imagining herself tap dancing on the broken pieces of the scanner to realize that he’s talking to her. the way becca’s eyes shift gets her attention. “oh. uh, thanks,” she murmurs, looking up. all she sees is a muscular back walking towards the men’s locker room. she doesn’t have time to look him over because ms. becca decides she actually can do her job and calls out to her that the scanner is fixed.

it just needed to be plugged up again.

ain’t no fuckin’ way.

becca doesn’t even seem embarrassed. she’s holding the scanner lazily and looking around, probably for that ony guy. the blonde doesn’t realize that crys is holding her phone out, and she’s still popping that damn gum. instead of saying something to the girl like she really wants to, she grabs the scanner from the “worker” to check her damn self in and quickly heads to the locker room. the girl doesn’t deserve her week’s worth of anger.

after some time, she’s finally out on the floor to stretch out. soon after the warm up, she’s at the punching bag. it’s not her usual choice of workout, but she took classes when she was younger and knows it’s a great way to release all that irritation from the week in a more physical outlet.

crys quickly wraps her hands and soon she’s throwing punches and listening to rico nasty, an artist who has several tracks on her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist. she gets into her groove, trying to remember the important tips from the classes she attended years ago. it’s hard to recall all the basics, but she gives it her best shot. not too long after, she notices a shadow of someone’s frame behind her. it must be that lucky asshole from earlier, probably here to be a bother. or maybe becca decided to do her job and came to tell her to move her bag off the floor. she sighs, taking out her headphones and turning to look. it’s the stranger. the man’s arms are crossed as he watches, showing his sleeves of tattoos.

crys wishes she could say he was ugly, but he’s definitely not. he’s fine as fuck, actually. his skin is dark and healthy, making him look like he actually has a skincare routine and not just 100-in-one soap. he has an athletic build visible even through his clothes that makes her want to drool like dear old becca. he’s tall, maybe 6’4 or 6’5, so she has to look up at him, even being on the taller side herself. his black durag matches his all black workout fit and she wonders what exactly lies underneath considering the size of his arms.

his demeanor is calm and steady, confident in a way that’s quiet, as opposed to many other gym bros™. his face is calm and there’s barely any tension in his body. crys thinks she’d like to make him bothered, just to get a rise. see if he’ll hold ip or bite back. but no, that’s rude, and she doesn’t know this man at all. his eyes are looking at her intently, and she despises how beautiful they are. why do men get to have natural lashes that look like that? it’s not fair she has to get extensions when his are so long with an almost perfect curl. and the color of his eyes make it worse, the light brown contrasting his dark skin so prettily. and his lips? full, perfect for kissing, among other things.

lucky bastard.

“you gone bite my head off if I suggest how to fix your form?” he asks with a simple raise of his brow.

ᥫ᭡

ony’s a hardworking man. he likes to handle business but have some fun on the side too. he’s chill. everyone would describe him as that. he’s the levelheaded friend, usually the calm in a storm, and not one to be all over the place physically, mentally, or emotionally. he’s a steady beat and he likes it that way. life is peaceful and secure, challenging in certain ways, but calm in others. he has a good paying job as a personal trainer, proper work life balance, and a good head on his shoulders. he doesn’t do too much, honestly, but that doesn’t mean that his life doesn’t have some interesting twists and turns. his boys always seem to need rescuing in some form, sisters all a whirlwind of their own. his mom is always a source of entertainment, although his dad is much like himself. he likes his life, simple as that.

but things have been becoming monotonous lately. his clients aren’t having any interesting developments and his social life is steady but uninteresting overall. his family group chat is going through a quiet spell and his boys are actually not up to anything stupid like they somehow always are. he’s been particularly unfulfilled by the game and there’s no sport he wants to keep up with as of late. it’s all kind of… blah. he’s grateful that nothing’s going wrong. he could be having a bad week as opposed to a boring one, but he aches for a spark, something different to bring a bit more color to his life. maybe he should get a pet? maybe some little fish couldn’t hurt. he thinks over the new idea while he follows his usual routine to pack up and leave for the gym.

and then he sees crys.

he notices her form as she stands at the check in desk, interest piqued. he’s never seen her before, and he comes to this gym at least five nights a week. he knows names and faces, especially since there’s usually no more than five people when he comes. her figure catches and keeps his eye, his gaze taking in the woman’s long legs, thick thighs, and plump ass, seeing how her afro falls around her shoulders. his excuse for where his gaze is centered is that it’s all he can see from where he’s standing, but it’s not much of an excuse. she’s just fine as hell. her workout fit is cute and colorful, contrasting his dark and bland one. her hand is in on her hip that’s popped out, accentuating her form.

his interest is definitely piqued.

he gets to see more of her when he comes around to speak to becca. pretty almond eyes, soft looking lips, the bottom currently being chewed with vigor. she’s beautiful… but one look at her profile and the flames in her eyes tell him all he needs to know: look the other way. ony grew up surrounded by strong black women in his life, his mom, sisters, aunts, cousins… learning to read body language and— well, the room, was something he learned quickly and he’s applied that lesson everywhere in life. everything about her body language and that cute, barely contained frown screams bad day. so he greets becca— who’s really a sweet girl, just unbothered— compliments her shoes, and moves on about his routine.

it’s like clockwork. he puts his stuff away, makes sure his chain is safe and secure, fills his water bottle, waves at mrs. etta on the treadmill, stretches, locks in, and gets the workout started.

he’s getting into his mode and enveloping himself in the feel of the workout, but he can’t help the way his eyes are pulled back to crys. the way she stretches, the way she adorably bobs her head to the seemingly… aggressive? music. she’s gorgeous and new, which has him feeling like every routine move he makes is just a little different. her and her angry pout and her curves and her curls…

she approachs a punching bag, which ony can admit he didn’t expect. the outfit convinced him she’d be power walking with mrs. etta, or doing pilates in the corner. his mom always told him what assuming does to someone, though. he looks away as he tries to focus on anything other than her. he counts his reps like usual, trying to submerge himself in his music. it doesn’t work. as soon as she takes her first swing, his eyes are back on her, taking notice of how she punches.

hm.

he can see she knows a bit more than someone just randomly choosing to throw a few hits, but he isn’t fond of some of the habits she has that could actually hurt in the long run. he debates approaching, but he’s always been one to help others in the gym. attitude be damned, he’s a personal trainer. he knows the importance of doing things correctly. after watching for a while, he decides to walk over. he knows that if she doesn’t fix her punch, she’ll be angry all over again tomorrow because of sore wrists. she turns, obviously annoyed, but he’s not scared. she looks him up and down, her facial expression barely shifting. he wonders what she’s thinking, wants to hear her voice. when she finally looks up at him with those eyes, he almost tilts his head.

how can someone be so fuckin’ pretty?

she’s a vision with her bare face. eyes he could get lost in, features he wants to admire for moments on end. he would actually guess that she’s quite sweet behind the haze of her frustration. obviously a multifaceted person, and he’s interested in the idea of learning all those facets. who she is, maybe what she likes, what she doesn’t like. maybe even what makes her happy, what would put a smile on the adorably scrunched up face. for some reason, he wants to see that happy expression. actually, as a matter of fact, he wants to see all her expressions. smiling, confused, relaxed, aroused. she’s caught him with a simple gaze and he’s confused about it.

“you actually know what you’re doing?” she asks. it’s not meant to be a jab, truthfully. she’s been hit on by guys that try to “help” just to flirt, but ultimately make a fool of themselves— and her for giving them the opportunity. she doesn’t have the patience for it today, it in fact might be the straw that breaks her back. she can see amusement tickle at his expression, but no signs of him being offended.

because he’s not. he can tell she isn’t asking in a facetious way, she just seems… tired. like she doesn’t want her time wasted. he can respect that. “I promise you, I do,” he says with a slight smile. just a little one, unable to contain his utter enjoyment in her sass, and still having that almost sickening feeling of attraction.

crys hums, her gaze sweeping over him again briefly, taking in his calm but confident demeanor. the little smile on his face is lowkey pissing her off, but she has enough sense to know it’s because she has a lot of stress to work out. he’s fine as hell and now’s really not the time for all that. even still, he’s bold to come over with the metaphorical storm still rolling above her head. bold… or stupid. who walks towards a burning house? but she knows if he could tell her form was off from so far, she could really be messing herself up with how she’s going at the punching bag. she wants to just kick and punch it randomly, similar to what her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist suggests, but she knows that’s no good. and again, he’s fine as hell.

all the same, she’s still irritated and frustration-filled. “sure, yeah,” she mumbles as she turns back to the bag.

ony’s quite intrigued, interestingly enough. he knows a person close to the brink when he sees one. he can see the irritation in her eyes and in the way her shoulders are set. her movements are stiff and her brows are still pinched, gorgeous even with the possibly dangerous amount of upset toiling in her. despite her tense demeanor, he can tell she’s still at least trying to be respectful. and he appreciates it.

“what’s your name?” he asks, shifting to stand next to her. she’s staring at the bag, itching to just punch. “crys,” she answers, sparing him a glance as she fixes the wrapping on her hands. she’s pulling it tight, her movements swift. she can feel him watching her intently and she doesn’t know how she feels about it.

he nods. “ony. I’m no expert but I can share a few tips to keep you from gettin’ hurt. mind if I touch you?” he asks, the question second nature from dealing with his clients. he knows better than to start without given permission, and he definitely knows he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of her irritation. “s’fine,” she answers, ignoring the very inappropriate response that her brain comes up with. not now, brain. nasty ass. she really just wants him to hurry up so she can go back to punching, but she supposes she can hold back for a few more minutes if it’s him that’s going to touch her. plus it’s important to do it right, and even through her upset she knows that and is grateful for his help. if he could just be a little faster, though, that’d be wonderful.

he approaches, gently taking her hand in his as he unwraps her binding. “it’s a good wrap, but they shouldn’t be too tight. you gone hurt yourself that way,” he mumbles. his hands move slowly, demonstrating to her as he explains. it’s not in the show off-y way she expected, but direct and intentional instead. she’s glad he’s helping but a part of her is focused a bit too much on how his hands feel, how calming his voice is. “you should be able to spread your fingers. this’ll save your wrists and then some, yeah?” he murmurs, gently tapping her hand. still upset, she hates how soothing the contact is. she doesn’t need soothing, she needs violence.

that… might be dramatic. she knows it. but the week’s frustrations have all built to this moment and she plans to take full advantage of the punching bag in front of her. if he doesn’t pick up the pace, he might just take its place, handsome or not. “gotcha,” she mutters. “can I hit the bag now?” ony chuckles, and she’s mad that she really likes the sound. “sure. do a couple jabs.”

she takes a deep breath, her focus zoning on the bag. his presence fades slightly as she begins going at it, a bit overzealous. he lets her take a few punches, seeing how she obviously needs it. his gaze sweeps her form, watching her hips swivel slightly as she swings. her hits start with a decently healthy form, but the more she gets into it, ony can tell her focus is slipping. “okay, hold,” he murmurs. she doesn’t hear him and continues punching. her breathing is picking up and the cute scrunch between her brows is deepening. “hold,” he says louder, getting her attention. she huffs and raises out of her stance, blowing a stray out of her face. she steps forward and holds the bag to stop its movements, looking over at him.

ony could almost laugh at the way the curl flops right back into place. swears he could almost see her eyebrow twitch. damn, who pissed her off? “you got some good habits and some bad habits,” he mumbles, standing parallel to her now. “need to swing your hips more, not push through your arm. pop the bag, don’t push your punch.” he moves slowly as he speaks, demonstrating his words with his movements. it’s easy to follow, but his muscles are stealing the show, to crys’ dismay. “I was doing that,” she mumbles in response because she indeed was. “mhm, at the beginning. the more you put in, the less you focus on your form,” he says as he returns to his earlier position, arms crossed. “go again,” he nods. “bossy,” she mumbles. she likes it. he’s giving proper tips and doesn’t really care about her attitude, seeming unaffected.

ony chuckles, seemingly knowing there’s no actual anger in her tone, at least not completely directed at him. crys supposes he’s right. when she gets in the flow, her mind focuses less on her form and more on the happenings of the week. she definitely could’ve weakened her stance, and his words bring memories of her previous instructor. he might not be an expert, but he knows what he’s saying for sure. she gets back into her stance and takes a few more hits, more focused on her form this time around. she can’t quite lose herself to the exercise with the newfound focus, and she doesn’t like it. “better,” ony calls out. “keep goin’.” so she does. she follows his instructions to a t, feeling a bit more comfortable with the continued form as she practices.

“nice, real nice,” he murmurs, shifting to hold the bag from behind. he notices the hesitation in her movements as she focuses on her form. “come on,” his deep voice encourages. “where that fire go, huh? tellin’ me you can’t fight and focus?” crys, probably feeling goaded, looks up to him for a moment. ony could laugh again at the look in her eyes, but he doesn’t. “don’t look at me, look at the bag. you mad, I know it. let it out,” he nods his head to the bag in his hands. he doesn’t have to tell her twice. she starts to hit with more vigor, putting more into her punches. “mhm, yeah. control that shit, stay tight. swivel your— there you go, exactly,” he encourages. she’s picking it up, movements smoother and becoming more confident by the minute.

shit’s sexy as fuck.

crys is actually starting to fuck with him more, feeling herself in the workout. the way he’s talking is having an affect on her, and she knows she’ll be thinking back on this very moment tonight. his voice is deep, and slightly raspy as she keeps at it, and the encouraging makes her wonder if he’s like that in… different circumstances. she can feel her breath picking up for several reasons. “had you mad as fuck, huh? had you fucked up?” ony questions, pushing her a bit more. “let that shit out, ma. ain’t doin’ you no good to hold it in.” they both know that he’s telling the truth. she was just about bursting at the seams and his encouragement is helping her tap back into that. she punches harder, small grunts falling from her lips. the week’s frustrations are pouring out of her now and she’s pushing herself so that she can get him out of her head.

the way he’s talking to her in her amped up state just shouldn’t be legal. she’s pretty sure he’s the type to talk his girl through it, probably tease and taunt to get a reaction. damn, she needs to get laid. “form,” he reminds as her focus slips. she gives a quick nod, readjusting herself quickly before taking another shot. ony likes how quickly she responds to his guidance. “hell yeah, you got that shit. keep goin’, mama. ain’t nobody fuckin’ with you, that’s for damn sure.”

damn his fine ass with his deep voice and his face and his pet name.

she keeps going until every ounce of upset is drained, listening to his encouragement and occasional shit talking at a particularly weak punch or slip of focus. she’ll be honest, she feels good. great, actually. she feels as if she actually knows what she’s doing, confident in her moves. the upset has trickled away, but its absence is leaving too much space to think about the man in front of her. his fine ass is pushing her in the way she likes and needs, encouraging but taunting just the way she likes it.

after several more minutes, she steps back, panting. “killed that shit,’ ony mumbles, double tapping the bag. she really did, the difference between her earlier attempts and now is stark. and all because of just a few pointers. he watches as she catches her breath and unwraps her hands. “you done?” he questions. he wasn’t expecting her to finish so soon, she was just getting in her groove. he was honestly expecting a few more rounds.

