#fluff turned angst

[lockes-woods]

9; Naughty or Nice

Day 9 of Locke's 10-day countdown to the new year!

Prompt: I was thinking a sub leaning shanks x AFAB reader, ice skating scene with a marking kink?

Requested by: @crow-twink

Taglist @nocturnalrorobin

Warnings: Cumming in pants, brat Shanks, marking kink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shanks, stop,” you laughed, as your partner magically recovered from almost ‘falling’ by grabbing your right hand in his left and interlacing your fingers.

“Stop what?” He asked, tone neutral until a laugh bubbled in his throat at the sight of you giving him side-eye.

“You’re not gonna gaslight me. Not today, not ever,” You say in a faux serious tone, “Speaking of you seem to be doing really well for someone who’s ‘never’ gone ice skating before.”

“Beginner’s luck?” he suggested, you’d believe he was being genuine if it weren’t for the wide smirk plastered on his face. You shook your head, unable not to smile back at your partner’s antics. A peaceful silence settled over you, as you enjoyed each other’s company. None of the children acting out, the adults trying to discipline them, or the loud Christmas music playing on a loop could ruin the joy you shared at being in each other’s presence. You stayed on the ice for about another half hour. Once you’d felt like you had got your money’s worth you both made your way back to the entrance to get off the ice. You were almost too focused on untying your borrowed skates to notice the hot smell of food surrounding the outdoor ice rink. You immediately perked up at the smell of hot apple cider wafting over you by a nearby stand. Your stomach grumbled at the idea of food, just now realizing how hungry you were.

“Would you like a snack before we leave?” Shanks asked, smiling down at you.

“Yeah,” you replied, as your face began to warm, “Do you want to get some cider and funnel cake?”

“Sound perfect,” Shanks confirmed as you exchanged your skates back for your shoes.

“Kay,” you nodded, “I can get the cider,” you said gauging the lines, “want to meet over there?” you asked nodding at a small area with picnic tables.

“Sounds like a plan,” Shanks said, the soft look he always gave you plastered on his face. Despite how long you’ve been a couple you don’t think you’ll ever not get flustered by the way he looked at you. You parted ways after lacing up your shoes. The line for cider had doubled in the time it took for you to get there. You waited patiently scrolling on your phone to pass the time. You perked up at the sight of the reusable novelty mugs they offered. You opted to get Shanks the one shaped like a Santa head with extra whipped cream, while you got the more grown-up version of a plain mug with golden reindeer etched into the sides. You unconsciously hummed to yourself as you made your way back to the sitting area. You paused as your partner came into view. Even with all the red decorations around you were easily able to spot his tall form against the crowd. You unconsciously frowned as along with him a woman dressed in a short-cut red dress, with a white trim and Santa hat, came into view as well.

You normally weren’t one to get jealous, but something inside of you snapped when she gently squeezed his bicep, stepping into his personal space. It wasn’t just her nerve to touch him like he was hers, no what really made you mad was how natural she looked doing it. You walked over to them with purpose, slowed down by the crowd and your two hot drinks. Once you were within shouting distance, Shanks immediately perked up at the sight of you.

“Hey, love,” he greeted you with a warm smile, giving you all of his attention, “I know we might not be able to finish it all, but I couldn’t choose between the ice cream-topped funnel cake or the churro one, so I got both.”

“They look great,” you said with a tight-lipped smile, ignoring the women altogether. You gave her a chance to walk away, which she did not take. Instead, she opted to clear her throat, pulling both your and Shanks’s attention back to her. Your smile dropped.

“So, yeah anyway,” she started completely ignoring you, “Their food’s amazing I can give you the address.”

“O-oh, um actually I don’t have my phone on me,” Shanks replied, a slight tinge of red appearing high on his cheekbones.

“Oh, can you just take it for him?” she asked, finally acknowledging you. You took a deep breath through your nose, trying to calm yourself from her blatant audacity.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you dismissed, doing your best to ignore her antics altogether. You brushed past her and made your way to the seating area; you didn’t have to look back to know Shanks was hot on your tail.

“So, is this one plain with the ice cream?” You asked as Shanks sat down across from you. You opted to ignore what just happened for the sake of not making a scene.

“Yeah, it’s Neapolitan ice cream, and the other is made with a churro dough with cinnamon sugar and caramel drizzle,” he explained, taking a long swig from his Santa mug. You talked mindlessly as you dug into the desert. Shanks was right, despite your best efforts you weren’t able to eat both of the massive portions of funnel cake. While you still weren’t over the earlier interaction you did your best not to let it ruin your day.

You made your way home hand in hand, silently enjoying each other’s company. Despite how lovely the outing was for the most part, your mind kept going back woman from earlier. While you didn’t want to admit it out loud, you were 100% jealous along with angry at her brashness. You began to fester in it the closer and closer you got to your apartment. To the point that any of Shanks's attempts at a conversation were immediately shot down. Once you were home you let go of Shanks’s hand in a huff before going straight to the kitchen to wash your new mugs. Shanks put his mug down next to yours as you ignored him. He perched his head on top of yours and wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Everything alright love?” he asked as you aggressively scrubbed at the dishes from the night before.

“Yeah,” you answered, not diverting your attention from the task at hand.

“This has nothing to do with that woman, does it?” he asked, as you placed the last dish on the drying rack.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?” You said putting down the sponge with twice the amount of force needed.

“Love, we only talked for a minute.” Shanks started.

“Yeah, well it was a minute too long,” you said, clearly agitated as you turned around in his arms to face him.

“She touched you,” you huffed.

“Baby, nothing happened, she was just being friendly,” Shanks said, moving to cup your face with his hands.

“Yeah, too friendly,” you argued, puffing out your cheeks slightly in annoyance.

“Love, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.” Shanks started before you cut him off.

“She continued to try and get your number after I showed up. It was obvious to anyone who was listening that she didn’t care whether or not you had a partner!” You argued.

“Maybe she missed that?” he offered up knowing he was never gonna win this argument.

“But you’re mine,” you finally broke, full possessiveness on display.

“What do you want me to do?” he prompted, “Wear a collar with your information on it?”

“No, but I can think of something else that might help,” you said grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the couch. You pushed him backward onto it, before straddling him. You pulled him into a desperate kiss, grinding down on his lap. He let out a muffled moan, you took the small window of time and thrusted your tongue into his mouth, dominating the kiss. He groaned in response, rubbing up and down your sides with his hands. He gasped as you pulled back and began to start nipping and sucking at his neck, openly moaning as you continued to mark him up while still grinding down on his lap.

“Fuck, love,” he moaned out. You reveled in the small gasps and groans you were able to pull from your love. He began to grind up to meet your core. He gasped and moaned unabashedly, getting closer and closer to his release. You listened for the telltale sounds he made before cumming, taking the opportunity to still your hips.

“Fuck, please,” he said desperately, a whimper pulling deep in his throat. You pulled back from his neck, admiring the hickey and nips blooming against his tanned skin.

“I don’t know, do you think you’ve earned it?” you asked teasingly.

“Nhg please, I’ll be a good boy please,” he pleaded, closing his eyes as he basked in his pleasure. You finally relented, meeting his desperate grinds, he only lasted a few seconds before ruining both your pairs of pants.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re jealous.” He confessed, still spent from his high. His eyes immediately snapped open once he realized what he just said.

“Is that right love?” you asked, smirking down at him.

��N-no, I just meant-”

“Oh, baby I know exactly what you meant.” You said, “You should save your breath though. You’re going to need to ration your energy.” You finished, stripping off your shirt as you stood up and began to make your way to the bathroom. Shanks was hot on your tail, needing no further explanation to know he was fucked in the best possible way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Just wanted to say a very merry christmas and happy hannukah to all those who celebrate. I hope you enjoyed this first fic of the day ^-^

MASTERLIST

[madd-craft]

Flight of the Canary

Gift for @rabbitminesthecrafted

Based on fanart by @applestruda

Ao3 Link

Tango makes Jimmy a pair of prosthetic wings and Jimmy has fun testing them out!

Just a completely normal fluff fic, don't worry about the tags, it's fine :)

“Rancher!” Tango immediately turned from the small adjustments he was making with his latest invention when he heard the voice shout near him. He giggled as he dropped his creation and caught an armful of Jimmy. His face was smattered with kisses from his favorite canary. The kisses carefully avoided his mouth until finally Jimmy planted one right on his lips and didn’t pull away. Tango pulled him closer and Jimmy picked Tango up.

Tango giggled into the kiss and Jimmy joined him until they were now laughing instead of kissing. They weren’t laughing at anything in particular, they simply filled each other with delight whenever they were together.

“So, my rancher~” Jimmy set Tango back down, though Tango wouldn’t have minded if Jimmy had continued to hold him, “Why’d you call me all the way out here?”

“Does there have to be a reason for me to see you?” Tango teased.

“Oh, so you were just lonely?” Jimmy smirked. “I can fix that~”

Tango laughed again. “You always fix everything! But no, I actually have a gift for you!” Tango bent down and picked up the invention he had dropped.

“A gift?” Jimmy questioned and his eyes widened when he saw it. He hadn’t even noticed it before, too taken with Tango in front of him. It was a beautifully constructed pair of wings Tango was holding now. White canvas stretched between artfully carved pieces of wood, hinged in the shape of a bird’s wings. In the center were leather straps, sized to perfectly fit over Jimmy’s undersized wings. Jimmy unconsciously shifted his own wings as he stared at the new ones.

“Do you like it?” Tango asked, trying to seem cheerful but with a hint of cautiousness in his voice. His tail flicked nervously behind him and he seemed to duck his head slightly, not sure if the gift would be appreciated.

“I…I love them!” Jimmy excitedly shouted and ran his hand over the canvas. The fabric was tightly woven and would have no problem catching the wind. “Can I try them on? Now?”

“Well, I asked Grian to be here when you tested them.” Tango chuckled, relaxing now that he knew Jimmy loved his gift. “He’s running a bit late though. Something about flowers?”

“Grian’s always late!” Jimmy huffed. “And with the craziest excuses, probably trimming his flower bushes or something. Can’t we please go ahead without him?” Jimmy pleaded, clasping his hands and giving his best sad eyes to Tango.

“Yeah, yeah, Grian’s always late with you,” Tango tried to ignore Jimmy’s big eyes, “but I wanted another flier to be here when we tested them, just in case, you know? No one else can use them since they only fit over your wings and they aren’t like elytra since they’re supposed to work with the movement of your wing muscles and obviously I don’t have the parts to wear them and Grian’s wings are too big to fit with my calculations for how it will catch wind and be able to steer without-”

Tango was suddenly cut off by a kiss from Jimmy. It lasted a long moment before Jimmy pulled away and gave Tango a relaxed smile. “I trust your creations, rancher.” Tango gave a wistful sigh and smiled.

“Okay, fine. You can take it for a spin.” Tango helped Jimmy slide the leather straps over his wings, Tango nervously asking the whole time if they were pulling at his feathers at all. Jimmy just laughed and said he loved how Tango fretted.

