#be they ones of love or fear and so he runs away and tries to cut and kill and hide parts of himself

[monocaelia]

thanataphobia.

-you grasped for his soul tightly in fear that, if you relaxed for even a moment, he would slip through your fingertips ; aka, tending to his wounds. feat. dan heng, gepard, mydei, phainon. genre : fluff, mostly angst. note : the voices won :sadge: i hope u guys enjoy my fall into hsr insanity. also having everyone be sad was not my intention TT mb.

❀ DAN HENG

a wanderer that wasn't meant to stay for this long, dan heng had tried to keep his distance from everyone aboard the astral express. the lone man never wanted to become someone so important and dear to everybody, and here he is building friendships and bonds near unbreakable with people he thought he would have left behind by now.

a man prepared for a life of solitude welcomed in with open arms and cheerful laughter as he once again boards the express; a life where he met you. you, one of the first people to climb over the walls he tried to build around his heart and one of the first to put trust in him despite being a newer face on the express.

a life where he would come to love someone in the midst of new beginnings.

so, dan heng shouldn't be surprised at the worried looks and panicked exclamations when he returns to the express in a state that's worse for wear. he shouldn't be surprised at all when, after being looked after by dr. welt, that he would be left alone in your care once everyone had been reassured that he was fine.

the futon laid on the floor of the archive room is soft but hardly provides any comfort for dan heng as he shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny. a cotton swab soaked with disinfectant presses into the scraped skin of his cheek and he flinches at the familiar sting.

your lips part as you begin to speak, but dan heng beats you to it, much to your chargrin.

"don't say it," dan heng says, his voice curt and straight to the point. despite only being on the express for a short time, he's fully aware of what you're about to say to his face. and, of course, you ignore his words.

"i told you so," your voice is firm as you put pressure onto his face on purpose and you're satisfied when he winces from the pain. your brows furrow when dan heng looks away from you to avoid your scowl. a huff escapes your lips and a forceful hand pushes his face back to meet yours.

teal is a beautiful color. it reminds you of the soothing breeze that would blow in your hometown; comforting, yet brisk with a nip to your skin if you indulged too much within it. like the wind of your home, dan heng brings comfort to you as a pillar of support during your adventures with the astral express. but, regardless of how long you remain by his side, his past is shrouded in a mystery that you may never uncover, and maybe you never will.

dan heng is the wind, ever changing and always moving.

"...of course i'm upset and worried for you," you begin as you pull away the stained swab from his face. you dispose it into the pile of used cotton. "but i'm more relieved that you made it back to us in one piece."

your gaze falls as multiple thoughts begin to run through your mind, none of which dan heng could configure before you begin to speak again.

"why didn't you ask me to go with you? you would've been safer that way."

dan heng parts his lips, the answer just on the tip of his tongue but something prevents him from giving you the answer you wanted. instead, he gives you a reply that sets a clear boundary between the two of you.

“i’m sorry.”

he can tell you're hurt; he doesn't miss the aching look in your eyes and your lips caught between your teeth.

in his own way of comforting you, dan heng reaches over to hold your hand in his. it's smaller than his in comparison, and yet he finds nothing but solace in your touch. he should be comforting you and apologizing for hurting you by keeping his life private, and yet here he is basking in your warm touch.

he half expects you to pull away from him and effectively put space between you as he did just now... but you don't. you let his touch remain on your skin and dan heng feels relief knowing that you’re still putting your trust in him.

"it's fine; you don't have to tell me anything until you're ready to, dan heng. i'm just glad you're okay."

the archive room is silent, save for the quiet humming of the data bank that resides in it and the soft breathing between you and dan heng. the lone wanderer wishes he could tell you everything and indulge you in your inquires; he longs for the day that his past no longer haunts him and poses as a threat to both him and his loved ones.

but until then, he'll keep this to himself. for your sake and his own.

❀ GEPARD LANDAU

the lantern's warm glow illuminates the infirmary room that both you and the blond captain reside in, though its light is nothing compared to the cold silence shared between the two of you. the cotton ball absorbed with a disinfectant is pressed into the open wound on gepard's side; he makes a noise of discomfort but you don't care.

if anything, you press harder and hope that he truly feels your wrath masked in cleaning up his wounds.

"you're upset," gepard breaks the silence. you don't respond as you swap out the dirtied cotton ball and exchange it for some gauze. luckily, this wound wasn't as deep as the others and wouldn't require anymore stitches.

or it was unlucky if you wanted to enact your revenge on him through harsh and rough medical care.

gepard says your name and you curse yourself as your anger begins to waver just at the mere tone of his voice.

"you should be more careful," you begin with a stern voice. your fingers move skillfully around gepard's body, being attentive to wrap as much of the wound as tight as possible. your body moves on autopilot as if you've done this many times before.

"you know it's my duty to be the shield of belobog," gepard begins, his eyes never leaving your face as you continue to dress his injury. "if no one will protect the people, my own soldiers included, then who will?"

the flame in the lantern flickers just as your eyes snap to his. there's a fire in your eyes almost as if your anger had borrowed the embers of the lantern. you can feel the heat boiling within you and it nearly explodes out of you into words that you won't mean as a result of your strong emotions.

almost.

you know ultimately that gepard is correct; he has sworn his life to belobog and if that means he has to succumb to death in order to ensure the safety of the people within, then so be it. but you cannot stomach that reality. gepard, whose heart is pure and noble like no other, does not deserve to die even if he believes otherwise.

"and who will protect you if you're throwing yourself into danger like that?" your tone is strained as to not raise your voice any louder. gepard's expression doesn't waver, but his azure eyes soften at your words. you can feel his hand, large and calloused, encase your own and squeezes it gently; a silent way to comfort you in your distress.

you hate how gentle gepard is, you hate how loyal he is to belobog and as captain of the silvermane guards. you hate how it's written in his blood to protect those that need protection and how he's willing to sacrifice his life if it meant ensuring the safety of his city and maintaining his family’s honor.

you hate how all of his noble acts and promises are the exact reasons why you've fallen so deeply for him.

a familiar hand gently cups your face, a contrast to the rough texture of his palms, and a thumb wipes away the tears you didn't know you had shed.

"i don't want to lose you, gepard," you say in a broken whisper. "i love you so much, please don't be so reckless with your life."

gepard knows he cannot promise you that, but he offers as much as he can to you. your quiet sobs are comforted by his strong arms as he embraces you in a hug; quiet apologies fall past the captain's lips as he listens to your hurt cries. his heart aches seeing you this distressed over his wounds, and he so wishes that he could fulfill your demands so you're never in this state again.

but the both of you know better than to have hope for something that could never happen.

❀ MYDEIMOS

mydei is near indestructible, you know this quite well. the crown prince of kremnos is a fierce opponent to reckon with as any and all attacks are quickly regenerated on the spot before he counters with a force more powerful than a wave crashing against steep cliffs.

despite being well aware of this fact and even witnessing this phenomenon in person, it does not stop you from ever worrying about mydei's wellbeing and health. you know he is built for battle and that any sort of attack to him is exhilarating, even more so if his opponent manages to strike him.

and yet, here you are, hands frantically lifting mydei's arms and inspecting the warrior's body for any lingering wounds that may have not healed all the way. eyes of ichor follow your every movement even as your hands, small in comparison to the taller and more muscular man in front of you, cup his face and rotate it around to continue your examination.

your name leaves his lips and you meet his intense gaze. though most would be intimidated by the permanent fierce expression on his face, you can feel your heart flutter against your chest at the way he's looking at you. maybe it's because you can read his expressions well for being around him for so long, but the crimson lion before you is malleable in your touch; his golden irises, a gift from the sun, are nothing but warm and soft when directed at you.

"i'm not so weak as to let the black tide consume me so easily," mydei tells you, his voice low and cool. "you know this well."

as you sigh at his response, you can feel gauntlet covered hands cover your own and the warmth of mydei's face as he leans into your touch. it isn't much, but even the small act of affection soothes your panicked heart; his warmth, after all, is a reminder that he is alive and well in your hands.

"that is true... but," you begin hesitantly. your eyes look into mydei's own, "is it a crime to worry about you? are you not a living being like me?"

"it is not," mydei assures you. "but you shouldn't waste your time on something as insignificant as this." his eyes close, relishing the gentle softness of your hand; a hand that knows nothing but peace and hope, a hand that has not been tainted with the blood of others.

the kremnoan prince hopes that your hand remains that way forever. you do not deserve a life of war and despair.

but mydei knows well enough that that wish is futile. you are his lover and if he were to succumb to strife one day, he cannot fathom how agonized you would be.

your brows furrow at his response and your fingers squeeze harshly onto the skin of mydei's cheek. yet mydei remains unmoved by your sudden pinch on him.

"don't make me laugh, mydeimos. your life is just as significant as any other. stop making statements like that."

despite the stern tone of your voice and the fire that seems to ignite in your eyes, mydeimos finds nothing but warmth in your glare. to someone like him, a prince that has known nothing but the abandonment of his family and the isolation of losing all of his comrades, your heart that is more vast than the sea of souls and yet has enough room to encompass mydei and all of his sins in its warmth and loving embrace is a feeling that he is unfamiliar with, but not one he can or will deny.

you are comfort incarnate, a force that even the strongest warrior succumbs to, and mydei has come to crave your benevolent touch.

but even he cannot grant you your wish of him coming home unscathed. mydei is not one to indulge in white lies and broken promises, and so he sits there as you reprimand him on the importance of life and wellbeing, relishing in your touch that he so wishes to feel for the rest of this lifetime.

❀ PHAINON

you know better than to lift your head and meet phainon’s gaze at this very moment, lest you be swayed by the clear, beautiful blue sea that resides in his eyes and the pout that is for sure on his lips. even the thought of his pathetic and apologetic expression is enough to make your anger spike and you tightly tie the bandage around his injured bicep.

you choose to ignore the whimper that leaves his lips and his attempts to duck his head lower to grab your attention. his free hand, the one rid of any injuries thank goodness, reaches for your own and you're almost faster than your white haired companion is, but ultimately his large hand holds your own.

"don't even think about it, phainon," you tell him through grit teeth. "i already told you that if you were reckless doing your rounds around okhema i would-"

"kill me, i know," phainon finishes your sentence for you. a sigh in frustration leaves your lips and you finally look up at the man before you. his eyes are filled with remorse as eyes as blue as you could imagine look up at you. his perfect, neat brows furrow upwards to really push his apologetic expression.

his hand easily slides through your fingers, intertwining them with his, and he pulls your knuckles to his lips in a gentle kiss. he whispers your name and the flames of your anger begin to dwindle away. mentally, a curse is laid upon him for having this much power over you.

"something this small wouldn't have knocked me down," phainon reassures you with another small kiss to your hand. he brings your knuckle to his cheek and begins to nuzzle it. his skin is soft to the touch and warm, brimming of life blessed by the sun; a reminder that indeed that small wound was just surface level and one your lover won't die from.

still... seeing the open wound on his arm made your heart ache and images of your lover on the floor in a pool of his own blood with his eyes void of the life that you love so much...

"i sincerely apologize... can't you forgive me?"

truthfully, you want to remain angry at him for worrying you so. phainon decides to go out on an expedition on the outskirts of the holy city and here he comes with an injury on his arm and a scuffed up face smiling like he wasn't just hurt, minor or not.

however, with his face now buried into the comfort of your palm and his eyes, like sparkling azure gems, shine with tears threatening to spill over, you're forced to rescind your vexation in hopes of appeasing the whining man before you.

a heavy sigh leaves your lips and you can almost hear phainon perking up at your resignation.

"do this again and i'll tell mydei to beat you up for me the next time the two of you hold a competition."

your threats fall on deaf ears as the sun beams down on you in the form of phainon's smile. typical of a hero blessed by the prophecy, he's handsome in anything that he does and that does not exclude the boyish grin on his lips as his strong arms pull you in for a firm embrace.

it's evident that something worse is bound to happen to your white haired companion should he continue with the prophecy of amphoreus and the twisted fate that lies before him, but you hold onto the small hope that he will be strong enough to overcome anything. a hero loved by all should not fall to such a tragic ending and you pray to any celestial being who would listen to your pleas to spare his life.

[callmenigma]

Could I request anyone one of the Saja Boys (whom you think fits well with this prompt): One of the boys showing reader (their girlfriend) their true form for the first time, and despite expecting reader to run away in fear, she’s actually quite excited by this new revelation, because you know, their boyfriend is a hot demon!! And while reader is practically jumping up and down in excitement, the demon just stares at her for a moment before kissing her with absolute desperation and love before taking her to bed to ruin her ;D

Change

Honestly I couldn't decide which boy should I write so.... I wrote all of them :') Pairings: Saja boys x Fem!Reader Tags:@bypanana, @heartmew, @healmydesires

*

ABBY

He hadn’t meant for you to see. The plan was to tell you—softly, eventually—once he figured out how to explain centuries of fire and darkness without sounding like a walking warning label. But things went sideways tonight. The glamor slipped just a moment too long.

And now?

Now he stood at the far end of your bedroom, breathing hard, eyes glowing molten gold beneath his furrowed brow, his broad chest heaving as his true form rippled across his skin.

His bluish-grey flesh shimmered in the low light, muscles carved in unnatural symmetry. Stripes of deep violet ran like warpaint along his arms and down the edges of his ribs. His hands—clawed, sharp and dangerous—hung at his sides, curled in tight fists like he was preparing to bolt.

But his eyes…

His eyes were fixed on you.

Waiting.

Waiting for the scream.

The flinch.

The step backward.

The confirmation of every fear he had buried under cocky smiles and flexed bravado. But you didn’t run. You didn’t flinch.

You took a step forward—then another—eyes wide with something that absolutely wasn’t fear.

“Abby…” you breathed, your mouth parting in awe. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”

His jaw dropped. Just slightly. You beamed at him.

“Oh my god—those stripes? Are you kidding? You look like a warrior god. And those eyes—holy hell.”

“You’re…” he blinked. “You’re not scared.”

“Scared?” you laughed—laughed. “Baby, I want to lick one of those stripes.”

His breath caught. And then, everything snapped. Abby moved, crossing the room in an instant, grabbing your face in both clawed hands—careful, but desperate—and kissed you like he’d been holding back for centuries.

It wasn’t soft. It was hungry. Open-mouthed and frantic and full of every emotion he’d tried to suppress since he first realized you were becoming his whole world. He kissed you like you were the only lifeline he had left. Like he didn’t deserve you, but he was going to worship you anyway.

“You should’ve run,” he rasped against your lips.

“I should’ve jumped you weeks ago,” you whispered back, your nails already curling around the muscles of his bare shoulders.

A sound tore from his throat—half growl, half groan—and then he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed with supernatural strength and careful reverence, like you were both fragile and sacred.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he said as he lowered you onto the mattress, golden eyes glowing brighter now, the tips of his claws teasing the hem of your shirt. “You’re gonna beg for mercy tonight, sweetheart.”

You grinned, heart pounding. “Then ruin me already.”

And he did.

He worshipped you like a man finally allowed to breathe. Marked your skin with gentle bites—carefully, reverently—along your neck, your collarbone, your thighs. His voice was a steady stream of low, filthy praise between kisses, his claws ghosting over your skin in maddening patterns.

And through it all, the one thing you could never forget— The way he looked at you.

Like you weren’t afraid of the monster. Like you loved it. Like you loved him.

And that? That made you fall even harder.

BABY

You’d been dancing around the subject for weeks now. The little tells. The heat in his skin. The way his eyes flashed gold when he got too worked up. How his grip on your hips would tighten just a little too much when you bratted back. You knew he was holding something back. And finally—tonight—he broke.

“I’m not like you,” he said, standing in your apartment with the lights dim, jaw tight, expression unreadable. “I mean really not.”

You tilted your head, arms crossed, calm as ever. “You mean demon not?”

His eyes twitched. A small flare of panic.

“I knew,” you added, softly. “I’ve always known something was… different.”