“yeah,” crys answers as she nods. “thanks for your help, really. just needed to blow off some steam.” feeling better now, she decides that she should finish out with her regular workout. the less angry she is, the more she focuses on that damn smirk on his face, the way his muscles move with each shift of his body, the birthmark she’s spotted on his jaw. she’s trying hard to resist the pull she feels as she catches her breath. she gets another chuckle from ony. “could tell. I almost didn’t even come over. bad day?”

crys gives a sheepish smile, sliding her wrap in her bag. ony likes the smile a lot, but he wants more. “my bad. bad week, actually,” the woman responds. ony shakes his head, uncrossing his arms. “no harm, I get it,” he responds. and he really does, most of the time people’s attitudes really have nothing to do with you. “you should keep at it though, you got good form. at least when you’re focused. with some more practice, you could easily make it muscle memory.” and I’d like to see you more, he thinks. crys smiles and nods. “think I will. thanks again for your help, woulda been pissed if I hurt myself.”

ony’s eyes trail over her features. with the metaphorical cloud gone, she’s shining brighter. her smile is gorgeous, revealing a small gap in her teeth and a crinkle by her eyes. yeah. fuckin’ beautiful. “course. can’t have you gettin’ mad again, yeah?” he laughs, the sound deep as it rumbles from his chest. crys playfully rolls her eyes. “whatever, ony. actin’ like I’m godzilla or something. you can gone back to your workout.”

the two separate, continuing their sessions. but their eyes continuously meet as they sneak glances at each other and they exchange flirty quips. crys questions the amount of weight ony chooses for his sets, teasing that she’d thought he’d lift more. ony calls her out for a weak rep, telling her she should start over for half-assing. they just can’t seem to get enough of each other, teasing and poking at one another like crushing kids in school.

crys is definitely eating their interactions up. he’s fun in a way that isn’t childish, regardless of how he makes her almost giddy like a teenage girl. he’s not afraid to go along with a joke, but it’s obvious he’s not one to be messed with. no matter how many shots she takes, no matter how much she teases, he never breaks a sweat. it’s almost as if he’s welcoming the challenge and crys is more than willing to indulge.

ony likes her fire. it’s invigorating and it keeps him on his toes. he’s used to women being like becca— fawning, overly sweet, and obviously interested. the push and tug he gets from crys is different, and he’s enjoying every interaction, every tease, every glance at that ass. she just draws him in and he can’t get enough. where the hell has she been and why are they just now meeting? he could’ve shown her a lot more than boxing tips by now.

for her cool down, crys decides that since the gym is pretty much empty, she can take some extra time to do some yoga and meditation. she zones in and takes a plethora of deep breaths, regulating her nervous system and releasing tension. grounding herself in the present moment and releasing stress, anxiety, and frustration. it definitely helps as a follow up to the punching bag. she’s always appreciated how centered she feels after even just a few minutes of reconnecting with herself, tending to her mind, heart, and soul and not just her body. she should definitely do yoga often to stay balanced, but shoulda woulda coulda.

the second she starts to stretch, ony’s eyes are stuck on her like glue. she stretches for a long time, he notices. it seems like some type of meditation, the way she holds her hands together and closes her eyes, highly focused as she takes deep breaths almost audible where he stands. it’s interesting how he can notice the shift she makes from her earlier demeanor. she’s much calmer, locked in in a way unexpected to him. of course he knows how to calm himself, how to regulate. but those stretches… not only is he sure he could never replicate them due to lack of flexibility, but he can see the intention in each move, seemingly in each muscle and breath.

it’s weird to him how pulled he feels in her direction. he just wants to know her and is curious if she’d give him the chance. and of course he wants to know her body too… he could definitely help her relieve a lot of that stress. over and over again. probably until she couldn’t take anymore. something about her just keeps pulling him back in. maybe he’s just interested in her newness with his life currently feeling a bit more dull, but he knows he’d be just as interested if it wasn’t. she has spice, a good sense of humor, sweetness, she’s undoubtedly beautiful with all her little quirks, and that ass is the kind that a man would go to war for.

seriously.

especially with the way she’s sitting and stretching with her legs wide, chest flush against the floor. it’s making ony have thoughts, and a lot of them. after a while of being unable to stop looking, he decides to walk over. he stands above her with his arms crossed, head tilting as he looks down at her. “how the hell you even doin’ allat?” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself. and what else can she do? he wonders.

crys laughs in response, still enjoying the feel of the stretch. “I do it often. years of youtube videos, I guess,” she responds. she raises, intentionally moving slow for the practice. it’s just a bonus that she can feel his eyes on her ass. “sit down,” she grins, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes. he had his turn helping her, and now she’s going to do the same. whether he likes it or not. plus, it’d be real nice to spend some more time with him. she likes his presence and his laugh and his little jokes. his looks, his demeanor, the way he’s not scared when she nips at him instead either remains unaffected or nips right back… kind of everything about him, so far at least. “huh?” he asks, eyebrows raising. “nigga, if you can ‘huh’ you can hear. sit down and stretch with me,” she laughs.

ony likes the sound. a lot, he realizes. and her sass really tickles him. so why not? he shrugs, plopping down on the floor next to her.

“yoga’s more than stretchin’,” she begins. “yeah, it feels good for the body, but it’s good for the mind too. it’s a lot deeper than I can explain. it’s one of those things that’s been taken from another culture and kinda wiped of its authenticity.” he watches her as she talks with her hands, her caring a lot more about it than he expected. but he’s interested and following along with her words. “I try to respect it, y’know? it has a lot of benefits. can I touch?” she asks with a tilt of her head. he appreciates how her curls bounce with the movement and gives a simple nod of his head. “sit up straight,” she adjusts his back. “and keep your focus on your breath, keeping an awareness of your body as well. stay mindful of the present moment.”

the moment her hand touches him, he sits up. not because of her words but because of the feel of her hands on him. she’s gentle with her guidance, her touch almost hesitant and her voice has softened in a way that sends a slight chill down his spine. “sorry, are my hands cold?” she asks apologetically. “as fuck,” he answers with a laugh. “keep goin’ though.” crys laughs and pinches him softly. “aht, aht, I’m the teacher now, I give the directions. straighten out your legs.” ony rolls his eyes in response but follows her instruction. he mumbles a soft “yeah, aight.”

she gently bumps her shoulder against his at his sass. “lean forward and reach for your feet, curving your back. take a moment to center yourself, focusing on your breath and how your body feels. don’t think about anything, not even me,” she teases slightly. ony can’t help but smile at that. “you make it difficult, sweetheart,” he mumbles. her stomach flutters in response. he takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, reaching for his feet. “don’t forget to breath, nice and deep. relax your mind and let your thoughts fade away,” she mutters softly. “relax. really feel the peace and the stretch.”

oh, ony feels something, alright. but he focuses his mind on the way his muscles feel. he’s used to stretching, but the mental part has never been the most important aspect. he likes how quiet his mind is, how the peace envelopes him like a warm hug.

she guides him through several more positions, helping him to stay centered mentally. her voice is so soothing, her touch as she adjusts him doing things to him. he feels good. really good. the combination of the practice with her presence is something he intends to make sure he gets more of. she’s so cute with her little chides. a “stretch deeper, ony” here, a “you’re not even trying” there. and her obvious favorite, “you know you can do better than that”. actually, no, her favorite thing to say in reprimand is his name. it’s a pleasant hint of flirting and teasing mixed with gentle guidance and words of calm.

by the end of the night, ony’s hooked. before she can walk to the locker room, he gently grabs her wrist to get her attention. “hey, wait, ma,” he murmurs softly. she looks up at him with those eyes again and he’s suddenly parched. “can I get your number? you know, I can send you some boxing tips.” crys tries to fight a smile but fails. “oh, really? boxing tips? sure, long as I can send some yoga tips.” he laughs a bit, smiling at her tone. “yeah, send ‘em. gotta be on my namaste more, shit was nice.” crys tilts her head back slightly as she laughs. “boy, whatever. here.”

ᥫ᭡

crys is folding. real bad.

at first, she thought she’d just do some light flirting, maybe just tease and taunt and go on about her merry way. she didn’t have any intentions on really following through with the man because he just seems like a threat to her safe, protected little bubble of diy nails and chilling alone at home. but as time goes on, she realizes that she’s in a quicksand situation. swapped informational videos of boxing and yoga are just the beginning. soon, they’re texting back and forth. funny videos sent at way too late at night, a range of questions exchanged as they get to know each other, random voice messages that make her stomach tingle… she looks forward to speaking with him, even changes his text tone so she knows when it’s him.

he’s just so funny in such a simple, straightforward way. sometimes she bites at him and he doesn’t budge a bit, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction. sometimes they go back and forth like a tennis match. he’s not afraid of her sass and she loves when he actually bites back. he’s just… attractive. in a lot of ways, on so many different levels. she ends up going to the gym late more often because he’ll be there, spotting her while she lifts and helping her with her boxing. ms. becca at the front desk seems to really not like it, but her non-working ass can move on somewhere. crys and ony start a routine that whenever she comes to work out with him, they grab food and sit in one of their cars to goof around. they even decide to power walk with mrs. etta every now and then.

it’s insanity to kt, though. she doesn’t understand why they haven’t ‘fucked each other like bunnies’ already and she reminds crys every time they talk. they’d scrolled his instagram together several times and he’s a popular topic between the two of them, three including kt’s boyfriend. he, of course, has a front row seat to these conversations since ms. kt never wants to use her damn headphones.

one particular night, crys is just really not feeling the workout. she’s more tired than usual and ony can tell. she’s not her usual, witty self. not a single jab has any bite to it, and it’s the same with her words. he doesn’t like it. she’s not supposed to be quiet or sad. he doesn’t like the distant look in her eyes and how she gives a weak smile at his teasing. “hey,” he murmurs. “go get changed and get your stuff.” he watches as she looks up at him with a furrowed brow. “you’re obviously not feelin’ up to it. we’ve done enough, let’s grab sum to eat.”

crys was going to push through, get her workout regardless. “nah, I’m good,” she shrugs him off. “no, you ain’t. quit playin’, it’s not a suggestion,” he grumbles back. that surprises her, but she guesses it shouldn’t really. one thing that she’s noticed is how good he is at reading people, and he’s really good at reading her now. he knows when to push, and has learned how to in several different circumstances. she guesses this is one of them. his tone is different than usual though. it’s set, no room for negotiations, no joking around. his eyes are focused and sharp in a way that almost even she doesn’t want to argue with. “…right. yeah, okay. I can go by myself though, you can finish your workout,” she mutters softly.

“what I say?”

crys didn’t need to be told again. his whole demeanor is looking more immovable than ever, eyes and tone telling her to get her ass to the locker room, basically. if it were anyone else, she would’ve fired back and asked who the hell he thought he was. but at this point, she’s too tired and she really doesn’t want to poke the bear. so she sighs and nods, grabbing her bag as she shuffles back to the locker room to get her stuff. she’s grateful, honestly, because as soon as she sits in the passenger seat of his car, she feels like she’s been hit by a bus but it’s really just a wave of exhaustion.

“you pushin’ too hard, ma,” he murmurs, his eyes on the road as he drives. he’s seen her energy decreasing over time, the spark in her eyes dimming. he’d slide a comment in or two about taking a break only for her to brush it off like it was no problem. she’s stubborn and he knows that, but fully capable of taking care of herself, which is why he wasn’t expecting it to get this far. she’s drained and he’ll be damned if he just stands by and watches her continue down this path. especially with the way her head is leaning against his window. usually he’d say something about her hair products getting on it, but he couldn’t give a damn about that.

“you been slackin’ and you know it. wassup?” he questions as he spares her a glance. she sighs, her eyes closing as he makes the familiar trip to their usual spot. “stress. I’ve just been stressed,” she answers. that much he could tell. it’s not really the information he’s looking for though. “mhm. why?” he presses. his voice is a mix of tenderness and concern but also firmness. he’s not going to let her brush this under the rug. “just a lot of shit goin’ on, ony. work’s a mess, they can barely do anything without me there they’re always arguing and never getting anything done. I’ve been looking for another job for months with no luck and it’s really starting to become a problem because I want to leave soon. and I don’t know, I just want to be in a different situation than I am right now.”

ony hums, rolling her words over in his head. he knows she’s been trying to leave her job, even sent her resume out to a few people he knows just to help out. he can understand her frustration, he was in a similar boat before he started his own thing and became a personal trainer. he gets it, the stress from working in a place that drains you and how so many job rejections can affect a person. “it’s alright, ma. I know that don’t mean much to you right now, but it’s gone work out, aight? I’ll put some pressure on my folks, help see what’s out there. you still got some pto right?” he asks. she sighs, rubbing her forehead. “yeah, but I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.” he could almost chuckle.

“it don’t seem like it’s rainin’ to you?” he pushes slightly. “take some time off. rest and relax so you can come back better. do yo yoga and shit, smoke some, whatever. you need a break, babygirl. no positive change is gonna come from you stressin’ and burnin’ out. it’s a three day weekend coming up, take the couple days before that off too.” she looks out the window as they pull into the drive thru. he’s right and she knows it. it’s just so easy for her to get swept up into the stress and lose herself a little bit more and more until she realizes just how close she is to burning out. she can feel tears gathering in her eyes from the stress.

“oh, pretty girl,” he mumbles, seeing the emotion in her eyes. he pulls off to the side and parks in the back of the lot instead of getting in line. “c’mere, crystal,” he croons, reaching an arm around her to pull her close. she sniffles and her shoulders shake as she cries into his shoulder, letting out what she’s let build up for so long. “s’okay, ma. you really doin’ good shit, providin’ for yourself and workin’ hard. it’s gonna work out, you gotta believe that,” he presses, squeezing her tighter. “but you can’t do this, okay? you can’t wither away like this. your health is important and if you neglect it, it’ll affect everything. I don’t like seein’ you upset and tired and drained. wanna see that pretty smile, get a taste of that sass that irks me so much.” she laughs slightly in his arms, her own wrapping around him as he gives her the most comforting hug she’s had in a while. “you’re right or whatever. big headed ass,” she mumbles.

“there she is.”

ᥫ᭡

after that night, she did exactly what he suggested. she took those extra days off and just recovered. smoked, slept a whole bunch, had a self-care day, and even booked a massage just for an extra treat. of course she talked ony’s ear off, and texted him and her best friend a bunch too, but it was necessary in her eyes. she knows they love her presence, even if they call her annoying. by her last day off, she feels rejuvenated.

she feels less stressed. she has a revamped resume, a mini twist out that’s cute and lets her leave her hair alone, new nails, and a new attitude. but… crys is running out of excuses to give as far as her and ony. his support that night meant more to her than he probably even knew. the way he held her, calmed her down, and comforted her… it’s something that’s been plaguing dancing in her mind. he’s shown that he can handle her full range of emotions no problem and can support her regardless of how strongly she feels. at this point, even she’s started to wonder why they haven’t done anything. she hasn’t made a move, no, but neither has he. he seems perfectly content with the way things are and is starting to become bothersome.

she can’t get him out of her head. his voice, his laugh, his features. every time he encourages her while she’s going at the punching bag, she wants to push the damn thing out of the way and just tackle him. when she can feel his eyes on her while they stretch, she wants to show him exactly what she can do and how her flexibility can blow his fucking mind. she wants to kiss him, touch him, hear those encouraging words that he gives her in an entirely different setting.

but his lack of action is causing her to overthink. is he not as affected as she is? does his heart not pound in her presence like hers does in his? how the hell is she the only one gnawing her lip at the thought of more? maybe it’s because she hasn’t had sex in so long. maybe that’s it. she’s just like this because of her wack ass sex life.

contrary to crys’ perspective, though, ony is losing his shit.

he definitely would’ve made a move by now if these were usual circumstances. he’s just so thrown off by how much he likes her, how much she makes him feel. she’s so much more than that pretty face and that mouth watering body. she’s funny, witty, and she packs a nasty ass punch both with her words and her hands. he likes the full range of crys. mouthy and annoying, intentionally trying to get a raise out of him. flirty and teasing, sensual in the way she draws him in. sweet and serene, almost like an oasis of calm and tranquility. oh, and he can’t forget how expressive she is with every emotion. her anger when her order’s wrong at the late night burger place they frequent, her excitement and joy when mrs. etta tells her about another good scan at the doctor, her sadness when she sees a sad tiktok during rest periods.

he just doesn’t get it. how can one person be so damn enthralling? how can someone’s quirks and flaws be so beautiful? he’s never felt pulled like this, but you know what? he’s fucking with it. she’s done nothing but add color to his life, a great addition that he felt like he was waiting for without even knowing. he loves her presence. she makes him smile and belly laugh, she pisses him off, she lights him up. he can be goofy with her, serious, sensitive even. he just wants more and more of crys, and even when he thinks maybe there’s nothing left to surprise him about her, she whips something new out of her arsenal. it’s just crazy how she has him by the throat but he’s happy to be along for the ride.

but he’s really wanting that ride to go somewhere. he’s always thought that it was crazy that crys is single, he just doesn’t understand it. in his eyes, she’s everything great in a woman. confident, sensitive, hardworking, sweet… annoying but in the best ways, enthralling, sexy as all hell.

when he’s ranting to eren about her for the nth time, the brunette raises an eyebrow at him and asks what’s taking him so long to ask her out. ony blinks. he thought they were… well, something already. but the sense that’s been chasing him for quite a while now finally catches up to him and hits him like a truck. he has to say something. do something. the unspoken thing doesn’t work for adults, and definitely not if he actually wants to keep her. is he an idiot? he wants to say no to his own question so badly, but he knows he would be delusional if he did.

so he quickly decides to get his shit together. the next time he sees crys, he’s asking her on an actual date, and that’s it. this whole thing could’ve been at a different point if he’d taken his head out of his ass and asked her out that first night he saw her in the gym. but it’s too late to try to change the past, and he can fix his mistakes in the present.