“Alright, you sure you can do this?” Tango’s eyes darted around the wings. “You know how to steer and everything? Should we wait for Grian?”

“Of course I know!” Jimmy huffed and smirked at Tango playfully. “I may not be able to fly, but I’m still an avian! Besides, with your creation, I’ll probably be flying better than Grian ever could.” Jimmy gave Tango one last peck on the lips and stepped forward. Tango had chosen this mountain near the shopping district as the meeting spot specifically so Jimmy could easily take off and test the wings. He shouldn’t need rockets since he had his wing muscles to flap the fake wings. But what if his muscles were as underdeveloped as his wings? Maybe Tango should give him some rockets, just in case-

Before Tango’s thoughts could go any further, Jimmy had seemingly hyped himself up and thrown himself off the mountain, wings spread. Tango ran to the edge and his mouth fell open in a large smile as Jimmy easily glided his way down. They could work and glide as elytra, that was good, now for-

Jimmy flapped as hard as he could and shot himself into the air. Tango cheered as loud as he could. To anyone else it wasn’t anything amazing, Grian easily lifted himself higher with one flap, but this was Jimmy, Tango’s rancher and love. He was finally flying, and Tango helped make that happen, he helped make Jimmy happy, and that meant everything to him.

He watched Jimmy try more maneuvers. He could turn and drift. Tango could tell how much fun Jimmy was having with how high he flew. After reaching as high as wanted, he began to glide, having fun learning to turn left and right. He did a spiral down and Tango cheered more.

Suddenly Jimmy was diving. Tango knew avians loved the speed, Grian was always diving. But didn’t diving seem a bit advanced for him? Even Tango remembered in season 6 when Grian regularly ran into walls because he was going too fast. He narrowed his eyes at Jimmy’s silhouette. Jimmy wasn’t diving. One of the wing’s joints had broken, dangling behind Jimmy. The broken joint had caused the canvas on that side to unhook and be left flapping in the wind. The other wing was fully extended, Jimmy desperately trying to use the only good wing to catch the wind and slow his fall, but it was no use.

It wasn’t even a second. Jimmy was in the air and then he wasn’t. His figure had fallen behind the trees, thankfully shielding Tango from what happened, but he knew. He knew what happened. The wings had failed, Jimmy had fallen, it was all Tango’s fault. He went through the schematics in his head. What had failed? Did the hinge restrictor break? Could the wings not handle the wind pressure? He did the calculations hundreds of times, they should’ve worked, they shouldn’t have failed!

Tango didn’t know how long he stood there on the edge of the mountain. He felt numb. Like his mind was still desperately thinking about everything that just happened over and over again, trying to understand it. He couldn’t understand it. Eventually he heard another flap of wings that jolted him out of his head.

“Hey, Tango! Sorry I’m late, was fighting off butterflies, you know how it is.” Grian looked around. “Where’s Jimmy?”

[echoes-of-the-unknown]

And then he was fine, don’t worry about it :)

[shurisneakers]

misery loves company masterlist

summary: "everyone is always like “oh! bucky with a golden retriever reader this! bucky with a sunshine reader that!” what about bucky with a reader who’s just as moody as he is??"

A/n: honestly just a bunch of one-offs based on request that i write just so i have an excuse to write

new year's eve

cold hands in warm hands + hand kisses

"who did this to you?"

slow dancing at a wedding

[gublernatural]

as much as he’d hate to admit it, spencer kept a lot of secrets from the team.

some were minor, like how the cardigan jj gave him really was itchy, or how the new coffee machine in the office was significantly harder to clean than the old one, making each cup of coffee slightly more bacteria-filled than the less. other secrets were major, like the time his addiction had taken hold of him or the many social media accounts he had on the smart phone the team had recently found out about.

it’s true. he was on almost every platform, usually under some variation of user17376 and with no icon. but he was still there. he followed exactly one person, who also seemed to be his biggest secret.

you.

he wasn’t even sure if you knew of the vaguely-stalker-esque accounts he created just to keep tabs on you. he could only imagine how hard it would be to keep track of one user, without a name, located in your hundreds of thousands of followers. you might’ve hit one million after your newest single dropped, he hadn’t had time to check.

spencer felt bad stumbling out of your release party. he’d stuck to the back as you did your thank you speeches, excitedly dropping hints to your upcoming album. your relationship with spencer, if it could even be called that, was very private and he intended to keep it that way.

that’s why he was keeping you a secret. obviously. not because he hasn’t truly asked you to be his girlfriend. or because he was too shy to admit he even knew someone as famous as you. or because of his own insecurities telling him that he didn’t deserve you. no, of course not.

after your speeches and singing along to your brand new pop single that dropped at midnight, you did scooch your way to the back to talk to him. spencer’s arm still had goosebumps from where you held it as you laughed at his joke. he was a bit more bold now that he was three fruity drinks in. despite your fame and all of the attention you received, spencer felt comfortable in the hidden depths of your party.

his mind sort of shut off, just enjoying his time with you. every conversation topic was riveting, and he wished he could stay here with you forever.

and then his work phone rang in his pocket. spencer pretended like he didn’t see the small flash of disappointment when he answered it, saying a “hey, jj,” quietly into the speaker. you gave him a quick side hug, and then ran off, knowing he was about to leave.

and here he was, stumbling out of the party, listening to jj’s authoritative voice tell him that he needs to get to quantico asap, bring a go-bag, and meet the team on the jet so they could go over the case.

yikes. right to the jet. must be important.

as he hung up, he looked solemnly into the building your party was in. despite the empty feeling in his chest, he couldn’t help but smile at the pink lights pouring out of the windows.

and off he was to quantico.

the train ride there gave him a lot of time to ponder your interaction with him. sure, it felt like you maybe wanted to be his girlfriend when you were together. you held strong eye contact with him, weren’t afraid of small physical touches, gave him all of your attention, and stood close to him when engaged in conversations. all tell-tale behavioral signs of a crush.

but things never went deeper than surface level. it always seemed like he was catching up with a friend, not flirting with someone who he was interested in. even if he was definitely interested in you. he sighed, realizing that feeling had to stem from you, then. if you were into him, you’d also flirt with him.

so, no matter how many times you invited him to things, or he slept on your velvet couch after a game night with you and a few of your friends, that’s all he’d ever be to you. a friend.

spencer decides to turn his mind off (and his hidden smart phone), opting to bury his nose into a book. he brought a few, just in case.

he doesn’t turn his phone back on until the second night in the dingy motel. he really was trying to give himself space from you. you were infecting his mind, preventing him from thinking clearly and making decisions on the case. he thought one look at your social media might clear his head.

he opened your twitter, seeing only one new tweet. it was a video, captioned ‘been working on this one, hope you like it.’ the video played in the small media player as he inspected it. you were sat criss-cross, an acoustic guitar resting in your lap. your nails were pink, matching your newest single cover.

as he looked closer, he could see the glitter across your collar bones and your slightly-smeared makeup. this was filmed the night of your party. it must’ve been after it, given your disheveled appearance. he couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful you looked.

finally, he opened the video, your beautiful voice filling the room. spencer closed his eyes, trying to listen to the words you were singing.

“i told myself, don't get attached, but in my mind, i play it back, spinning faster than the plane that took you.”

spencer gasped, realizing the similarities to his situation. oh my god oh my god oh my god.

“and this is when the feeling sinks in, i don’t wanna miss you like this. come back, be here. come back, here.”

this song was for him.