He stared at you for a moment, then exhaled slowly and stepped back.

“No screaming,” he said under his breath. “No crying. No running.”

Then the shift happened.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t painful. It was power—rolling through the room like heat. His skin deepened into a smooth bluish-grey, muscles more defined, faint glowing purple stripes climbing along his chest, his forearms, his throat. His hands turned into claws—sharp, inhuman. His eyes glowed molten gold, fierce and unblinking. He was tall. Broad. Otherworldly. Deadly and beautiful.

And he expected you to scream.

You blinked once, staring. Then your mouth dropped open—not in fear, but in awe.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, stepping closer, eyes wide with pure excitement. “You’re gorgeous.”

He froze. “What?”

“Seriously—what the hell, this is what you were hiding from me?” You circled him once like you were inspecting a fine piece of art, reaching out to touch one of the glowing marks on his chest. “You look like the final boss in a video game and I want to lose.”

He just stood there. Staring. Silent. Because nothing in centuries of existence—nothing—had prepared him for this reaction.

And you weren’t done.

Your fingers trailed down the line of his chest, eyes gleaming. “Do these marks glow when you—oh my god do they pulse when you're turned on? Please tell me they pulse.”

Baby's claws twitched. His chest heaved. And then he grabbed you.

His hands—large, rough, still trembling from the shift—wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him, kissing you with a force that left you breathless. Not angry. Not rough. Just… overwhelmed. Desperate.

You kissed him back instantly, arms looping around his broad, inhuman shoulders, pressing your soft body against his new skin.

“You’re not scared,” he whispered against your mouth, voice deeper now, grittier, almost vibrating in your chest.

“Nope,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “I’m soaking.”

He groaned, like your words physically hit him, and next thing you knew, you were in his arms—lifted like nothing—carried to the bedroom with a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

“You wanted the demon,” he growled, laying you down, claws dragging over your thighs with maddening precision. “You’re gonna get him.”

And oh, you did.

He ruined you.

With those glowing hands pinning your wrists, fangs grazing your neck, hips snapping into yours with wicked rhythm, growling praises and threats into your skin:

“Look at you—still mouthing off under me. That brat mouth doesn’t stop, does it?” “You're mine now. Every inch. Every heartbeat.” "Call me a monster again, sweetheart—I’ll show you what monsters do in bed."

And every time your body arched and trembled under him, every time you whimpered his name like a prayer, those glowing stripes lit brighter.

Because you didn’t just accept him. You loved all of him. Even the part he thought you’d never survive seeing.

ROMANCE

He stood across from you in the quiet of his bedroom—backlit by golden light through sheer curtains, his body tense, jaw clenched like he was preparing for a war. But the only thing he was fighting… was himself.

“Don’t scream,” Romance said softly, eyes lowered.

You blinked, tilting your head. “Why would I scream?”

His voice came quieter now, almost a whisper. “Because I’m about to ruin everything.”

You didn’t understand—not fully. But you nodded anyway. Trusting him. Always trusting him.

Romance took a breath. One that trembled slightly.

Then it shifted.

His skin rippled with shadow and light, the illusion of his human form melting away like mist in morning sun. In its place stood something… divine and terrifying all at once.

His skin was a smooth bluish grey, marked with soft, glowing violet stripes that pulsed faintly along his arms and neck like something alive. His hands—larger now—were clawed, lethal-looking. His eyes were glowing gold, not just bright but blinding, like they saw too much.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Because you hadn’t said a word.

You were staring. Heart pounding. Mouth parted. Frozen—but not from fear.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

His golden eyes flicked up. Still braced for it. For the flinch. The disgust. The rejection.

Instead, you took a step closer. And another.

Then—“Can I touch you?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I mean, you’re hot like this,” you said, practically bouncing on your toes. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner? The stripes? The claws?”

“You’re… you’re not scared.”

“I’m turned on,” you laughed, reaching for his hand, tracing the tips of his claws. “Romie, you’re literally hotter than hell right now.”

He stared at you like you’d just set his whole existence on fire. You were smiling. Touching him. Loving this.

Loving him. Even like this.

His breath caught. The tension in his body cracked. And then he grabbed you.

Not roughly—no. With desperate, breathless, overwhelming relief.

He kissed you like he hadn’t had air in years—lips pressing to yours in a rush, trembling slightly from the weight of everything he’d held in. His claws curved carefully against your back, pulling you in like you were everything he’d ever wanted and never thought he could keep.

“You weren’t supposed to stay,” he whispered between kisses. “You were supposed to run.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured, curling your hands around his shoulders. “And I’m dying to see what else those claws can do.”

That was all it took.

Romance growled low in his throat—possessive, reverent, unhinged—and lifted you off your feet, carrying you toward the bed with supernatural ease.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispered, voice dark and shaken with emotion. “You’ll never forget what I am now.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Good.”

MYSTERY

He stood at the far end of the room, motionless. It was the most tense you had ever seen him. Mystery—always quiet, calm, careful. Ghostlike in how he moved through rooms, through crowds, through emotions.

But not now.

Now, he was breathing like a man walking willingly into fire.

"You don't… have to," you said gently, watching the tight clench of his jaw. "If you're not ready, I—"

"I'm not," he said quietly, golden eyes flicking up to meet yours. "But I can't keep pretending. Not with you."

His voice trembled on the edges. "You deserve to know what I really am. And I need to see if you’ll stay once you do."

"Mystery—"

He held up a hand, and his entire body tensed.

Then… it began.

It was subtle at first—his skin seeming to shimmer in the dim light. Then, it deepened. Shifted. The warm human tone of him darkened into a smooth, bluish-grey. Purple markings bloomed along his arms, his collarbone, like tattoos that pulsed faintly beneath the surface. His fingers lengthened, sharpened into claws that flexed once before curling tightly into fists. His eyes glowed—a molten gold that didn’t look human anymore, not even close, you didn't see them clearly but you could see the glow.

And still, he didn't move. Just stood there—shoulders squared, braced for the impact of your rejection. Waiting for you to run. Waiting to be left.

You blinked.

And then, before he could say anything—before the silence could spiral into agony—you grinned.

No, beamed.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, taking a step closer. “You’re beautiful.”

Mystery froze, his breath catching.

You weren’t screaming. You weren’t crying. You were practically vibrating with excitement.

“Wait—those stripes?” You reached for his arm, then paused, unsure if you were allowed to touch. “Can I…?”

He nodded, stunned.

You ran your fingers along one of the purple markings on his forearm. “It’s like ink under your skin. It’s gorgeous. You didn’t tell me your demon form was this hot—oh my god, your eyes—"

“Stop,” he said hoarsely, voice cracking.

You stilled, blinking up at him.

“I thought I’d lose you,” he said, quieter now. “I thought this would be the last time I saw you looking at me like I was… loved.”

“You are,” you said immediately, cupping his sharp, clawed hand in yours. “This doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes you more you.”

He stared at you like you couldn’t be real.

And then, finally, the leash snapped.

Mystery surged forward, kissing you with all the desperation and obsession he’d tried so hard to bury. His claws cupped your face gently—so carefully, like he was terrified of hurting you, even now—but his mouth was anything but gentle.

He kissed you like he was starving.

You melted into him, moaning against his lips as he backed you toward the bed, hands already dragging under your shirt, touching you like he couldn’t believe he was still allowed to.

“Say it again,” he rasped between kisses, his glowing eyes burning into you. “Say you still want me.”

“I want you,” you gasped, fingers tangled in his hair, your back hitting the mattress as he hovered over you. “Always. In every form.”

His chest rumbled—a low, almost inhuman sound that vibrated against your skin as he pressed his body over yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, fangs grazing your throat. “Even now?”

“Especially now.”

Something in him broke at that.

He growled, low and guttural, then sank his teeth gently into your collarbone, leaving a mark. A promise.

You gasped, arching into him—and he lost control.

Mystery worshipped you that night with all the hunger of a demon and all the reverence of a man in love. His hands, his mouth, his words—everything said one thing over and over again:

You saw the monster. And you stayed. And now he’d never let you go.

JINU

He hadn’t meant for you to see it—not yet. Not when he was still learning how to believe that someone like you could want someone like him.

But the shift had happened so fast. His emotions—raw, tangled—had surged. His control cracked. One heartbeat of tension. One flicker of something dark and ancient rising behind his chest…

And then it was there. His true form.

Bluish-grey skin marbled with deep violet markings like jagged lightning across his shoulders and neck, down his chest and arms. Eyes glowing gold—bright, predatory, endless. Clawed hands that trembled with restraint. His mouth—still his, but sharper, darker, demonic.

He stood in front of you like a storm barely leashed. Silent. Rigid. Expecting screams. A flinch. A step back. Maybe even goodbye.

Because you were soft and human and so good, and he was everything a child is warned about in stories whispered under blankets.

You stared. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open.

Then—

“Oh my god, you’re hot.”

Jinu blinked.

You took a step closer. “Wait—is that purple on your skin? Oh my god. I knew you were hiding something.”

“…You’re not scared?”

“Scared?” you repeated, circling around him like you’d just been handed a new favorite toy. “Babe, you have claws. Do you know how many women would sell their souls for a boyfriend with this level of monster fucker appeal?”

Jinu’s mouth opened. Closed. He had no idea what to say.

You grinned up at him, eyes practically glowing. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He finally breathed—something low and shaky, like he didn’t know how to hold it in anymore. “I thought you’d run.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmured, stepping into his space and placing your palms—delicate, warm—on his chest. “You really thought this would scare me?”

“I’m not… good.” His voice cracked on it. “I’m not human. I’ve done things—been things—you deserve better. But I can’t—” His hands hovered near your waist, claws twitching with the need to hold, to keep. “I can’t let you go.”

You looked up at him with so much tenderness it burned.

“Then don’t.”

That was it. That was the last thread of control snapping in his chest.

He kissed you—hard, desperate, almost shaking with the force of everything he’d held back. His claws dug into your waist—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim. Enough to say mine in every way that mattered.

“Say it,” he growled between kisses, lips brushing yours, golden eyes burning down into your soul. “Say you want this. Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you gasped, already breathless. “All of you.”

He didn’t bother taking you to bed.

He carried you. Fast. Cradled in his arms like you were the most fragile, holy thing he’d ever held. And maybe you were.

The second your back hit the sheets, he was on you—worshipping, kissing, devouring. His claws trailed along your thighs, your ribs, your wrists. Always gentle, always careful—yet trembling with restraint.

“Mine,” he whispered against your skin. “You said it. You said you want me.”

“I do.”

“I’ll ruin you for anyone else,” he promised. “Mark you up so good, your soul remembers me.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Jinu growled—low and guttural—as he kissed you again, burying his face in your neck, where your pulse pounded sweetly against his tongue. The place he always bit when he couldn’t take it anymore.

And this time?

He bit.

Because you weren’t afraid of the monster. You wanted him. And he was going to show you exactly what that meant.

[riveredmoon]

drunk running | s. geto

chapter nine: cynical one

synopsis: the morning after the night suguru said those three little words, again. yn fights to say it back.. kind of.

warnings/genre: modern au, non curse au, smau (shoko and kento are back), angst, heartbreak, cursing, yn's avoidant attachment is going to be the death of her

a/n: two more to go. i love yn. i love sugu. and no my heart is NOT breaking (yes it is). (also you guys voted for another suguru angst after this and i'm so ready to give you that one.) ok bye!

you’re not sure what it is that you’re feeling. your chest hurts. your eyes are dry from barely sleeping — you watched suguru’s back rise and fall. you just wanted to make sure he was still there. still yours. 

you don’t know why you stood silent after he said those words to you. or why you let him stay the night. especially when his eyes wouldn’t meet yours, no matter how much you tried to see what he was feeling. 

it’s not like you didn’t know. 

the slippers on your feet scuff off the asphalt foreignly. your arms pebbled with goosebumps. the early morning chill making your bones brittle and your teeth chatter. 

the sun is barely waving hello — snuggling on the horizon as if it’s being forced to start the day. like she has to deal with the consequences of not being able to say three simple words. even when you feel them. even when they weigh you down to walking outside in your pajamas and slippers. 

the runners on the path aren’t meeting your eyes either. they must know that you’re a liar. you wouldn’t look yourself in the eyes either. 

you want to scream at them. tell them they don’t understand. you can’t tell him the truth. you can’t let yourself love him the way he wants you to. 

however, your lips are tightly pursed as you ignore the stares, the chill of the early spring morning, and your brain telling you to turn around. go home. get back in bed and snuggle into the warmth of his pillow. and pretend that this never happened. 

but it did happen. last night. and three years ago. and it’ll probably happen for the rest of your lives, if either of you stick around. 

and now, the infamous calling out to him and talking about his so-called love devotion is underway. you wonder if he’s going to be mean. feel sorry for you this time? you wouldn’t even get mad at him if he was. 

ahead of you, suguru geto is walking. his steps are slow and loving, as if he’s kissing the ground. making sure he doesn’t step on any cracks because he fears it might hurt the earth. always the most thoughtful. 

his shoulders are tense though, rising to his ears. you want to reach out, but you’re at least twenty feet away. and, you’re not sure if he’ll be good at the idea of you trying to comfort him. 

a runner passes him, shouting out a ‘good morning’. he waves, a breeze pushing forward and swaying the ends of his hair. you feel like they’re beckoning you over — but deep down you know that’s just the sleep deprivation talking. 

your eyes trace the way his head is angled to the ground. the slow rising sunrise beaming on the side of his face. his feet kick at whatever is in his way that is not the concrete — gently of course. there is care in every single one of his movements. 

even as he ignores your presence, you know he hears the scuffle of your slippers. the running thoughts about you turning back and just drinking nyquil and going to sleep. you know he feels his name on the tip of your tongue. but, he’s giving you grace or space. 

you don’t know. you don’t really deserve either one. 

his name slips from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“sugu.” your feet stop, your toes curling in the softness of your slippers. it feels like home. suguru’s eyes meeting yours and your toes in the fluff of your house slippers. 

his head spins, the wind tangling his hair. a runner almost bumps into him before he shifts to the side. 

“yn?” 

you hear him trying to coax in the surprise in his voice. but his tired eyes and slight pout tell you what you already knew. he knew you were behind him. he always knows where you are — much to his downfall. 

“i can’t say it.” you whisper. you hear cars starting up and you’re reminded that while you’re stuck on bedroom thoughts and secrets meant to be tucked in pillows, people are starting their days. 

you watch suguru watch you. his eyes are filled with this concern that you don’t think is necessary. you just can’t say three simple words — no need for the alarm. 

but, you shiver when a chill rattles the budding flowers on the trees. and you really can’t see him clearly. he looks like he’s in an aquarium — swimming with the sharks and you’re watching. a really foggy exhibit, you could only hope he makes it out alive. 

“are you okay?” 

his voice is hard, not angry. but, alarmed. and you wish you could make out the emotion in his eyes. 

you ignore the old man running behind you yelling “left”. you don’t even know where your left hand is at the moment. you probably left it in the bed. 

“i can’t say it.” you speak a little louder. your voice cracking and you know you’re far too gone. not a smidge of embarrassment is coddling its way up your throat. just regret. 

“you should take my jacket,” you could make out the figure of suguru stepping closer to you.

his steps are still soft, matching the tone in his voice. 

you hear shops opening — the gates rattling in the air. the slow signs and movements of the early morning. you smell the bakery baking their daily loaf. the domesticity of it causes you to break. 

or maybe it’s how the sun is shining on suguru. soft fluttery specks of gold warming on his skin. his arm is still out reaching, waiting for you to take hold of it. take his jacket. take his warmth. 

you pull your arms closer to your chest. and you start to cry — hot, steaming tears offering you warmth as they glide down your face on their own accord. and then, you could finally see him. 

he isn’t the gold shimmery figure that was him. but, he’s yours. soft eyes and black raven hair. the easy grin isn’t there, but in other situations you know would’ve been. 

and that makes you cry even harder. those embarrassing chest rattling sobs squeaking out of you. 