ᥫ᭡

unfortunately for ony, crys has a nasty attitude the next time they meet. her answers are short and snippy, and not in the usual, fun way. they had plans to go shopping together to buy mrs. etta a congratulatory something for completing her treatment, both having become extremely fond of the lady and being supportive of her on her journey. ony picks her up, being the gentleman he is (he hates her driving) and it takes no time at all to notice the bitter air around her. he actually realizes it the second she closes the door to her townhouse too damn hard. she huffs and puffs as she gets settled in the passenger seat.

crys doesn’t really know exactly why she’s so mad. it’s another one of those days where the stress has built up so quickly without her noticing, something that happens when her head isn’t fully in the game. she doesn’t want to take it out on ony, never means to, but something about knowing that he can handle that shit keeps her from being as mindful as she should be. “hey,” he speaks, his eyebrow raising at her lack of greeting. “hey,” she greets blandly. “what’s wrong, ma?” he asks, looking from her to the road as he pulls off. she just shakes her head. “thanks for picking me up,” she murmurs. “of course,” he responds.

he’s eyeing her every once in a while, trying to pick up on whatever he can. she’s fiddling a lot, tapping her fingers as she looks out the window. antsy? irritated? what is it, he wonders. but he’s not super fond of playing the guessing game, by now she should know that she can talk to him about any and everything on her mind and in her heart. he’ll listen, he’ll care, and he’ll support. hasn’t he shown that? “you lyin’ to me, ma. don’t like it,” he mumbles. she doesn’t answer and he really doesn’t like that. “what’s the issue, crys? talk,” he presses, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. this isn’t anything he’s used to from her. mouthy sometimes? sure. that’s nothing he can’t handle. but the silent treatment mixed with the tense attitude is not how he was planning to spend this time with her.

“nothin’, just tired.” she murmurs. his eyebrows furrow. “we can reschedule if you want,” he responds, understanding. “nah,” she says simply. she can’t explain it, she doesn’t really want to act like this. she’s just not exactly happy at the moment and the two seem to have very different vibes. guess that’s the theme, huh? she thinks. “mama, you not bein’ fair. tryna talk to you,” he mumbles. she rolls her eyes, looking out the window. “yeah, talk. your favorite thing to do,” she mumbles.

ony pauses, but only for a moment. “and that’s supposed to mean?” crys sighs, as if she’s really just over him. “nothing, ony, m’sorry. are we goin’ to macy’s or ross first?” she’s trying to deflect, and although ony’s not stupid, he lets her. maybe she just needs time, she can be like that every now and then. carrying around irritation from an earlier incident until it eventually fades and she’s good to go. sometimes she just needs to process her emotions, and ony’s cool with that. he’s cool with anything with her, it seems.

they end up at ross first, mrs. etta’s favorite store that she talks about when they power walk with her. they get her random things, little trinkets that remind them of her, lotions and candles, and a few decorative pieces for her house. they move to macy’s to get her a perfume she likes, and a few other random things that draw their attention. last is dollar.25 tree and a couple other craft stores, the mission being to grab a big basket and additional stuffing to make her a custom gift basket with a congratulatory card from both of them. crys is quieter than usual the entire time, but not necessarily agitated. it seems like shopping for mrs. etta is cheering her up.

seems.

once they get to her house, ony can tell by the way she groans as she flops onto her couch that she’s not a hundred percent. at this point, he’s confused and maybe a bit worried. what is it that has her so upset? he doesn’t like when she’s quiet, much rather her be loud and expressive with whatever emotion she’s feeling. it’s eerie when she’s quiet and ony can’t tell what she’s thinking or feeling. he doesn’t like to be in the dark.

“c’mon, ma, let’s go ahead and get this assembled. we can talk and smoke after,” he mumbles, moving to set the stuff down on her dining room table. he wants to sit and smoke, get her to shake herself out of whatever fucking funk she’s in, but he figures it’s a good idea to finish up mrs. etta’s gift. he really wants it to be perfect. he’s known mrs. etta for a while, she was even one of the people that encouraged him the most when he first started training, and he’s extremely happy that her treatment is done. a bratty sigh is heard from the girl on the couch and ony has to close his eyes to center himself. “we can’t take a break? all that shopping. m’tired.”

ony licks his lips and lets out a breath. “sure, ma, take a break. imma get started on this, I’ll chill after,” he responds. crys doesn’t like the little breath he takes, his tone coming across patronizing to her. “you tired of me? cause I can really do that shit by myself,” she responds lowly. she swears she can see a vein appear on ony’s forehead, but only momentarily. “nah. just want this gift to be good,” he mumbles. crys sits up to look at him. “it’s good already, we put a lot of thought into everything. what, you think I can’t assemble it myself?” her head tilts. because she could make the prettiest damn basket all on her own, really. she’ll prove it if she has to.

ony’s on the brink. he’s been patient all day— he’s always patient with her. it’s usually no issue, but today she’s really pushing it. mrs. etta should be the focus right now. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” she asks, her eyebrows beginning to furrow. “yes, love, I hear you,” he murmurs. “just focused.” he’s really trying to keep it together.

crys scoffs, “yeah, well, you can focus and talk. you wouldn’t have to focus as much if you waited on me.” ony wonders what he did to be in this position. he hasn’t done shit to her, hasn’t said anything disrespectful, and he knows that she isn’t usually one to take her shit out on him, so he’s just thinking. wondering what has her so mad. “there you go again, not fuckin’ responding,” she huffs, standing up and crossing her arms. “you can just get the hell out forreal, I can finish this mysel—“

“sit the fuck down.”

crys blinks. and then blinks again. “excuse me?” she asks. she couldn’t have heard that right. he wouldn’t talk to her like that, he’s not insane. but the look he gives when he turns to her gives her second thoughts on that theory. “you heard me. sit the fuck down. I’m not leavin’ and you’re about to act like you have some fucking respect instead of poppin’ off at the mouth. I’ve dealt with your shit ask damn day, trying to be patient and understanding— like I always am with yo lil ass. I’m not playin’ crys. sit down,” he demands. and he really means that shit too, she can tell.

crys’ jaw is damn near on the floor by the time he finishes talking. “who you talkin’ t—“ she starts, only to be interrupted by a slow approaching ony, having put the materials he was working with down. “crys, I swear, if you don’t get some act right—“ he starts, trying to keep his breath even and his body calm. tired of being interrupted, crys decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. “what? what you gone do? talk my ear off? stand there and look at me with your arms crossed? I ain’t scared of you, ony. you don’t do shit and won’t do shit to me.”

“nah. I’ma fuck you,” he answers as he steps into her personal space. if crys’ jaw was on the floor before, it’s in hell now. there’s no way he just said that. “fuck that nasty ass attitude right outta you. you playin’ in my face, ma. you know I don’t like that shit. I’ve been so fuckin’ understanding with yo ass, somethin’ not every nigga is willin’ to do, by the way. you push and you push and I let yo ass. is that the problem?” he tilts his head, chest almost touching hers as he looks down. his eyes are dark, his jaw tense. the vein she thought she saw earlier is bulging now, almost angrier than ony himself. “is the problem that I let yo lil ass keep pushin’ me? cause I swear it don’t mean that I’ll just let the shit slide. and I’ll prove that shit too.”

ᥫ᭡

“fuck,” crys pants, tugging on the sheets in front of her. “please,” her voice breaks. “just— just lemme come. I’m so close, ony, please!”

she’s been on all fours for a while now, face buried in the bed as ony works her with his tongue and fingers. she’s in a pool of her own arousal, thighs wet and pussy drenched from the several times she’s been close to the edge, only to be disappointed each time as she’s denied her orgasm. her bottom lip is bitten raw, toes almost permanently curled and eyes finding a home in the back of her head as she pushes her hips back again and again to coax ony to at least let her have one. if she knew this was going to be the result of her attitude today, she would’ve just asked him to fuck her before they even left to go shopping. she’s waited enough for this, and even now when she’s so close, she’s getting denied.

there’s a harsh but absolutely welcome smack to her ass and she whines so damn pathetically that ony almost laughs. pulls his full lips from her clit with a pop and massages the cheek. “you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice low and raspy in a way unfamiliar to crys. she quickly shakes her head and grips the sheets tighter. “no, please! keep going, wanna come on your face,” she begs, pushing her hips to meet his lips again. the sound and sight of her is addicting, ony thinks. he likes the way she seems so desperate for his touch and tongue, craving that release that he’s been building up for so long. “you wanna come?” he asks, his fingers sliding back into her soaked pussy. he can feel her clench around him almost instantly. fuck he’s going to enjoy tonight. “yes! yes, wanna come!” she pants, rocking her hips to meet the thrust of his long fingers.

“then shut the fuck up and let me have my fun,” he murmurs, diving his face back in as his tongue meets her clit once again. “ah, shit,” she whimpers, her eyes rolling back again at the pleasure that washes over her. “yes, yes, just like that. fuck, you eatin’ my pussy up,” she moans. she’s never been so mad but so pleased at the same time. he’s torturing her and she doesn’t know how much longer she can last before she releases all over him without his say so. she’s already been through so much, she doesn’t want to find out what else he’ll do , even if it’s his fault. “my fuckin’ pussy,” he pulls back to murmur, flicking his tongue quickly over her pearl as his fingers continue to pump. she’s so wet, his fingers move with ease, and the sound that’s made is delicious. “say that shit.”

“fuck, I’ll say whatever you want,” she whines, back arching and toes throwing up gang signs. “s’your pussy, baby! take it take it take it,” she moans, throwing her ass back over and over. she’s so damn close, so damn close. she can almost taste it. her tummy feels like it’s about to burst and her poor pussy is sobbing. he pulls back once again to her dismay, reading her body like a book. “you betta not fuckin’ come,” he murmurs, fingers moving faster as they stretch her. how the hell is she not supposed to come? is he insane? “you fuckin’ kidding meee?” she whines, her head falling down onto the sheets. ony likes how spent she looks already, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. “you know damn well I ain’t,” he grumbles, smacking her ass again. “arch that shit. it’s gone be a long night if you don’t listen to me, baby.”

in a turn of events, ony’s pussy drunk. he’s enjoying himself way too much, taking in her moans and slurping up what’s now his to pleasure. he’s just drowning in her, hands exploring everywhere he can touch. caressing, appreciating, adoring this beautiful woman falling apart on his tongue. he could do this all day and be grateful every second of it. he’s absolutely aching in his shorts, but something about bringing such a normally mouthy girl to babbles is too hard to turn away from. he didn’t even mean to take it this far, he just doesn’t want to stop. he wants her to keep feeling good, and the way she begs and reaches back for him to bring him closer lets him know that he’s doing his job

“please, I can’t,” she begs, back arching but breath deepening. “ony, I caan’tt, m’gonna come,” she whines. she’s trying, really she promises she is, but it’s just become too hard to hold out. it’s too good, she wants it and needs it. if he doesn’t stop or give her the green light, she’s gonna make a mess of both of them, and she’s not going to regret it. ony groans at her whines, basking in the sound of her begging and pleading. he can feel how she’s clenching, hears the desperation in her voice. she’s gone, melting into a pile of goo at his touch, and he’s never felt more satisfied. not only are they both having the times of their lives, but that attitude is just about gone and she’s actually acting like she has some fucking manners.

he reluctantly pulls back and removes his hand from her, licking at his fingers like a man starved. “flip over,” he huffs, standing and palming his aching dick. she seems to be too out of it, raising her head full of messy curls to look up in his general direction. “w-what?” she questions. ony doesn’t have time for her shit, so he grabs her hips and flips her over his damn self. the way he looks down at her is downright sinful and crys flutters simply at the sight. “fuckin’ bratty ass. you did this to yourself, crys. was gonna take you on a nice ass date, make love with your pretty ass, do shit the right way. but that fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he grumbles as he grabs her by her ankles, pulling her to the end of the bed. “is too damn bold with me. gotta fix that, sweetheart. you gone be my good girl after tonight, I can promise you that.”

she whines and grinds against his hand as his thumb traces circles on her puffy clit. looking down at her, he realizes that this is one of his favorite sights now. her eyes are blurry with tears from the constant denial, her face scrunched in a cute and sexy pout of pleasure, her tits shifting with each movement. ony could watch her like this all day, bringing her to the edge over and over just to see those pretty tears fall and hear that voice of hers crack. that’d only be torture for himself as well because he feels like he’s about to burst. “you so damn beautiful. you want this dick, sweetheart? tell me, I’ll give it to you,” he murmurs, licking his lips as he lets his shorts fall. crys whines and nods, unruly curls all over the place. so damn breathtaking.

“gimme it, please. wanna come all over it, baby. paint it for you,” she begs. her arms reach to hook around the back of her knees, pulling her thighs back slightly to open up for him. her words only serve to rile him up more. “you a lil freak, huh? mmm, you can do better than that, baby. stretch them legs like I know yo lil freaky ass can,” he grumbles, pulling his underwear down and off, his cock hanging low between his legs. crys knew it— she just knew it was big, and she was right. it’s long and thick with a minimal curve, and if she wasn’t so deprived she’d get on her knees and pay him back for the teasing. she whimpers and bites her lip, sliding her hands to hook behind her knees instead. she pulls her thighs flush to her chest and keeps going, extending her legs.

“fuck, yeah, baby, show me that pretty pussy. fat pussy all mine,” he grumbles. he lessens their distance, letting himself rest on her as he takes her in. what a fucking vision of a woman. he takes his dick in his hand and lightly taps it against her before her rubs himself all in her wetness. “look at ‘chu, baby. so fuckin’ sloppy. this all for me?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks back to her face. she goes to speak, but ony considers her next words unimportant in the grand scheme of things. before she can speak, she feels him start to press into her. she lets out a breathy moan, her grip tightening on her legs. “f-fuck,” she moans at the same time ony lets a groaning “shiiit,” pass his lips.

the two pant, looking each other in the eyes as he continues to press forward. crys is seeing stars, feeling the stretch of him. her face scrunches and her eyes begin to close. “mm-mm, keep them pretty eyes on me,” ony‘s breathing heavy , his hand coming to lightly wrap around her throat. “sexy ass. you bet not deny me that shit.” crys can only lick her lips, forcing her eyes open to meet his, clenching at the way he speaks. his words add to the growing fire within her. “there you go, baby. love that shit,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a nasty, sloppy kiss. crys is upset at the fact that this man is really bringing her to her knees. “so damn fine. don’t know why I waited so long to be in yo shit. too fucking good,” he groans, pulling out just slightly before pushing back in. crys gasps, pulling her legs closer just to have something to grab, but it just makes him go deeper.