read about how popstar!reader and spencer met here <3

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Confessions

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: T || tags: post vecna, references to stancy, angst and fluff, robin buckley just being herself

~~~

Eddie and Robin were just finishing filling the snack bowls and mixing drinks when they heard a knock at the door. It’s a Friday night– and not what Eddie would consider a late hour–but they weren’t expecting anyone to join their weekly movie night at Steve’s. 

He glances at Robin who shrugs, shaking her head. As he rounds the kitchen counter towards the foyer, Steve’s voice carries down the hallway.

“Nance?” He sounds surprised too.

“Steve, I’m sorry I know it’s late, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I can’t wait anymore,” she says. Eddie can’t see her, but she sounds anxious. 

“This can’t be good,” Robin huffs. He agrees, if the sinking pit in his stomach is any indicator.

“Look, Nance, now’s not really–”

“Steve,” she barrels over him, sounding desperate. “I’ve been an idiot trying to convince myself that I haven’t missed you since we broke up– and before you say it, this isn’t because Jonathan left after we closed the last gate. When we were stuck there with Robin and Eddie, the way you looked at me was how I’ve always hoped someone would love me. You looked at me like I was everything to you, like you could look at me forever and never get tired of it. I feel wanted, and loved, and safe when I’m around you.” She takes a deep, steadying breath before pressing on.

“Last time, when we were together, I took all of my grief and anger out on you. I blamed you for  what happened to Barb because I couldn’t face it myself and I knew you loved me enough to hold the weight, and I resented you for it. You wouldn’t stand up to me, and I resented you because you loved me anyway.” Eddie can hear Nancy sniffling, small sobs carrying down the hallway. “You loved me at my worst, and you didn’t deserve that. You’re amazing, and strong, and kind and everything I could ever ask for.

“Steve, what you said in the Winnebago, I just, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us”

The silence that follows is stifling and Eddie feels bile climbing up his throat. Arms wrap around his shoulders as Robin tucks her head into his neck. Only a small comfort while months of gentle moments with Steve flash behind his eyes: soft hands brushing his curls, stolen glances, lingering touches, and warm smiles. Now Eddie’s forced to stand vigil as it’s all washed away by Nancy's whispered pleas.

“Nance, please–”

A spark of hope after a late night confession weeks ago– swiftly blown away.

“Steve Harrington, I lo–”

“Nancy,” Steve interrupts, his tone firm yet soft around the edges, “I’m in love with someone else.”

Robin gasps into his neck. Her arms around his shoulders squeeze tight, anchoring him to reality in the wake of Steve’s confession. His chest is so full he can’t breathe. 

“Oh,” Nancy whispers before another, deeper sob leaves her breathless. He never thought he’d hear Nancy Wheeler cry. Even though they’re apparently both in love with the same man, he’s grown close with her too and can’t help the urge to comfort her. Eddie’s grown to love everyone in his new found family. But Nancy is right. 

“Yeah Nance, I’m sorry. And they’re kind of here right now, so,” he says gently.

Steve Harrington is everything. 

And they’re kind of here right now…

Hope flames in his chest, blooming with warmth. Eddie doesn’t hear the conversation end over the buzzing in his own head and Robin’s frantic giggling until they hear the click of the front door and Steve’s footsteps coming towards them.

“Oh.”

Steve’s standing in front of them, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Eddie’s realizing he and Robin maybe should’ve hid before Steve rounded the corner to find them eavesdropping. 

“So,” Steve stammers, a fierce rouge burning his ears, “how much of that did you hear, exactly?”

Robin quickly stands, clearing her throat before Eddie can think of an answer. “Is that the microwave? Did anyone else hear the microwave ding? I think the popcorn is done, so I can go check that right now. Yeah, right now. I’ll just, umm, be in the kitchen checking the popcorn. For the movie.”

She practically sprints down the hall, and although she wasn’t subtle, Eddie’s still thankful for the privacy. Steve’s shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Everything,” Eddie answers. “We heard everything.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. He sounds anxious and unsure, something Eddie’s compelled to fix, because all he wants in this world is for Steve Harrington to be happy.

“It’s ok.” He takes Steve’s hands in his own, tracing his thumb lightly over his knuckles. “We won’t say anything to her about it, and we won’t tell anyone what she said. Nancy’s in safe hands with us. Mum’s the word!” And as Eddie mimes zippering up his mouth, he hopes that Steve won’t take the easy way out. That he won’t use the life-raft Eddie’s just thrown in his direction to keep him from drowning. 

“Right,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he gazes at the floor between them. The silence as Eddie waits for Steve’s next words grows long and tense. He can’t hear any movement in the kitchen, making him more anxious now that he knows Robin’s listening. Which, he’d be a hypocrite to be mad about.

Maybe he has this all wrong. Maybe Steve just needed a way to get her to leave, so he lied about having a date over. Maybe he didn’t know what to say, and just said the first thing to pop into his head. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with Eddie at all. 

Eddie realizes he’s still holding Steve’s hands, his grip tightening the longer he spirals. If it hurts, Steve hasn’t said anything. But when Eddie looks at his face, he seems dazed and lost in thought. As fast as if he’d been burned, Eddie drops Steve’s hands and takes a step backward.

“So,” Eddie stammers, voice shaking, “I’m going to go help Birdie with the popcorn. You want to get another movie started?”

Hands still frozen in the air, Steve finally lets his clenched fists fall to his sides. Eddie can see the whites of his knuckles. He hears Steve sigh, exhausted and frustrated, but Steve’s nodding with furrowed brows and taking a step backward towards the living room– away from Eddie. Too far to reach out to.

Turning away, Eddie’s in the middle of forming an escape attempt when he opens the kitchen door to immediately be swept up in Robin’s arms. Of course she’d been listening. He’s grateful for it, now that he doesn’t have to explain himself. As he buries his face into her neck, he finds a wet patch and wonders what kind of accident she got into while prepping snacks. It’s not until she starts gently shushing him that he realizes he’s crying, tears soaking into her shirt. 

“It’s gonna be ok, teddy bear,” she says, running her hand through his curls, “he’ll get there, I promise. He’s working on it, you know that.”

He nods. He does know that. Steve’s been out to Robin for a few months, but only to Eddie for a few weeks. He deserves the space to figure it out, and the grace of those around him to do so at his own pace. Still, Eddie can’t help his growing impatience alongside the increasing severity of his crush. At least Robin’s here to support the both of them.

The two of them finish gathering the snacks in silence. She was full of awkward jokes to try to lighten the mood, but when it was clear Eddie was stuck in his head, she’d stopped. He feels bad about it. He’ll make it up to her later, plus he knows she’s not upset with him. Eddie suspects they’ll be getting together sometime tomorrow to rehash everything that’s happened– after she’s finished consoling Steve, of course.

When they leave the kitchen, Eddie’s surprised to find Steve exactly where he’d left him. He’s standing frozen in the hallway, lip pulled between his teeth and hands still clenched. But when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s, there’s resolve behind his eyes.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Oh my god! Finally!”

Eddie jumps violently at Robin’s shouting, almost directly into his ear. She’s flushed red with embarrassment decorated with a manic grin so wide he wonders if it’ll just keep stretching like taffy. There’s popcorn poured out onto the floor from where she clearly threw her hands up in excited exasperation. He watches as her eyes grow wide, her smile morphing into shock, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’, as if to say ‘oh shit, I just interrupted the most important moment in my best friends’ lives because I’m so excited and impatient that these two dinguses finally figured their shit out’.

She kicks the scattered popcorn towards the wall, like that’ll somehow hide the mess, before awkwardly passing them both down the hall towards the living room.

Eddie loves her so much.

“Huh,” Eddie chuckles, “well that was–”

“I’ve known I’ve liked you since last summer when you let me help you into my pool onto Holly’s rubber duck floaty so you could finally go swimming after you finished physical therapy.” Steve sounds out of breath, words running into each other with misplaced breaths in between. Like if he stops, he knows he won’t start again. 

It’s the only time Eddie’s felt the urge to keep quiet– when he’s not fighting for his life.

“You were so nervous,” Steve plows on, “but you said you felt safe with me, that you wanted only me to be there. You said you trusted me to help without laughing or judging you. Fuck, Eddie, you were so goddamn cute once we got you settled in with a Coke with a crazy straw in it. We were listening to ABBA and you didn’t even complain and you were so sunburnt the next day. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

The memory leaves Eddie shocked. He did trust Steve to help, didn’t even consider asking anyone else because Steve just felt like the most obvious answer. He’d been there through the worst of Eddie’s post-PT work to make sure he ‘kept form’ on his exercises. They’d lounged in the sun all day, and it was the first time Eddie watched Steve relax since his final Upside-Down battle. 

Eddie feels his lip quiver, eyes burning, knowing they’d felt the same that day. Judging by Steve’s watery eyes, he guesses they feel the same now, too. 

“But love,” Steve whispers. He swallows as he takes a step closer, reaching out to grasp his hands. “Eddie Munson, I knew I was in love with you yesterday.”

His shoulders tighten as he recalls yesterday, surprised because they hadn’t seen each other at all, one of the rare days where their schedules didn’t line up. It was the first time in months they’d gone longer than thirty-six hours without seeing each other. Sure, they’d talked on the phone while Steve worked, but it’s not the same.

“I know,” Steve laughs, clocking Eddie’s confusion. “I thought about you all day. Couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Robin had to work with the customers because all I kept thinking about was tonight. If you’d get here before Robin, so we could sit out by the pool and smoke. Where we’d sit for the movie and if we’d get to share the popcorn bucket. If you’d pick a movie I hadn’t seen, so you’d lean in close and tell me a million random facts, even when you know I don’t really get it. But I just like when you’re close, next to me, and–” he hesitates– “I think that’s why you do it.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, wiping a tear from his eye using the back of Eddie’s knuckles. He returns the gesture, wiping what Eddie’s guessing is a mix of tears and snot off of his own face with Steve’s sleeve. 

“I think you lean in because you want to be close to me, too, and you don’t actually care about the movie either. Eddie, I think you ask for my help because you trust me in a way only Robin does. You give me cute nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘pretty boy’ because you’re teasing me, but I think it’s mostly because you really mean it.” Steve’s stepped closer now, and Eddie can feel the warmth of shared air between their gasping breaths. 

“I think you tease me and lean into me because you want my attention,” Steve whispers, brushing his nose alongside Eddie’s as their foreheads touch. “But Eddie, you’ve always had my attention.”

Eddie surges forward, capturing Steve’s tear-soaked lips between his own in what has to be the snotiest kiss either of them has ever had. But he doesn’t care. How could he? Eddie’s kissing the man he’s been in love with for almost eight months. 

Steve drops Eddie’s hands in favor of running one through his dark curls, while the other grips tightly at his waist. He can’t help but cup Steve’s cheeks, running a gentle thumb along his cheekbones. 

It’s soft and messy and everything he’s ever hoped for, because Steve Harrington is his everything, and he’ll do anything to keep him. Right now, he doesn’t have to worry about what they’ll tell their friends, or how they’ll explain this to Nancy, or even if Robin’s listening behind the door– he’s sure she is. No, right now, he lets himself bask in the glow of Steve’s love and soak in the comfort that Steve feels loved in return.

[hallietblr]

my favourite birthday girl | j.fisher x reader

request: i would like to request can it be where jere and i are best friends and its my bday belly and conrad throw a surprise bday party for me at the becks beach house and jeremiah & i go upstairs and we go in his bedroom he confesses that he liked me since last summer and i have my first time with jere trying different sex positions like hes on top of me and im on top of him riding him & doing cowgirl style position lots of kissing can it be smut/angst and is it okay if i include my name and if not you can do y/n thanks babe❤️❤️❤️❤️🫶🏻🥰

a/n: i fricking LOVE this!! i had so much fun writing it and i hope you all enjoy!

warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), oral (fem! receiving), swearing, alcohol consumption, and jeremiah being a total sweetheart

—

the sun was shining brightly through the windows of my bedroom, the morning breeze coming through smelling of sea salt. i flutter my eyes open, taking in the warmth of the summer. i reach for my phone that was charging by my bed side. the moment the lockscreen wakes, it’s full of birthday messages.

i feel myself smile as i go through the individual texts from all my friends back home in maine. i respond to them all, thanking each of them for the kind and loving messages.

after doing so, i finally decide that it’s time for me to get out of bed. i stretch out the slumber from my body before crawling out of the warm bed. i grab my phone and my bluetooth speaker and head over to my bathroom to start my birthday right.

cruel summer by taylor swift starts playing loudly as i pull off my pajamas, which was in reality one of jeremiah’s old t-shirts. i decide to text my friends to see what the plans were for the day, assuming they had something in mind.

—

SUMMER GANG☀️🌊🫶

y/n!

goodmorning guys!! what are the plans for today?

stevie:

con and i are going fishing at the pier today

belly <3:

i told my mom that i’ll go to the store with her today!! sorry girl!

y/n!:

that’s fine haha have fun! tell laur i said hi:)

j:

i should be available today i think

connie:

i thought ur coming fishing?

stevie:

yeah!! boys trip!!

belly <3:

wow i’ve nvr seen us all so busy lol

j:

wdym it’s a regular day

connie:

nvm mom says u need to clean ur room jere

stevie:

LOL

belly <3:

so true, it’s gross jeremiah

j:

shut upp

urs isn’t any better bells

belly <3:

:(

y/n!:

stop being mean j

—

i close my phone, a bit disappointed that it appeared that all my friends forgot about my birthday. i try to shake it off and assume that they’re all busy, so remembering a birthday isn’t that big of a deal.

i step into my shower, washing my hair with my coconut shampoo and conditioner, lathering my body with body wash, and shaving every inch of my body. i sing to taylor swift as i shower, feeling my muscles relax in the warm water. i dry myself off with a towel and pull on a cute purple summer dress that i had gotten earlier last week.

after putting on some makeup and doing my hair, i figured that i was ready to go downstairs to see my family. at least they would remember my birthday.

you only turn seventeen once, plus laurel, susannah, and my mom always told me that seventeen is an amazing year.

my mom was preparing my favourite smoothie bowl when i got to the kitchen. her face lit up after seeing me turn the corner and a smile drawn up her face, “happy birthday, my babygirl!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight embrace.

i hug her back, “thank you, momma!”

she hands me the beautiful smoothie bowl, “here you go, sugar! let me go get you your presents!”

my mom scurries away to her office before returning with multiple gifts all wrapped up in colourful gift wrap. she places them on the kitchen island before sitting down beside me.

i was already half way done my breakfast when my dad and baby sister came into the kitchen.

“happy seventeenth, babydoll” my dad grins, planting a kiss on my forehead, “i can’t believe how grown up you are already.”

“happy birthday sissy!” my four year old sister yells, hugging my leg. i ruffle her hair, thanking the both of them.

my mom urges me to open up the presents, she had always been a huge gift giver — seeing people’s reactions were her favourite thing. i open the sealed boxes, revealing lululemon clothing, a new ipad, gorgeous jewelry, and some makeup products that i’ve been wanting to get.

“mom!” i exclaim, in shock of the overwhelming amount of gifts, “you didn’t have to!”

“oh, honey,” she coos, brushing my hair, “it’s your seventeenth birthday! of course i had to, do you like them?”

i look at her with my mouth opened agape, “yes, yes! of course i love them all! you know me so well, thank you!”

my arms wrap around my mom, squeezing her tight.

“my first baby,” she whispers into my ear so my sister, lindsay, doesn’t hear her, “i love you with my whole heart.”

i finish up the rest of my breakfast, while also admiring my new items. my dad also takes a few photos of us, most likely to post on his facebook page later. luckily, i look decent right now.

“eat up,” my dad says to me, “your friends are probably waiting for you.”

i shrug, “they’re all busy today.”

my mom turns to me with a raised eyebrow, “seriously? do you want me to call susannah?”

i shake my head quickly, “no! it’s alright, really.”

“i’m sorry, baby” my dad squeezes my shoulder, “you can hang out with us today.”

i give him a small smile, “that sounds good.”

the rest of the day was uneventful, well not exactly. it was moreso just a typical day for us. my sister and i went swimming in our pool, i watched tv with my parents, and scrolled through my phone a ton. i really didn’t want to confront my friends about them forgetting my birthday, it would’ve been immature was what i told myself. it’s not like i’m six anymore.

i was laying on my bed when i received a text message.

—

j:

heyy pretty

wanna come over? we just came back from fishing 🎣

y/n!:

sure :)

j:

awesome! see you soon!!

also wear something nice ;)

y/n!:

why?

j:

not that you don’t always look nice!!!

my mom wants to take photos or smt lol

y/n!:

oooook

—

my brows furrow in slight confusion of the request but i shrug it off. i get up from my laying position and go to my closet to find something ‘nice’. i find a black satin slip dress that i brought from back home, i figured this would be nice enough. i put it on and look at myself in front of my mirror.

i smooth down the material of the dress, checking how it looks from the side and from behind. i silently pray that jeremiah would like it, i’ve overheard him, conrad, and steven talk about how jeremiah is an ass man multiple times — considering how the satin material of the dress perfectly fits my bum, i’m convinced he’ll appreciate it.

i grab my phone, sunglasses, and my favourite lip gloss before heading downstairs. i see my parents cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie together with my sister fast asleep in the space next to them.

i slide on my white converse and head over to them, “i’m going over to the fishers.” i tell them. they smile and remind me to have fun and to be home by two am.

the walk over to the fisher summer home is brief, a quick five minute walk. them living only two houses over from mine always came in handy. i open up the front door before my vision became black.

“do you trust me?” he says, jeremiah’s hands clamped over my eyes.

“if you ruin my mascara, j, i might cry.” i joke, “yes, i do trust you.”

“okay, good.” i can hear his infamous smile in his voice, “come with me.”

he guides me slowly through the house, his hands still over my eyes. jeremiah lifts them off and it takes me a moment before noticing all the decorations put up around the kitchen. there are streamers hanging from the walls and across the ceilings, so many pretty balloons in every corner of the room, a huge ‘happy birthday’ sign hanging on the cupboards.

my hand flyes to clamp over my open mouth, “oh my god!”

steven, belly, laurel, susannah, and conrad all jump up from their hiding spot behind the kitchen island.

“surprise!” they all scream out. i smile widely, taking in everything,

“you guys!” i gush, as im being pulled into a hug from jeremiah, “thank you!”

his muscular arms hold me and he plants two kisses on my hair, “did you really think we forgot your birthday, pretty girl?”

i laugh, “well maybe! you guys are forgetful sometimes… like the time you forgot belly and i at the walmart!”

he rolls his eyes playfully, “oh shush, that was one time!”

“we never forget birthdays here.” susannah giggles before also hugging me, “happy birthday my gorgeous and beaming girl.”

everyone takes their turn in hugging me and wishing me a happy birthday. i thank each of them individually, the smile never leaving my face once.

“who planned this?” i ask laurel, who was carefully pulling out the birthday cake from the fridge.

“it was all belly and connie’s idea” she smiles, “now go sit!”

i take my seat next to jeremiah and steven before laurel brings the cake with seventeen candles on it in front of me. they all sing happy birthday to me and i close my eyes to make a wish.

every year since i was five years old, my birthday wish has been the same. not even just for my birthday, anytime i saw a shooting star, or tossed a penny in a fountain, or honestly any other occasion that required making a wish — it has always been the same.

it was wishing for jeremiah to notice me in the same way that i see him. it’s all i’ve ever wanted, as stupid as it can get.

i blow out all the candles and susannah cuts up the cake into slices before serving it to everyone. belly reminds me of all the birthday presents that they had gotten me, and to open it later.

after cake, susannah and laurel agree to leave the home to go to a cocktail bar so that the kids can have the house to themselves for a few hours. more teenagers from cousins start showing up, all of them wishing me a happy birthday as they come in.

drinks are being served, music is playing loudly off the multiple speakers scatter around the home, beer pong matches are being played by the pool, people dancing.

jeremiah stays next to me for the whole night, we chat with a few of our friends while sipping our seltzers.

“do you wanna go upstairs for a bit?” jeremiah says to me in a hushed tone, “y’know, to get away from this?”

i nod, “yeah, for sure.”

he smiles, taking my hand into his own and guiding me through the crowd and up the stairs. we walk to his bedroom, he closes the door behind me and locks it. jeremiah places his drink on his dresser and offers to put mine next to it, i agree and soon we’re both seated on his bed.

we make small talk, him asking about my birthday so far as he rummages around in his desk drawer. he sits back down beside me, facing me. he places a small velvet box into my hands,

“open it, my favourite birthday girl.” he smirks, looking into my eyes. his hand was on my thigh and i can feel myself blushing.

i think i can get lost in his ocean eyes, they’re so beautiful and full of life. i smile and carefully open it, inside was a gorgeous golden ring with a large (what im assuming was a fake) diamond on it.

“j…” i gasp, lifting the ring out of its box and admiring it, “this must have costed a fortune.”

he shrugs, “anything for you, look on the band.”

i bring the ring closer to my eyes and see that there’s an engraving on the inside of the band.

in love with my best friend <3

my jaw drops, “jeremiah?”

i look up at him, our eyes interlocking. he slowly nods, “i love you, y/n — i’ve always have, i thought it was a childhood crush and i don’t think i really realized until last summer that i truly do love you.”

“can i?” he asks, taking the ring from my hand. i nod and he carefully slips it onto my finger before being it to his lips and kissing it.

i pull him into a kiss, my hands rested on his cheeks and his on my waist. he kissed back almost immediately. my hands move down to his built chest and gently push him down onto his back, our lips never leaving each others. i adjust my legs so im straddled on him,

“i’ve always loved you too.” i whisper against his lips, he smiles into the kiss and kisses me harder.

his fingers fiddle with the edge of my dress, hands sliding up and down the back of my thighs before squeezing my ass slowly, “god, i couldn’t take my eyes off of you in this dress. it makes your body look so fucking good.” jeremiah groans.

i lower my crotch onto the evident tent in his pants, he gasps at the contact while slowly grind my hips on his.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my pants.” he moans into my ear as i flip my hair onto one side. i bring my face to his jawline, kissing it and licking the soft skin. his hands tighten around my ass and i moan at the contact.

his hand slips under my dress and to the lace material of my thong, his finger slide underneath the band of it. he lifts it before letting it go, the snap of my underwear against my skin making me moan louder.

“sit on my face,” he tells me in a low voice, i feel myself getting even more wet and excited at the tone of it, “let me give you another birthday gift.”

he lifts me by the waist and moves me so my core is hovering above his mouth. i grab onto his head board while jeremiah slowly moves the lace material to the side and lowers me onto his face.

i gasp loudly when his tongue licks a long stride between my folds. he moans into me, “fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.” he mumbles against me, the vibrations causing me to throw my head back in pleasure.

jeremiah dips his tongue into me, licking up all the juices and tracing figure eights against me. i squeeze the headboard tighter, becoming a moaning mess quickly. his tongue is magic. he fucks me with his mouth, my thighs shaking around his head,

“shit, jere.” i cry out, feeling my high coming closer. his hands squeeze my ass yet again before landing a smack on my left ass cheek. i moan loudly in response, my body flowing with immense pleasure, “fuck, i’m gonna come!”

he never slows his tongue as i feel my orgasm come crashing down on me. waves of pure pleasure crashing down. jeremiah licks up every last drop as i slowly come down from the high. i move myself down from his face and back down towards his groin. i lean down to kiss his passionately, tasting myself on his lips,

“holy shit, i can eat you out all day long.” he says to me as his hands fumble with his pants. he kicks off his pants and boxers. his erection slaps his lower abdomen and i drool at the sight of it. it’s huge, red tip begging for attention and veins pulsating on the sides of it.