“i can’t love you,” you gasp out. your hands clawing at your own arms. you really hate that you can’t see. 

and like a slow motion film reel — every little thing that made what you just said a lie flashes in front of you. the first slide is suguru’s look alike. a haunting idea that even when he couldn’t look at you, couldn’t see you — you sought him out. no hiding from his look alike, just pretending and hope from you. they never could be him. 

images of your hand running along the drink cooler at supermarkets, always grabbing his favorite drink. you wouldn’t even notice until you got home. the smile he’ll send your way when he’d go in the fridge. you’ll hide the grin stretching across your lips. 

seeing him again after three years — almost falling into your hand, like you knew he would. the red umbrella peeling in the corners in your brain. the raindrops on his shirt matching the ones falling on to yours now. 

“but i do.”

he sucks in a breath, and you’re happy for the sound despite it being sharp and not mixing with the slight bustle of the day beginning. 

it lets you know that he’s there. you’re weirdly okay with that. 

“but i can’t love you the way that you need me too.”

“which way is that?” 

“by not walking away.” 

the silence is loud — louder than the bakers humming their tunes, the runners’ feet stomping as they run around the two idiots standing in the way. louder than the sun and its shine on him. 

his raven hair looks almost blue, and you want to stop everything. just to give yourself to take him in – you don’t know if it’ll be another three years until the next time you can. 

he looks like your suguru. that's all you could really see, all you could want at the moment. 

his arm with his jacket is still outstretched— still waiting for you. it’s almost supportive, waiting for you to find it and lean on it. 

“i don’t want you to hate me,” you whisper. the tears have finally stopped falling. but everything is blurry — suguru looks too bright. 

but you see him, you know you see him. you see him watching you. an unrecognizable look on his face. you’re sure you could establish every fleeing emotion that graces his features, but this one is one you can’t decipher. 

his eyebrows are raised, just enough that it looks like he entered his surprise birthday party. a smile doesn’t grace his lips, it’s almost a scowl — but there’s no anger in his eyes. he looks confused, but with so much more added to it. 

“you know i can’t hate you.” his voice is rushed, and breathless. you wonder if you missed when he was running too. 

“but you did.” 

“no -“ his face scrunches in confusion. you want to laugh at him, crack a joke at how his nose scrunched — like that kitten you saw yesterday. 

but a runner almost runs into you, reminding you that you’re not in a comfortable enough environment to joke with him. it’s cold out here, and rushed — not like the slow nights, packed warmly in either of your beds. where words and jokes and feelings are free to fly around. 

“you couldn’t even look at me three years ago.” 

you think about the night before his graduation, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in weeks. everything stopped for you in that moment — the bar’s music, sukuna’s rough hands on your hips stilled and ignored. suguru’s eyes rushed to find solace elsewhere, life starting up again quickly after. 

“i was hurt.” he says it so casually, like it’s the most random thing in the world. yes, people get hurt, but people don’t get hurt by you. you never let it get that far. well, you typically don’t. 

“and i’ll keep hurting you if i love you.” you admit. your throat is starting to hurt from the gasps and sobs earlier. 

suguru stares at you. not one part of his body moving. you want to be the one to ask if he’s okay now. 

birds start to chirp, like happy love songs floating through the closer up flower buds. drifting through the laces of the runners, giving them more power for their run.

the songs are mocking you and suguru. 

then he takes a step forward, and you didn’t realize how close you guys actually were. he’s still an arm’s length away but you think you feel the warmth of his chest, like he’s still in the bed with you. his hands are still clawing at your hair, so that he could have your shampoo etched on his fingertips for later when he misses you. 

“do you think i’m having fun now?” 

you step back at the urgency of his question. at the bite in his voice. the way his narrowed eyes are still on your face, no blinking, no skimming up your pajamas and down to your slippers. 

“i follow behind you three years later like a fucking masochist,” he lets out a dry laugh and you grab onto your arms even tighter. nails digging into your skin. you won’t be surprised if you leave a pool of your blood right where you’re standing. “i’m obviously not having a good time.” 

“but it’s going to end and i’m going to be the one to leave.” you rush out, and you don't even really believe what you're saying, you think you have to speak after him, keep pushing him away with things you know hurt. 

he lets out a scoff — and it’s still not angry. but it’s tired, like you. maybe your sleep deprivation has clung onto the sounds his body is making. 

“what are you even saying? no one is forcing you to leave.” his tone is bitter, but soft. like a gruff you let out when you find out your favorite restaurant ran out of your meal. 

it just wants to be understood. even knowing that, you can’t do what he wants. you’re choosing to not understand. 

“just fucking love me.”

“i do.” 

the birds start to chirp a little louder, you wished they were loud enough to sing over you. but suguru’s heavy breathing is telling you that he heard. he always hears you. 

“say it.”

“this was supposed to be simple.” 

simple. easy. not real. 

“say it then.” he ignores you, his arms pushing towards you. like he’s trying to push all his courage to you. 

it didn’t work. you knew it wouldn’t. suguru did too. 

you shake your head. it feels heavy, like the sun’s sitting on it — garnering all its shine towards suguru. pushing you into the ground, into the stillness of earth so you could ignore all the rush of emotions, as you usually do.

“i’m not brave like you,” your voice is watery and shaken. you really don’t want to fucking cry again but he looks blurry and your lash line is brimming with liquid you wish was rain from the night you guys rekindled. “i don’t trust good things enough to hold them.”

the smell of coffee wafts between you two, and you almost reach out your hand to have it finally meet his. so that you could tug him along, as if he’ll fight it, to a coffee shop and order him a black coffee with not one but two sugars. and watch him drink it and let out those morning sighs that only coffee drinkers emit. 

you’ll pretend you like the smell. just to sit and watch him. just to be in front of him. to be the one to do something for him.

but the silence is loud, the coffee smell is even louder. your stomach is starting to hurt and you really wished you turned back all those moments ago. 

he stares at you. eyebrows still raised. the breeze that you seem to have forgotten about graces his cheeks with the slightest pink twinge. it’s almost cute. 

“huh,” he pauses. you cringe, getting ready for whatever harsh word he may say. your defense at zero, you’re not going to fight. whatever he says is going to be true, because he knows you. he knows that. and you pretend that you don’t. “you really haven’t changed?” 

“were you expecting me to?” 

he narrows his eyes at you and shrugs. his shoulders finally leaving their tense position, falling along with his long arms. his jacket still folded in his arms. 

“i wasn’t supposed to be expecting anything from you.” he mumbles, his eyes finally looking down at your slippers. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. your freezing fingers are actually feeling sweaty in your arms. the fluff of your slippers isn’t comforting anymore. your feet are ready to join the runners, turn and bolt to the warmth of your bed. you can change your sheets and throw these slippers out, and hug the picture frame to sleep. 

“you’re going to truly end up alone.” 

and with your body ready for harsh words, ones to tangle with his feelings of sorrow from all those years ago — you pause. not at the statement, because it’s something you’d told yourself countless of times. but, the sadness in his voice is so thick you could almost swim through it like fog. barely seeing him, just his feelings and words swimming in front of you. 

and again, the words don’t affect you — the effect of the words on him do. knowing that he pities you, instead of himself because you can’t give him what he needs, twists your gut in a way that feels like it’ll never be normal again. 

so in your emotional haze, you do your best act — push and deflect. 

“so are you if you keep waiting.” 

you want to bite at the air like a dog playing fetch. grabbing the words and tucking them into your cheek — snarling whenever he comes too close to get them. 

suguru lets out a sigh. one that you could tell was stuck in his chest from maybe even before he told you that he loved you. it sounds lived-in, like it knew his secrets and yours. you could see it leave out of him like a ghost — quick and haunting. sorrowful and cold. 

all you could do is pull your chin to your chest, close your eyes, and cry. you want to do more. all at the expense of yourself. maybe pull your hair, jump in front of the next runner — twisting their ankle, scraping your knee. 

it would hurt less than this. and suguru could watch you hurt physically — in hopes that it compares. 

you could hear suguru tightly nod his head, his eyes narrowed — not out of anger but pure pity. you rather the fucking anger. you could almost feel his hair tickle you as the wind sways as he turns his back to you despite being feet away. 

and for the first time, you can’t be the one to turn away. you don’t think you want to. it’s not deserved. 

taglist: @re-tired-succubus, @luvvcho, @iluvujt, @smolcooki33, @candy-s72, @starmapz, @shokosbunny, @emlient, @loveyislost, @whatismatildethinkingabout, @shibataimu, @11thlife02, @se-phi-roth, @frootloopscos, @risagichi, @sttaejoon-blog, @vampshxde, @corvid007, @marsavie, @vorfreudevortex, @bubblegumcat229, @fairygardenprincesss, @lily-isalittlegirl, @sukunasrealgf, @vimzya, @sexylexy12, @chaos-unlimited, @sukunasbigtiddiewifey, @timedisappears, @goonforgeto, @lily-bisque

[allfearstofallto]

I’m curious to know if you had any Knight!Childe HCs in ur mind that u didn’t include in the one shot u did?

Omg I think I actually needed this 😭😭😭 I've been working so hard on my visual novel and I needed to think about something other than that!!!

Hero of the Nation! Childe is referenced in fics [here] and [here]

Contrary to popular belief, there was no prophecy about a hero who slays the monsters that torment the people of the land. Although, after Ajax came home touting the demon’s head on horseback, rumors spread of a long lost story that he happened to completely embody.

Ajax only went to the military after a couple of years of aimlessly wandering through life. He comes from a family that's neither rich nor poor, but with so many mouths to feed, older and younger than him, he knew he couldn't live off of their money much longer. It was when he decided to enlist because it was simple that he found a love for violence.

He was given the nickname Childe after training. Initially, it was an insult. Those around him said that he did the bare minimum, having to be taken care of as if he were a child on the battlefield. He'd long since proven himself, but the name just stuck. Plus, he didn't seem to mind it either way.

More yandere adjacent headcanons about him:

The way he is around you and the way he is around others is like two completely different people. His personality is charming no matter what, although few people know that that's also a ploy. But with you, he's different. Needy even. Desperate for your attention and affection. He plays to his positive traits to an almost embarrassing degree to try and entice you.

Ajax is skilled in combat. Hand to hand and swordplay. That doesn't mean he's never been injured before. His body is littered with scars. Pain barely phases him, but when he sees you grow worried at the sight of his wounded body, he pretends to be in more agony than he actually is. Just to get you to dote on him.

Childe was initially supposed to marry the second princess. A high honor. She was entranced with him long before he became the hero for the nation. Childe agreed more out of obligation rather than any true feelings for her. He intended to live his life muddling through a loveless marriage, until he laid eyes upon you for the first time. He knew then and there that a marriage with you wouldn't be cumbersome. His engagement was actually broken off a few days before he left for the hunt. The rest was history.

Ajax spent a lot of money on his proposal gifts for you. A lot. After becoming the hero, he had more than enough money to spare. He could feed his entire family multiple times if he so desired. He even threw in a few gifts for your parents. You not taking them was a blow to his pride.

Ajax has a pretty face, that much is known. That's possibly why he was able to get away with so much brutality. But he didn't have to try for that prince like beauty, it came naturally, so he was lacking in everything else. Especially his hands. Years of holding a sword and throwing tight punches meant that his fingers and palms were callused and rough to the touch. He never minded, it didn't bother him that he had a warrior's hands. But when he traced those hands down your body, he despaired in being able to feel the softness of your skin. He immediately started a very intensive hand care regime after.

Many people speak of how the hero just can't get enough of his wife and that much is true. You go with him practically everywhere and the schedule of a new general is rigorous. He brings you around, mostly because he loves you, but also because he fears that you'll run away. You've been in a lot of places you weren't supposed to, a lot of meetings you weren't meant to hear. If you're smart enough, you could use that information against Ajax, possibly to get away. Even if you fail, you won't be punished. Ajax would slay the entire kingdom before he lets you get tried for treason.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Stan gets turned into a sword and stuck into a rock by some crazy wizard

Hmmmm. Hmmmmm.

Stan ran into a crazy wizard who told him he 'was the one who'd strike down evil' and that the only way to make this a reality was to make Stan a sword about it. Stan can fully talk here, being a magic sword, but annoys the wizard so much while he travels around to find 'the perfect spot' the wizard puts him to sleep until he gets drawn by 'the one worthy to wield him'. Maybe this wizard glimpsed the prophecy that had Stan kill Bill, maybe he was just insane. Either way, Stan's now a sword stuck in a rock. He's a very nice sword! Red hilt, gold pommel, looks kinda like a fish, sparkling with magic.

In Gravity Falls of course, because where else would he be.

Hmm. Here's the thing. The obvious choice would be for Ford to be the one to draw Stan, he pulled the trigger, he Stan's twin, its a perfect match!

Which is why i think it'd be really funny if it was Fiddleford. He made the gun that brain blasted Stan, and you know Ford would be so salty about it regardless if the prophecy was real or not. Especially when Stan starts yapping.

Ford finds this magic sword in the stone, with some kind of prophesy inscribed on the base of the rock of dubious legitness, obviously pauses to doodle it in his diary, and then goes to try and pull it and!

Nothing. Probably means nothing (you know he wanted to pull that sword from that stone so bad). Runs some tests, then shows it off to Fiddleford so they can nerd over it like the nerds they are. Speculate about what hero of destiny they think is going to draw the blade, Ford shows off his science muscles as it refuses come out (haha look how stuck it is (Ford was hoping he'd get it this time))

Fiddleford goes to give it a try, as you do, and it comes out like butter. Both Fords stare at in shock, light shining down on FIddleford, music plays, the clearing seems brighter.

Before Fiddleford can start having a panic attack about a destiny he didn't want, Stan wakes up and has Opinions about the skinny guy holding him. Just starts yelling about where he is, who this nerd is, and where that wizard went. Fiddleford babbles something about destiny and Stan cuts him off and tell him the only destiny he has is to track down the guy who stuck him in that rock and use Stan to stab him a bunch.

Then Fords there, and Stan tries to fake out not knowing who he is while also trying to whisper at Fiddleford to book it so he can skip having this conversation forever. What is Ford doing here in the middle of the woods? Why is Stan a sword?

This is the argument Ford would love to have while throttling Stan's hilt, but whoops! Looks like Fiddleford is the only one who can hold Stan without feeling like he's holding Stan's full human weight. Looks like Fiddleford either has to hold Stan the whole time they're yelling at each other or stick Stan back in the rock. Or set him on the ground. Anything to make it so he's not in the middle of Ford trying to interrogate Stan for details on this wizard and prophecy, only for Stan to have literally 0 idea. Stan was minding his own business and got jumped, he has no idea what's happening or how to unsword himself.

Time for everyone to go on a Magical Quest to hunt down the wizard and grill him for details, with Fiddleford the reluctant Hero, Ford the Seething Scientist/wizard, and Stan the rouge trapped as a sword who's trying to steer Fiddleford towards a life of crime.

Story says the prophecy was real, and that Fiddleford has to strike down evil to undo the curse. Maybe they give up on hunting down the wizard and go back to portal building, and Stan's on Fiddleford when his face gets sucked into the portal. Instead of going crazy Fiddleford panic swings Stan at Bill, (as he's unfortunately gotten into the habit of instead of making a memory gun. Just slices his fears away), and Bill is sent way screaming while Ford drags back Fiddleford and his now human brother. Maybe Ford is unable to stop Bill from coming through, weirdmaggedon starts, and Fiddleford drives Stan through Bill's eye, killing him and returning reality back to normal. Maybe its a totally different evil they uncover on their Wizard Quest and Fiddleford learns to face his fears and wield a sword while he fights demons.

Comedy says the evil was something incredibly minor, like Fiddleford slices a butterfly in half and Stan is suddenly a man. The evil was actually bean cans being hard to open, and Stan gets used as a can opener and is suddenly a man. The wizard hated technology and Fiddleford panic chucked Stan through the TV and then they had to pick glass out of Stan's arms, something like that.