“feels so good, onyyy,” she moans, keeping the eye contact as much as she can. ony’s hovering over her now, watching her with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyebrows together in concentration. he’s moving slowly, letting her adjust to him and just taking in the view in front of him. “onyyy,” she moans, clenching around him as her pussy flutters. he’s so damn fine and it’s been so long since she’s been touched. he’s deep in her shit and she’s on cloud nine. she wants more, so much more, and she wants it all from him. she hates it took so long to get to this point and hates that she the fact that she stopped herslef from persuing him. she wants this, needs all of him. “fuck me,” she chokes out. “c’mon, please.”

“relax,” he mutters, his free hand rubbing up her thigh. “just keep that pretty pussy open for me. I’ma always give you what you need, sweetheart. always.” and he means it. he’s never going to play with her, not her heart or her mind. but he’ll play with her pretty pussy until the sun comes up, until the cows come home. he’s never felt anything so good, seen someone so beautiful while they take his dick. she’s everything to him in this moment, her curls sprawled around her like the sun’s halo, face showing all the pleasure she’s feeling. her breathing is deep, her eyes staying on his just like he said.

he’s fucked. shit, he might just be in love.

“ooo, fuck, ony,” she keens, her nails slightly digging into the skin of her thigh. “so big. oh my God, baby.” she’s having the time of her life. he’s stretching her so well, and he feels so damn good digging into her like that. ”yeah, yeah. been waiting for thisss,” she pants, unable to keep her mouth shut. it’s just so good and it’s hitting that spot. would could blame her? “give it to me,” she moans. ony groans above her, his hips starting to meet hers sharper and sharper. she’s still so vocal, and he’s eating it the fuck up. “mhm,” he breathes, his hands moving to rest on hers, helping to hold her legs as she falters. “take that dick, babygirl. s’all for you. swear it is,” he groans. she doesn’t know it, but she could ask for just about anything right now and he’d give it to her.

her eyes scan over him, her hand reaching out to lightly scratch down his abdomen. “fuckin’ me so good, ony.”ony groans at the touch of her nails, his gut tightening at the way she’s looking up at him. he pulls out, reaching down to tap himself against her again. she’s too much, her voice, her eyes, her touch… the way she keeps clenching around him. “you fuckin’ dangerous, mama,” he pants. “can I beat this pussy up, baby? lemme take it.” crys bites her lip and nods, looking up at him in a way that makes him grip her thighs a little tighter. fucking minx. he’s beating himself up for not doing this sooner. he adjusts himself on the bed, leaning down to press his lips to hers as he slides back in, the two of them moaning into each other's mouths. he immediately picks up the pace as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling slightly as he presses more of his weight onto her.

crys starts to gasp with each thrust, toes curling and a squeak escaping her when she feels his hands on her clit. “w-wait— fuck, wait, m’gonna come quick,” she moans, fingers gripping ony’s shoulders as he pins one of her thighs to her chest. she wants to come with him, but her earlier pleasure is coming back with a fucking vengeance. ony chuckles— actually chuckles, and rasps down to her, “that’s the point, sweetheart. give it to me.” if she wasn’t on the brink of a mind blowing orgasm, she’d be pissed and annoyed at that fucking smirk. but instead she pants and pants until her breath stops. her orgasm washes over her in delicious waves, and she’s just frozen in pleasure, unable to do anything but come and come, pulsing around ony.

“breathe, mama. come on, breath through that shit,” ony guides, pressing kisses up and down her neck. right, breathing. she forgot about that. crys lets out a long moan, her eyes rolling back as she tastes her sweet release. sweet isn’t even the word, though. the denial and delay just makes things ten times stronger, her orgasm wracking her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. she’s holding onto ony tightly as he talks her through it, breathing heavy as she just takes it. “yeaah, there you go. breathe, baby, I got you. gonna take real good care of you just like I said,” ony grumbles, nipping at her skin here and there and slowing his thrusts and his assault on her clit. he has to pant at the way she’s so tight around him, and he’s just so strained holding back good open release. “you deserve that shit, baby.” more kisses and nips than either of them can count are placed on crys’ neck as crys comes down and tries to calm down as well.

his hand reaches to gently caress her cheek as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the other. “you’re so beautiful, babygirl. you feel okay?” he asks softly. okay? she’s riding down a fucking rainbow of happiness and bliss. okay is an understatement. crys figures that would boost his who a bit too much, so she just tilts her head to rest on the side of his. “mhm,” she hums breathlessly. “so good,” she murmurs. ony’s glad, pressing more kisses to her sweet face. he’s happy he can make her feel good, especially considering how she was sarlier in the day. “good enough to gimme another one?” he asks. he just can’t get enough, so he has to ask. he wants this night to last as long as it can.

crys lets out a breath, wondering just what the hell is wrong with the man. she’s been through the wringer for a good while now. but it’s felt amazing every step of the way, so the answer is yes. of course it’s yes. she nods. “just one more, sweetheart,” he croons, looking down at her dazed face. he pulls out, turning her over onto her stomach, much gentler this time. he guides her on all fours and reaches to rest his hand on the headboard, his other hand positioning himself once again. once he begins to push inside, his arm wraps around her torso to hold her tight as they both moan. his hips start to move again, this time with a slower pace as he braces himself on the headboard.

ony can’t help but feel the shift on the room. it’s much more intimate than before, crys sensitive from one release already. he wants to be so many things for her. he can be a little aggressive, knowing she likes when he bites back. he can be goofy and unserious. and he can be soft. he can be serious with her and about her. that’s what he wants. “wanted this for so long, baby. wanted you,” he murmurs into her ear. the sound makes her pussy flutter, causing him to chuckle again. “sh-shut up,” she mumbles, her hands slowly tightening around the sheets below them. the combination of his intimate confession and his thrusting into her is a double whammy that she didn’t see coming.

“mmm, I’m serious babygirl. want you, been wantin’ you,” he presses, eyes falling shut as his hips continue to move. she feels so good, it’s ridiculous. he’s going to be in it every day if she lets him. “gotta make you mine, ma. I’m forreal.” and he is, because what kind of idiot would he be to let her slip through his fingers? crys let’s her head fall back in a moan as he starts to gently work her clit. everything about this is just insane. who knew what today was going to bring? “y-you never… ah,” she cuts herself off with a moan as he curves his hips, fucking her in just the right way in such an intimate moment. fuck, what was she saying? “I never said anything, I know. s’my fault, no excuse. I was just too busy enjoyin’ bein’ around you,” he murmurs, moaning as he holds her tighter. his hips are starting to move a bit faster and crys is starting to meet his every thrust.

“but you mine now, right? I’ma do— fuuuck, I’ma do right by you, mama. always,” he groans. he means every word. it’s like she has a spell on him and he doesn’t care. if she wants his heart, she can take it. he leans back from the headboard, sitting up on his knees as he keeps her back against his chest. gosh, crys’ heart just flutters. “yeah,” she moans. “yeah, ony, m’yours. f-finally.” that puts a tired smile on ony’s face, his already racing heart squeezing. with one hand massaging her clit and the other now on her hip, ony begins fucking into her faster. “that’s right, baby. and I’m yours. can’t get rid of me, can’t push me away, sure as fuck not scarin’ me away,” he groans. i’d important to him that she knows that, with her lil stubborn ass.

crys reaches back behind her, grabbing onto him. “yeah, j-just like that, ony. me and youuu,” she moans, feeling that familiar sensation again. her body’s almost tired of it after so much teasing and edging and repeating. “gonna come for you, baby,” she groans. she has no fight left, it’s going to rock her and she knows it. “you gonna come for me?” he asks, his voice coming out breathy as he continues to thrust into her. he doesn’t remember the last time he felt as good as he does in this moment. he doesn’t want it to end, but he can’t hold anymore. she’s tight around him, pulsing as her release approaches once again. “paint my dick, baby, just like you said. then I’ma give you this nut,” he huffs, working his hips more and more. crys is a moaning mess, her head dipping as she feels another strong orgasm approaching. “keep breathin’,” ony croons. “want you to feel all that shit, mama.”

she breathes as even as she can, breaths deepening as she quickly approaches that line. “ohhh, ony!” she cries out, her eyes squeezing shut. ” let it out, baby, give it to me. give me that shit,” he groans to her, working her clout faster and faster as he keeps pumping into her. it’s all too much and it brings her over the edge, her toes almost cramping and hips moving without her knowledge. “there it goes, keep breathing. fuck yeah, mama, take that shit.” it’s an intense feeling and she’s chasing it, breathing like ony directs and it makes the difference. she feels the shit down to her toes. her eyes are crossed and she can’t even fucking speak, just taking whatever comes as her eyes shut tight. “that’s it, baby, feel that shit. know you feel good, I know,” he pants.

ony’s fucking into her faster, the way she’s clenching around him making his head spin. his grip tightens on her hip as he chases his own high, watching her fucked out face. she looks so good like that, spent and satisfied and his. “fuuuck, you so gorgeous, crystal. gahdamn you feel good as fuck,” he rambles, praising her over and over just because he can and she deserves it. soon, he’s pulling out and pumping himself all over her ass, groaning as his body jerks. “yeah, ony,” crys coos with a raspy voice. she’s giving a tired wiggle of her hips, encouraging him to spill all over her. “fuckin’ perfect.”

the two pant, spent from such a lovely day together. it’s silent as they just back in the afterglow of their impromptu endeavors. eventually, ony starts to press sweet, calming kisses to her shoulder and back. he appreciates the small marks on her skin, random beauty marks and freckles. “perfect, mama. you were perfect,” he rasps. as far as he’s concerned, today couldn’t have been more successful. crys is… well, crys is out of commission at the moment. her mind is fuzzy in her post orgasm bliss, and she’s catching her breath as she basks in his kisses. “fuck…” she mumbles. that was very unexpected but completely welcome. the wait was more than worth it, and now she can have that again and again and again. “yeah,” ony chuckles tiredly. “yeah, that was crazy. damn.”

the two laugh together, gross and sticky, but so happy with the situation. that line was finally crossed, and there’s no going back. not that either of them would want to, anyway. ony glances down at crys as she rests for a moment, eyes closed and lashes tickling her skin. the earlier tensions are gone, nothing but fondness and connection in it’s wake. he reaches to caress her cheekbone, tucking a curl behind her ear and out of her face. “sorry for earlier,” crys mumbles into the quiet. she really is, she doesn’t like when she projects her upset like that. she nevers wants that for anyone she’s connecting with, especially not ony. he’s been understanding with her in a way that she’s learned to deeply appreciate. “but I’m glad we did this.”

ony hums, pressing another kiss to her shoulder. he can deal with a little push from her, especially since he gets to keep her. she’s a sweet girl, and she invigorates him. he appreciates her expressiveness and range of emotions, and understands that sometimes she’s just human. he’s okay with that. but now that they’re together, he has the ability to take a different approach. sometimes she needs him to snap back at her, and that’s what he’ll do with absolutely no hesitation from now on. there’s a mutual respect and understanding, and ony really fucks with that shit. “just needed some attention… and dick,” he murmurs. and he’ll give it to her whenever, wherever.

crys groans and starts to fuss, turning to weakly slap at his chest. “oh, shut up! go get me a damn towel!” here he goes saying some slick shit, right when the moment is good. he’s such an idiot sometimes, but it never fails to put a smile on her face. ony lets out a bellowing laugh, backing off of her and standing on his only slightly wobbling legs. he hopes she didn’t see that, but she’s already talking shit again. “yeah, pussy got you walkin’ crazy,” she sasses as he starts his trek to the bathroom, watching his sweaty but oh so fine figure walk away. ”better act right or you’ll never get it again,” she huffs. ony laughs again, shaking his head. “don’t make me start this shit all over, crystal,” he calls over his shoulder. she rolls her eyes but nuzzles her face into a pillow as she grumbles under her breath. she’s not scared, she’s just still recovering, is all. “yeah, that’s what I thought,” he laughs.

soon, they’re all cleaned up and on fresh sheets, crys refusing to sleep in the crusty bedspread after everything was said and done. they get into a spat about who gets to sleep on which side of the bed, and then over whether they should sleep with some time of light on. ony also demands to cuddle, but crystal fusses that she’ll get too hot and won’t be able to sleep. for that brief period, it’s war.

eventually, though, after bargains and begrudging compromises, crys is on her back on her usual side of the bed and ony is half-sprawled on top of her, head buried in her neck and hand softly rubbing her outer thigh. a random sitcom plays with no sound and the room is a nice, cool temperature with the fan blowing on the both of them. crys caresses ony’s back gently with her nails, eyes closed as she enjoys the weight of him on top of her. the pleasant feeling is like a weighted blanket, lulling her to sleep. ony is holding crys close, enjoying her warmth and presence. he’s taking full advantage of being able to cuddle with her. they fall asleep like this, wrapped up in each other, and wondering what the next day will bring.

hoooooly moooooly. this was not supposed to be this long. was hoping to post this sooner, but the words just kept coming omg. pls excuse any mistakes lmao. hope you like it! feedback welcome and wanted 🫶🏽

[erinwantstowrite]

you reposted a video of trump saying “you want me to go swimming”

and i just want to take a moment to recognize how actually insane that is.

like that’s how our president responds to tragedy? with no empathy?

the presidents role is to be the face and voice of america and her people, and for every loss of life, for every tragedy, and for all the pain her people must go through, the president must feel it. that is a heavy burden, but it is one our president must carry. our president represents us. there should be a level of class, of respect, and dignity in a president, that our current president does not fulfill

he is a sorry excuse for a leader, a role model, a human being, he is above all, a pathetic man who should not have the privilege of speaking for america and her people.

and even if you agree with his harmful policy’s, how dare you let our voice be so callous about lost lives? about children? it is disgusting. a president should have a level of poise when they speak, strong encouraging words instead of unintelligible insults

and the tiniest bit of hope i had, the smallest shred that this wasn’t all bad, has been ruined and tarnished, because excuse me for thinking that perhaps our leader would respond with even the smallest bit of empathy instead of placing blame everywhere else

he makes me sick.

THIS!!! EXACTLY!!!

(i promise this anecdote below is relevant to this bear with me)

when i was in high school, i was part of a very very good band program. there were a lot of talented people and we managed to take up a huge chunk of the school population. it was guaranteed to have at least two band kids in a class, and this was a AAA school. this is important because our reputation as band kids... was that we were always going to be the best students you had. not because of grades, but because of character. the same went for the many programs that we went to. if we were at a district competition, we were quiet when we had to be, we cheered for other bands, we would lend our equipment, etc etc. i can't think of any instances not only in my time there but before or after where people would groan when they thought about us coming to their event. because there were no incidences that made people think twice about inviting us

how we got that kind of reputation? my band directors built an environment in the band where we wanted to do great. "character, commitment, competence, capacity" were the 4 C's that were put on the wall. this is the best example that I could find, where I think communication and commitment are the same:

every student took up a leadership role even if you weren't handed a title like "drum major" or "section leader". we learned about how to represent ourselves and the people in our community, and we were proud of that. like yeah we might have sounded like a bunch of fucking nerds, but it was a good place to be.

often we heard adults wondering how the hell our band directors managed such a feat. it was such a large band that there should have been at least one group of teenagers that acted out or something. but that was incredibly (and i mean incredibly) rare, and were never so bad that it couldn't be immediately fixed.

it was possible because we had good role models!!

our band directors worked with every teacher on campus, brought us to community events, they had food drives and toy drives, etc etc. they were funny but they knew when to get work done, they created a space where we felt comfortable with them and wanted to make them proud.

i don't see anything like that when i see Trump, nor do i see it in people that voted for him. his Character is not just rude but nasty. his attitude towards the people he's supposed to be representing and caring about was absolutely intolerable. when asked if he cared about the lives of these people (WHO BY THE WAY, DIED MINUTES AWAY FROM WHERE HE IS RESIDING), he was a snarky fucking brat. he was childish and replied with THAT? "You want me to go swimming?"