i move to give him a blowjob but his grip on my waist prevents me from moving, “it’s your birthday.” jeremiah tells me, “you can give me head another time.” he winks

my hips position themselves above his thick and veiny cock and i lower myself onto it. he fills me up perfectly and we both moan loudly at the same time. every inch of him inside on me as i bottom out.

i slowly start rocking my hips against him, both of us becoming a panting mess. his hands never leave my hips, lifting me and slamming me back down onto his dick.

“you feel so good, baby” he praises, “you tight pussy feels amazing around me, fuck”

i continue riding him, my hands tangled up in his hair, pulling it which makes him moan.

“i- i think your cock was made for me.” i whisper in his ear before kissing him harshly.

he smirks, “oh yeah?”

and i nodded feverishly before he flips us around so im on my back and his on top of me, “sorry baby, i want to be in control now”

he pulls out almost entirely before slamming himself back in, the new position making him hit me even deeper than he was before. he thrusts harder and deeper, my back arches and i grab onto the sheets beside me, “fuck i’m close” i cry

“me too, hold on.” he continues fucking me, littering kissing on my face and neck. i can feel my inner muscles squeezing around him which makes jeremiah groan, “i’m fucking gonna come.”

“let it go.” he encourages me, his thumb going down to start abusing the bundle of nerves. almost immediately, i feel myself orgasm. my legs tightening around his waist and i feel him finish inside of me. he releases a series of curse words as he fucks us both through our orgasms.

a few moments after he pulls out and rolls next to me. we’re both breathing heavily, trying to catch our breaths, “holy shit” i pant out, looking over at him.

he grins, “that was amazing.”

“beyond amazing.” i repeat and he laughs,

“fuck, i should’ve asked you this before.” he says, reaching over to cup my face, “will you be my girlfriend, y/n?”

i blush, “yes, a hundred times yes!”

—

taglist! @randomaccountworld123 @bxbyyyjocelyn @20nugs @jeremiahxaesthetic

[mvltisstuff]

going, going, gone - c.f

summary: y/n’s the only person who can get conrad, and he realizes that maybe he’s been falling for the wrong conklin.

conrad fisher x conklin!reader

gif from @conradfiisher

a/n: this will likely have a part two, so it probably won’t end here!! no promises as to when pt 2 is out but it will be there eventually ;)) this is literally me wishing i could slap some sense into belly

part two

“hey,” y/n greets, stepping into the beach house and finding conrad unpacking.

“hi,” he smiles lightly. the past few months have been nearly impossible. trying to crack conrad open is like trying to break into a safe. it took y/n forever to be able to understand conrad, and now that she finally did, there was an undeniable spark. she could sense the tension in his mind, knowing that something had set him off. he looked like he just wanted to break down, but he didn’t want to. if he did, he doesn’t know how to put himself back together.

“you ok?” she asks, cautiously. he’s almost like a wild animal, get too close and he runs away. especially since susannah died, he hasn’t been able to find a connection like the one he had with his mother.

“fine,” he mumbles, folding a few blankets onto the couch and placing some pillows beside it.

“conrad, don’t play this game with me again,” y/n sighs, stepping closer to him. he pauses in his movements to look up at her, slapping one last piece of decor on the mantle. “can we at least talk about the exam?”

“i, um,” he stutters, unable to find the right words that have disappeared in his mind. it’s like he completely pushed out the exam, all the other events had forcefully taken the excitement from it. “i feel really good about it, but it’s just an exam.”

y/n can tell in his slumped stance that something is truly disturbing him. he looks broken, and whoever did it certainly failed to put the pieces back together. it appears that they didn’t even try. “talk to me, conrad. please?”

he stops, breaking eye contact. he can’t look at her while he tells her because she can’t see his face when he says it. he doesn’t want y/n to see him crack under the pressure again.

“jeremiah and belly were making out on my car when i came out of testing. i walked out and there they were.”

“what?” y/n spits out, thinking about everything belly had told her before. “i thought she said she moved on-“

“yeah, i did, too,” his voice breaks, still avoiding any looks to y/n. if y/n sees him falling apart over belly, y/n would probably say something. the last thing conrad wants is for belly to know the affect this had on him.

“conrad, you know you can talk to me, right?” she steps closer, wanting to reach out her hand to him but knowing he probably doesn’t want it. he wants belly’s. “anything you say to me won’t get back to her.”

he slightly turns, finally letting his eyes wander up y/n’s body until they meet hers. he’s always found a trust in y/n. she’s been there since they were little kids, but it’s always felt different. there was an innocence to her, she felt like home and he could always run back to her if he needed her. he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he ruined that.

“i’m just so tired, y/n. it’s just one step forward and two steps back. i thought we could finally be over this, but they both just stabbed me in the back. on my car, during my test, in my hoodie. my mom always said belly was destined for me, but it just feels like jere took that.”

y/n can feel the hurt as well as see it on conrad’s face. she’s able to read him so well now that he’s not afraid to open up. she feels like they’ve gotten through a door, a point where they can share secrets and find a safety net in the other. “belly doesn’t deserve you, conrad. she’s not as mature as you, and you can thrive without her, i swear.”

“i’ll be ok, i just need a break from all this shit,” he groans, allowing y/n to finally walk up to him and hold his hand. “i don’t know if we can go back to the way things were after this.”

“i know i can’t change what happened, but i need you to understand that you’re not alone. at this point, you come first to me.” he nods, and y/n can see the sunrise in his face a bit more, but his mind is still covered with darkness. “if you need anything, please call me or come see me, ok?”

“deal,” he cracks a little grin, making y/n smile a bit in return.

“take care of yourself, connie,” she says before opening the front door. she starts the long drive home knowing what’s waiting for her there.

she plants her stuff down on the counter, letting her body relax after the hours behind the wheel. she starts to clean up some of the mess that she left on the counter when she hears squeaky footsteps come down the stairs.

“hey, you’re back already?” belly says, lurking into the kitchen to lean against the frame. y/n doesn’t say anything, she just looks at her and continues to organize everything. “what’s wrong, why do you look like that?”

“honestly, belly, i’m just trying to figure out what to say to you.”

“what do you mean?” belly asks, trying to think about why her older sister could have a reason to be mad at her.

“i stopped at cousins on the way home,” y/n informs her, belly knowing exactly where she left conrad.

“y/n, you can’t be pissed off because of what he told you-“

“no, belly, i have every right to be pissed. i’m pissed for conrad. you left him in the dust and you have no shame about it.”

“it just happened, jeremiah and i. i never wanted to hurt conrad, but im in love!”

“yeah, you were also in love last week with conrad. and the week before with jeremiah. you need to move on from them, bell,” y/n sighs, allowing belly some time to build another response.

“who are you to even say that?”

“because i’ve been there for both of them! i was there for jeremiah when you wanted conrad. i’m there for conrad because you are playing with their hearts like they’re toys. i can tell your hearts not fully in it with jeremiah, but i’m not gonna let you destroy those boys even more.”

“how am i destroying them?”

“belly, wipe that innocence off your face. you’ve managed to rip apart the fisher brothers because you cannot pick which one you like more.”

“but-“

“no, belly! listen to me,” y/n cuts her off before she can try and make anything better. “you couldn’t even contain yourself at susannah’s funeral because you were too worried about conrad. i know we are all grieving, but you are acting like you’re more worried about which brother likes you more. it’s exhausting having to clean up the mess you make over and over again. you’re slowly ruining this bond for me, for steven, for mom! you know i love you more than words, but if you keep playing with their feelings, belly, this family is going to be destroyed.”

“y/n, susannah told me-“

“use susannah as an excuse one more fucking time, belly.” the room goes deadly silent, y/n sick of the excuses and victimized mentality of belly. when steven comes stepping quietly into the room, he ganders softly into the chaotic mess that has formed between his sisters. she swipes her keys back off the table, grabbing an extra bag out of the closet. “i’ll be back.”

“where are you going?” belly says, eyes full of tears from her fear of confrontation. her voice was shaky, and y/n could still feel a sting of guilt in her chest. she hated to build a bigger wall between everyone, but belly had to hear it.

“i’m going to look after conrad, because you failed to do it,” y/n ends their conversation, slamming the front door behind her and moving to the car. she left the house with a terrible tone, but someone else needed her more. belly had jeremiah, taylor, steven, laurel, anyone she wanted. conrad had y/n, and that became enough for him.

[rainychaoloveshack]

May I request Shadow or mobian!reader in a time loop. One of them is stuck, the other is blissfully unaware and won’t remember every time it’s reset. You can pick who is stuck! They are Asking for help and then the other giving a sudden smooch? Maybe more… than a smooch? Little heated if you so desire. They’re not yet together, or aware of the other persons feelings until that little kiss. After the loop is fixed, it’s awkward cause the one that was stuck in the loop knows. Like what’s the aftermath shsosnszk

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you’ll love shadow even after every reset possible. no matter what.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst to light fluff, friends to lovers, slight suggestive material warning. light mention of not eating/drinking for days, implied depression.

☂︎ wc. 1.6k ☂︎ a/n. i loved this request sm. like this one just spoke to my angsty soul. might be the longest thing here yet; sorry its too long ^^’ srry this took a while! i was flip flopping on who i wanted to be stuck ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Two hundred and thirty-six days. That's how many times you’ve watched the clock strike twelve exactly on Saturday, signaling to you the day had started over again. Never to watch the next day pass. Forced to live everyday like its a new one, yet still subject to HIS charming nature, even if he’s so stubborn in the way he shows his affection towards you.

You try your best to switch up the routines as you go nowadays, trying to excite your life, yet nothing ever works. The clock strikes twelve as it always does. At this point, it’s become numb; infuriatingly so. Some days you’ll gain that motivation back to try something different, whether it be surrounding yourself with new people to serve as a distraction, or trying to dig deeper into the cause of your time loop, to no avail. And other days you rot inside your room, staring at the clock on the wall, watching it tick. And tick. And tick, until it hits twelve again.

Some days you’ll forget to eat and drink, sometimes on purpose, first finding comfort in that pitting feeling in your stomach, finally feeling something after so long, but soon falling numb to that feeling too.

The only reason you have the strength to keep going is the belief that you’ll see your friends again. No matter what. In your timeline, without any interference.

Nothing changed today. Another day wasted, yet someone raps on your door sharply, forcing you to open your eyes gently and utter a small ‘okay’ to let them in.

… This hasn’t happened before. Why is he here?

“You’ve been stuck in here all day.” Shadow grumbles as he pushes your door open, the door squeaking on its hinges, with the moonlight already shining through your blowing curtains. “Have you even gotten out of bed today?” He says sternly, walking over to your bedside and nudging you, causing you to stir out of your resting state. You had already given up for today, so the plan was to just fall asleep until tomorrow.

‘Tomorrow’... What a dream tomorrow is to you.

Turning over, you meet his crimson eyes with a dull sigh leaving your lips, briefly glancing over to the clock set on the wall.

10:35 PM. It’s almost twelve. One more hour. One and a half.

He shifts his weight to one of his feet, setting a hand on his hip as he growls down at you. “No one saw you today, so Sonic told me to go and check on you. Especially since it’s this late and you’ve been missing for all of today.” He scoffs, clearly aggravated at your lack of energy or action. “You couldn’t at least tell one person that you 're going to stay inside all day?” Your blankets drop down to your lap as you sit up slowly, peering up at him through the blurry haze of your mind.

“At least I know you’re alive.” He says, walking over to your covered window to peel the curtains back, letting the moonlight illuminate your room with a soft, white glow. “Come on.” Shadow sits across from you on the bed, tugging the blankets away from you to encourage you to get up.