All of that is possible even without Stan being able to talk, there's just more of a shock factor of finding a groaning Stan in the TV and Stan has unheard commentary about how they're both nerds.

If the prophecy was totally made up then Stan's stuck as Fiddlefords emotional support weapon until they find a way to unsword him. Is somewhat terrifying getting swung around and awkward being around Ford (who is def jealous that Fiddleford pulled the Stan from the Stone. Not only did he want to do it, Stan's his brother? It just makes sense!). Stan misses having hands, and eating. And feeling cold or warm. Just has to live with Fiddleford carrying him around.

Even worse if he can't talk here, as they have no idea the swords alive or that there is no greater destiny for Fiddleford. Just two guys and a sword one pulled out of a stone and is using to hack at all the anomalies to help him feel better. Does the curse fade? Does Fiddleford have to feel like he slayed evil? Is Stan stuck as a sword forever? Who knows!

[angelcakeeee]

ITS HERE!!!!!

REDACTED ACTORS AU BLOOPER REELS PART THREE!

As always, I absolutely MUST thank my dear friend @us3rnam3-r3dact3d for not only allowing me to adapt parts of his Firefighter AU into an Actors AU, but helping me create the world and decide plot points!!!

If you haven’t read his story yet, go read it!! You can find it here!!

THERE ARE PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS OF CERTAIN CHARACTERS!!! All listeners, as usual, are gender ambiguous.

Tags: redacted audio, redacted, Sam, Darlin, Quinn, dddne, hurt/comfort, actors AU, firefighter AU, Quinn is actually a good guy besides the character he plays I swear

Trigger Warnings: acted out lead up to implied SA, ptsd responses, depictions and descriptions of anxiety and shame, heated arguments, heavy topics, mentions of implied past SA endured by the narrating character, portrayals of noncon/dubcon

Please read at your own discretion! If you are not in a space where you can read this type of thing, please take care of yourself! I love every single one of you very much and do not want any of you to subject yourselves to something that may harm you.

Summary: Darlin’ is a loaded gun. Quinn picks a fight. Sam is a saint, not a stranger. (Based on chapter 24 of The World (It Burns Through Me))

(Darlin’)

Today was going to be rough. You knew that. You carried an all too familiar tension in your shoulders that made others in your presence slightly unsettled.

It was a tension that your mother used to carry too. A tension you had learned to fear, a tension that meant go. Run. Hide. A tension that meant your mother was a coiled spring— a loaded gun— ready to shoot anyone who came too close to its trigger.

And, no matter how much you resented it, that tension seemed as if it were a hereditary trait.

You’d filmed the beginning of the scene already, you’d done a majority of the parts you had with Sam in this section on a different day. This was the scene you had been dreading. You couldn’t lose the acidic taste that lingered in the back of your throat. It taunted you. A reminder of just how much you didn’t want to do this scene.

You opened the door to the room, the smell of fake smoke filling your nose.

Quinn was lying on the bed, boots on, over top of the covers. You briefly wondered if it was meant to be a parallel to how your character never seemed to take off their shoes either. Though, with Quinn it seemed to be out of comfort. Disregard for anyone who might need to clean up after him. You couldn’t help but to compare the image in front of you to another one that was tucked away in your mind. One you desperately tried every day to shove further and further back into the depths of your memory.

For a split second, beer bottles replaced cigarette boxes, and you swore you could smell the stench of cat piss in your nose. It caused you to hesitate, to hold your breath as your brain blanked on the words you were supposed to say.

“It took you ages.” Oh yeah. Quinn spoke first. You forgot. “I almost can’t blame you. Your little love nest out in the woods is delightful. But you’re not as loud with him as you are with me.”

Are.

You are with me.

Quinn said the line perfectly, but the words still rang through your head like a dissonant chord on a poorly tuned piano. You finally walked up to the bed. You took the lit cigarette from his hand and took a drag. It was a little bit damp from his lips. Something about it made your stomach churn.

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the bed. You did so as if you were afraid it would burn. Maybe you were. The muted episode of Forensic Files playing on the TV both drew you in and forced you to avert your gaze at the same time. Typically you loved true crime. Something about the way Quinn stared at the screen so indifferently irked you.

“It was always going to end up like this.” The words nearly caused you to flinch. Your shoulders drew closer to your ears. Quinn’s voice swirled around you just as the smoke did. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The word was almost croaked out on your part, the first half barely an excuse for an exhale. “I guess so.” Your chest burned. Your legs moved to rest on the bed. Your back met with the headboard.

“So uncertain.” You saw Quinn turn to look at you out of your periphery. “Try and sound just a bit happy for me, Precious.” You couldn’t look at him. Those blue eyes of his. God were they even blue? They were so devoid of any color so— dead. You knew if you looked at him that he would be staring right back. Looking at you like you were some piece of meat. A toy to play with. Something that couldn’t help but fall into his hands and play into his fucked up fantasies.

Your breath shuddered when you inhaled. Your eyes stung, and it took everything in you to get you to move your body.

You slowly— movement by painful movement— curled into Quinn’s chest. Your head rested on his protruding collarbone, your knees curling up to rest on his bony hip. Your hand rested gingerly atop his chest. You could feel his heartbeat gently tapping at your fingertips. His body slowly wrapped around you.

It wasn’t comforting.

No, his hand snaked around you and rested on your shoulder. His fingers wrapped around you just tight enough for you to know he was holding you. His thumb prodded at your skin. His other hand moved to your thigh, shifting you so that instead of both legs curled into your chest, you laid with one leg straight and the other hiked up onto him.

You felt exposed. Vulnerable. Your brain couldn’t stop screaming about how easy it would be to hurt you like this. And your body couldn’t help but submit to it. You hated that about yourself.

Slowly, Quinn worked you onto your back. He’d pretty much switched your positions, with him lazily lying on top of you. You didn’t quite realize when you had stopped watching the TV and instead had started staring up at the ceiling. Your lips had parted, brows beginning to knit themselves together. You had a hand on Quinn’s back. Just resting there. You had a line. You couldn’t remember it. Your mouth shut when Quinn’s face neared your neck. Your lip quivered, and the first tear of many breached your waterline.

He kept going. He had no reason not to. It was in the blocking for you to cry. You had to say something. Do something. Do anything! Quinn’s hand found the hem of your shirt, he pushed it upwards while he mouthed at the skin of your neck. You couldn’t force yourself to do anything other than let it happen. It would be good footage, you thought. Realistic. You let out a soft sob when Quinn’s hand found the button of your jeans. He tugged them down with an ease that nearly pushed the bile out from your throat into your mouth.

Your hands were gathered by his, pinned to the pillow above your head. He loomed over you. Straddled your hips. You finally looked at him. You felt the cold metal of the prop knife pressed against your throat, and all you could do was dart your eyes between his. You knew how pitiful you must look under him. Such a stoic, angry person getting turned into a pathetic, vulnerable mess pinned to a dirty motel bed.

Your weakness didn’t take over until you saw the twitch of his eyebrows. The brief flash of concern and confusion washing over Quinn’s face. At the smallest acknowledgment of your vulnerability and the fact that you weren’t moving to the planned combat, your face twisted further into its display of mortification and grief. You felt your body quiver against him, and you felt the grip on your wrists instantly loosen.

“Cut!”

Quinn had looked over to the cameras and called the word out just a little too sharply for your comfort. You flinched. That concerned him. He moved off of you and stood next to the bed, your body moving you before your brain could catch up. You sprang up from the bed and hugged your own arms after hurriedly pulling up your pants, Quinn took a step forward, a genuine look of worry on his face. You mirrored him and took a step away, not looking at him.

“I’m fine.” You breathed, not even processing whatever he had said.

Someone on the production team made an annoyed comment, and Quinn immediately spit something nasty their way. You didn’t bother to stick around for whatever argument the two were starting to get into. You walked right out the door of the motel room— out to where people were unknowingly taking breaks and talking to one another. Sam was one of these people.

You knew he would follow you. Maybe that’s why you passed where you knew he’d see you. You walked around the back of the motel and angrily wiped the tears from your face.

“Darlin’?” His soft, southern accent drawled around his words like how sugar dissolved into tea.

“I’m fine.” You spat. You didn’t face him. You were pacing. You were so involved with your pacing, in fact, you hadn’t realized how close Sam had gotten until he spoke again.

“What happened? You sure don’t look okay.” His hand grabbed onto your shoulder. You whipped around to face him, just about backhanding him to get his arm away from you.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Your words shot at him like hot bullets, doing their best to sear his skin and push him away. And yet— your breath came out in gasps and your hands quivered like leaves on a cold fall morning. “You don’t know anything about me! You don’t fucking know if I’m okay or not!” You got in his face. He didn’t back away. You saw that as a challenge.

“You don’t know me, you don’t know what I have been through, you don’t know how I act. You are a fucking stranger to me. Stop trying to act all fuckin— wacked out boy savior on me.” Your nose nearly touched his as you screamed at him. “You know nothing! Get the fuck away from me!”

You stayed in his face. Huffed into it and searched his features. You wanted the satisfaction of making him afraid of you. You wanted to see how terrified and disgusted he was with how mean you could be.

You didn't see it.

Instead, you saw those big, brown eyes looking at you with a sincerity that cracked that anger inside of you. Your mouth closed, and your angry huffs became shaky, uneven breaths. Your scowl faltered, breaking down into a pitiful little expression. You felt a sob leave your lips, and your forehead found Sammy’s chest.

“I’ve gotchu’.” He promised, his arms wrapping around you. One hand cradled your head to his body while the other slowly rubbed your back. You cried into him for so long someone eventually found you two. Sammy had simply shooed them off with a wave of his hand. You let yourself come apart against him, you knew he would catch you. He always did. He held you with no protest— gently swaying the two of you back and forth and cooing soft praises to you until you’d calmed down. You pulled your face away from him and let his hands cup your cheeks. His thumbs soothingly wiped away your tears.

You took one last shuddering breath, guided by Sammy, and heard footsteps approaching. You turned to see Quinn rounding the corner. He looked nervous, guilty. Like a dog that had been caught doing something bad. He had your jacket in his hands. The one you wore to film every day.

“I’m so sorry.” He didn’t walk all the way up to you. Kept a healthy distance. You felt Sam give you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. You turned fully and closed the gap between the two of you. Quinn lifted your jacket as you neared him, and he helped you put it on.

“I should have said something.” You mumbled.

“No. It’s not your fault, my love.” His lips found your forehead, and you curled into his chest out of instinct. His hands found your body— a softer, more welcomed parallel to just moments before. His thumbs traced over you. You sniffled and let your hands slowly fist in the fabric at the back of his shirt. “You did nothing wrong.” He assured.

You let yourself calm the rest of the way down in his arms, and then your brows furrowed. You lifted your head out of Quinn’s neck and gave a pout in Sam’s direction. He couldn’t help but chuckle and obliged you, walking over to the two of you and embracing you both. He and Quinn shared a quick kiss before they both settled their attention back to you.

You are okay.

You are safe.

They are safe.

They will hold you for as long as you need.

A/N:

OHHHH BOYYY!! This chapter is rough for sure. Please please PLEASE be kind to yourself. This was a lot to write, and I’m sure it was a lot to read as well. Tell me your thoughts on poly!sam/darlin/quinn!!! Send me asks!!! Ask about anything and everythingggg!!!!!!!!

I love you all!! Until next time!!!

[devotedlyteenagemusic]

You Are Enough M.S.

wc: 2200

It doesn’t take long for you to get to the triplets house. You only live just down the street. So when you get a call from Chris and Nick that Matt’s girlfriend had broken up with him two days ago and he’s refusing to leave his room, you run to get his favorite snacks and head straight over.

You had told him before that something about her seemed off about her, but he was happy. As long as he was happy, that’s all you could ask for. You get to their house, Chris letting you inside. 

"He’s in his room, he won’t come out, Nick and I have both tried to go in, but he won’t let us," Chris explains as you walk in. 

You head to his room, knocking softly on his bedroom door. "Can I come in? I brought your favorite," you’re met with silence behind the door, but he doesn’t say no, so you take it as a reluctant invitation to come in, as he knows you won’t leave until you get your way.

"You wanna talk about it?" You ask as you enter his bedroom, sinking down on the floor next to him, handing him the bag of snacks.

"She told me she didn’t want me. That she wanted a real man. That I wasn’t enough of a man to be considered hers," he spoke quietly, like he was afraid to say it too loud, in fear that it might become even more real than it already was.

"You okay, Bubs?" An equally as quiet question.

His head tilts back, letting out a loud sigh. "Obviously I’m not okay, kid," he tried to hide the cracking of his voice, the tears that began to well up in his eyes.

"Look at me, Matty, just for a second, yeah?"

"Yeah?" His eyes are glossy with tears, one escaping and running down his face.

"You deserve someone who appreciates you. Someone who appreciates all of you for who you are," you mutter a calm reassurance.

He lets out a sad stifled chuckle, looking away again. "Yeah, well, maybe that person isn’t out there," he says as he wipes away the stray tear with a sniffle.

You gently grab his face to make him look towards you. "Wrong response, Matt. Say it. Say you deserve someone who appreciates you. You deserve someone who loves you. You deserve good things to happen to you."

He lets out a small sigh before obeying, knowing you wouldn’t stop until you were happy with how he said it. "I deserve someone who appreciates me. I deserve someone who loves me. I deserve good things to happen to me," he says in a mocked tone to hide how emotional he was becoming.

You shake your head, not happy with it. "Again, Matt. You know I’m not letting you stop until it clicks at least a little bit. Say it again."

He groans with annoyance, but does it again, aiming for it to be a bit more convincing this time. "I deserve someone who appreciates me. I deserve someone who loves me. I deserve good things to happen to me," as he says it, a few tears run down his face which he quickly wipes away with the sleeve of his favorite hoodie.

"Again," you were persistent with it, aiming for him to at least somewhat believe it by the time you were done.

He lets out a breath he was holding in before saying it, "I deserve someone who appreciates me. I deserve someone who loves me. I deserve good things to happen to me. Happy yet?" He asks it softly, with a choked voice as he holds back tears.

"One more time for good measure," you say quietly to him, hand tracing his back.

"I deserve someone who appreciates me. I deserve someone who loves me. And I deserve good things to happen to me!" He spoke firmly, his eyes locked on yours to show that he was beginning to believe it.

"C’mere," you pull him into you and he obeys, moving closer to you. His head now resting against your shoulder, his hands gripping the fabric of your hoodie tightly as he cries softly.

"You can let it out, Matt. I’m not gonna judge you at all. You just got broken up with. You’re allowed to cry, bubbas" you whisper softly, rubbing his shoulder.

He buries his face in your shoulder as he finally lets go, sobbing hard. He holds onto you tightly, his body trembling as he lets his emotions out. He had been holding everything in, bottling up all the pain and hurt he was feeling from the break up. And now with you here, comforting him, he finally allows himself to crumble.

“You, Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, are enough.”

He just cries harder as you speak those words. He’s had doubts for so long about if he was good enough, if he was worth enough. But hearing you say the words, it was like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. He doesn't respond verbally, instead just nodding against your shoulder, still gripping onto your shirt tightly.

"Nope, not just nodding, you gotta say it. Gotta make sure you believe it," you speak against his head.

He sniffles before repeating the words again, his voice still shaky. "I am enough." He speaks it with a little more conviction this time, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You shake your head, "Again."

He takes another deep breath, his grip on you tightening a little "I AM ENOUGH." he says it with slightly more confidence this time, his voice still cracking from the emotion.

"Well damn, kid…" you chuckle at the small outburst of emotion.

He finally lifts his head off your shoulder, looking up at you with teary eyes. A small laugh escapes his lips, as he tries to compose himself. "You're really gonna make me say it 50 more times before you're satisfied, aren't you?"

"Maybe just two more?" You say, holding up two fingers.