I'M SORRY??

that was the most WILD, out of line shit i have heard him say in a minute. that was blatant disrespect on the lives of the people that were lost, their families that have to live with the grief for the rest of their lives, and to the American people that were hoping something would be said to comfort and ease our minds.

his statement was read off of a paper that someone else 100000% wrote for him. and then he went out of his way to say that DEI is responsible for it?????? THE DEI??????

you know why he said that shit? because it was his fault! he is directly responsible for air traffic control not having enough people that night. he fired 100 FAA senior officials, there was the hiring freeze that HE demanded, the Aviation Safety committee was disbanded, demanded for existing employees to leave, offered the buy it out. and then that plane went down- the worse air collision in the US in 16 years.

he can't take responsibility. he won't do that, because he would have to admit that it was his fault. that's a pretty trick that narcissists love to do. they come up with excuse after excuse for why something couldn't be their fault, it always has to lie with someone else. and he chose to blame... diversity?

the thing that really gets me about this DEI shit is that most of these people will argue that we need to get rid of it because people should be hired for their merit and not because of the color of their skin or gender. THAT'S WHY THE DEI EXISTS. because if it DIDN'T, only white men would be hired- for the color of their skin, because of their gender, and NOT because of their merit. diversity in our workplaces is how we end up being able to see different perspectives. the US is a melting pot of cultures and that's supposed to be a beautiful thing. the fact that we are still having arguments about it is because there are still people in power who do not want us being unified as a nation. they directly benefit from us believing that "the black man/ the latino man/ the white man" are the enemy. the enemy isn't the person who looks or acts different to you, the enemy are the people who are supposed to be representing us that are only acting out of their best interests.

Trump will never admit that he was wrong about something. It's not in his character. He is not a giving, caring man, who wants the best for the people. He is a lying, cheating, scum of the earth that sits on a "throne" built on the backs of people that do the work for him and who he has divided using hate and envy, then he props his feet up on a footstool made of his ugly pride, and he sticks his big fat thumb in his mouth, taking up all the room for that silver spoon.

He has no commitment to us as the people (even the ones that voted for him) nor to the people also in power that are loyal to him. I believe that in no time at all, he's going to get greedy and they're going to eat him alive, because Trump isn't even smart enough for any of this, there's someone else pulling the strings. He is an incompetent man child with no accountability for his actions, he has failed nearly every business that he touched and only has his money because of what his family had built before him. And he has no capacity for greatness nor does he have critical thinking skills. He props his words up with fluffy decorations and lies right through his teeth, and the people that voted for him are lapping it up like dogs starved. People are about to find out real fucking quick that Trump has been playing it easy and using the benefits of other people's work before him to make himself look good.

And they're not even going to get their eggs.

[hitlikehammers]

tremolo

…what if instead of learning clarinet or percussion, you could learn to read the music of hearts? 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: love at first sight, car crash (off-screen), SUCH FLUFF ♥️ tags: ✨magical realism au, musician eddie munson, paramedic steve harrington, kinda soulmates (it makes more sense with the magical realism part), character study, softness

for @steddielovemonth day one: "Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." —Plato

It was just like learning any instrument, really.

At least what they tried to convince Eddie to believe at the tender age of nine.

But it was all about finding an aptitude, apparently. Developing a talent. Fourth grade rolls around and he fucks up blowing with a reed, manages to give himself a tongue splinter. Nearly passes out on the brass. Ends up with the choir lady looking over horn-rimmed glasses and narrowing her eyes at him less like a teacher and more like a fortune teller or something, scrying what’s to come of him, like she can see through all that he is and will be, before she goes scribbling something on his little slip of paper already marking all the failed kinds of music he’ll never get to make and telling him: go to Room 011.

But no one ever goes to Room 011.

He meets a petite woman with mousy hair and clothes that look like they belong to someone else, somehow. She introduces herself as Miss L. She looks like a Miss L., so he doesn’t think any further on the point.

You will not play much, really, she tells him, and the way she talks is kinda funny, like she learned words but not from people actually saying them out loud. Eddie kinda likes it, though. The playing is only for emergencies, and if you find your True Note.

Eddie doesn’t know what most of that means, except for the fact that the whole point of trying—and failing—at all the instruments was to join the school band with something to play. So if that’s not what he’s going to learn, then what the heck is Eddie meant to be doing down here—is what he wants to ask.

He manages a little politer version of the same, his nan’d be proud. His dad wouldn’t care even if he was around and not behind bars. His uncle might be happy that Eddie’s kept his nose clean just this one time. So he figures he does okay.

But really, he just wants an answer. He was supposed to get to learn music. It was the one thing that was keeping this whole year feeling like he could maybe, maybe survive it.

It also means he doesn’t have to take the art class that’s mostly kindergarten crafts instead of real art, so.

“You will be learning music,” Miss L. answers, more patient than most grownups; “you are here to learn how to read the songs that hearts sing.”

And that is, by far, in all of his whole nine years of living, the most fucking absurd sentence that Eddie has ever heard.

——

He’d kinda thought it was a joke, when he left that first afternoon to get back before Language Arts.

Turned out: nope. It was not.

He’d maybe thrown something slightly less childish than a tantrum, when what he got was a big set of earphones and a box the size of an Easy-Bake Oven, where apparently he’d be playing some kind of recordings to start his lessons.

“Do you not wish to learn?” Miss L. asked so simply, and Eddie…

Eddie reminded himself that no matter how foolish and stupid this was, it couldn’t possibly be worse than making construction paper collages with Elmer’s glue, so.

He put the headphones on and pressed play.

——

His workbooks didn’t look like anyone else’s in band—in fact, Eddie didn’t think he was actually a part of the class band, like, he wasn’t expecting to play at the spring concert with the flutes and the trombones, anymore. When he had sheets of staves to fill out they didn’t have straight lines. He didn’t draw different circles with little flags and bridges connecting them. He…

“When there are no keys, and there is no time signature,” Miss L. had explained, and it took time to make any sense; “you are the rules, and you feel what is a melody,” she’d tapped something that feltbeautiful, like daffodils blooming, though Eddie couldn’t say why; “and what is a warning.”

And then she’d tapped again, and it clenched in Eddie’s chest like a tornado siren, and…yeah.

That was kind of the best explanation he could have asked for.

——

It’s in middle school, when everyone else gets new band directors while Eddie sticks with Miss L., that it starts to…well.

That’s when the fact that Eddie’s alone in his lessons, and no one seems to know quite what he does—and the other kids who get that kind of treatment are usually the ones who can’t add or spell right, who have some kind of problem to work on extra hard—but it’s around then that Eddie starts being called names for it.

It’s not too bad, at first. Eddie’s worked for his two full years of elementary school lessons to get through recognizing the songs, suffers the point where recognizing becomes unbearable, overwhelming—Miss L. never left his side when he held his head in pain for all the noise, all the songs because they were everywhere, in everyone, and how was he supposed to learn what was right and what was good and what was just okay but then what was also everything the opposite when he couldn’t even think—

But she taught him the tools, the ways to sift through the chatter, as she called it. Because not all of it was a warning; not all of it was bad just because it wasn’t beautiful.

Some of the noise just was.

She showed him how to trust his own ear; his own song in his own chest as a guide, because that’s why he was here: he had a gift, an aptitude, built in and in need of development. Liked they’d said in the beginning.

He’s nearly thirteen when she teaches him how to write his own songs, in the not-notes and the no-tempos. In the nameless flow of sound.

It’s when his classmates overhear one of those works-in-progress, the taunting gets worse, starts to hedge toward unbearable.

Until Eddie asks if he can just stop: quit this. It’s not worth it. He doesn’t want to be a freak.

“It is a rite of passage, to ask this,” Miss L. says slowly, no judgement, and weirdly no pity; “but I should tell you first,” and her eyes narrow more than Eddie thinks he’s ever seen them.

“Your skill is already greater than any I have seen, and is only getting sharper, more keen.”

And hell if a teacher’s ever said something niceabout Eddie Munson, let alone something that sounds like flat-out praise.

“They cannot hear the music, this is why they say those things,” she flicks her wrist less like conducting a chorus and more like shooing a gnat, like that’s the appropriate amount of consideration the comments deserve. “Your task has always been to teach them what they do not know, to show them the wonder they are ignoring as they live and breathe.”

And while it really would have been nice to know that before signing up for this…this what, calling? Vocation?

While that would’ve been nice, Eddie…Eddie can at least mostly understand he wouldn’t have understood any of it in the fourth grade.

He barely understands now.

But he can feel it. He understands how to feel the music that fills all those gaps.

“This is common,” Miss L. turns back to him, steeples her fingers while humming something from the radio: not bad, but not beautiful. That’s what she means, he realizes. The radio plays common.

“This,” and she puts a hand over her own chest and keeps time with her fingers on the tabletop as she hums a wholly novel thing out of thin air, and Eddie has never seen someone else recognize the music, has never watched someone compose in the veins where the songs that hearts sing are played, let alone in real time; maybe she never had because he had to lean for himself, first.

But it is kind of exquisite to witness.

“This,” she stops, and raises a brow pointedly in Eddie’s direction; “is human, built in your cells.”

Eddie couldn’t name why, precisely, but he feels…shamed, but also empowered. So different, but they make an almost compelling melody together as they clash.

“They will call you freak before they call you prodigy,” Miss L. says it like a fact, which…kinda sucks to hear, in all honesty.

“They will label you insane, before they recognize you as genius,” and the way she adds that part makes him feel like that was her personal burden to bear, and he aches for her in it.

“They will cry out garbage and nonsense,” and here, these words: these are the ones Eddie knows immediately he’s meant to be hearing, be weaving into notes the strongest, the ones she wants him to keep closest and never lose:

“They will cry out worthless,” she spits out with a venom he’s never heard her use; “before they will sob in the face of your masterworks, and how they will breathe magic in the soul.”

And…Eddie doesn’t know exactly what to do in the face of the conviction she says that last part with. To doubt it, as he instinctively wants to, feels vile; the most egregious disrespect. He can’t bring himself to even try. So, he asks instead, voice rough:

“When will it change?”

Because despite everything: he doesn’t want to be a freak.

“That I cannot say,” she sighs, and she does sound sorry; “and it may never change at all.”

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s built to handle that, the possibility of never.

“But even if you leave, here and now,” Miss L. cuts into his despairing; “even if you stop your learning, the songs will never leave you.”

Oh.

Oh, so did they…did they teach him to hear a endless goddamn curse, and as a fucking kid—

“You would always have come to hear them,” Miss L. must read his mind, or maybe just his face; “just never with any place to funnel the noise,” and he…guesses he should be grateful. He nearly went mad in those early years, before she taught him how to make new melodies, concertos the likes of which even the great masters hadn’t penned, because they played in a different medium. Their notes and structured time were useful, but limited.

And if they never heard otherwise, how would even the most brilliant talents know what they were passing over, leaving behind?

“Do you still wish to leave?”

Eddie turns, almost having forgotten Miss L. was still sitting there, watching him. Almost having forgotten what he’d come to ask, to give up.

There’s no question left, now.

He gets out his notebook, his pen, and starts as he always does.

With the listening.

——

It’s a genuine distraction—the songs get louder with time, but Miss L. tells him that’s a sign of his skill growing, his notice of the equivalents of key signatures and ligature notes in the heartbeats he passes every day—but it costs him passing senior year once, and then again, and almost a third time until by the skin of his teeth, he manages. While every other teacher shames him for it, derides him as incurably stupid, or at the very least unambitious to the point of embarrassment, the extra years mean more time with Miss L., and Eddie…most days, Eddie is nothing but thankful.

More time means Eddie also learns that the songs he hears are as much a public service as they are an art form, as much a defense mechanism as a craft. He knows when bullies are on the prowl, and to make himself scarce for their screeching cacophonies. He knows when he has to be less of a coward and step in when a wild rhythm makes him sick with its fear.

The more he pays attention to the not-quite-beautiful songs—especially when he thinks on them later and stumbles upon nuggets of the exquisite inside every way they weren’t—the more he remembers years ago, out of almost nowhere, but maybe…maybe everywhere, like it’d been written in his heart’s song the day she spoke it:

“My first day,” he enters the same room—not the same-same room but the one in the high school that’s as abandoned as all of them have been, always Room 011—but he enters the room close to the end of the year, the last year, with the question thick on his tongue, and woven the same in his song as he closes the door and feels his heartbeat quicken for no reason and every reason, like he’s long learned these songs always do.

Miss L., for her part, just nods; waits.

“You said,” Eddie rolls his lips together; “emergencies.”

It’s a delay tactic. They both know it.

She’s kind to play along.

“Mmm,” she hums; “the slightest bits, yes, you can shift the rules to change the song, because you made the rules to begin with,” she eyes him carefully, then. “But only by bits, and in only the most dire moments.”

Yeah, yeah, sure. He never thought he could like…write lines to coax a heart to sing itself back from the dead or some shit. He gets the point.

Again, they both know: that’s not the point he’s here for, heart pounding high in his throat.

“But then you also said something else.”

This time, she doesn’t nod at all; just stares. Eddie has to clear his throat twice to make a sound so as to ask:

“What’s a True Note?”

Because Eddie’s had a couple flings here and there. And the idea of anything real with someone else, alongside the weight of this…talent of his, this training that’s defined half his life by now: it’s really nothing more than a stray idea. But Eddie can’t really hide from the fact that, somewhere along the way, he’s suffused that idea with so much promise and potential, but with no legs for it to fucking stand on.

And he’s about to graduate. About to go out into the world and…who the fuck knows what.

He needs to either hold onto this insane, silly notion of some cosmic meant-to-be match waiting for him somewhere, that it’s at least possible, and then hold on to it like burning—or let it go, and get on with the rest of his fucking life.

“Do you know how I said you could sway the rhythm just the littlest bit, in the greatest of need?”

Of course he did. She literally just said it.

“Your True Note will sing like you have never heard before,” she tells him like it’s not something…immense; “and that song will sway your rhythm so much more than the littlest of anything.”

She just fucking says it, like it isn’t already swaying the rhythm his heart sings in. Here and now.

“That heartsong will change your world.”

And all Eddie can even think to ask, to make more plain in it, is just one thing:

“Will I change theirs, too?”

Miss L’s eyes lock to his and hold for enough seconds where it should be uncomfortable, where his chest starts to grow unbearably tight.

“Hmm,” she considers finally; “if it is meant to be that way.”

Eddie wants to scream. It’s not enough.

And still somehow, it will have to be.

——

In the months that follow his freedom, he misses Miss L. Kinda desperately.

But the lack of structure, the openness of knowing he has to find a way to piece together all the snippets of song he’s bombarded with: it is the reason he ever picks up a guitar. It’s the whole learning heartsongs thing that he has to thank for it, a roundabout journey toward the destination he’d wanted from the beginning.

Or else, that he thought he did.

It’s not just guitar, though. He eventually learns the woodwinds without ending up with a splinter in his mouth. Figures out the different harmonies at hand in making sure he tempers the way he breathes for the brass. He loves the piano, and the cello especially, alongside guitar and double bass: he makes a trip back home specifically to see her and ask—Miss L. tells him it’s probably because of their strings, like hearts have, too.

It feels right in a way things haven’t felt in a very long time.

Which is really how he comes to not only understand, but to accept in his bones: no matter if they ever call him prodigy or genius, if he ever plays a concert hall or anywhere but on a street corner with an open case for change, he was made for this; built for this. The woman with the horn-rimmed glasses who sent him to the basement music room saw it in him. Miss L. proved it to him by teaching him to prove it to himself. He doesn’t know if he’d have picked it, but he knows it was never something he could have picked or turned down in the first place at all: it’s who he is.