Why is he so persistent? Why can’t he just leave you alone? But even then, he’s still so…

Lovely.

Suddenly, tears prick and poke at the back of your eyes, welling up to the corners as they threaten to spill out and drip down your cheeks. Shadow stares at you as you hang your head low, refusing to meet his gaze as you try to shove that feeling away, despising that feeling of your throat tightening, even if you’ve begged to feel something other than despair for the longest time.

Of course. He doesn’t know what to do, but he’s still so charming…

“[Name]?” His hand presses against your calf under the blanket, slightly leaning forward to see the tears fall on your face, your shoulders trembling. “Wh-What’s wrong? Is it me?” A tremble flows through his hand; barely noticeable to someone who wouldn’t be paying attention to such a small detail. “[Name], tell me what’s wrong. Why’re you crying so suddenly?” Shadow murmurs, grabbing you by your shoulders to try to ease your worries.

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him you’ve been living every day hoping it’s the last one. Praying to be ripped from this curse. Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him

“What?” Shadow’s ear flicks in an odd manner, clearly confused at your sudden declaration. “I’m sorry? … Time-looping?”

And so you shatter. Break in front of his eyes; incessant ramblings about you feel like you’re going insane, yet the only thing to bring you back down to earth is getting to see him everyday on this agonizing, pitiful day. 

Something in his heart really does want to believe in you, truly. Although disbelief stands present in his head, he’ll reach out to you anyway. No matter what.

“[Name].” he utters your name, his gloved hand grazing your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “I…” Shadow stares into your eyes, trying to fight back the shock from showing on his face. His hands twitch as he reaches out for yours, grazing the back of your palm. “If you really think that you’re… Looping; then I believe you. I promise.”

What?

This is different. New. Two hundred and thirty-six times. Never had something like this happened before. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six days. Five thousand six hundred and sixty-four hours. 

It feels like your head is going to split into two, pulled and ripped apart by the hour and minute hand. It’s agonizing. But it’s something.

“[Name].” Shadow tilts your head up from your chin to face him. “I…” It looks like he’s at a loss for words, not that you blame him. 

“Come here.” He says softly, beckoning you closer to him with two fingers. What in the world does he want? Even though you ask multiple questions in your head, you lean in closer anyway to-

Huh?

His lips brush against yours, and it’s slow but sweet; still hesitant before he presses them further onto you, nipping at your bottom lip, almost desperate for something more. Deeper. Deeper. Even more so.

“[Name],” he growls in between pants, his voice trembling at the end of your name. “[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]...” Shadow keeps on saying in between your kisses and breaths for air, almost like a record constantly on repeat. His palms press into your shoulders, pinning you down on the bed, as he leans over your trembling form. His eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall, before looking back at you, cupping one of your cheeks.

He really feels the same way about you? He does? Your head subconsciously leans into his touch, pressing your face against his hand, desperately wanting- No. You have to feel the warmth coming from him.

“I’ll use whatever time I have left to spend it here with you. Even once it hits twelve; you have my word.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss you again…

Your head's pounding, the blankets laying heavy on your body this morning. Strangely heavy. Ugh. The mental toll of last night might be hitting you already, even if it’s another reset.

Wait, no, it’s not the blanket. If it’s not the blanket, it’s…

“How’re you feeling?” Shadow murmurs, raising his head off your chest to look at you directly. It’s really nerve-racking… But not in a bad way, somehow. “Are you sore anywhere?”

His question makes you cock your head to the side in confusion. Sore? Why would you be-

No. More importantly, what in the world is he doing in your bed? The day starts with your alarm ringing, but it hasn’t done so at all. In fact, it’s later than you would usually wake up; the clock’s hands say so.

Wait. So it’s really Sunday? Is it?!

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Shadow chuckles softly at your bewildered face, opening his mouth again to respond, but your arms toss around him, bear-hugging his body tight against yours.

“Ah, okay, okay, you’re happy; I get it…” Shadow grumbles, starting to pull away from you, but the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes makes him stop his protesting movements immediately, reaching up to wipe them away. “Oh come on, don’t start crying again.”

… Again? 

Your happy sobs are cut short by your own shock; this morning is getting both happier and weirder by the second. Again? So that means he knows it all? Everything?

A rare smile spreads across his muzzle, his eyes staring thoughtfully into yours. “Two hundred and thirty-six times…” Shadow starts, brushing his hand across your shoulder, and your face heats up gradually at the mention of the number coming from him. “So you really were telling the truth.”

You never told him that number. No way. Shouldn’t it just be like another reset?! Did he really remember your breakdown? No way, no way…

“When you mentioned the loop, something was telling me you were right, even if it sounded absurd.” He says, pausing his thoughts to think a bit harder about the situation. During this, he lifts himself off your body to sit at the edge of your bed, stretching his arms out in front of him. “I just…” He mumbles, his voice softening with his own strange embarrassment. “If it was really a time loop like you said, I wanted to try something I knew I wouldn’t regret.”

All time stuff aside, something else is nagging at your mind…

Did you two really do all that stuff last night?

Shadow peers over at you, before turning his head away; surely holding back some laughter by the way his shoulders shake, cupping his hand over his mouth.

“It’s nothing; don’t worry about it, then.”

(the set-up took longer than i thought it would, sorry for the yapping…)

[soobnny]

ex!seungmin who thinks about you when he receives his diploma during his graduation in law school because he couldn’t have done it without you, and it breaks his heart that while he’d reached his dreams, you couldn’t be there to see him make it.

he’d remember the countless sleepless nights you’d stayed up with him to review for his tests

or when you’d urge him to get some rest or eat his meals when he’d forget sometimes

you were there to help him realize he could do it, coming with him to apply for numerous universities

you were there from the beginning, so why couldn’t you be there to see him reach the end?

and it was a mutual decision—the breakup. but he finds that, as he reaps the rewards of his efforts, it doesn’t feel right that you aren’t in the crowd

that night, seungmin ponders over whether to call you or not

instead, he sends a few text messages

he doesn’t think he could talk to you without crying, doesn’t think he’s ready to hear your voice again

seungmin (9:57pm): i graduated today haha

seungmin (9:58pm): i just wanted to say thank you. i know that things are over between us, but it’s undeniable the influence you had on me while i was in law school. i don’t know if i’d be able to make it this far if you hadn’t believed in me the way you did. thank you. i can’t say it enough.

seungmin (10:01pm): there’s so much i want to tell you, but i guess i don’t really have the right to do that anymore. still, i hope you realize how much you’ve changed the way i looked at life (for the better, i can hear you complaining already)

seungmin (10:03pm): oh, and i found this letter i’d written back when i was still in my 1st year. it’s addressed to you, and i vividly remember telling myself to give it to you on the day i graduate. haha, somehow i’d thought we’d still be together when today would come. lmk if you still want it or if it’s too awkward then that’s okay too

seungmin (10:06pm): alright that’s it. sorry if these messages freaked you out a little. i’m not even sure this is still your number

seungmin (10:07pm): thanks again, (name). you are the one person who made me believe i could make it and i did :) thank you

[salsakiyoomi]

you fell head over heals for someone you shouldn't have fallen head over heels for.

ryomen sukuna was an enigma and the very person you should've never fallen in love with.

you knew him from all over campus, he was a troublemaker but his looks made up for it, all the girls were in love and squealing about him, hoping for a chance to get in his bed and tangle up in his sheets.

of course, some did, the lucky ones you'd guess, for someone as arrogant and cocky as him, he sure was picky with who he gets with, it's not like he's ever had anything beyond one night stands, though still the dainty drummer still liked to have his good food.

oh yeah, he was a drummer in a band.

maybe that's what made him such a heartthrob at campus — actually, you weren't sure if it was the fact that he's a drummer or the fact that he's a gym freak, or the fact that he had tattoos or —

you could go on for days.

in your mind, you hated sukuna, he was nothing but a difficult and egocentric freak to you.

in your heart? that was a different story.

you should've never fallen in love with ryomen sukuna.

so now in the morning after of a fun night, tangled up in his sheets with your clothes scattered all over the floor, you knew you were the stupidest person to walk earth.

how did you get here? oh that's easy, you were drunk but not that drunk at a party with your friends, he was there with his band mates serving one song after the other until they got of stage and had a few drinks of their own.

then suddenly, sukuna's hands were all over you as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear about how pretty you are, the way you look and how perfect your body was for him.

you should've never fallen for any of this, why did you fall for all of this?

you had a giddy smile on your face and was giggling the whole way back as he led you to his room.

god, that was such a fuck up.

you groan, covering your eyes from the sunshine the leaks into the room from the cracks of the blinds, and when you get accustomed to it, you let your eyes wander over his room.

posters, curses, a drum set with a guitar in the corner, a vape and a pack of cigars on his nightstand, the dresser's door wide open with clothes spilled out.

yeah, everything about this screamed ryomen.

the door to his room opens and he walks in, hair dripping wet and with nothing but a towel around his waist.

he lets out a huff as he sees you're awake, "there is still warm water if you want to shower."

that's it? that's all he has to say to you? after everything he told and did to you last night? even after your naked bodies tangled and connected that's all?

he won't even meet your eyes.

"okay." is all you manage out in a meek voice, pulling the covers tighter over your body, hoping that you can just drown in them.

ryomen sukuna was an enigma, an enigma you should've never fallen in love with.

a/n : this was heavily inspired by another writer's drummer! sukuna drabble but i cannot for the life of me remember their user if somebody knows who they are pls tell me so i can give them their credits <33

[ethosiab]

No fences. Just for a little bit.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 28

Thomas stared down at Bruce-no- Danny as he led him by the hand toward what he had dubbed as his "Secret Lair" which was just an old fall out shelter in the woods that had been well hidden and forgotten about. The door to it was old and still buried under years of dirt and plant growth, requiring Danny to phase them into it which made Thomas wonder how his grandson had found it in the first place.

Inside was surprisingly high tech. "You have a secret lair filled with all this equipment but don't have any weapons or armor?" Thomas asked, making mental preparations to fix that.

Danny sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and explained his only allies were two other 14 year olds who were also untrained, unarmed, unarmored, and unsuper-powered which would explain why Danny was so excited to be working with an adult vigilante who at least knew what they were doing.

The kid didn't even mind when some of his more evil or harmful rogues "stopped showing up" thankfully no one would really question the reclusive Vlad Masters "going back to Wisconsin" only to never be seen again. No one saw much of him before coming to Amity Park, it made since he would become a hermit again once he had his fill of human interaction.

And if hes later found dead in his cheese castle? Well, the body had decomposed too much to really say what killed him. His will left everything to a Daniel James Fenton/Daniel James Masters which visibly infuriated Danny. Thomas mentally patted himself on the back. It was a good call to get rid of that one. The will was a surprise, though one that can only benefit Thomas in his crusade of protecting his grandson. Its not like he can return to a timeline that no longer exists anyway.

Unfortunately this doesn't stop the bats from hearing about "Batman" operating in a city in Illinois for the past few months...

[satoruhour]

a/n: jjk 236 spoilers, mentions of suicide from reader’s side, no comfort, cry. around 1.4k. tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @saiki-enthusiast @arminsumi @shotorus @satohruu so yall can suffer w me