He rolls his eyes playfully, a hint of a smile creeps onto his face. "You're relentless, you know that?" He lets out a sigh before nodding. 

He was ready to repeat those words again, if that's what it took to convince him that he was enough. "I'm enough. I deserve someone who appreciates me and… and loves me for who and what I am."

"And?" You ask him as you see the hesitation.

"And I deserve good things to happen to me," he spoke the words softly, a hint of doubt still nagging at the back of his mind. He wants to believe them, but years of feeling unloved and unworthy made it difficult for him.

You press a small kiss to the top of his head, something not uncommon for you to do to each other. He closes his eyes as you kiss the crown of his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He relaxes a bit, feeling comforted by the familiar gesture. It was one of the many ways you two showed your affection for each other, simple and yet meaningful, and purely platonic.

"Now can you say it while fully looking at me, so I know you believe it, Matt?" You ask as you adjust him to sit up a bit.

He takes a deep breath before nodding, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes. He stares at you for a moment, studying your features, before speaking. His eyes are still glossy but there's a hint of determination in them now. 

"I am enough," he says firmly, looking directly into your eyes. There's a slight tremble in his voice, but he doesn't look away. He wants you to see the sincerity in his eyes, wants you to know that he's starting to believe it himself.

He swallows hard, blinking away the tears that have started welling up in his eyes again. He takes a shaky breath before continuing, his voice was firm but still shaky. "I deserve someone who appreciates me," he pauses for a moment, his eyes still locked with yours. 

The words almost get caught in his throat, but he forces them out. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him, like you're looking directly into his soul.

"I deserve someone who loves me," he says with more confidence this time, the words flowing a bit more easily off his tongue. His eyes never leave yours, as if he's searching for confirmation, needing to see that you believe in him too.

"And?" You push him for the last one.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze flickers from your eyes to the floor. He takes another shaky breath before finally saying the last sentence he needs to say.

"I deserve good things to happen to me." He speaks it softly, the words hanging in the air between you both. He wants to believe them, wants to hold on to them like a lifeline, but the doubt still hangs over him, a dark cloud waiting to burst.

"Last time, but you gotta say them to yourself this time," you say, standing up, sticking your hand out to help him up, and moving him to stand in front of his mirror.

He nods, standing in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. He takes one last deep breath before fixing his gaze on his reflection.

"I am enough," he starts with the first one. His voice is still a bit shaky, but there's a hint of conviction in it. "I deserve someone who appreciates me," he continues, his eyes flickering from his reflection to yours, like he's checking to see if you're still there, still believing in him.

"Keep going, Matt. Tell yourself. Make sure you believe it. It doesn’t matter if I believe it, even though I do. It matters if you believe it." 

He nods, taking another deep breath before returning his gaze to his reflection. His eyes are locked on his own, his expression focused and determined.

"I deserve someone who loves me," he says slowly, the words pouring out of him like a waterfall. He wants to believe them, needs to believe them. He needs to convince himself that he is worthy of love, that he deserves to be loved. "I deserve good things to happen to me."

You wait a second, letting him bask in the affirmations before speaking up. "You feel better now?"

He nods, his shoulders sagging slightly as the weight seems to lift off of him. He's still emotional and his eyes are still teary, but he does feel better. "Yeah, thanks to you," he glances up at you with a small smile, feeling grateful to have a friend like you who always seems to know how to make him feel better.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close to you. He hugs you back just as tightly, burying his face in your shoulder. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your familiar scent as he clings to you like a lifeline. In this moment he feels safe, and loved, and for the first time in a long time, he actually believes that he is enough.

"You believe it yet? Or am I gonna have to make you say them thirty more times? Cuz I will, y’know… I have all day to sit here and make sure you know just how important you are," you reassure him as you stay wrapped in the tight hug.

He nods against your shoulder, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he finally pulls away. He looks at you, his eyes searching your face for reassurance. 

"I uh, I think I do," he pauses. "Yeah, I do." He says it with a small hint of surprise as he looks down at you, like he can't believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. He's still not a hundred percent confident, but he's definitely moving in the right direction.

"Yeah?" You ask as you look up into his eyes. This is exactly what you were hoping for.

He nods again, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes are still glossy from the earlier tears, but there's a spark of determination in them now.

"Yeah, I do," he repeats it more firmly this time, as if he's convincing himself just as much as he's convincing you. He wants to believe it, needs to believe it. He's never felt good enough, or worthy enough before, but something about the way you look at him makes him feel like maybe he is.

You reach up, moving his head down, giving him one more kiss on the top of the head. "Good. I can't let my best friend go thinking he's crap when he's not."

He smiles softly as you kiss his forehead, his heart swelling with gratitude. He closes his eyes, soaking in the moment, feeling comforted by your presence.

"Thank you for believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself,” he says, opening his eyes to look down at you. 

“Always.”

A/N: so, this wasn't originally meant to be this long, but, yeahhh hope you enjoyed

tags: @heartpengs13 @exhausted-exho @freak-of-hawkins @courta13 @whor3ing comment if you wanna be added!

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

[mannythemunchkin]

Talk To Me

Based off of this ask!

I finally got it done! I'm so sorry it took so long @tata-is-the-name 😭🥺 I hope you enjoy it! 👉🏻👈🏻

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: fluff, slight hurt/comfort(i think), canon compliant violence, bullying, they're fucking mean and vile, I'm so sorry.

It started a few weeks ago. You not wanting to go with Jo to the Shishitoren HQ. You always had something to do whenever he asked you to join him and the others for hangouts or meetings; errands to run, sudden appointments, chores to do at home, and he was beginning to worry. Shishitoren had changed for the better after the one-on-one fights with Bofurin, and you had expressed how happy you were that things had returned to normal, especially that Choji had returned to his previous happy self, so Jo was confused about this sudden change in your behavior. He was sitting on the couch in your shared apartment, his elbows resting on his knees while he silently observed you shuffle around in the kitchen, making dinner for the two of you. His bright green eyes followed your every movement, and he had a soft smile on his lips.

Slowly, Jo got up and walked over to you, his arms coming around to hang loosely around your waist and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You were currently chopping up some vegetables, and when he came up behind you, you paused briefly, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on his cheek before returning to the task at hand.

“Chibi-chaaan~” Jo drawled out in a sing-song voice, nuzzling his nose against your neck in an attempt to get your full attention. You gave a small hum in response, followed by a quiet giggle. “Yes, Jo?” A sweet smile curved his lips, squeezing you gently in his embrace before sliding his hands down your arms to cover your hands with his to help you cut the remaining vegetables. “Let me finish up, you've been so busy lately, go and rest up, hm?” He cocked his head to the side, looking up at you, stilling your hands movements, and you frowned cutely. Reluctantly you put the knife down and turned in his arms with a small pout.

“No. You're still recovering from sparring with Choji. Go sit down.” Your arms crossed over your chest and narrowed your eyes with a stern expression, your determination absolutely endearing to him, and he chuckled lowly. Jo leaned down and placed a light kiss on your forehead, sighing in playful defeat, and he backed away. “Fine, fine. But I'm cooking tomorrow.” You gave him a bright smile, happy that he didn't fight you on this, and you turned back to chopping vegetables. Jo resorted to lean against the counter next to you, arms loosely crossed over his chest while he observed you. You began humming happily while working, and Jo couldn't help the loving smile that spread on his face, the view making him hesitate for a second before he spoke next.

“Actually, why don't we cook together tomorrow? Make enough so we can share with the others. Food tastes better when shared with friends.”

He watched as your body tensed at the mention of hanging out with the other Shishitoren members, noticing the small flicker of… fear? Discomfort? In your eyes, before quickly pushing it aside and flashing him a big smile, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. “We can do that, but I have some errands I need to do, so why don't you just go and eat with the rest of the boys. I'll come join you if I have the time.” Now it was Jo who frowned, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what was bothering you so much. “You have errands to do at night?” You gave a curt nod, your movements a little stiff as you walked around him to dig out something from a cupboard. Emerald eyes followed you as Jo turned his body to keep facing you, and he sighed. “Okay. Then we'll eat early and we'll walk with you as you do your errands. I don't want you walking around alone at night.”

“Ah, that's really not necessary, Jo. I'll be fine, I've done it many times before. No need.”

“I insist.” His voice came out firm and steady, brooking no argument on the matter. Your shoulders slumped in defeat, and you forced a smile onto your face. “Alright… I appreciate you taking care of me, Jo.”

A soft, grateful smile curved Jo's lips, and I pulled you into a gentle hug, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, Chibi-chan.”

***

Your unease the next evening was palpable, no matter how much you tried to hide it. You were chatting with the other guys, smiling and laughing, but it all seemed a little forced, and your eyes kept flickering around between the members, and Jo noticed how your eyes would land on specific ones more than others. You noticed him looking at you, and you smiled at him before returning to your conversation with Arima and Kanuma. His eyes narrowed a fraction, absentmindedly chewing on his chopsticks. He must have zoned out for several minutes, because when Choji nudged his shoulder to get a reply to something and Jo blinked a few times, you were gone.

“Hey hey, Kame-chan. What are you thinking about? Why are you chewing on your chopsticks? They can't taste that good, can they?” Choji leaned in, his face all up in Jo's as he tilted his head curiously, looking at him with those big, innocent eyes of his. “Ah, sorry, Choji. Got lost in thought for a second.” Jo smiled apologetically, his hand coming up to ruffle with Choji's hair, making him laugh and he leaned back with a contented sigh. Jo looked around again, frowning when you were nowhere to be seen.

“Arima, Kanuma, where did chibi-chan go?”

The two of them looked at him, mouths full of food, and shrugged. Arima swallowed his food and looked around for a bit before an expression of realization appeared on his features. “She went to the bathroom, I think, but it's been a while. A couple of the new guys went to check on her.”

Jo's eyes went to where the latest members of Shishitoren had been sitting earlier, who also were the ones you had kept glancing at throughout the meal, and without a word, Jo got up and walked with brisk steps towards the bathrooms of their HQ. A pained yelp and the thud of someone hitting the ground made him pause mid-step before he sped up his pace. Rounding a corner, he saw you on the ground, clutching your left upper arm, and your head ducked as if to protect it. Three new members were laughing and looking over you like you were prey, one of them kicking dirt at your head with a barking laugh.

“Look how pathetic you are. Can't even fight back, and you're dating our second in command? Hah! What a joke.”

“Yeah. What does he even see in a weakling like you?”

Another one of the new members circled you, eyes roaming over your quivering form on the ground with a repulsed expression, and he nudged you hard with his foot, causing you to fall down on your back as you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows. The other two laughed at the small pained noise you made.

“At least you're hot.” One of them commented, a small wicked grin slowly curling his lips as he eyed you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “That's it, isn't it? You're just a cute, little trophy, aren't you? A warm body he comes home to every-”

A loud, morbid crack echoed through the room as Jo's fist connected with the new member's jaw, sending him flying sideways into one of the other members with a yelp. In two long strides Jo was above them, grabbing the third member by his collar to drag him along before shoving him onto the ground with the others. The three guys looked up at him, expressions confused and terrified as Jo looked down at them with cold, sinister fury in his emerald eyes. A weak, scared noise escaped one of them and he began stuttering excuses.

“H-hey, Togame! We didn't mean anything, it was all in good fun, I promise!” His words were almost desperate, rushing past his lips in an attempt to save face, but to no avail. Jo was on them before any of them could spout anymore pathetic excuses, his fists landing perfectly with every punch. He stayed silent the whole time, beating the bastards black and blue.

“Kame-chaaaan, where are you?” Choji's voice sounded out from the entrance, having gotten curious about what was taking them so long, and Jo landed one final punch with a resounding thwack before turning around, his furious expression immediately evaporated as his eyes landed on their leader. He watched Choji skip over to them, stopping mid-step when he saw you struggling to sit up on your spot on the ground. “Ah! What happened?” Quickly he helped you up, holding your slightly trembling form steady as he assessed the situation with a tilt of his head. Darting his eyes between the beaten up guys on the ground and Jo, who stood silently, his hands shaking slightly at his sides, and Choji's eyes narrowed. “Kame-chan, why are you beating up our new members?”

“W-we just had a little fun with her, we swear! It's all a misunderst-!” Jo's sandal flew through the air and hit the guy in the face, cutting off his sentence, and the member fell back with a pained groan. “They were bullying her. Kicking her, making disgusting comments. I'm just teaching them a lesson.” Jo explained in a dangerously calm voice, his eyes never leaving the three guys on the ground.

“Oh! We can't have that. Kame-chan's girlfriend is precious to all of us.” Choji stated, his eyes growing a tad darker even as his voice held his usual excitement. “I'll take care of them, Kame-chan. I think she needs your attention more than they do.” At those words Jo blinked, as if he had been in a trance, and he turned to look at you, his eyes widening when he realized he had forgotten about you in his anger.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry.” He rushed to you, taking you from Choji's arms into his, and looked you over, his green eyes full of concern and worry. One of his hands came up, trembling slightly from the punches he had thrown not even two minutes ago, and brushed the knuckles over your cheek, leaving a faint trail of blood behind. Jo cursed at himself and quickly, but gingerly, wiped the stain with the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m sorry. Let’s go home, yeah? Gotta check you for injuries.” You nodded slightly, your trembling hands weakly fisting in his shirt as you leaned most of your weight against his frame. Just as he was about to lead you towards the door, Choji called out to him and tossed him back his sandal with a smile, before turning to the three, now trembling members who had attacked you, his sweet smile growing wicked and angry, cracking his knuckles.

Quickly, Jo led you out, not wanting you to see what their leader was about to do to them.

***

You were sitting at your dining table, shirt discarded, leaving you in your bra while Jo intently searched for cuts and bruises on your delicate skin.

“I… I'm sorry…” You muttered quietly, keeping your eyes locked on your hands in your lap. Green eyes flicked up to your face, a subtle frown furrowing Jo's brows as you apologized, and he straightened up from his spot on the floor, having knelt down next to you while making sure you weren't hurt, and strong arms hoisted you up against his chest. “Don't. You have nothing to apologize for.” He spoke softly. Gently. Even as anger still simmered beneath his skin, but it wasn't directed at you, but the bastards who dared lay their hands on you. Jo carefully shifted you in his arms, cradling you against him as he walked to sit on the couch, and his arms wrapped around you in a tight, yet gentle hug.

“How long has this been happening?” He questioned in a soft tone while he soothingly stroked your back and sides, practically making you melt against him. Burying your face in his shirt with a small noise, you wrapped your arms around his torso, breathing in his comforting scent. “About three weeks…” Your voice is small as you reply, slightly muffled against his shirt, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Why didn't you tell me?” You tensed slightly at that, his words coming out sounding almost a little hurt that you hadn't trusted him enough to tell him what was happening, and you tightened your embrace around him. “I… I thought they'd get better. I didn't want to worry you.”

A huff of air blew over the top of your head as Jo sighed your name, his lips brushing against your hair as he shook his head in slight exasperation. “I want to worry. It's my job as your boyfriend, you know.” A calloused hand gently grabbed ahold of your chin, tilting your head so you'd look at him, your gaze being met with soft, caring green eyes, and a fond smile curved Jo's lips. “I love you, and I want you to know that you can talk to me about stuff like that. Always.” He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours with such a deep tenderness and love it made your heart flutter in your chest. You returned the kiss, smiling slightly against his lips, and you gave a small nod before tucking your head underneath his chin again, nuzzling affectionately into the crook of his neck with a soft sigh. “I will. I promise.”