He is the music. He is the songs that hearts use for singing. And maybe someday he’ll meet someone who sees it in him, and hears his song, and sings ecstatic. Maybe.

He hopes.

But either way: this is his life.

This is his melody.

——

It takes years before they do sob for his masterpieces, for them to be ready for a style and cadence they don’t understand because they will never comprehend the language, that speaks deeper than the logic required for any of those rules. It takes a long fucking time before they start listening with the lens of the first song any of them ever learned. But the time does come, and Eddie is grateful, because he’d genuinely feared the maybe-never he’d been warned about. He’s glad that’s not where he is, now.

But now? Things start to happen almost unbearably fast. Shows here and flights there, guest appearances and interviews, record labels and live recordings, a book deal he can’t even begin to think about. The world tips on its axis and Eddie only really considered that happening to him for one reason: because of a song so beautiful, in a Note so True—this isn’t that.

But everything still feels upside down anyway; totally off-kilter.

He’s crossed ten time-zones this time. He’s exhausted, but he has a performance tonight, just like he did in the tonight of the place he just left. The car he’s in on his way to the next venue is sleek, like they all are now; his team is already there preparing, so it’s just him and some local hires he hasn’t even had a chance to learn the names of yet, which he hates. He hates being privy to their songs and not even knowing their names, let alone their stories.

He jots the notes he gleans from how they sing without their words on the drive across town anyway. Waste not, and all that.

Eddie has the pen in hand, cap between his teeth, when the truck plows straight into them.

What follows would be unsurprising, if Eddie could process it from a bystander’s point of view—as it is, the only thing he knows in the melee is the music.

He is devastated, as he reaches out for the slowing songs around him, knowing in the back of his mind what their slacking tempos mean, and marveling with something like horror at how beautiful each one is as it starts to fade: still unique, still something Eddie could braid into a piece, certainly one to draw tears.

His own song is ebbing, he knows, but it’s less important than the sweet melodies around him, especially—

Oh.

Eddie thinks, with what may be the last thought left to him as pressure and heat and pain tingle at the edges of the music, almost too strong now to be drowned out by the notes that are what Eddie is at his core: but he thinks he may be too far gone already, because what he begins to hear is…

Exultant. It’s…

If Eddie believed in a heaven, this would be what the hosts there sang. When the idea of divinity is bandied about, they can only ever be talking about some cheap imitation of what Eddie hears now. Luminous. Effervescent.

Beautiful in a way that exceeds the word itself so deeply that it barely fits, obliterates the notion on sight.

And what a gift, Eddie muses as everything dims to black, to hear such Notes, such perfect music as the last thing he has to hold onto in the end.

To end on something that’s True.

——

The next tones Eddie hears are mechanical. He winces—not bad but certainly not beautiful—and then winces harder because wincing itself fucking hurts.

He holds himself still, seeks the song he knows in his own veins: yes, and he’d been so sure it was gone, because there’d be an accident, a crash, he’d been thrown, crushed, songs all around him were dying and he’d heard the magnificent symphony of otherworldly perfection so—

“I’m technically not supposed to be here,” a voice interjects, or no: drips in leisurely, like comfort, like honey; “because you’re a patient, and I’m,” and Eddie forces his eyes open to see the voice come out of a man, who is pointing at his chest: a uniform. Medical.

“I’m not dead?”

All signs do point that direction but…Eddie had been kinda fairly sure he was done for.

“God,” the man chokes like he’s pained, like the idea hurts him, and why; “no,” and he says that a little fiercely, protective almost; “though not for lack of an effort.”

He looks tired, as Eddie’s vision starts to clear some more. He looks radiant. Exquisite.

Beautiful.

“You saved me?”

Because Eddie clocks the uniform now: paramedic. The ones who come onto the scenes and try like hell to save who they can. Heroes.

“I helped,” the beautiful man says, like a hero would, of course. But…it still doesn’t make sense. If the man does this for his job, then Eddie isn’t special, so then why is he so vehement, and then what of all the fading songs Eddie remembers, because Eddie had heard—

“What about,” he starts, but there’s a hand over his quickly, soothing.

“Everyone’s here, different wards,” the hero-beauty tells him in lows tones; “we don’t know if they’ll all make it through the night, but,” he nods, like…this is enough.

And it is. Except…

“How?”

And where Eddie is baffled, his hero just quirks a brow.

“Don’t tell me you never covered emergencies?” he asks skeptically. “Most dire moments, greatest of need?”

And it’s with those words that Eddie’s world slows very quickly to a halt. The music swells in a way he’s never known: because it’s always present to hear.

Buts it’s never been so tangible to feel, not like this, and with such…magnificence, no lesser word could touch it. Maybe he truly is closer to death than not, maybe that’s the reason for the fervor in this man he doesn’t know—the choirs of the angels Eddie wasn’t banking on swells and is visceral, and this hero sits before him, speaks the words that have haunted Eddie more days of his life than not, and—

“This was where the music took my life,” the man pulls at his collar, indicative again: the heroism. He…he saves people, because he, he also hears…

“But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

His hand on Eddie’s tightens, like gratitude, and Eddie…gapes like a fucking fish, and then—

“There’s something else.”

“Not just here to check up on the fruits of your medical miracle?” Eddie’s tongue feels heavy, thick in his mouth; he feels sluggish all over, weighted down and like he can barely move because…this man hears the music that hearts make.

Can he hear the ineffable beauty, like Eddie can? He must, that’s how it works, so why is he not in the same amount of awe—

“Not just,” the man smiles small, but real, a little hesitant. A little…shy, maybe, before he straightens, leans a little closer.

“Watch that screen,” and he tracks Eddie’s gaze until Eddie’s fixed upon the ECG, the most disappointing distillation of the songs he’s learned to find so much wonder in.

But then the man is pressing Eddie’s hand to his own chest, which…is forward, given they don’t even know each other.

Eddie is maybe still on, or at least just-recently-off, death’s door, and either way he’s fucking thrilledwith this development, warm beneath his palm.

“Now count.”

It only takes a moment, to put the gestures together into a statement.

The beat under his touch matches the line across the screen. Exactly.

But this man’s not the one attached to the monitor.

“Got it?”

Eddie nods, and the man doesn’t hesitate, lifts Eddie’s hand and presses it back to Eddie’s own chest.

“Again.”

And that’s…that’s not the same rhythm as the one on the screen; the songs don’t match at all.

But Eddie can still hear the one that does—the beauty. The exaltation.

“Can you,” Eddie asks, lifts his finger that’s got a clip on it, and the man’s a professional, he’ll understand—looks less than conflicted about disconnecting Eddie from wires and leads before clipping his own finger and letting the screen shift to a new cadence.

The same one under Eddie’s hand, in Eddie’s own chest.

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah,” the man barely breathes, and Eddie notices now how intense his eyes are, focused solely on Eddie, and…Eddie remembers the words that came after the ones about emergencies. About how little he could help, but that he could still do something.

But with only one person, it could be—

“You didn’t just sway my rhythm,” Eddie half-gasps; “you made it your own.”

And oh: Eddie never tied the song of hearts to the song of laughter, but from this man, the huff of incredulous joy that slips from him now—they’re made wholly of the same stuff.

Symphonic. Staggering. Weeping to feel this much, in the soul, to be privy to such a…

Masterpiece.

“Worked both ways, it seems.”

“I heard you,” Eddie blurts out, because it makes sense now; “before I, when I thought I was,” dying, when he thought it was all over; “like I’ve never heard anything before.”

And now: of course this man hears the heavenly movement Eddie thought was a mercy before the end but was instead the arrival of everything he’d ever hoped to one day find, literally coming to rescue him in more ways than one; but that song is somehow commonplace to this unfathomable angel on the earth.

And what this man hears stronger, louder, dearer seems somehow to be Eddie, the song he sings from the chest, in how it’s causing those caramel eyes to glimmer, and to barely blink lest they miss something in just…Eddie.

“You never stopped,” the man says with urgency, with feeling; “your song never stopped,” and then he’s closing his eyes and laying both his hands over his own chest, where Eddie’s heartsong is ringing full and maybe changing his world, because the song in Eddie’s chest sure as hell has already changed his, and—

“It’s extraordinary.”

And Eddie, in years of ridicule, in months of celebration, in all the ups and downs and doubts and hopes this life of songs and hearts and rhythms and beats has left him with, in all of it—

Those two words rewrite his whole fucking being.

“True Note,” Eddie mouths more than speaks before he scoffs; “shit, but that seems like a really fucking inadequate thing to call it,” and his eyes lift to take in the man who he knows, he knows is going to be his magnum opus, or more: is going to write the magnum opus they will be and breathe and share from here to all ends:

“To call you.”

And there’s the clearest sense of a trip in a beat, but who it belongs to isn’t clear, and maybe that’s the reality for them both now: every subtlety of the song is now shared, now theirs.

“You could start with Steve.”

Eddie looks up, breath a little heavy, but the smile on the man’s face is broad and kind of overjoyed, kind of looks like Eddie’s chest feels:

“My name’s Steve.”

And that?

Best damn title for a symphony Eddie’s ever fucking heard.

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divider credit here

[honourablejester]

I don't think that you are a troll or stupid, but I do think that you spent too much time thinking about watsonian explanation and forget that in real life symbols mean things

Well. Thank you for clarifying.

It’s not that I’ve spent too much time on the Watsonian explanation, it’s that I don’t think the Doylist explanation is that fantasy writers universally (and specifically in this instance Pathfinder writers) want people to believe that the real world crusades were good and/or want to convert readers/players to a fascist cult. Which would appear to be what people in this thread are saying any fantasy depiction of a crusade against an actual supernatural threat would be intended to do.

Symbols do mean things, but so does context. It’s why, to use an equally fraught example, the swastika means something very different in India than it does in Europe. Now, obviously, that’s not directly comparable, as that symbol’s religious use came first, and its appropriation by a completely foreign fascist regime came later, but still. Context alters meaning. It’s why so many fantasy allegories break down. The physical realities as presented in the world of the story alter the interpretation of the real world symbol. Marvel’s mutants as an allegory for any number of discriminated-against peoples, for example, when there are mutants in the story that are a genuine and active genocidal threat – the existence of characters like Magneto make the discussions of the theme/allegory at the very least more complicated. That works exactly the same in the other direction. So a context where the threat is supernatural and is real genuinely can alter the interpretation.

If, granted, you are willing to give it more than surface thought. And here I’m going to put two of your other points together:

We live in a real world and in a real world crusades are a political symbol, and portraying "this time justified" crusade is giving credibility to real-life fanboys of templars and potentially signaling to them that you are on their side. You yourself say that allegory is a tool of fantasy, and fash very much can and do use it to obfuscate the fact that they mean people.

And:

having fantasies of being a bigot only indicates that people who have them are already bigoted.

The people who are going to interpret the fantasy crusade against actual literal demons as ‘proof’ that the real world crusades were also justified are the people who were already going to do that, regardless of context or internal cues within the story. The people who hold the real world crusades as a political symbol are already the people who don’t care about the crusades as anything but that symbol. They don’t care about the historical context of the real crusades any more than they care about the fictional context of the fantasy ones either.

I don’t agree that those people just get to claim a vast swathe of extremely complicated human history, as well as lock off a huge theme for fiction to explore in relation to that history, for fear that examining that symbol will ‘signal’ to a bunch of fuckheads that you might agree with them.

Because, the thing is, the fantasy of this game is not to play a bigot, unless you were already planning to. It does examine the morality of the crusade, even in a context where the enemy is a literal supernatural force of evil, and it also examines whether they are. One of your companion characters explicitly rejects the holy justification of the crusade and believes that even demons can be more than pure evil and should be given a chance to show it, and she can be proved right. And, in the canon result of the crusade beyond the game itself, was. Several of the characters on your side would also give the worst demons a run for their money. However, a country has still been invaded and its population slaughtered, so you also still have to do something about that.  

The fantasy of the game is, I would say, for most people, a fantasy of facing and fighting an overwhelming force of evil. Which is not too far away from the much more politically acceptable fantasy of, say, punching a nazi in the face.

Because yes, if we are exploring which portrayals of violence are good and which are not, we do have to discuss the ethics of war.

Yes, there are very much people who want to play a ‘crusader’ so they can act out murdering people different from them and being lauded for it. But there are also people who want to play out the gothic horror tropes of fighting supernatural foes, or examine the morality of religion in a context where the gods are, in fact, very much real, or who want to play the knight errant of Arthurian myth as if the heroic image of them was real instead of significantly more complicated than that.

I just don’t think it’s useful to say things like ‘all fantasy writers are secretly fascists’ or ‘all paladin players are secretly fascists’ or ‘you can never show this symbol in a positive light no matter what the context’, because all of that is just reductive, and stops people examining the stories we tell (and the symbols we hold) on anything more than a surface level.

And ourselves, maybe, from examining what biases we might be bringing to the story.

Further, fantasy does make supernatural physical reality, but even then it doesn't justify religious wars. Physical gods of fantasy are like real-life kings, and killing someone for not serving your king is still inexcusable.

So, yes. Very much an atheist point of view, then?

Also, like. That’s all of human history? We’re back to the ethics of war. Either killing someone for any reason is inexcusable, or we’re just picking and choosing what causes we’re willing to make exceptions for. Again, if you have a fantasy about killing a nazi, how is that different from a fantasy about killing a demon?

I’m not saying don’t examine every story and see what parts of it hold up and what parts of it don’t, or poke at what unrealised biases the writers might have, I’m saying maybe don’t make blanket statements like ‘fantasy as a genre thinks the crusades were morally good’ and ‘anyone who portrays a crusader as a good person is secretly a fascist and wants to kill people’. Because I’m pretty sure that’s not true, and I’m also pretty sure it doesn’t help to say it’s true. And I also don’t think locking off an entire period of history behind ‘this is evil and ever choosing to portray it is also evil’ is helpful either.

And, with all of that said ... Pathfinder as a setting genuinely does have some ... interesting worldbuilding in relation to real world ... There are a lot of real world conspiracy theories of less-than-laudable origin that Pathfinder uses their fantasy world to examine 'what if something like this was true in the context of another planet'. Since you mentioned the evil lizard people. Golarion straight has the evil serpent empires who ruled the world before man. It has the ancient super empire of Atlantis ('Azlant'), which was destroyed by Cthulhu monsters who telepathically infiltrated humanity, and said Atlantean empire was the origin of the human-turned-god who basically inspired every human empire in the history of the European-analogue of this world to go on an expansion spree. Part of Pathfinder's whole vibe is 'what might it look like if all the crackpot conspiracy theories of our world were actually true on a fantasy planet', as well as 'what would some of the worst and most complicated periods of our history look like if played out in a fantasy world with magic and gods'. 'What if the crusades but with actual demons' is only scratching the surface of what Pathfinder's setting decided to tangle with. And I get that how successful they have been, both on a case by case basis and overall, is very much a 'your mileage may vary' sort of situation. I also get that for some people, the fact that they do this at all, and also consistently, is very much grounds to write the setting off immediately.

Personally, I'm not opposed to using a fantasy world to essentially play out human beliefs and lies to see what might happen if they were true, as pretty much this entire post will show. But I do also understand if other people don't want to engage with it.

I just don't agree with writing off anyone who does choose to engage with it as 'automatically a fascist'. As, well. This post should also show.

kind of concerning how married the fantasy genre is to "crusades as a basically good thing"

[paperyowl]

This is a weird ask. Feel free to ignore it.

But post breakup Buck staring at Rockon thinking Tommy has a date with this hot silver daddy (he ain't blind) and confronted them cos he's jealous to find out he was wrong. They bought him home for either a threesome (cos David never had one) or maybe just cuddles cos looks at the sad puppy and doting on Buck.

(what buck doesn't know is that Donovan is Tommy's cousin with a hilarious sense of humor who texted him the very next day to collect his man cos he ain't sharing his daddy with his cousin's ex no matter how pretty he is)

It's not weird at all. I love the idea! And I have two vastly different thoughts for this - lets go with this one for now. (I might have changed it a little bit - but I definitely need that threesome happening sometime still.)