the first signs of grief manifests in you when there’s a bright light that signifies gojo’s disperse of cursed energy, the familiar hollow purple that obliterates half the buildings around the two strongest sorcerers — one from the heian and the other one from our times. surely, your lover wouldn’t do something as foolish as involving himself with the blast, but gojo satoru is always one to take risks.

when he took up the job of taking care of megumi and tsumiki at just eighteen years old and providing all the things they needed to fluorish. gojo is risky as he convinces a kid with a terrifying curse to make some friends and learn about cursed energy. he sometimes puts himself in danger when he takes up more missions he can shoulder just to show the higher-ups that he can kill them any time.

gojo satoru has the world of jujutsu in his hands; how his birth had changed the trajectory of the society, altered the balance of the world and now—

“satoru!” you call out once the smoke clears and he’s still there, intact, smiling a sick smile like the many times you’ve seen him done at megumi and after burning french toast. you brief a sigh of relief and the pounding of your heart calms down momentarily before sukuna emerges and he’s missing a hand and a leg and your heart pulls lower and lower seeing the kid you raised be such a ragdoll for sukuna’s entertainment. but there was always the hope to isolate the king of curses’ soul and save megumi somehow. shoko and you had discussed it, you know it to be true, it has to be true, until there’s a sharp noise that cuts through your ear drums.

it’s high-pitched, like a flash of light that shines in your eyes too abruptly and you have to cover them. but it blinds you as much as it deafens; an attack from god knows which end and you swear you hear the reaper’s scythe.

gojo thinks you look beautiful like this; hand on your cheek and head in your hand as you watch him and the melodic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board. you’re so concerned about him cutting his hand again that you’ve dragged your chair all the way into the kitchen to watch him closely, which was counterintuitive; the whole reason why he had bled in the first place was because he was looking at you so much.

he admires the way you curl into yourself on the beanbag in the apartment, a book on your lap on how to get to know your teenager better, hair falling over your eyes and the reading lamp not even helping that much in illuminating the words. gojo skims over your features and the way your chest breathes slowly, like everything good in the world. he hopes he’s able to get that with you in this life, for as long as he lives.

you feel it before you see it in the screens that the fight is broadcasted from — something is missing. a light has switched off, satoru has stolen the blanket at night and left you freezing again, seeing your favourite snack missing from the fridge. and you run. past the students you’ve raised, past the bright blinding screens and into the battlefield, past the debris and each crunch of cement under your feet brings a fresh bout of tears to your eyes. the tokyo winter is cool, snow starting to slowly fall upon you and the saltiness on your face seem to crystallise and harden and you’re not even sure any more. there’s a tingling feeling in your feet, in your finger tips and a pull of your heart. you know where gojo is before you see him.

“s— satoru…” you mumble, eyes welling up with more tears when his bottom half stays standing, baggy pants stained with red, red and more red and you’ve never hated a colour like you do now. you hate it, you hate it, you hate it even when he’s proposed to you with a red velvet box and gotten you valentine’s day chocolates in that same darker red and there is just too much blood.

and then it’s like the hierarchy of grief doesn’t matter any more. all those articles you’ve read preparing yourself after gojo’s fated meeting with death at sixteen, and then after shibuya — you think you can’t handle any more of the collecting and patching up and crying and headaches and holding a finger up to your chest and hoping you’d kill yourself with your own technique. the only time you’d accept the absence of the bright blue on his face is when he was sleeping and his chest moved with even breaths, not like this.

not like this. 

“satoru—” your voice cracks and you cannot even see. tears and tears and mucus and the fresh crunch of snow under your feet as you step closer to his severed body.

“baby…” he mumbles, barely above a whisper, hand twitching and reaching out in the direction of your voice because this is infinitely worse than getting stabbed in the neck by toji fushiguro, perhaps a little worse than seeing your best friend of your high school life get manipulated by a cursed user. satoru wants to demote all of that and say that seeing you stumble to your knees in front of him while you hyperventilate and sob hurts the most. 

“d-don’t move, ’toru, we— we’re going to get you b-back, okay?” you’re playing with god now. “shoko!” the doctor stifles a sob at your cry, broken up by the feedback of the sound system. she knows you’re trying to defy god.

“i don’t think—” the light is slowly dying. the world’s light, the student’s light, your dawn and dusk. “m-my love, everything is…”

“satoru, please, you need to—!” they say the last sense to go is touch and hearing. you crouch to his face to see him react to your warmth, eyes moving an inch to where he thinks you were and puts all of his cursed energy into one hand just so he could hold your cheek. you, warm as always as the sun and everything good in the world, a new rush of warmth overtaking his hand when your tears flow over his battered, tired hands, the same hands that has drawn over his love time and time again over your body and you are a canvas made of gojo satoru’s endless, unconditional ardour.

“i-i’m…” it fades out, his voice box is almost gone and you wail again and the snow from below wets your knees. his name is all that leaves your lips and you think if you can’t play god, you can only beg, even if your religion is solely gojo satoru.

“no, no, no no nono, satoru, c’mon, baby, stop it!” you scream in his face, words all mushed together when you feel the breath of life leave his chest, the blues die out in his eyes, “i love you, i love you, darling, i love you—” your lover barely manages to muster a small smile and you scramble all over his chest, clutching at the tattered black t-shirt and his hand that is starting to go cold and he has the energy to mutter out a stupid remark like gojo satoru always does.

“i’m sorry i got y-your favourite outfit stained with red, princess…” satoru whispers and that breaks the dam fully. you sob and groan and cry and wail until your voice is hoarse and you cannot speak any more and gojo wants nothing but to full heal himself again just so he could stop your crying. perhaps hold your face in his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips and embrace you until you couldn’t breathe. perhaps even to tell you he loved you more than anything and everything; more than poems and that foolish line he just had to say at the end and kikufuku and waking up next to you.

but in what world will gojo satoru ever get repose and a normal life? you hope for every other universe to have him be a preschool teacher, or maybe a florist, or even a superstar. but not in this one, no.

the hand that caressed your cheek is replenished again with cursed energy.

satoru gives you three squeezes.

[arttsuka]

Caption here

[sp4ceboo]

The Way You Were: Ken Sato x Reader

genre: the one who got away, canon universe, happens post movie, ANGST (gets resolved), fluff, romance, childhood sweethearts, healing old wounds

summary: in which you spot your long lost love from across the club, and he spots you. as he makes his way over to you, you can't help but wonder which side of him will greet you: the one you fell in love with, or the one who left scars all over your heart.

a/n: finally i get to pull this one out of the vault. it's very unlike my normal writing but i'm still very proud of it, pls give it some love :))

tw: no smut just feelings, mentions of sex tho, heavy making out and a bit of grinding, one (1) briefly mentioned hard on, mentions of breakup, crying, ridiculously angsty at the beginning, ridiculously soft, ridiculously nostalgic, lurve lurve lurveeee

wc: 3.7k

If she’s real, Fate sure has a cruel sense of humour.

There’s no other explanation to why Kenji Sato, a man so deeply intertwined into your past, a man you’d tried so many times to extract from where he was embedded into your soul, stands across the club, his back to you.

You know the smile that softens his angular features before he even turns around. You know those hand gestures, that oozing nonchalance, that false cockiness, and yet, all the same, you don’t know who this man is at all - you know the old Kenji Sato, the one who would wait awkwardly for you after class, the one who gripped your hands nervously while watching the baseball championships, the one who kissed softly you under the bleachers.

The one who got away.

Years have passed since those nostalgia sweetened memories. You have no idea how much of that old Ken is left, or if he’s transformed himself into an invincible stranger, one without those insecurities and weaknesses that made him your Ken.

It had started with wide eyed firsts at seventeen years old: kisses stolen between lessons, hands fumbling over each other’s bodies in the dark of his bedroom. By the time Ken was scouted by a baseball team, it had turned into something more solid: the two of you were star crossed lovers, and you fit together perfectly - until you didn’t any more.

You’re not exactly sure who changed. Maybe it was both of you, but you felt the absence of the awkward, lanky teenage boy more acutely than anything else, for he was not your highschool crush any more, but a man who felt the pressure of his reputation as much as the weight of the baseball bat in his hands. He became cocky to hide his fears from you, as if you could ever see him as weak.

The more the baseball critics talked, the less Ken did.

He hated it when you prodded him, when you tried to get past the walls that had been erected overnight. You loved him, even when half the time he came home drunk and damningly silent, his eyes narrowed and his knee bouncing when you could say nothing in response to the sceptics’ articles. You tried to hold on to him, but in the end it was inevitable.

The love of your life slipped from between your slack fingers like the sands of time, and all you could do was watch - all you could do was become increasingly aware of how the two of you had been acting like stupid, starry eyed kids.

When it ended, he was vicious with the same strength of an animal on the verge of death, and you took it all, bearing the pain and the hurt because maybe it was your fault that you hadn’t seen it coming sooner.

When it ended, the sorrow felt as if you had just passed off the opportunity to have your soul completed.

When it ended, it broke you.

It broke you, and he disappeared. He removed himself from your life with surgical precision, as if to prove to the spectators that he didn’t need you and the warm baths you drew when he came back from a game or the softness of your hands or your loyalty, your never wavering faith in him that no one else even tried to pretend they had.

You didn’t even realise he’d left Los Angeles behind for the greener pastures of Tokyo baseball until you recognised him on your TV screen years later.

And now, you’re in the same room as him.

Had your friends chosen a different club or had you stayed home, had you not taken that job in Tokyo almost two years ago, you might have never seen him again. Or maybe Fate would have twisted your paths together anyways, if just for a laugh; maybe he would have gone back to visit his mum and bumped into you on the street, maybe he would have reached out over text. Maybe, whatever path you took, he’d still be weaving his way towards you through the crowd like he is now.

You can see his face now. He’s taken off his reflective shades - they’re tucked into the neck of his black tee, hanging just above the simple gold necklace that sits at the dip of his collarbones. His build is as lean as it ever was, but you can tell he’s gotten stronger, his shoulders broader; his face has slimmed down, matured, lost the last of the baby fat he still had when he was twenty, yet his eyes are the same bright ones that you used to get lost in.

You wonder if he’s changed from the Ken that you couldn’t keep beside you however hard you tried. You wonder if he’s become the cocky, mean Ken who you saw the makings of, that would be walking towards you now just to get in your pants and one up you out of spite, so he could prove you mean nothing to him now (worse, you wonder if you’d let him, just to hold him one more time).

He stops in front of you, and although his expression is soft and surprisingly open, you can’t help but doubt it, can’t help but hide your heart deeper in your chest so he can’t snatch it for himself as easily as he’d done before.

Ken’s lips tilt upwards, but it’s not a smile yet. “Hey.”

You stare at him. You haven’t seen him in years, and the empty space between the last time you saw him and now is so starkly obvious. He’s gotten taller, somehow, and there’s an ease to his confidence that wasn’t there before; you can smell some sort of fancy cologne on him and although there’s bags under his eyes, of course he looks fucking divine.

Yes, Fate has a cruel sense of humour.

Very cruel, and not funny at all when you’re the butt of the joke and when the man before you makes you want to cry as much as the last time you laid your eyes on him. You’ve never sobbed, wept, the way you did when he turned his back on you as he left, cold and unreachable and never to be seen again - until now.

“Hello, Kenji,” you reply stiffly.