[xoxtahlia]

🌊　　 ݃　 how to fall without drowning 𓈒﹒﹙🐋﹚﹒ — a rafe cameron series (ep1)

➜ @ summary ﹕ after losing your brother to the ocean, you haven’t set foot near the ocean in years, until your therapist urges you to face your fears. because of that, you meet rafe cameron - a surf instructor with his own demons. what starts off as an attempt at closure becomes something deeper, as two broken people learn to trust the tide and each other. ✩

the ocean didn’t look like the place where your world had fallen apart.

it looked beautiful - wild and endless, with a captivating blue. but for you, it was a reminder. a cold and cruel one.

you stood on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, clutching at the straps of your backpack like it was your lifeline, your eyes locked on the rolling waves. the whispering wind tugged at your hair and carried memories you tried to keep locked away.

your brother had loved the ocean. he loved the rush of riding the waves, the spray of salt on his face, the feeling of flying on his board. you remembered the way his laugh - so full of joy and life - would sound over the lapping waves. and then, you remembered the day the ocean took him. the way the wave was too high, the current was too strong and the sea didn’t let go. the image was burned into your mind: the moment he was engulfed by the water, how you screamed his name, and the helplessness that followed like a second tide pulling you over.

for several months after, you avoided the coast of outer banks altogether. the therapist you’d been seeing after the accident, who was soft yet unyielding, insisted on confronting what you feared. “you can’t heal if you keep running,” she’d told you in one session. “the ocean took your brother, yes. but it doesn’t have to take your life too.”

that’s how you ended up here, standing in front of the surf school you never imagined you’d be at, as you felt your stomach twist and turn with nerves and anticipation. your therapist’s words echoed in your head like a quiet mantra: “face it. don’t let it break you.”

the door creaked open before you could even move, and a tall man stepped out. rafe cameron. sun-bleached hair tossed and tangled like seaweed, eyes blue, dark and sharp underneath a furrowed brow. he carried a surfboard lackadaisically under one arm, and his stance was casual but guarded - like he’d seen a lot of people come and go, and too many give up. rafe’s gaze swept over her, unreadable beneath a half-lidded squint. you wondered if he already regretted saying yes.

“you’re the new one?” he asked, his voice low and calm, but with an edge. you swallowed hard as you felt the lump in your throat begin to form and your stomach churning. “y-yeah. i, uh- i emailed you.”

rafe tilted his head slightly. “right… the one who hasn’t been in the water since-“ he stopped himself. “since a while.” you flinched but nodded again. he studied her for a moment. his eyes weren’t cruel - just cautious, because he’d seen numerous people panic halfway through a lesson and bolt for the parking lot. “you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked quietly. “you look like you’re about to pass out.

“i’m not.” you said simply, your voice shaking ever so slightly. “but i have to do this.”

rafe raised an eyebrow. “that’s not the same as being ready.”

“yeah,” you agreed quietly. “but… i’ve waited long enough.”

his eyes searched yours, as if looking for the truth beneath your words. maybe it was the way your hands trembled even as you refused to walk away. or the way you held his gaze, scared but steady. whatever it was, he saw it. after a long pause, he nodded and exhaled through his nose. “m’kay. you’ll need a wetsuit, a board and a stubborn heart.” you forced a small, bitter smile on your face which even surprised you. “i’ve got the stubbornness.” rafe handed you a leash and a helmet, his fingers brushing yours in a light but steady manner. “wetsuits are inside, grab your size and meet me on the beach in ten. don’t fall before you even get in the water.”

you glanced back at the sea, the same sea that had cruelly taken your brother. your mind raced with memories of that day and with the fear that still gripped you each time the waves crashed too hard. but underneath that all was something new: a fragile hope that maybe - just maybe - you could learn to stand against the tide instead of being held under. the wind whipped around you, carrying both memories and possibility. you took a deep breath as your grip tightened on the equipment and started walking towards the shack.

rafe stepped aside from the doorway and watched you go, knowing this wouldn’t be just another lesson.

[vicolette]

hii!! oh my godd the second i logged into my tumblr and stumbled upon ur fanfics, i KNEW i had to follow youu <3 GREAT WORKS BTW I ADMIRE THEM SO MUCH

have you seen the news with lewandowski & szczesny getting blonde hair? 👀 me n my friends are talking abt barcelona being a football club for blonde players LOL, and i'm thinking abouttt... what if lamine/gavi (you can pick one, i'm pretty much a fan of both) reacting to fem!reader getting blonde hair to match them? i think it'll be funny! 😆

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐚𝐥𝐬 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n & pet names, mentions of insecurities, not proofread.

"Promise, you won’t get mad?"

"Repeating that sentence isn’t gonna make it any better, Y/n." Pablo said as he seriously tried to continue keeping his eyes shut close, yet the urge to just see what you were hiding was growing, and he was also growing impatient.

"Ok, ok! I get it." Your voice sounded further away as you let go of his hand and began to distance yourself, a nervous giggle leaving from your mouth, staring at the blonde chaos on top of his head that was supposedly his hair. "You look ridiculous like that."

In response, he just raised an eyebrow in confusion, not having the slightest idea in what you meant. Once the realization hit him like a brick, Gavi let out a dramatic gasp and clutched his chest, pouting at your statement. "My beautiful blonde hair, you mean?!"

You gave your boyfriend a nod as an answer, until you realized that his vision was pitch black (you would assume) and spoke up. "Yeah, but it’s growing on me."

He huffed and turned his head to the side, clicking his tongue as he loudly faked exasperation. "Unbelievable! How dare you…"

"Alright, I get it." Your heartbeat was racing in your chest as you stared at Gavi for a moment, who was completely unaware of the decision that you had made yesterday. Soon enough, when he finally turned his head back to face you, you gave him permission to take a look. "Open them."

"Huh? Did you buy gifts or-" While Gavi didn’t understand what exactly you meant by that phrase, he by accident opened his eyes and finally looked at you, his mind not functioning properly for a moment.

Your hair, usually a dark shade of your natural hair color, was now blonde. Blonde, of all the colors that you could have chosen.

Well, it’s not like blue or red would be any better. They might would have suited you, but they would still make him malfunction.

"What?" Just by his tone alone, you knew that Gavi was feeling conflicted. After all, he loved your hair, playing with the hair strands and ruffling it like you were a dog after an intense training session. However, he feared that the blonde dye would make him hesitate, just like now.

"Oh my god." Gavi said, blinking once, twice, before his typical boyish grin grew on his face. "We're twins!"

"Sorry, what?" An eyebrow raised didn't make Gavi think twice, instantly running towards you as he pulled you into a tight hug and got rid of the feeling of disappointment. Your dark hair might not be there anymore, but now you two were doing something similar to couple goals. "What do you me- oh."

Although your hair was a darker shade than his, since you didn’t want to put damage into it by bleaching it too much, you both could still be seen as a cringy yet cute couple with this 'trend'.

So now, you had to endure your golden retriever of a boyfriend taking pictures of the two of you in order to post them on his Instagram account, as if Gavi himself wasn’t a professional footballer and his account was supposedly to be strictly related to the sport.

Nonetheless, watching him also look through Amazon for matching pajamas and shirts for couples was kind of adorable, even if it got the two of you into an argument about how hello kitty pajamas would be the perfect pair (in your opinion) and how Spider-Man and Batman pajamas would be the best combo (in his opinion).

More or less, it also occurred that some people genuinely believed you two could have been siblings, which only made you two give each other a familiar look before bursting into laughter. Until it got too much and you decided not to dye your hair the same color as his ever again.

It was worth the effort to deal with an upset Gavi, who practically pleaded with you to keep the blonde dye. But once it returned into your old hair color, which came back easily due to the dye being a bit useless, he enjoyed massaging your scalp without thinking that he might 'hurt the chemicals inside your hair'.

"I like this." He randomly said, once you had returned to the original hair color and freshly washed them after a nice shower, staring at the back of your head while you dried them.

"More than the other one?"

"Gonna pass that question."

– A/N : apparently szczesny was using a filter?? Idk tho…. ALSO TYSM YOU'RE SO NICE AHHH I’m blushing😊😊😊

[moondollx]

Masterlist -Bob Reynolds

This masterlist contains some (+18) content so minors do not interact. The fics are NOT MINE i´m just recommending them bc i loved reading them all <3 CREDITS TO ALL THIS AMAZING WRITERS!

✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.

BOB REYNOLDS

⏾ Bob´s fiancé goes to The Watchtower to find him -Link ⏾ Void flirting with y/n -Link

⏾ A mission leads to you getting sick, and Bob having to take care of you on bed rest. when you realize you have to take a pill to make the sickness go away, Bob knows exactly how to make you take it.-Link ⏾ you’ve always been drawn to bob. at first you think it means something, but then you remember that yelena’s also always been drawn to bob. and its obvious that he prefers her over you. -Link ⏾ You and Bob have a nightly routine where he reads to you the latest book he’s decided to buy. -Link

⏾ No one wants to talk about how close you came to dying, everyone walking on eggshells until bob finds out what really happened and asks why no one trusted him enough to tell the truth; you both know the reason involves your mutual feelings.-Link

⏾ Bob and you were both members of the thunderbolts, but he didn't seem to like you. that changes when you return sick from your last mission.-Link

⏾ Bob tells you he’s never been kissed. you decide to change that. (post thunderbolts)-Link

⏾ When you come down with a cold, Bob doesn't hesitate to look after you – even if he has no idea what he's doing.-Link

⏾ The quiet things that remain – II -Link ⏾ When you're not feeling well on a movie night, Bob just wants to help.-Link ⏾ Delivery girl -Part 2 -Link

⏾ Sometimes, when two broken people find each other, they become each other's comfort through the hurt. You became Bob's, and as much as you tried not to let him in, he became yours too. -Link

⏾ You and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.-Link

⏾ Late night cuddles with Bob? The readers heating isn’t working but she finds warmth in Bobs arms or something like that… maybe friends to lovers or whatever. -Link ⏾ You’re in extreme pain from your period cramps, and Bob is the first person to jump in to help you. -Link ⏾ Imagine Bob not knowing you had a cat -Link ⏾ Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you.-Link ⏾ You return back to the compound a week early from an initial two week-long mission, only to find Bob asleep in your bed. -Link ⏾ When a severe thunderstorm hits nyc, you go to bob in hopes that he can assuage your fears. -Link ⏾ When Yelena kicks off her next move in the Thunderbolts prank war with a bag of questionable aphrodisiac chocolates, you agree to help her “prank” Bucky Barnes into a very inconvenient eight-hour erection.Unfortunately, Bob Reynolds gets there first. Now the most powerful man in the tower is red-faced, sweating, and very, very desperate for one thing—and it’s not chocolate. It’s you. And when the side effects kick in full-force, you’ll have to decide if you’re helping your friend… or completely, shamelessly indulging his deepest, filthiest desires. Chaos. Horny chocolate. Yelena being the worst. And Bob being the sweetest, softest, most absolutely feral man alive. -Link

⏾ You are injected with a truth serum during a mission, and when you return to the Watchtower, you must avoid Bob in order not to spill your feelings for him, but this causes Bob to believe he has done something to upset you. -Link

⏾ You've always had a soft spot for animals, it's a known fact about you. But no one ever expects you to come home with one after you were supposed to be running errands.-Link ⏾ She scares the Void -Link ⏾ A mission goes sideways, and you end up in a coma. The team works against the clock to save you, but… do you really want to be saved? -Link ⏾ Reader gets told that she treats Bob like a pet and she stops giving him too much attention -Link ⏾ Heated argument -Link

✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖°

[hana-bobo-finch]

i hardly ever mention Glad for some reason. you. you know the one. the cousin. the mouthless one. bellona’s cousin that I have probably only mentioned once but she does actually do stuff in the plot. yknow. i only have concept sketches of her but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[obligatory-name-change]

thinkbing about. him

[lokissweater]

birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}

summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3

word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)

authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333

you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.

he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.

and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.

until he saw you skate.

what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.

and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).

“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.

“hi.”

“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.

you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.

“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.

“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”

but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.

“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”

“okay!”

you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.

“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.

“y—y/n.”

“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”

“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.

“when did you start skating?”

you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”

his eyes bulged.

“hah?! today?!”

you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.

“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”

“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”

“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”

“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”

“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”

and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.

satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.

and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.

and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.

you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.

but that concept quickly changed the second you met.

now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.

and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.

when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.

“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”

you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.

“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.

“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”

she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”

you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”

“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”

your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.

“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”

“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.

your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.

and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.

“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”

“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.

“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”

“uh huh.”

a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.

“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.

“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”

your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.

“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can�� win three gold medals like you?”

“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”

you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.

“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.

“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”

akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.

“i’m training them from now on.”

both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.

you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.

“did you hear?”

you shook your head. “hear what!”

“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”

his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.

“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”

she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”

akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”

“yesyesyesyes!—”

both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.

akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.

and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.

and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.

by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.

“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”

he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”

“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”

“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.

“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”

he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”

“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.

“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”

“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”

“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”

“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”

“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.

akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.

“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”

you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”

“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”

you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”

“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.

“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”

he grinned.

“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”

“toru!”

he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”

satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.

“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”

you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.

watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.

and she did it fucking beautifully.

with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.

no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.

and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.

eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.

“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.

“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.

you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.

“did you do okay?!” you gawked.

“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.

“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”

you both giggled uncontrollably.

akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.

“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”

she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”

you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.

“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”

akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”

the two of you sniffled and nodded.

“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.

“no keep doing it!—”

“it’s funny please!—”

ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.

before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.

but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.

perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.

maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.

and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.

but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—

but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.

it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.

neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.

the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.

and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.

by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.

well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.

you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.

your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.

“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”

just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.

it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.

“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”

“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.

akira smoothly traveled over to you both.

“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.

“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”

satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.

you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”

he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.

akira smirked.

“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.

“are we— are we—” you stammered.

“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”

satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.

“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”

“have you guys at least gone on one date?”

satoru pouted. “no.”

“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”

“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”

you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.

“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.

but he knew damn well what it was.

“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”

“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”

“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”

satoru swallowed, nodding.

“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”

she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.

you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.

“…toru?”

he blinked down at you. “huh?”

“you okay?”

“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”

“you sure—”

“what time is your date?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”

“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”

you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”

“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”

you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do to—”

“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”

you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.

“aakkiii!—”

you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.

“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”

you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.

“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”

she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.

he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”

“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”

you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.

“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”

“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”

she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”

“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”

“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.

akira sighed.

“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”

he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.

satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.

it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.

so why were you going on a date?

but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.

satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.

“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”

you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”

“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”

you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”

“… no.”

you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.

satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.

the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.

“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.

“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”

“it is sweets!” he agreed.

satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.

“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.

“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”

he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”

you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”

“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.

“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.

“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”

he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”

you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.

you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”

he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”

“big and strong and pretty—”

“please don’t go.”

you stilled.

“what?”

satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.

“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”

you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.

“why?”

“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”

“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”

you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…

and you hoped to god he would say it.

he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.

“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.

“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”

“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”

“i don’t want to.”

you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.

but you were absolutely stupid for that.

all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.

you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.

that’s all you needed… just satoru.

regardless if there was something more in question.

“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”

“you know why, toru…”

you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.

that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.

you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.

but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.

satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured.

you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.

“birds of a feather.”

he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.

for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.

it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.

“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.

“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”

“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”

and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.

he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.

and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.

and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.

you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.

until akira’s accident.

“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”

satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.

“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”

“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”

“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”

“not as much as i love you—”

“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.

“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”

“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”

“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”

he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.

the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.

as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.

“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”

you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.

each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.

“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”

a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.

“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.

and there was so much blood.

blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.

“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”

“i— i don’t know—”

“aki!”

you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.

“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”

“you need to stay out of the rink—”

“fuck you!”

satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.

akira died at the hospital later that night.

the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.

it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.

and you and satoru were fucking ruined.

ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.

yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.

your aunt was gone. your own blood.

the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.

you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.

“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.

“yes pretty.”

“this is so fucked.”

satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.

“diabolically fucked.” he responded.

there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.

“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.

he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.

“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”

you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”

it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.

and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.

but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.

it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.

and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.

some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.

and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.

finally.

“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”

“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”

“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”

“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”

“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”

you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”

he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”

you nodded, gleaming up at him.

“is this a prank?”

“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”

“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.

satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.