+++

Pick up, idiot.

Calling me names doesn't make me want to talk to you more.

Tommy dropped his phone somewhere on the couch, not really bothering to check where it fell. He was not in the mood for his cousin's antics. His week had been so busy that Tommy was aching in more places than he knew he could. Maybe was is getting too old for this job.

Or perhaps he'd been slacking. Not eating well, not sleeping enough. These days, Tommy is usually good at taking care of himself. A hard-learnt habit, but he'd put in the work.

Not that it mattered now when his mind kept circling back to the rather sweet sentiment of someone saying, 'You don't have to do everything by yourself' and 'I'll take care of you'.

It was a certain someone with those impossibly warm baby blues that Tommy was trying very hard not to think about. (And failing miserably.) He deserved this. After all, he'd been the one to implode what they had.

His phone kept buzzing. After the third or fourth time - which frankly was ridiculous Don, what the fuck, get a life - Tommy hunted it down in the cushions and unlocked it.

Only to almost drop it when he saw the last message was a photo of -

"Hi, cuz," Donovan drawled, sounding deeply satisfied with himself. But Tommy wasn't focused on that at all.

"How do you have a photo of Evan? Is he there with you? Why is he with you?"

"Okay, first of all, ouch, I think I'm insulted-"

"Donovan."

Tommy heard his own voice rise and wondered since his fuse had become this short. Then he remembered that Donovan had always had this way of riling him up. That's why they hadn't talked in months. They'd been fighting about something; Tommy couldn't really remember what it had been about.

"Figured that pic would get you to call me," Donovan said. "No 'Hello, my favourite cousin, how are you doing?' It's nice to hear you, too, you know."

"Don't be mean, Rocker," another voice said in the background, one that Tommy didn't know. Or actually, he might - he'd heard it once before, and now he could remember what the fight had been about. But his focus was somewhere else completely.

"Hi. How are you. It's been too long. I miss you - is Evan okay?"

Donovan laughed at the way only one of those sentences ended in a note high enough to count as a question. Tommy hissed his name again, and finally got a 'yeah, yeah, alright.' before the phone was handed off to -

"Hi," Evan said softly. He sounded like he'd been crying. His sniffeling was hard on Tommy. "Your cousin and his partner are nice."

Tommy couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe they're doppelgängers."

There is a momentary pause, and Tommy is almost certain that the rustling he hears is a bit of a grapple for the phone. But it's still Evan on the other end when the noise dies down.

"I wouldn't know about that," Evan said. "You never mentioned them."

Fuck.

"Evan-"

"So we're back to Evan?"

"Bu-"

"Don't," Evan pleaded. "Just. Don't."

"Want me to go and rough him up a little? I still remember where he lives."

Donovan's offer sounded weak, and Tommy could imagine the way he had probably put a hand on Evan's shoulder. Or his back.

Evan didn't exactly laugh, but it was similar enough. The sound still unravelled something in Tommy's chest.

"Can we talk in person?"

"I'd like that," Evan breathed. "Just maybe not tonight?"

"Of course. Do you want me to text-"

"I'll take over from here," Donovan said, and Tommy vaguely heard the muffled noise of the receiver being covered. He checked his watch, aware that whatever conversation happened on their end took less than a minute, but to Tommy, it felt like ages more.

"You free tomorrow? Wanna come over for lunch?" Donovan asked without any lead-up, startling Tommy a little. "I somehow think you have a bit more of a reason to say 'yes' this time."

Tommy huffed a laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free," he said. "Is he alright?"

"Are you going to stop being an idiot?"

"Don."

Donovan sighed. "Listen, I know it's not really my place, but I know you, and I can make an educated guess what happened here."

"I don't like you," Tommy groused.

And like the total bastard that he was, Donovan only laughed and responded, "But you love him."

Like that was a normal thing to say. Tommy spluttered.

"Just be here tomorrow at noon, I'll cook" Donovan completely ignored Tommy's rather childish comment, 'You can cook?' and just went on. "And I'll introduce you to Deacon."

"The ominous partner that you wouldn't tell me more about when I asked?"

That was a rather shortened version of the outright shouting match of a phone call that they'd had all those weeks ago. There had been a lot of implications about very different, and Donovan wouldn't even tell him the name of the man who had him all secretive.

It was easy to read between the lines, and perhaps Tommy had been protective in exactly the wrong way. But he'd never been able to help that when it came to Donovan. The only family member that Tommy cared about.

"He just filed for divorce," Donovan told him. Tommy hissed in sympathy, starting to apologize for the whole fight, but Donovan went on: "And you wouldn't believe the things he can do with his tong-"

"Shut up."

Donovan kept laughing at him, and Tommy felt too exhausted to do something about it. And perhaps a little relieved.  

"Noon, you said?"

He might have only imagined it, but Donovan softened a little after that. But he proved he was still an absolute asshole when he yelled out, 'Hey Evan, say goodnight to your daddy,' and like the absolute cheeky brat he was, Evan did just that. (Tommy almost choked on his own spit, but after hanging up, he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.)

[daddyissuesbecauseofhotch]

Daddy issues || #4

{masterlist}

You can’t help yourself, you simply have to see what Aaron’s like when he puts his son to bed. Does he read him a bedtime story? Do they talk about something? Does he kiss his forehead before tucking him in? The idea of him being the sweetest father, maybe as kind and caring as your own was, melts your heart. He’s already in the perfect category in your eyes, but if you’ll like what you see, you’ll have to create a brand new category just for him.

While you’ve never really thought about kids, being too busy attending parties almost every weekend, and sometimes during the weekdays if it was hard to decline an invitation, now you suddenly find yourself wondering what it would be like to take care of one. At this very moment, it’s not just any child in your mind. It’s Jack. He’s young, he could probably get used to the idea of having you around, and he seems to be a really good kid.

Letting out a dreamy sigh, you lean against the doorframe with your shoulder, your hands comfortably tucked into the pocket of the hoodie, and watch the bedtime ritual with curious eyes. Jack is aware of you being there, he keeps whispering something to his father while he’s glancing at you over and over again, and his father whispers back with a quiet chuckle. But then the boy yawns and falls back on his back, which prompts Aaron to pull the blanket up to his neck and lean down to kiss his forehead.

“Sleep tight, buddy,” he tells him softly before standing up to leave the room.

Without thinking, you take a few steps back so he can close the door, but when he stands toe to toe with you in the hallway, you lose contact with the filter between your brain and mouth. How could you think properly when he’s looking down at you with those brown eyes you want to drown in, watching you with that boyish smirk that makes your heart race?

So, you speak up and spit out something you should have kept to yourself. “How can something sweet like this be also hot as hell?” you ask him quietly, your breath hitching when he lets out a soft laugh. “That’s not funny.”

He shakes his head, the smile still present on his lips. “Actually, it is pretty funny. Come on, I have some really good wine waiting for us.”

Nodding, you follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there, he immediately cages you between himself and the counter. Your eyes are as big as saucers from the surprise, but you can only gulp since no words come to your mind. Deep down you know you should ask him what he’s doing, what the plan is, but you can’t get the words out. You’ve gone home with guys you barely knew before, one-night stands are nothing new to you sadly, but Aaron? You want to take it slow, you want to get to know him, but it’s clear he has a different idea.

Maybe for the first time in your life you want something real, a proper relationship that might be able to domesticate you, and you can feel that he’s the perfect candidate for that. Being with him would give you an instant family, though, you would find yourself in the role of a stepmom if things turned serious enough, and you’re terrified of that. What if Jack wouldn’t accept you? What if you fuck something up and end up hurting one of them?

“Hey,” he says quietly as he grabs your chin to make you look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Let’s see, you’re already daydreaming about a relationship that might never even happen. Yeah, right, he would escort you out of the apartment in a second. “Nothing, I’m just glad to see how happy your son is,” you reply, telling him a teeny tiny part of the truth.

A proud smile appears on his lips as he watches you, his gaze shifting down to your lips for a millisecond. Every fiber in your body is screaming at you to make the first move, to close the gap and kiss him, but your mind holds you back, telling you that it’s not the right time to be bold. Let him work for your attention, let him show you what exactly he wants. There’s no need to act like you do with guys your age.

Aaron leans close enough that you can feel his hot breath on your face when he exhales, but he doesn’t say anything, not even when he moves his hand from your chin to the side of your neck. How did he have the audacity to call you a tease when he’s doing things like that?

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asks quietly, his thumb gently stroking your soft skin. When you give him a confused look, he shakes his head slightly. “The pull every time we’re close to each other. I can’t explain it, it’s just–”

“There,” you finish, finally understanding what he meant.

This pull, this attraction, this gravitational field is so strong that it’s impossible not to notice or choose to ignore it. Aaron knows that, you know that, and now maybe it’s time to explore what it means. He nods upon hearing the word you said out loud, but he remains silent, he just keeps watching you, analyzing you. During dinner, whenever Jack gave him a moment to talk, he told you about his job as a profiler, so now you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope.

Suddenly, he decides to knock you out of the depths of your thoughts by lifting you to the counter and placing a kiss on your nose. “Do you wanna find out what would happen if we got a little closer?” he asks, his hands moving to your knees, fingers spreading as he moves them up your thighs.

A jolt of electricity runs through you, and you can’t stop yourself, you cup his face and pull him into a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to return it, quickly taking the lead as he kisses you hard and messy, way too eager to have you all to himself. All you want is spending the night in his bed, exploring every inch of his body and taking the time to learn more about him. He’s not that type, you know that, not someone who would sleep with a woman he barely knows, but God, you need him so bad.

The spell is broken when you hear some strange noises from Jack’s room, and his fatherly instincts kick in right away, making him rush to his son’s room. You don’t miss the sound of crying, the heartbreaking sobs of the child you grew to like so much in the past few hours. Your curiosity is strong, telling you to go and see what’s happening, but you also know it’s not something you should observe.

Some time later you’re sitting on the couch, mindlessly checking your notifications to see if there’s anything interesting, but your mind keeps returning to the kiss, that goddamn kiss you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Finally, you hear the sound of footsteps from the bedrooms, and Aaron eventually sits next to you with a troubled look on his face.

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask hesitantly.

He shakes his head with a sigh. “Not now.”

You nod as you lock your phone and turn to him. “I didn’t want to sneak out without a word. Thank you for the dinner and everything, but I should probably go now.” Before he could speak, you stand up and slip the phone into the pocket of the hoodie. The hoodie that still smells like him.

It hurts. It really does. You can see the sadness in his eyes, but he doesn’t want to talk about it, and you don’t want to force him to tell you what’s wrong. Maybe he needs some time alone now to think about whatever happened in his son’s bedroom.

You’re not good at this; the emotional conversations are the bane of your existence. You work, you go to parties, but most of your relationships are extremely shallow. You have absolutely no experience in emotionally supporting someone in need of it, and you sure as hell won’t practice on the man you like so much.

When you grab the doorknob, though, you suddenly see him put his hand on the door next to your head to keep it closed. You turn to him with a confused look on your face. He lets out a humorless laugh as he watches you.

“It’s not an easy topic, okay? I’ll tell you, I promise, just… not yet. I wanted you to know this,” he adds, then leans in to give you a soft kiss. You return it, but it feels different now, so you put a hand on his chest to gently push him away. Now it’s his turn to look confused. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he sounds unsure of himself.

“No, it’s just getting late. Good night, Aaron.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then he sees the determination in your eyes and gives up the fight before he could even begin. “Sure. Good night.”

[tsumuus]

Bokuto with 💐 but he just forgot to add the note and is confused why you haven't talked to him all day?? The only reason you find out is cuz akaashi has to get him prepped for the game and he's still whining about the flowers.

Valentine’s Day had never been a particularly important day to you. It was sweet, sure, watching your classmates exchange gifts and letters, but it never held much weight in your own life. So, when you walked into the classroom that morning and found a bouquet of flowers resting neatly on your desk, you were more confused than anything else.

The arrangement was beautiful- warm-toned roses mixed with delicate baby’s breath and eucalyptus leaves. Whoever had put it together had clearly taken care in choosing the colors and balance, and the scent was fresh and crisp. You blinked at it, looking around the classroom for some kind of clue as to where it came from. There was no note. No card. Just the flowers.

Your first assumption was that one of your friends had left them there as a joke, or maybe they had been misplaced and were meant for someone else. You entertained the possibility that they were actually for you for all of five seconds before shaking your head. That was unlikely. With a small shrug, you placed the bouquet carefully to the side, not thinking much more of it.

Bokuto, however, was thinking about it a lot.

He had woken up extra early that morning, painstakingly picking out each flower at the shop near his house, making sure the colors were just right. He had nearly been late to school just to sneak them onto your desk before you arrived, his heart pounding the entire time. He had imagined you seeing them, lighting up in excitement, maybe even rushing over to hug him.

But that didn’t happen.

The morning had passed in a blur, and you hadn’t spoken to him once. Not even a casual “hey” in the hallways. He had spent most of his classes staring blankly at his notebooks, thoughts running wild.

Had you figured out they were from him and just… ignored it?

Did you not like them at all?

By lunch, his usual boisterous energy had all but disappeared. He barely touched his food, responding to Akaashi’s comments with half-hearted hums and nods. Akaashi had noticed the shift immediately, but trying to cheer Bokuto up was like trying to push a boulder uphill. When practice rolled around in the afternoon, the setter had had enough.

Bokuto was terrible at practice.

His spikes lacked their usual power, his receives were sluggish, and his energy was nowhere to be found. He was moody, barely speaking to anyone, shoulders hunched in defeat. Fukurodani’s coach called for a break when it became obvious that he wasn’t getting better. Akaashi approached him, exasperation evident on his face.

“Bokuto-san,” he said, arms crossed, “what is going on?”

Bokuto muttered something under his breath, barely audible.

Akaashi sighed, rubbing his temples. “What?”

Another mutter, this time slightly clearer, your name hidden in the jumble of words.

Akaashi straightened, connecting the dots in an instant. He pulled out his phone without another word and shot you a quick text.

Akaashi: If you’re free, come to the gym. Bokuto needs some cheering up.

You had just finished packing up your things from your club when your phone buzzed. Seeing Akaashi’s name flash across the screen, you quickly read the message, a frown tugging at your lips. Bokuto? What could possibly be wrong?

You didn’t hesitate before grabbing your things and making your way toward the gym.

When you arrived, you spotted Bokuto sitting on the bench, staring at the ground with his elbows resting on his knees. His usual lively presence was nowhere to be seen, replaced by an unfamiliar gloominess.

You approached cautiously. “Hey, Bo.”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, golden eyes wide. “yn?”

You sat down beside him, concern evident in your expression. “What’s wrong? Akaashi said you were acting off today.”

Bokuto deflated further, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s stupid.”

You nudged him. “Come on. You can tell me.”

He hesitated for a moment before finally mumbling, “Did you… get anything today?”

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like, I dunno… flowers?”

Your mouth parted slightly in realization. “Oh. Yeah, actually. I found some on my desk this morning. I’m still not sure who they’re from, though.” You laughed lightly. “For a second, I thought maybe they weren’t even meant for me.”

Bokuto stared at you like you had just spoken another language. “You… don’t know who they’re from?”

You tilted your head. “No. There was no note or anything.”

Bokuto’s entire body tensed before his hands flew up to his hair, gripping at the strands. “Oh my god.”

You frowned. “Bo?”

“I forgot the note,” he groaned dramatically, burying his face in his hands. “I had it- I wrote this whole thing, and I was gonna put it with the flowers, but I must’ve dropped it somewhere, and you never said anything, so I thought- ”

You felt your heart stutter. “Wait. You… you were the one who left them?”

Bokuto peeked at you through his fingers, cheeks dusted pink. “Uh… yeah.”