He winces. “Not even Ken, huh?”

Mutely, you nod, not knowing what else to say when all you can think about is whether his embrace still feels as comforting as it did all those years ago. You think it might, with those shoulders as broad as the ocean.

“Back to strangers, then?”

You swallow. “No. I’d - I’d like to think I still know who you are.”

“Me too,” he sighs.

“Not sure it’s possible, but I guess it would do us good to start over,” you admit with a dry smile.

“I don’t think so,” he says, voice soft, words slow. “It hurt - I hurt you, but I wouldn’t want to lose all the good parts.” His eyes meet yours, and there is so much in them - almost too much. “Remember that one camping trip?”

Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“And when we went ice skating?”

You can hear what he’s saying, the meaning beneath those words. He’s asking if you remember the tender nights, when you held each other, swaddled in the soft blanket of youth; he’s asking if you remember feeling that magnetic tug in your soul when you touched. He’s asking if you remember how you loved him - how he loved you.

“Never said I was going to be good at that,” you huff, cracking a smile.

“And how we used to go to the playground near your house after parties?”

This time, you chuckle. “Can you imagine? You look out the window and there are two deranged teenagers trying to squeeze down the slide at three in the morning.”

Ken throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, loud enough that you can hear it over the pumping music of the club, and the sound hurls you right back into the past. You’ve heard that sound so many times, you’ve replayed it in your head as a longing memory, and now he’s here, in the flesh, and all you can do is try to fight the tears welling in your eyes.

Turning your head, you look away, painting a smile on because you don’t want him to see you cry. Of course he notices - he always did, even though there were times where he would pretend he didn’t - but this time, he faces it head on, placing a gentle hand on your arm, light enough for you to shake off if you want to. All it does is make you want to cry harder.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah?”

With a hand at the small of your back, Ken leads you out of the club and down a few streets until he can sit you down on a park bench; he plops down beside you, not touching you but not far away, either. The night air is gelid compared to the club, nipping at your cheeks, and he waits quietly until you can meet his eyes again, his gaze steady as he searches yours.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, then swallows thickly and steels himself. “I’m sorry I treated you like shit. I never - “ He pauses when you sit up a little straighter. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m listening. I… I’d like to know how you feel.”

Slowly, Ken nods and swallows again. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, deepening his cheekbones and limning his skin, and you watch him struggle with his words for a moment. You watch as he prepares to tear down walls that are years old for you, while you wonder what has changed him that he is so willing to try to bare his soul to you in a way he never could back then, what shifted while you slowly became strangers.

Gently, you reach out to take his hand to find his already waiting. Stroking a thumb over his knuckles as he works his jaw, finding words, you wait, letting him formulate his sentences; you know it is as hard for him as it is for you to be so close, and yet something in you burns with the hope of new beginnings.

“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t want me if I showed any weakness that I locked myself away, and - and that wasn’t what you deserved,” he chokes out. “I was all wrapped up in myself and too fucking stupid and stubborn to even crawl back. I’m sorry for the things I said to you, called you that night, and I’m sorry I can’t take them back.” He takes a shaky breath. “I took you for granted and hurt you, and I should have never - ”

“No,” you cut in. “The blame isn’t just on you, Ji. I - I should have fought so much harder for us. I saw what the pressure did to you, what the sceptics said, and I did nothing. At that point I may as well have warmed my hands in the fire they used to burn you at the stake with. I fucked up. We fucked up. I’m sorry, too.”

When you look up at him, he’s smiling. A tear slips down his face, and he catches it with the back of his hand; you��re not sure how you’ve held your own back for so long, but now they fall as you fall towards each other, his arms wrapping tight around you as he envelops you. You were right - his embrace is as comforting as it was, and a lump forms in your throat because beneath his cologne you smell his familiar scent, the scent of home.

You stay tucked together, sheltering in each other’s arms for a while. Eventually, he shifts, pulling back a little as his hand brushes over your hair. His eyes are soft, bright like they always were; you think you like this Kenji Sato, who is so similar yet so different to the boy you knew from highschool in LA.

You think you’re falling in love again.

No, not quite; you never stopped loving him.

That revelation almost makes you cry again, but instead you smile at him, and when he returns your expression you feel something mending deep within your heart, knitting itself together after being rent apart for so long. The way he looks at you is tender enough, raw enough, to make old wounds heal. 

“Let me help you get back home,” Ken bids you. “I can call a cab?”

“We can walk,” you offer. “It’s not too far.”

“What brought you to Tokyo?” Ken asks as the two of you enter the lift up to your apartment.

“I came here almost two years ago,” you reply. “My company had a big office here and when they gave me the choice to move here or London, I chose here. I don’t really know why, exactly. Everyone says it’s always raining in the UK, and, well, at that point I knew you were here. I didn’t think we’d ever meet but at least there wouldn’t be an ocean between us.”

“Oh, so you’ve been waiting for this to happen for two years?” He teases as you turn the key in your door.

Rolling your eyes, you herd him into your flat before becoming serious again. “No, Ji, I didn’t even understand if I wanted to see you again. You were my first love, and deep down, I, I still lo - ”

Abruptly, you cut yourself off. Ken’s eyes have widened almost comically, but you find you can’t laugh at him with the sincerity of your words still hanging in the air; the pound of your heart in your chest is too loud, like it’s trying to break free of your ribcage. Maybe, to him, you’ve changed as much as he has to you, and he hadn’t been expecting you to so freely confess that you still feel that inexplicable pull of your soul towards his.

Biting your lip, you scurry across your kitchen and open the fridge door, if only to give yourself a barrier to hide behind. Did you just ruin everything? You didn’t even ask if he wanted to come in, you just ushered him into the flat, and although he offered to walk with you and come up in the lift with you, maybe he was just being polite.

“Want anything to drink?” Your voice comes out higher than it should as you turn to glance at him over your shoulder. “O - oh.”

He’s right there. You hadn’t expected him to follow you to the fridge, although you know now that this new, mature Kenji is in tune with your emotions, could definitely sense your embarrassment, and isn’t afraid to face it, yet also that he is the same as the old Kenji - just with his sharp edges softened and a bit more wisdom under his belt.

“Sorry, I didn’t…” He trails off.

You’re staring. You can’t help it. He’s so close that your head is spinning and you haven’t fully appreciated how good his hair looks tonight, sleek and half falling into his eyes, nor the flawless way his black t-shirt fits his arms and shoulders, nor the absurdly perfect bridge of his nose and how it complements his cheekbones and -

You realise with a jolt that he’s staring too. That his eyes just darted from yours down to your lips and back up again, that he’s leaning closer and closer to you until you’re sharing air, and that you really, really, really want him to take your clothes off.

Ken Sato takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and kisses you.

His fingers slide to cup your jaw, his other hand finding your waist and pulling your body closer to his, your lips moving against his in a way that is so achingly familiar; he nips and sucks at your lower lip and you don’t think you could ever get bored of kissing him like this. Running your palms up his back, you bunch your fingers in his shirt - like hell you’re going to let him go, now that you’ve found him again, like hell you’re going to let him even think about walking out while he’s got his tongue moving against yours like this.

Gliding down your sides, his big hands settle at your hips and squeeze. You curse against his soft lips and he dips his head to mouth at your throat, right over your jugular, his nose drawing a line down your skin before he travels lower, his tongue laving along your collarbone. Fumbling to close the fridge door behind you, you steady yourself with a palm on the handle. Fuck, your knees haven’t felt this weak in a while.

You realise that all this time, all those years spent without him, this is what you were missing, searching for it even if you didn’t know it. The way he navigates your body is effortless, as if you’ve only been apart for a few days and not a few years. He knows to kiss you at the hollow of your neck, he knows to cup your waist in his hands, he knows how to drown you in him in a way that still leaves you hungry.

Sighing into his mouth, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt, bringing them round to feel the hard planes of his chest under your palms. Unhurriedly, you drag your nails down his abs, hooking your fingers in his waistband and tugging him closer; he groans in response, biting down on your shoulder, and you feel him, hard against you as you lean into each other.

“Fuck, Ji,” you gasp as he rocks his hips into yours.

Cursing, he grits out your name, and you tug at his shirt - he pulls away, just long enough for you to wrestle it off him before he’s crowding against you again, as if he can’t bear to not touch you. A smirk tugs at your mouth as you run your hands appreciatively over his torso, over his sculpted chest and arms.

Maybe it’s the touch of your lips on his skin, right over his heart, or maybe it’s the way your hands coast over him, eager to feel all of him, that sends a jolt through him. Ken grabs your wrists, halting your progress, and you look up at him, quizzical.

“Wait,” he breathes. “We, I… we can’t do this the same way we did this last time.”

You blink, mind still foggy with wanting. “Ji?”

He cups your face. “It’s not that I don’t want you, my love, it’s the opposite. I’m not going to let myself just fuck you and go to sleep. I haven’t seen you in years. I - I need you to know I’m not here just for that. I want to take my time with you.”

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with what he said. You gaze up at him, drinking up those sparkling eyes, feeling the gentle way he positions his hands on you, one cradling your chin and the other holding your waist, and realise that you’re seeing your Ken Sato - grown, yes, but still yours, eternally yours.

What he’s saying is right. The old you would have jumped straight into his arms, and he would have let you - you would have spoken with your bodies, not your words, leaving the tears and rips in your hearts to fester and rot, never acknowledging them for long enough for them to heal.

But somehow, Fate has gifted you a second try at love, and this time, the two of you will do it the way it should be done; he’s looking at you so tenderly, so hopefully, and it makes your stomach flutter. There’s no rush. Now you’ve got him in your arms again, you won’t be letting him go.

You brush his hair out of his eyes. “Okay, then. Shall we talk instead?”

He smiles. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

The lens you see the world through after that night with Kenji makes everything brighter, more beautiful. You find new appreciation for the ads of him plastered all over the city when he tells you funny stories behind the shoots, for the way the littlest things make you think of him, for the regular date nights and the hours you spend staying up late, talking with him.

For a famous baseball player, he sure has a lot of time for you.

He hangs on to your every word, looking at you as if you hung the stars in the sky; he listens to your rants about work and your favourite show and your fucking landlord. You make sure you show up to his baseball matches, cheering whether he’s winning or losing, knowing that he’ll be in your arms the moment he’s off the pitch.

You watch him open up to you like a flower leaning towards the sun, his words muffled as he rests his head on your shoulder late at night and tells you how his mum disappeared, how he used to avoid his dad but how recently they’ve gotten closer after they found some common ground.

And when he tells you what that common ground was - a bright pink, baby kaiju - everything falls into place.

Finally, you understand what changed him on his course, what softened him after the critics forced him to build walls: a baby as cute as her size, and a secret life as Ultraman. You kissed him when he told you, melting the tension right off his wide shoulders as you whispered against his lips that you’d love him even if he confessed to eating your leftovers (he had).

It’s not perfect, because love isn’t, but on the nights when you’re tucked into each other beneath the blankets, fitting together like puzzle pieces as you kiss his scars, you know that this time round, you’re doing love right.