“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.

he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.

was he about to…?

you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.

but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.

satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.

you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?

it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.

by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.

“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”

“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”

“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”

you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”

“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”

“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”

“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”

you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”

the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.

“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.

“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.

he stopped chewing.

“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”

“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”

“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.

you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.

my god.

you were about to turn him into a freak.

“okay now you have to kiss me.”

“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”

“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”

“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.

you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”

“you should.”

“can you forgive me?”

“not unless you kiss me.”

“toru!”

“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.

technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.

this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?

you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.

how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.

“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”

his eyes widened.

holy shit.

“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”

“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”

he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.

you both couldn’t believe it.

you were about to have your very first kiss.

the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.

satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.

but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.

because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.

you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.

but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.

but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.

“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.

you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”

“twins.”

“uh huh.”

“i love you.”

you stilled.

you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.

you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.

but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.

“i love you.” you responded.

satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.

“can i get another s’more—”

“no!”

satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.

you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.

on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.

“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”

“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”

you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”

his heart softened, nodding.

you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.

“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.

“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”

“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.

you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.

you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.

general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.

“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.

“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”

“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”

“and then from there i catch you?”

“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”

satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”

“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”

“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”

“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”

satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.

he loved doing things for you.

in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.

“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”

“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”

“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”

you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.

you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.

your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.

“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”

“fuck i know right.” you responded.

“language, y/n.”

“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.

your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.

“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”

the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.

“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”

“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”

she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.

your head whipped in his direction.

“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”

his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”

“fuck!—”

by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.

you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.

“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”

“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”

“but you seem fine when i throw up?”

“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.

it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.

your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.

“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.

he stiffened again.

“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”

you lazily grinned.

“youuu suureee?”

terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.

“please spare me please spare me—”

you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.

“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”

you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”

“i was lying for my safety.”

“uh huh.”

you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.

but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.

surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.

and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.

satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.

but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.

at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.

your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.

“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.

him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.

what happened?

“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.

but he was out of it.

undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.

“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.

“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“yes you do—”

“absolutely not—”

“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”

your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.

he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.

“do— do what?”

“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.

you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.

“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”

“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”

he needs to kiss you right fucking now.

your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.

“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”

“i swear i swear i swear—”

“okay then fuck me toru please—”

satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.

you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”

“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”

“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”

his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.

“open your mouth.”

satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.

“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”

“mhm.” you moaned.

your arousal was even sweeter.

“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”

you gasped. “what?”

satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.

“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”

his cock pulsed.

“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”

you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.

“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”

he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”

your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.

satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.

“toru—”

he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.

“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”

satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.

“too bad!”

“but—”

he spit on your cunt and you gasped.

“i said too bad.”

he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.

“yummy.”

he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.

“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.

your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.

“i— um—”

he placed his lips next to your ear.

“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”

“both toru please—”

he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.

“i can do both!”

satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.

“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”

you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.

“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.

you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”

“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.

oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.

satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.

thank god his mother wasn’t home.

“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.

“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”

“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”

“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.

“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”

your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.

“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”

“but m’not on the pill—”

“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”

your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.

what a stupid thought.

“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”

not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.

satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.

he suddenly raised his pinky to you.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.

“birds of a feather.”

you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.

and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.

years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.

and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.

but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?

except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.

he was so sick of it.

and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.

and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.

“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.

“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”

he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”

you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.

“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”

“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.

“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”

you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.

the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.

you made figure skating look beautiful.

you were beautiful.

you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.

“were you able to see? did you match me?—”

“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.

he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.

“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.

but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.

“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”

your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”

satoru was so kind.

you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.

you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.

“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”

you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”

“what are we.”

you froze.

“huh?”

“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”

“we’re— we’re friends toru—”

“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”

“w—well we can’t—”

“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”

“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”

“i’m your man.”

“no you’re not—”

he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”

“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”

he shook his head. “we won’t.”

“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”

“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”

“it— it is—”

“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”

you blinked back tears.

“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”

satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”

“but— skating—”

“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”

“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.

“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”

“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”

“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.

“it hurts me too.”

satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.

the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.

except it wasn’t dark at all.

it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.

silly.

he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.

“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”

you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.

and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.

until the moment was here. happening.

the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.

out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.

and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.

“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”

you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.

satoru frowned.

“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”

you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.

“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”

you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”

you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.

what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.

but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.

“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”

he held it out for you cutely on his palm.

“does this one match?”

you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.

“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”

you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.

satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.

“does they look okay?”

“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.

“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”

“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”

“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”

he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.

you stuck your pinky out.

“birds of a feather?”

satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.

“birds of a feather baby.”

you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.

the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.

and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.

the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.

and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.

you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.

you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.

except satoru’s hands were slippery.

why?

nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.

but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.

but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.

the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—

until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.

satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.

“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”

nothing.

why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?

his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.

and why was there so much blood?

blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.

“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.

“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”

how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—

“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”

he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—

no.

“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.

“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”

satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.

“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.

“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”

why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?

several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.

were you gone?

satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.

were you breathing? had you hit your head?

he couldn’t remember.

he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.

in front of him. taunting him.

was the world so cruel as to take you too?

it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.

you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.

and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.

oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.

you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.

you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.

you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.

if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.

but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.

you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.

but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.

you had lost so much, too much of it.

it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.

“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.

he shook his head no silently.

“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”

satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.

“m’fine.”

your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.

“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”

he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.

satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.

he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.

satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.

sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.

and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.

or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.

you should’ve just left him behind.

but he was sleeping when you woke.

arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.

and it hit you bad.

your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.

grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.

was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?

your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.

satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.

“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.

you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.

“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.

“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”

“oh god you have amnesia—”

“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”

“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”

“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”

“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”

“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”

you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.

you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.

you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.

satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.

your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.

and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.

two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.

“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”

“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”

“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”

“janitors.”

you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”

“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”

satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.

“hello?”

you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.

“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”

you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.

“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”

opportunity?

you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.

“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”

satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.

“holy fuck.”

“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.

“that was the national olympic committee.”

you froze.

“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”

“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”

silence.

“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.

“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”

you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.

“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”

“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”

“toru!”

even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.

but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.

to finalize your dream and make it a reality.

and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.

sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.

satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…

you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.

the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.

the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.

because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.

a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.

a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.

“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.

“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.

you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.

“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.

“birds of a feather.”

and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.

you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.

“toru…”

“yeah baby?”

“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”

satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.

“nah, we’d win.”

and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.

with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.

the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.

and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—

was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.

you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.

“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.

“i love you, toru!”

“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”

“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.

“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”

“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”

“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”

“toru!—”

the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’

it was call me when you get home.

have you eaten yet?

here, let me help you.

whatever you need.

yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.

and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.

fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.

and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.

“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.

“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.

“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”

he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.

“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”

your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.

satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.

“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”

“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.

“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.

she did.

a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.

you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.

but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.

for love had no limits.

you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.

and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.

“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.

“yes my offspring?”

you playfully glared at your husband.

“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”

“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.

“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”

“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”

you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.

“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”

“mmm— nope! scary!”

your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.

“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”

“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”

“but my suffering!—”

“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.

satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.

aki.

and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.

a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…

of birds of a feather.

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[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Part One + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ mdni, sexual content, dacryphilia, daddy kink. Reader is neurodivergent.

Simon Riley is a simple man. 

Now. 

Cobwebs cleared, shattered shards of glass painstakingly swept away, lacerations stitched and glued back together. He's climbed the mountain of his mind and descended down the other side. Hurdles jumped, skeletons dragged into the light and then cut down. 

Guess that's what happens when you finally decide you want to live, instead of exist. 

At least he figured it out before he died. 

He's old now, older, signature sore back and creaky knees worse then they were ten years ago, sciatica pain when it rains, headaches whenever he's spent too long looking at paperwork (should be wearing his glasses, but can only bring himself to do it at home.) He's even soft around the middle a bit. 

Still, there are some things that never change, some things that are amplified by time. Skill, focus, dedication. Thirst. 

The thirst is what keeps everyone in line, keeps everyone's head down after a salute, eyes shifty and hands clenched. He still strikes fear. He doesn't mind. 

It's how he got here. How he ended up standing in front of a team, his team, tackling a debrief. It's only given him more of what he know nows he craves, the aspect of control that was so long missing from his life, taken from him by others, by their actions, their decisions. Now he has it in spades. He learned to indulge it, practice it, hone it, and when it reared its head in other aspects of his life, he didn't shy away. He embraced it, experimented with it, figured out what he liked, what he didn't, what he truly needed. Chewed on it, for a while. 

A casual fuck here and there, fine, but not enough, not nearly. 

He's built a house after all. 

It's all spilled over though. Run away from him and out of the base, infiltrated his home, crawled across town- 

and set it's sights on something it can sink it's teeth into. Something it won't let go of. 

Daddy's girl. 

"C-captain Riley." Your hands press to your stomach, anxiously wiping away smatterings of batter and flour, and he tries to screw his mouth into a flat line to hide his smile at the hitch in your breath. 

"Hi sweetheart." 

"What can I... what can I get for you?" He sweeps over the case, eyeing the piled high pastries and bagels, muffins and quiches still warm. 

"Just a coffee today." You nod, lip tugged between your teeth, hand practically shaking as you reach for the stack of cups. When he was a younger man, he wouldn't have patience for this, or you. Wouldn't see the bright side to this, these moments he shares with his girl at the bakery, his nervous little fawn he's finally coaxed to look him in the eye for more than ten seconds at a time. Being in your forties will do that to you, he guesses. 

Time heals more than he ever thought possible. 

"Black?" 

"That's right." He indulges himself as you turn around, tracing your curves, the swell of your ass in your leggings. You wear an apron at your waist religiously, cinching it tight, hips and thighs and everything else perfectly framed. He loves those leggings, and hates them every time he catches an overzealous prick leering at you over the counter. 

"Do you um, do you want room for cream?"  The answer is always the same, but you still ask, and he doesn't mind. 

"No, I'll just take it as is." He eyes the pan of raspberry sweet rolls sitting on the counter, cream cheese icing slowly melting across the top. They're his favorite, but he's putting on too much weight, and with the next mission around the corner, he can't afford to be too soft. You look up at him shyly, gesturing to the giant buns. 

"I made your favorite." Fuck. He can't. He shouldn't... but he can't stomach the idea of dimming your glow, killing you excitement, the eager look on your face as you wait for his approval. 

"Y'know what... the boys are always complaining I never bring them anything. I'll take the whole pan." Your eyes turn to saucers. 

"The wh-whole pan? Really?" You brighten into a sun, glowing with pride, and he rewards you with a smile. 

"Is that okay?" 

"Of course!" You blurt, half panicked, "of course I just... okay. Let me-" You go to put the coffee cup down in front of him, but the bottom nicks the edge of the counter and like everything has turned to slow motion, he watches as steaming hot liquid comes flying from the top, half splashing, half spilling all over his uniform. He catches it before it rolls off the end, but the damage has been done, and tears line your lashes. 

The woman waiting in line a few feet behind him snorts. His vision turns red and he whirls on her with a glare, satisfied when the color drains from her face and she runs off. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so s-so-sorry,” you’ve come around the corner with paper towels, trembling like a leaf as you stare at the stain on his jacket, wide eyed and frantic. 

“It’s okay, it was an accident.” 

“N-no, your uniform,” you croak horrified, “I ruined it, I’m so sorry.” You hiccup a little, trying to suck in some air while you succumb to panic, and he takes your hands in his, squeezing gently, trying to ground you. 

“It’s alright baby, it’s okay,” you don’t even notice when he calls you baby, too preoccupied by your rapidly dissipating oxygen. “Hey, look at me,” he soothes, ducking into your line of sight, grabbing your attention. “Good girl, you’re alright.” 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, shrinking in on yourself, curling your shoulders forward. More tears, and the sight of them sends blood rushing through his body, uncomfortable pressure starting to build in his cock. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” The shop is mostly empty, the woman behind him gone, and he takes the opportunity to usher you past the counter and into the kitchen where there’s a stool waiting just inside the door. He guides you up and holds steady. “Everything’s okay, I promise.” The paper towels come free from your tension filled grip, and instead of using them on the stain, he presses them to your wet cheeks, blotting away your tears. You lean into the touch, so trusting, so easily his, and he wonders what else you’d let him do. He’s hard against the teeth of his zipper as he thinks about hoisting you onto the table, spreading your legs to find what you’ve been keeping safe for him there. 

He doesn’t have many things to care for these days, outside the team, his ultimate responsibility. Keeping a special ops unit alive, planning and executing, cutting through political bullshit is more than enough, but it’s all rough and heavy handed. 

He needs something to nurture. 

You blink at him as he finishes and tips your chin back, ignoring the way your lips part in awe. “That’s better.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you breathe in tandem, silenced and walking a tightrope until you cough. “I should uh… I should go, get those rolls packaged?” He nods, and you manage a very small smile before dipping your gaze to the ground and running off to the front. 

“When did you know?” He rolls the cigar smoke around in his mouth and John cocks his head. 

“When did I know what?” 

“That you were ready,” he gestures to the house, where John’s wife Grace sleeps soundly, “for this? For her?” There’s a glint in his Captain’s blue eyes, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“I just did. At some point, life becomes more than the job, but the mission stays the same. Lead, decide, control. Keep them safe, complete your objective, give what’s needed, get it for yourself. It’s no different.” The idea is tar, sticking to every surface in his mind, gumming up his synapses and creating hallucinations so intoxicating they’re hard to believe. 

You, curled up in bed asleep with nothing but a pair of panties, or cradled between his knees in the bath as he works a chunk of batter free from your hair. You with your legs spread, knees pushed towards your ears, pussy ripe and waiting for him, only him, for the rest of his life. Hands and ankles tied together like a pretty little present. You, sitting on the couch with your thighs slung over his lap, nose creased with a little wrinkle as you thumb through a book. 

John chuckles. “Found one then?” 

Simon only nods. 

He slips through the door just before closing, little bell at the top announcing his arrival to an almost empty space. There’s someone at the register, counting cash, and she smiles at him with all her teeth. 

“We’re about to close but there are a few things left, or I could make you a tea?” The case is pretty barren, a few bear claws and croissants, a muffin or two. Stragglers. 

Next to it, a bouquet sits in a vase. They’re fresh, healthy, and the hair on the back of his neck stands. 

If someone is buying you flowers, he’ll kill them. Dump their corpse in a pit and piss on it. 

The girl clears her throat, and he shakes his head. “No, but thanks. ‘M here to see…” you push through the kitchen doors with two metal sheet trays in your hands, and freeze.

He knew you’d be surprised, caught off guard. It’s like catching a feral cat. Trying to earn a street dog’s trust. Like he’s crouched on the sidewalk, hand extended, food waiting in his fingertips. 

A fisherman, with bait on the line, patiently waiting to hook his prize. 

The incident last week has thoroughly spooked you, pushed you back inside your shell, eroded a lot of the groundwork he painstakingly laid, the foundation he’s been building, and the only time he’s been in since then, you ran into the kitchen as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

The clock has turned back to the time when you were so gun shy, you’d turn to stone at the first sight of him, hands clasped together so tight he knew they hurt. 

It’s no matter. He’s a patient man now, a far cry from who he used to be, and he’s willing to wait for the things worth it, willing to put in the work to fix it.

His body disagrees. A river of need runs consistently runs through him, wild and turbulent current thrashing in his blood, white water rapids trying to flood his lungs. His cock is heavy at night as he imagines you bent over the butcher’s block, leggings ripped open, gooseflesh cascading from the small of your back down, empty little hole clenching on nothing, begging for a fullness only he can give. He dreams about your tears, salty sweet drops soaking your cheeks as the crown of his cock bulges in your throat, as he takes your air and gives it back, over and over again. 

Ruin you, rearrange you, remold you until you only ever fit him. 

He’ll give you what you need, he’ll take away what you don’t. 