A warm feeling spread through your chest as you took in his expression- sheepish, nervous, a little hopeful. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t pieced it together sooner.

Slowly, a soft smile curled at your lips. “Bo, they were beautiful.”

His hands dropped slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, reaching out to gently take one of his hands in yours. “And if I had known they were from you, I would’ve said something sooner.”

Bokuto visibly perked up at the contact, his eyes searching yours. “Does that mean…?”

You squeezed his hand. “It means I’m really happy they were from you.”

For a second, he just stared, processing your words before his entire face broke into a blinding grin. “Really?!”

You laughed, nodding. “Really.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Bokuto pulled you into a tight hug, nearly knocking you off the bench. “You have no idea how happy that makes me!”

You laughed against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

valentines event | masterlists

a/n hes my baby i love him so much were literally married

[anthurak]

"I'd like to hear him out..."

(credit to @phuezo for the awesome art XD)

So here’s a fun little AU concept for the past couple months since Mastermind aired and people started throwing around ‘What if Charlie (or Lucifer) was at Blitzo’s trial?’ ideas:

What if Vaggie didn’t (entirely) lose her wings to Lute’s attack? Meaning that Charlie actually KNOWS that Vaggie is an angel from the beginning. And leading to Vaggie not hiding her identity by pretending to be a sinner and instead be generally open about her past as an angel and exorcist. Which I think could have some rather interesting ripple effects.

Now I realize it might be a bit headscratching how ‘Vaggie doesn’t lose her wings’ leads to ‘Charlie (and Vaggie) showing up at Blitzo’s trial’, but hear me out.

First off, I think the ‘How’ of this divergence is actually pretty easy to imagine; instead of ripping her wings off, Lute decides to inflict a different kind of sadistic torture on Vaggie. Terribly maiming her wings to prevent her from flying, but still leaving her wings to make it clear just what she is. Basically, Lute and Adam fully expect Vaggie to be torn apart by vengeful demons.

But in true dramatically ironic fashion, Vaggie is NOT found by the ‘evil, terrible demons’ that Lute and Adam (and even Vaggie herself) were expecting, but by Charlie Morningstar. And I think we can all agree that Vaggie happening to have a pair of angel wings would NOT meaningfully change Charlie’s reaction to finding her in the slightest.*

Charlie still basically falls for Vaggie at first sight, takes her in and patches her up and gives her a home. And in this version, after it becomes clear that Vaggie’s wings aren’t healing, Charlie also calls in a favor from Uncle Ozzie to design some cool cybernetics/prosthetics to give Vaggie full wing-functionality back. And after a while, Charlie and Vaggie fall in love and start dating just like they did in canon, possibly even sooner/stronger given that Vaggie doesn’t have the specter of hiding who she is from Charlie hanging over her in this version.

And this is where we get to one of those interesting ripple-effects of this change.

Because I think it is VERY likely (as in, I imagine we’ll actually see this come up in the actual show) that Charlie’s belief in sinner-redemption and drive to help sinners in large part came from Vaggie. Specifically in that Charlie believed that Vaggie was a sinner. As in, Charlie falling in love with someone who she thought was a sinner was a MAJOR factor in Charlie believing that sinners could be redeemed and general drive to help them.

Now obviously I’m not suggesting that Vaggie was the only reason or that Charlie wouldn’t care about the sinners otherwise. At the same time, I think it’s a bit ridiculous to assume that Charlie believing the woman she loves was a sinner all that time wasn’t a major contributor to her motivation in ‘making a hotel to redeem sinners’. Or that Charlie knowing Vaggie WASN’T a sinner from the beginning couldn’t put her on a different path…

Basically, this version of events with Charlie falling in love with ‘Vaggie the fallen angel/former exorcist’ instead of ‘Vaggie the human sinner’ ends up rippling out to lead Charlie to focus not on the problems of the human sinners, but rather the problems faced by the hellborn demons.

Say for example; because Charlie knows that Vaggie is an angel, and thus almost certainly NOT bound to the Pride Ring, the pair end up taking a few trips/dates to see the other rings. Particularly given that Vaggie already know Asmodeus.

But in the process of these trips, Charlie starts noticing many of the issues faced by the hellborn demons. Many of which she doesn’t remember from back when her father was running things…

Basically this ties into another theory I’ve had since Mastermind that a lot of the societal issues we see in Helluva Boss are the result of, or at least have been heavily exacerbated by, Lucifer’s long ABSENCE from ruling thanks to his centuries-long depressed isolation. Something that I think Mastermind pretty heavily hints at given everything we see from Satan in that episode. And that at some point, Hazbin Hotel is going to show Charlie having to DEAL with many of these issues as part of her arc of growing into a leader and future ruler of Hell.

And in this version of events, instead of being drawn to wanting to help the human sinners, Charlie is drawn to wanting to help the hellborn demons. Basically, since her father clearly isn’t doing his job, perhaps SHE should step up and try doing it instead?

And of course, Vaggie is right at her side through ALL of this. In fact, she may even be a bit more gung-ho about it, given that it probably feels to her a bit more feasible than ‘redeeming sinners’.

This all leads to Charlie pushing herself not so much into ‘replacing’ her father outright as ‘ruler’ of Hell, but rather starting to assume a kind of regency position. Not full-on ‘ruling’ (yet), but still starting to assume some of the roles and duties that her father has been neglecting for a couple hundred years.

And the fun thing is that nobody is really able to stop Charlie from doing any of this. After all, she IS the princess and heir apparent of the Morningstars, meaning she is well within her rights to assume a number of roles of her father. Particularly as Charlie makes it very clear that she is not trying to outright supplant her father, but is simply assuming duties that he’s been neglecting. To the point of keeping the title of ‘Princess’, or maybe ‘Princess Regent’.

Sure, some/most/all of the Goetia/other nobility might not like a lot of the ideas and goals Charlie is talking about, such as ‘Maybe the Imps, Hellhounds, etc AREN’T actually lesser and born to serve the nobility and shouldn’t be treated as such’, but there also isn’t really anything they can do to STOP her or remove her from her new position. After all, the only one with the authority truly above Charlie’s is Lucifer himself.**

And the nobles who do make a scene and/or pitch a hissy fit about Charlie’s ‘radical ideas’ tend to find themselves at the business-end of her girlfriend’s spear, sword or divinely-mailed fist. Really, in this situation Vaggie is a pretty big fucking deal all on her own, being a fallen angel and all. Certainly NOBODY is going to be judging Charlie on her choice of romantic partner. Well, maybe some sinners might judge her for dating a former exorcist, but any Hellborn demons, even the Goetia? No fucking way. Really, people would probably be making comments on how Charlie is taking after her mother.

Heck, even in the short time since Charlie started this endeavor, Vaggie’s probably earned her own title or two. ‘Blade of the Morningstar’? ‘Wings of the Princess’?

Of course it’s also worth noting that there are still some pretty hard limits to what Charlie can accomplish in terms of fixing/reforming the issues of hellish society, at least in the short term. She can’t just snap her fingers and fix classism or completely wipe out the Goetia’s authority (or the Goetia themselves). Particularly as Charlie doesn’t have the ultimate overriding authority of her father. Realistically, Charlie’s authority as Princess/Regent only just supersedes that of any of the Sins, and while that might put her above effectively ANY other one person in Hell, it also doesn’t give her absolute ‘do anything I want’ authority either. Not to mention that this is still Charlie we’re talking about, who in this timeline is still only JUST getting use to throwing her authorial weight around.

But at the same time, again there really isn’t anything anyone can do to fully STOP Charlie from doing anything either. Meaning that in the short time since assuming her new role as regent, say about a year or two, Charlie has already started making small but noticeable changes and ripples to Hell’s society.

Which brings us to this new version of Mastermind, with Charlie and Vaggie making a surprise appearance at Blitzo’s trial and Charlie actually wanting to hear the imp out. This leads to a number of other fun changes including but not limited to:

Charlie invoking both ‘Princess Regent Authority’ and ‘Favorite Niece Privileges’ to get all of the Sins voting on her side to hear Blitzo out and override literally all of the Goetia royalty.

Andy-the-not-actually-a-sister-fucker pitching a hissy fit over this and getting choke-slammed and almost speared by Vaggie.

Blitzo still finding a way to fuck up this golden opportunity by running his mouth. Because this is still Blitzo we’re talking about, and giving him a chance to talk is ALSO giving him a chance to dig himself into a deeper hole.

Stolas choosing the exact worst (and funniest) moment to dramatically burst in with his big, dramatic ‘sacrifice myself for the man I love via song number’ gambit, which actually only makes things worse/wackier when Charlie starts asking pertinent questions.

Andy pitching more hissy fits as his plans continue to unravel and getting repeatedly chokeslammed and/or kicked in the dick by Vaggie.

Striker getting dragged back in when it becomes clear there are a LOT of holes in his story, only to constantly flip-flop on his story because he can’t figure out which authority figure(s) he should be selling-out-to/kissing-up-to in order to save his own skin.

Charlie, Vaggie and even Satan becoming ever more flabbergasted as it becomes clear that the suspect (Blitzo), prosecution (Andre), defense (Stolas) and witness (Striker) in this trial are in fact ALL complete fucking idiots.

--

*Admittedly I do have one other possible change in mind to help reinforce this: rather than a sinner child, Vaggie actually spares an imp kid, or perhaps a sinner child and their imp kid best friend. Which leads to the imp kid actually leading Charlie to the injured Vaggie and also telling her that this angel actually helped them and got hurt doing so.*** Which again serves to reinforce just how wrong Adam and Lute and much of heaven are about demons.

** And if you’re going to ask ‘Why doesn’t Charlie just go to her dad directly and get him to do his job?’, remember that Charlie had to be practically dragged kicking and screaming by her girlfriend into calling up Lucifer for help in Hazbin. I think it’s pretty clear that pre-Hazbin, if Charlie can get what she’s after without getting her dad involved, she is ABSOLUTELY going to do it.

*** Also this hypothetical imp kid doesn’t actually show up again and DOES in fact have a living family, meaning that NO, Charlie and Vaggie DON’T ADOPT THEM. Because I KNOW that is exactly what some of you started thinking when I mentioned an unattended child in relative proximity to our heroines.

--

And of course, once again HUGE thanks to @phuezo for the awesome art of Charlie and Vaggie XD

[imhappierthanever]

hiii I was wondering if u could do a fic where Billie hates reader then Billie finds out that reader has an abusive boyfriend at a party by one of readers friends and Billie and readers boyfriend get into a fight ( because Billie actually cares about reader ) at his house and reader walks in and the boyfriend ends up hitting reader , the ending is yourssss !! (Also I don’t know if this makes much sense .. )

hi bb! Hope this is what you wanted!

heartbreaks & earthquakes

Another weekend, another party you didn’t want to be at. Your boyfriend was throwing another party which meant he would be drinking and you would end up being at the other end of his anger. 

You locked yourself in the bathroom, looking in the mirror at the new reminder of how much you needed to leave him.  A fresh new mark on your face that you couldn’t hide very well. You gently ran your fingers over it, wincing slightly at the pain before searching through your purse to find something to make it seem a little less obvious. 

You could just tell someone you ran into something if they asked you thought to yourself as you put some makeup over it, and made your way back to the party, passing Billie along the way. You noticed she was talking with one of your friends. Though you couldn’t imagine what they must have been talking about. You didn’t know Billie very well. You always thought she kinda hated you, so you never took the time to really get to know her. 

When your friend noticed your sad expression, she excused herself from Billie and joined you on the balcony. 

“So, what did he do this time?” Your friend asked. Knowing he was always up to something.

“It’s nothing!” You said shying away, trying to hide the bruise further with your hair. She lifted your head, eying your rather shit cover up job, and tear stained face. “You know, he can’t keep doing this to you. One day he’s really going to hurt you! I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I just want to help you. Make sure you’re okay. You deserve better than this.” Your friend said seriously, hoping that this time you would actually leave him. But before you could even respond, shouting from two familiar voices filled a nearby space. 

“Oh shit!” Your friend said. “I may have told Billie that your boyfriend is a complete ass!” “You did what?” You shouted racing off to go find them. Not sure what was to come of it. But you knew enough to know if Billie got involved, your boyfriend didn’t stand a good chance.

Once you found them, they were in the middle of a heated argument about you. You couldn’t understand seeing as how you had become your boyfriend’s punching bag, and Billie? She just didn’t like you or care. 

You stepped in the middle of them, pushing them both apart. “Stop it you two!” You said continuing to stand in the middle of them both. “Gonna let your girlfriend fight for you? Even after all the shit you put her through?” Billie spat, trying to move you out of the way. 

“She’s my girlfriend. And that means I can do whatever I want, anytime I want” he said wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We’re fine,Billie. Really we are. You can go back to the party. Thank you for wanting to help.” 

You gave her a weak smile before she took one last look at both of you, heading for the door. But before she could even leave fully, she heard the sound of his fist hitting your face. Billie froze, taking in the moment before she walked back over to your boyfriend returning the favour. She knocked him to the ground, leaving him spitting up blood. 

“You’re never putting your hands on her again. And if you even try, you’ll have me to deal with. Got it?” She said ever so seriously. Her voice had lowered, eyes darkened. That beautiful blue turning icy. You realised you knew her even less in this moment, but also you didn’t care as you felt her hand slip into yours, leading you away from your boyfriend and back to the bathroom where you felt like you were spending most of the party. 

“Hop up on the counter pretty girl.” Billie said, shutting the door behind you, standing in between your legs. Her face was dangerously close to yours as she examined the damage. 

Wait..did she just call you-

She broke your thoughts when her ring clad fingers held your chin softly to get a better look. “Looks like he got you pretty good. “ she said looking at your eye, knowing it would be bruised in a matter of hours. 

“Billie.” You ask, questioning her actions. “Why did you do that? Why did you stand up for me out there?” You asked wincing from both the old pain and new mixing together. She didn’t answer you as she rummaged through the medicine cabinet finding an ice pack and placing it over your eye.

“You’ve never cared before. What’s changed?” You asked feeling strange as you let her take care of you.  “And now I’m pretty to you? You’re so fu-“

Before you could finish, she lifted your chin and placed her lips softly on yours, kissing you so sweetly, so tenderly you couldn’t believe it was actually happening. 

When she pulled away, your eyes were still closed, taking in the moment, hearing her speak finally.

“I’ve always had feelings for you. But you’ve always been with someone else. Always a guy. I just never thought I had a chance. So I tried to act like I didn’t care. But I do. And when I heard what he was doing to you, and saw for myself I couldn’t let him keep don’t that to you. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you and cares. Someone who would be happy to call you their own.” 

You couldn’t believe she was saying this. And to you. Your head was swimming, confusion consuming your every thought as her eyes returned to that beautiful ocean blue. Could you ever see yourself being with Billie? You didn’t know. But as she cared for you, tending to your eye and staying with you to make sure you felt safe, you felt your heart swell at the kindness she was showing you. 

You could give her a chance, couldn’t you? You thought as she lead you away from the party, leaving the loud music, sweaty bodies and him behind. She helped you into her car and drove you home. Still making sure you felt okay enough to be on your own. 

You both stood on your porch. Billie rocked back and forth on her feet, her hands in her pockets as she nervously began to speak again.

“I can um.. come in with you. Make sure you’re alright.” She said meting your gaze. She really was quite beautiful you thought to yourself as you cupped her face with one of your hands, pulling her in for a kiss. 

“I would like that. And maybe just maybe you could stay too?” You said smiling softly, secretly hoping she wouldn’t turn you down. Ans she didn’t. She nodded shyly, letting you grab her hand and lead you inside. 

Truthfully you didn’t know what was between you. You didn’t even know if it had been a good idea. But you both knew what ever kind of relationship you and your boyfriend once had, it was over new. Billie was your new beginning and the possibilities of being with her seemed endless as you shut the door behind you, welcoming her into your space and into your heart.