He’ll decide. 

The girl at the counter looks at you, then him, small smile pulling on her lips. “I’m going to get this deposit ready,” she announces to no one since you’re not paying her any attention, barely registering she’s disappeared as you stare at him. 

“Hi… u-um hi, Captain Riley.” You put the pans down onto the counter but miscalculate the distance, and they clatter with a resounding smack, one that makes you wince. Your chest expands with a long, deep breath, and you look away from him to the floor. “Can I get you something?” 

“No, I’m jus’ here to see you.” You jerk, gaze snapping from the floor to his face. 

“Is th-this about your uniform? Did you get it dry-cleaned? I can pay you back for-” You rush out, half panicked and cut off when his hand fits to the space between your shoulder blades with just enough pressure to move you forward. He leads, steering you to one of the little tables by the window, urging you down into the chair before taking his place on the other side. 

“You’re not paying my bloody dry cleaning bill. I’m here to see you, sweetheart.” You’re vibrating, practically rattling in your skin and he wants so badly to soothe you, tuck you into his chest and push the outside world away, but it would be too much, too soon. You’re not ready. 

“See me?” He nods. 

“Why did you run from me the other day?” 

“I didn’t I was just… I was busy.” He didn't expect the truth, not right away. You're always trying to hide your vulnerable spots. 

“Try again. No lying this time.” There’s about one eighth of his usual authority in his voice, the captain’s edge he’s honed over the years, and your lips part with a sharp, small intake of breath. 

“I thought maybe… I thought you might be upset or something and I didn’t want…” you trail off with a shrug, and he’s not surprised. He knows his reassurances from last week weren’t enough. His sweet girl is afraid of her own shadow, you need more than just a few words and your tears wiped. 

“I’m not upset.” He leans back against the rickety wood. There are a million things he could say, do. A million different pieces he could pick apart right here, right now, peel your layers back and put you on your knees with your cheek on his thigh, his hand patting the top of your head. 

“Daddy’s not mad, sweetheart.” 

You’re watching him, waiting, looking for him to give more, heal this wound, but he’s cautious. A gas pedal to the floor will only get him the kind of chase he doesn’t want. Not yet. “You understand me?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. You’re hesitating on something, holding back, but he doesn’t try to drag it out, choosing to wait, to give you the time you need, the space he knows the rest of the world doesn’t allow. “Did um… did they like them?” He cocks his head. 

“The team?” 

“Mhm,” your leg bounces under the table. You’re so fucking cute he could smother you. 

“Yeah baby, they loved them.” You beam, blooming into a pretty, perfect flower, vibrant and colorful, rare as they come. 

“That’s good, I’m so happy.” You wiggle a little bit in the chair, and he bites the inside of his cheek. Fucking hell. He wants you on his lap instead, wiggling around as he slowly sinks you down onto his cock, fingernails biting into his chest as he stretches your pussy, toes curling as you struggle to take him. “D-do you want to take some home?” 

“You have some left over?” You shrug sheepishly. 

“I’ve uh, been making them every day. I thought if you were mad at me, maybe they would… make it better.” Oh baby.

“No. You never have to appease me like that. You never have to appease anyone like that, sweetheart.” 

“Right. Okay.” You look relieved, a little bit of heaviness lifted from your shoulders, and then you give him a small smile. “But do you want to maybe have one… now? W-with me?” His sweet little fawn, navigating the world on new trembling legs, taking chances when she feels brave. 

He pulls your hand into his and strokes his thumb back and forth across your knuckles, setting up a slow, soothing rhythm. “Of course.” 

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Third Time's A Charm

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You and your husband are trying for a baby.

Disclaimer: Mentions and descriptions of potential infertility, slight smut, brief mentions of dangerous missions, fluff, Bucky being a caring husband who can cook, angst, hurt/comfort vibes, happy ending.

“What if it’s negative?” You turned around to face your husband, nervous as hell to even look at the test. 

“Then we’ll keep trying.”

“But what if it is?” You pressed, too afraid to look. 

Bucky took you by the shoulders, leaning down to keep his eye level with yours. “Then we’ll keep trying. Not a lot of couples have success the first time.”

You nodded. “Okay. Yeah, okay. We can keep trying.”

Bucky nodded before pulling you in and kissing your head. 

You’d been married just over two years, and had been trying for a baby for around three months. Each time, you’d gotten your period so there had been no point in testing. Until now. 

The timer rang from Bucky’s phone. “Do you want me to look?”

You stayed still for a moment, debating it. “No, I’ll look.”

It took you a minute, but Bucky remained patient. For a moment, he leaned against the bathtub as you walked closer to the counter. 

One line.

Negative.

You shook your head and turned around with the test in your hand. “Negative.”

There was a punch to his heart, but he stood nonetheless. “We’ll keep trying.”

You nodded before swallowing the sadness and looking at your husband. “Yeah.”

“Hey, I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you, too.” 

Pressing three kisses to your lips, he wrapped you in his arms and lifted you from the ground for a moment. 

It was another two months before you tested again. 

You used to be thankful to see your period. Now it just felt like it was Mother Nature’s way of mocking you. 

Bucky was in the kitchen cooking dinner when you came in from work. “Hey! Just in time,” Bucky said. “Sam finally gave me the recipe for his-”

“I think I need to do another test.” 

The sentence just fell out of your mouth. It had been on your mind all day and you’d stopped off at the drugstore on your way home. 

Your period was two weeks late. You’d never exactly been spot-on when it came to your cycle, but it had been getting better. So fourteen days overdue had to be a sign, right?

Bucky tried not to seem too excited since he could read the fear across your face. “Oh, okay.”

“I just- it’s been on my mind all day and I’m late and…I don’t know.”

Folding the heat-proof pan squares away, Bucky turned to you. “Do you want me to run down to the store-”

You held up the box from your bag. 

Bucky nodded. “Let’s go and see.”

Bucky watched as you paced up and down the bathroom as the timer ticked away. “We’ll be okay.”

You chewed on your nail, keeping the test in the corner of your eyes. “Yeah.”

Your mind was somewhere else. 

Standing in front of you before you sent both yourself and him dizzy, he held you close to him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You looked at your husband, a little dejected. “We’ve been trying for almost six months and it’s not…what if something is wrong with me?”

Bucky felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He’d rather take all of Hydra’s torture again than see you feeling hurt. 

Bucky shook his head. “There’s nothing-”

“But what if there is?” You stepped out from your husband’s arms for a moment, trying your best to keep your tears at bay. “What if I can’t have children?”

Bucky didn’t fully know what to say. “We don’t know that. If there is something wrong, and that is a big ‘if’,” Bucky stepped closer to you and you held onto him. “Then there’s a chance it could be me.”

“Shuri did your labs. You’re as healthy as a horse.”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not like they tested me for fertility issues.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. “What if this doesn’t happen for us, Bucky?”

Your husband hugged you and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on for dear life. “Then we’ll look into it. And, you know, there’s always IVF and adoption. Something this century grants us is more options. You know, back in the 40s, it was sex or going down to the docks.”

You chuckled, hitting him on the arm. “Stop trying to make me laugh.”

Bucky smiled, leaning back to look at you. “Can’t help it. I love your laugh.”

You smiled before he wiped away your tears. 

“I love you.”

You smiled, kissing him. “I love you, too.”

The kiss broke when the timer went off. “You look this time. I don’t think I can.” 

You moved away from the counter and stood away from your husband before he reached out for the pregnancy test. 

One line. 

Negative.

He held it up to show you. “Negative.”

You knew. You’d had the feeling in the back of your head. “Okay.”

Bucky looked at you, giving a little sigh for both of your frustrations. “Come here.”

He pulled you in, holding you tight. 

You’d both keep trying. And if that didn’t work, there were always other options. 

Three weeks later whilst you were at work, Bucky made a call. 

“White wolf,” Shuri said as she answered. “In need of a new suit? I’ve just made a discovery that if I-”

“I-I need you to run some tests.”

Shuri’s voice dropped a little as she turned at her desk. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky sighed. Shuri had been the first person he’d properly talked to about this. “Y/n and I…we’ve been trying for a baby.”

Shuri sounded excited. “Really? I expect to be Godmother. You know, I could make it a suit for it’s first-”

Bucky chuckled. “Might be getting a little ahead. Uh, we…we’ve been trying for a while and I just…I want to make sure there isn’t an issue with…me. Us, even. Y/n’s really worried and if it is me, I just…I want to know…”

Shuri nodded. “I’ve got you. I’ve still got some of your DNA samples in my lab. I’ll start running the tests now. It’ll be okay, Bucky.”

“Thanks, Shuri.”

“How many people know?”

Bucky scratched his head. “Uh, Sam…kinda. He knows we’ve been talking about having kids soon. But no-one knows we’re trying yet.”

“Well, your secret is safe with me. You know, maybe you and Y/n could come to visit soon. I can run more developed tests for both of you and, you know, a bit of relaxation has never killed anyone.”

Bucky nodded. “That…that actually sounds great. I’ll talk to Y/n when she gets home.”

“It’ll be okay, Bucky.”

“Thanks.”

He hung up the phone not too long after and by the time you got home from work, you’d agreed before he could even finish telling you. 

Bucky was on annual leave anyway since his last mission had taken up more case hours than anyone had been expecting. And you needed a break from work. 

Yourself and Bucky ended up spending three months in Wakanda. Shuri ran every test she could think of. 

“You’re both incredibly healthy. I can’t find anything.”

You and Bucky had looked at each other, shocked more than anything. “So, what? It’s just the universe’s way of saying, ‘no, you can’t have a child’?”

Shuri kept her eyes on the medical tablet. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“But…we can have children?” Bucky asked. 

Shuri looked up and nodded. “Yes. By all means, your egg shouldn’t reject the sperm.”

“Even with the serum?”

Shuri nodded again. “Have you ever been pregnant before?”

You shook your head. “Never.”

Shuri hummed and started walking around her lab. “It’s just a theory, but it could be that your body has to get used to the chemical difference. As everything is being done, I assume, naturally.”

Both yourself and Bucky felt a little embarrassed but nodded anyway. 

“It could possibly be down to something such as that-”

“Or it could just be down to timing.”

“Mother.”

Yourself and Bucky bowed. “Your highness.”

“Having children is a wonderful thing, but often, it can simply be down to timing. The universe will let you know when you’re ready.”

Yourself and Bucky kept trying. And trying. And trying. And trying. 

“Have you been testing?” Yelena asked you one girl’s night. 

You shook your head as you stirred the cookie dough and she snacked on it. “I think I’m just gonna wait until one pops out of me. I just feel like my period is mocking me. And everytime I see that one line…it hurts too much.”

“Well, whenever it does happen, you and Bucky will make great parents.”

You smiled at her. “Thanks, Lena’.”

A week later, you were standing in your bathroom looking at the opened box of pregnancy tests. From where you were standing, you could see Bucky. He was fast asleep on his front, his arms wrapped around his pillow. 

But as you pulled one test from the box, your phone started to ring. And so did Bucky’s. 

Haphazardly, you threw the box and test back under the sink and answered. “Sorry to call so late- early.” Yelena stopped herself. “This is an all hands on deck situation. Are you okay being in the field with us?”

Bucky had groggily pulled his phone to his ear. You could hear Sam’s voice talking. 

Two hours later, you were cleaning your weapons on the jet whilst Bucky tightened your holster to your side and your thigh. 

“Promise me you’ll be safe?”

Bucky nodded. “Always. Same goes for you.”

“I won’t let anything happen to her, Bucky.” Yelena said as she passed you both by. 

Bucky stood up, pressing a kiss to your lips as you cupped his cheek. He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes. “I love you.”

You did the same. “I love you, too.”

The next fourteen hours were spent running and fighting for your lives, whilst also fighting for others. 

At one point, something had rocked the earth as it exploded to the south of you. Exactly where Bucky had been running to when you’d seen him last. 

“Bucky?! Bucky?!”

The relief that came over you after two minutes of dead silence, hearing the crackly voice of Bucky over your comms. “I’m okay, doll.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Sam’s voice spoke next. “I’m heading your way, Buck. Be ready.”

With helicarriers packed full, you and Bucky had gotten separated. 

“He’s with Sam. He’s okay,” Yelena assured you. 

You didn’t relax until you finally saw him. Having gotten back at different times and helping those to the medical bay that needed it, Yelena had sent you home. 

“When he gets here, I’ll send him home, too. Go.”

You couldn’t relax. The dead silence over comms kept running through your mind until you finally heard the door unlock. Within seconds, you were running towards the door. 

“Hey,” Bucky felt the weight get lifted from his chest once he saw you. But he didn’t talk much after that since you planted one on him, immediately. 

“We’re never doing that again. I thought I lost you.”

You kissed him again. 

“I promise,” Bucky said between the kisses and as he moved you further into your home. “We’ll stick together next time.”

“We work better as a team anyway.” You said quickly, feeling Bucky’s hands grip your hips steadily before softly kissing your neck. 

His mumble of a Russian, “Agreed,” rippled through your skin. 

You needed him. 

And he was more than happy to provide. 

Peeling the jacket from you once he’d hoisted you onto the side cabinet, you unbuckled his belt and jacket. And somewhere between the rough kisses, the strewn clothes and the scuff marks being made against the floor and walls, Bucky fucked you like you were both on borrowed time. 

Your relationship was loving, slow and filled with soft kisses. He’d spent a lot of his life being the tortured pet for Hydra, being forced into the brutal being they created him to be. 

Hard, fast and rough was rare in your relationship. 

But when it was…

You pulled him in closer to you as you climaxed, Bucky finishing as you whimpered into his ear. 

Between heavy breathes, Bucky’s tongue dragged across your collar before you felt his teeth beside your neck. 

“We both need a shower,” you eventually said. 

“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

As dirty handprints were washed away from the shower glass with the rest of the blood, ash and dirt, you fell asleep against your husband’s bare chest, his arms wrapped around you and his fingers tracing your spine. 

A few weeks later, you woke up in a similar position, only fully clothed. 

When Bucky had gotten back from work, he’d joined you on your bed and both of you had been asleep within minutes. However, when you woke a few hours later, you managed to peel yourself from his grip without waking him so you could go to the bathroom. 

As you were looking for a spare roll of toilet paper, you saw where you’d previously thrown the box of pregnancy tests. You hadn’t tested in a few months, and you’d hadn’t fully been keeping track of your cycle. 

Just as you were waiting to surprisingly give birth, you decided to just wait for Mother Nature to send Aunt Flo your way when she was ready. 

From the bathroom, you could see Bucky’s sleeping frame. It was probably going to be negative, but you decided to take one anyway. 

Only after three minutes had passed and you’d washed your hands and tidied the bathroom counter, you decided to look at the test. 

Two lines.

Two…lines. 

“Oh, my god.”

You pulled the box out from under the sink to triple check you’d read it right. 

“Oh, my god.”

Walking out of the bathroom, you went straight towards your husband. 

Bucky woke up to you lightly shaking his shoulder. “Everything okay?” He asked, a little groggily. 

“I’m pregnant.”

The tiredness was still heavy on him, but his eyes snapped open as he looked at you. “What?”

As you sat on the edge of the bed, he sat up and looked at the test you handed him. And, as clear as day, in front of him were two very prominent lines.

He looked up at you. “You’re…it’s positive?”

You nodded. “It’s positive.”

You were on the verge of tears before Bucky almost beat you to them and pulled you on top of him. “We’re having a baby?”

From behind you, Bucky held the stick up. You choked a laugh. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

Pulling back so you could see your husband’s face, you found him with the biggest smile on his face. “We’re gonna have a baby! We’re gonna be parents!”

Laughing out of joy, Bucky kissed you until you wiggled off him to lay beside him. You both looked at the test stick. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Bucky smiled. “You’re pregnant.”

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

“You’re gonna be a mom.”

Looking up at your husband, to find him already looking at you, you smiled. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Bucky said before kissing you and laying a gentle hand on your belly. “I love both of you.”